Hollywood is a Grandma-Free Zone

 

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Hollywood is a Grandma-free-zone and no one who is intimidated by the aging process should step foot on Hollywood Blvd.

Last week I saw them dragging a screaming old lady away from Clark Gable’s footsteps at Mann’s Theatre for being old in public. One tourist turned to another and asked, “Who was Clark Gable?”

I’m not sure what was the saddest part of that whole scene.

The newest and most profitable business in Los Angeles is a company that builds boats for people over 49 to be sent out to sea to die. There’s a three-year waiting list already.

If you think I’m imagining this insanity ask any producer or television exec what happens when you mention the word Grandmother. They break out in hives, start to hyperventilate and run from the room in terror.

Exaggeration?

I think not.

A friend and I met with a producer about a show we developed for older women.

His eyes bugged out of his head when he saw the word Grandma in the title.

I quickly covered the word with my hand and said, “It’s okay, calm down, see I made it go away.”

After catching his breath and downing two Xanax he informed us in no uncertain terms no one was interested in women on television over 49.

“And don’t say Betty White either,” he retorted. “She is only on there because she is surrounded by young hotties.”

I never had the heart to tell him that those “hotties” would never see fifty again. Why destroy his illusions?

Forget that one of the most popular and loveable characters on Bravo television was realtor Josh Flagg’s late grandmother, Edith.

Yes, Hollywood is a world-unto-itself. Thank the Lord.

In Europe older women are embraced as sexy, wise and worldly. Men delight in their vast experience and their ageless beauty. Sophia Loren is looked on as a goddess, not an old crone.

I am not certain this is because the men in America have better eyesight or the Europeans are not as fussy about their women. And yes, let us keep in mind French women don’t shave their armpits. Of course Europe is an old country and America a baby so maybe…

In America women over fifty are invisible, unless of course they are walking around half naked with a set of store-bought DDDs stopping traffic on Sunset Boulevard.

If you would think it is a scary state of being, you would be correct. So what is a Grandmother to do?

Throw away her Oil of Olay? Pack and leave town before she brings disgrace on her family? Wear a veil?

Okay, so that does work for Muslim women.

Ah, now I get the whole Burqua thing!

Shall I repair into my golden years in a black dress and sensible shoes like an Italian grandmother? Spending all my time making sauce and rolling pasta dough?

“Come dip my homemade Italian bread in Grandma’s perfect marinara?

Or shall I make Aliyah to an assisted living home where my children may come to visit once a month, if I am lucky?

Or if wealthy enough make a pilgrimage to Boca Raton, where I can spend my time playing maj jong and looking for a man with his own teeth who can still drive at night?

You would think I am embellishing my conundrum, but unfortunately I am not.

Last week the Beverly Hills City Council took up the issue of whether or not the police should give tickets for excessive wrinkling. The measure was, of course supported by all the plastic surgeons and Botox manufacturers. It failed by only one vote.

Isn’t it bad enough the fat police patrol is still at large, suspiciously eyeing anyone at the Krispy Krème drive thru and taking license plate numbers?

So what should one do who feels they still have more to offer the world than good lasagna or mandal bread?

Don’t move to Los Angeles is a damn good start. There is no doubt in my mind as to why there are so many kooks running through the palm-tree laden streets of LA. Why there are so many car chases across its bumper-to-bumper freeways. Why men always look like a cat that just ingested a ten-pound canary.

Simply, it is because young women are in abundance and older women are in hiding. Or, as we refer to these young chicks in over 49 circles the third-wife-to-be.

Yoga classes are filled with fifties and ups stretching and downward dogging their way back to youth. Hair colorists are so abundant you can’t blink without bumping into one and plastic surgeons are so finely honed, that a woman can leave for lunch and arrive back at work looking ten years younger.

Men check women out like Carl Sagan checked out every star in the galaxy. They balk if a woman has one wrinkle too many, reminds them of their mother or simply isn’t the perfect image of beauty they feel they deserve.

Meanwhile, have you taken a look at these aging Lotharios lately?

OY!

They have spray on tans, spray on hair, blue pills bulging from their pockets and a dating profile on those meet-a-felon sites that is filled with more lies and exaggerations than a politician’s resume. Quick dating tip here: orange jump suits are not a turn on!

They examine every woman they date with the precision of a butcher frenching a lamb chop for the Oscar’s Governor’s Ball and their expectations are higher than Keith Richard’s partying with Janis Joplin.

As Bette Davis once opined, “getting old is not for sissies.” It is also not for women. And please don’t ask me, who is Bette Davis!

Men age well. They gain an air of distingue and intrigue. Women gain weight and arm themselves each day for another battle with gravity. A war they ultimately lose.

They Spanx themselves together as best as they can before embarking into the world, ass dragging and boobs searching the sidewalk like they are looking for lost quarters.

No bra too big

No skin too tight to hide the ravages of time.

Good News! There is always a way to cope with these depressing facts of life; grandchildren. One hug from my grandsons and I am immediately as young at heart as a 66-year-old man riding the Seine at midnight with a Paris model.

As one learns quickly in LA, there are certain foods that will arm one best for battle against the aging process and this week’s miracle food is beets. Supposedly it is the nuclear option for battling all the ravages of time. I am of course waiting for the day the Surgeon General announces chocolate as the cure all for all human ailments.

Until that glorious day you can find a good plastic surgeon on your own. But before you do, go hug your grandchildren. I promise it’s cheaper and totally pain free.

Here is my recipe for Garlic Sirloin Egg Rolls. ENJOY!!!!

Garlic Lovers Sirloin Egg Rolls

4 cloves of garlic roasted (or 11/2 cps of the roasted garlic in the grocery store already roasted and peeled. I buy the ones at Whole Foods olive bar)

1 cup of ground sirloin

2 packages of mushrooms

1 cups of onion chopped

1½ cups of heavy cream

½ cup of shredded provolone cheese (optional)

1 tablespoon of butter

2 tablespoons of oil

½ cup of Sherry

2 teaspoons salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

¼ teaspoon thyme

Egg roll wrappers

If roasting your own garlic preheat oven to 400 degrees. Unwrap outer cover of garlic leaving heads in tact. Cut off the top portion of the head so a bit of the garlic is exposed. Smear with some olive oil and wrap garlic cloves in foil and roast them in the oven for about 45 minutes. When done, carefully remove foil and squeeze garlic out to use.

Sauté ground sirloin seasoned with salt and pepper and set aside.

Cut up mushrooms and add with onions to oil and butter in frying pan. Season with thyme and salt then sauté until soft. Add sherry and sauté until sherry is reduced about 3 minutes more.

Combine sirloin in pan with mushrooms and onions. Add garlic and mix together on low heat until heated through two minutes or so.

Remove mixture and then add 2 cups of cream to fry pan used for mushroom frying. Warm on low heat until cream thickens and can coat the back of the spoon. Add two tablespoons of roasted garlic to cream mixture and stir in well. Pour through a sieve to remove bits.

Set aside and cover to keep warm.

Spread about 1 heaping tablespoon of garlic on the egg roll wrapper at the pointed edge. This is where you can add the shredded cheese if you’d like. Roll up halfway and fold in sides and continue rolling sealing with water at the end to seal. Do not roll too loose or oil will seep in. Place on wax paper until ready to fry.

Add 1 cup of oil to a ten-inch fry pan and heat to 350.

Place egg rolls in hot oil and fry on all sides until golden brown. Don’t overfill pan of the temperature will drop and the egg rolls will be greasy. Serve hot with cream dipping sauce.

Can be a meal, appetizer or made smaller to use as an hors D’oeuvre. Can be stored by separating them with wax paper so they don’t touch when you place them in freezer.

 

 

 

 

 

Grammys Are the New Black

Grandmas don’t just say “that’s nice”– they reel back and roll their eyes and throw up their hands and smile. You get your money’s worth out of grandmas…Author unknown

I have always found it difficult to understand women who say in a distressed tone, “I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother.”

Sure, it’s an absolute sign you are growing older, but will being a grandmother change the passing of years? So, how better to spend those years than with your grandchildren?

Today’s Grammy is a new and improved model, hip, downward dogging and botoxed to the hilt. It is a baby boomer Grammy who rules the roost now. We are not our mothers or grandmothers and certainly don’t look the same.

We have worked, exercised, pursued noble goals and watched television go from Howdy Doody to 24 to the Real Housewives of anywhere you can think of.

We think young, so young in fact we can relate to our precious angels with a new and modern mindset.

We still bake cookies, but they are organic and sugar free.

We still play games with our toddlers, but they are on the smart phone.

We text, turn heads and remain relevant and fabulous.

We are the new black.

So what does a modern Grammy do to ensure she remains in good stead with our au currant and health-conscious children?

After all, somewhere deep inside us there is still a need for that Sara Lee brownie, some French fries and an occasional diet cherry Coke.

Young mothers today follow a set of guidelines so filled with rules and regulations, it makes filling out your income taxes a day at the beach.

Is it sugar free? Organic? Plastic without PBA, grass fed and hormone free, vegan, gluten free? The list is endless and grows by the minute.

What happened to the good old days when Toll House cookies were a necessity following a tough school day?  When a glass of milk with Hershey’s was the drink of choice and Yoo Hoo was revered by chocolate gourmets?

Did we care if our wine was filled with Flavonoids, our flour was enriched, chickens were free range or vegetables organically grown?

Now it is all about organic, environmentally correct and green clothing and toys.

Washing detergents that don’t pollute and some dubious child-rearing methods that don’t compute.

Still, one must look on with a sense of gratitude that their grandchildren are so loved and adored that our own children are putting so much effort into raising them in new ways. Ways that may ultimately create a whole new set of issues and consequences no one ever foretold or saw coming. Hopefully, they will not.

Sadly, our children haven’t yet grasped the “here one day; gone and guilty another theory” of child rearing.

When my daughter was born her pediatrician recommended a certain brand of formula.

I followed all the rules, but being a baby boomer, pseudo hippy I also had some ideas. I delivered all natural, made baby food in a blender and believed I was doing the best I possibly could to raise her in a healthy and caring fashion. After all, we claimed to be tied to the earth.

Bursting with confidence, I entered second child land self-assured.  

I spoke to the doctor about formula for my newborn son and asked if I should continue using the same I’d used for my daughter.

“Oh, no,” he said immediately. “There is way too much fat in that brand, we never recommend it anymore.”

Oops, hello guilt. Confidence just fell to the basement and I am now feeling responsible for every fat cell that may have build a condo in my daughter’s thighs.

I found refuge in the belief my homemade, healthy baby food would somehow repair my folly.

I had only listened to the doctor after all, how was I to know?

Of course my new greatest fear was that the formula I was now feeding my son would also in five years be found sorely lacking.

Motherhood is difficult. There are no manuals, but tons of books with competing methods and, of course the advice from your own parents that everyone takes with a grain of salt. After all, every generation knows better—or does it?

One would think a doctor’s counsel would be paramount in the “this can’t hurt my baby” department, but as every parent learns, medical information changes like the wind and so too the advice that’s offered.

Yet, if raising your own children was challenging, being a grandparent today creates a new set of trials.

Sadly, with aging comes less total recall, at least for some, yet grandparenting foists new rules and regulations on one constantly. My short-term memory has left the building, but I can remember the sixties better now than when I lived them.

I am often guilty of forgetting some new instruction, finding myself in hot water and in, “Mother I told you not to say it that way land.”

This is hard, like studying for finals when your dorm neighbors are partying upstairs.

What to say, how to act, what to feed, wow, there is a great deal of new data, and sadly the computer in my head cannot boot up as quickly.

Our offspring are so serious while we just want to grab our grandchildren and have them all to ourselves.

One friend told me recently she and her husband were at lunch with their grandson.

When Grandpa attempted to feed his pride and joy a piece of cake he was blocked by his daughter’s lecture on the evils of sugar.

He turned to his wife and whispered, “We’ll have him all next week when they’re on vacation then we can feed him whatever we want.”

If this sounds unfair or harsh, let me remind you all that no child ever wanted to rush to grandma’s house for celery? No kid ever bragged that my grandma makes the best quinoa or vegan cupcakes.

Point of fact, one of the joys of childhood is the knowledge that grandparents are exempt from home rules and regulations.

Visiting is entering that special land of “I am the grandchild and anything goes at Grandma’s house.”

An important part of learning about unconditional love is the understanding there is a place on earth where you are ruler of the world. You can do no wrong, and as we all know that place is at Grammy’s.

I imagine that’s why Red Riding Hood was so shocked to see a big bad wolf. No bad stuff could ever happen, because it’s the ultimate “all-about-me zone.”

As an enlightened, yet frequently confused grandmother, I have attempted to live within the guidelines, at least when I could remember them. I have tried to redo my cooking to include more healthy versions of my children’s favorites.

These newly “greened up” recipes help, but don’t you kind of want to occasionally bake that yummy chip filled cookie for your little angels and serve them up a giant glass of cold milk (cows not almonds), read them a Grimm fairy tale then let them watch a Road Runner cartoon with you? 

Today’s kids will grow up shopping at Whole Foods (whole paycheck) and believing you have to sell half your stock portfolio to go to a grocery store.

However, at the end of the day, perhaps this may be a case of the egg teaching the chicken. Our kids do deserve the benefit of the doubt. We did.

Ironic if our grandchildren subsequently offer up a whole new set of rules for our great grandchildren, and wouldn’t it be ironic if it were the old ones we lived by?

Lox and Bagel Bites

2 cucumbers

1 tub whipped cream cheese

1 tablespoon finely chopped sweet onion

½ cup nova lox cut up

Bagel chips

1 hard boiled egg optional

Cut cucumbers in 1-inch circles

Hollow out seeds and pat dry and set aside

Mix together lox onions and cream cheese and lighting salt and pepper. Remember lox can be salty so go slow with the seasoning

With a teaspoon or a pastry bag fill cucumber rounds with cream cheese mixture.

Garnish with pieces of bagel chips and if so desired grate some hard boiled egg and capers on top.

Great appetizers for a brunch or a snack anytime.

Welcome to My World

Thanks for joining me on this journey through the recesses of my crazy life and crazier mind. If I’ve learned anything from living it is that it’s all so much easier if you can take existence with a teaspoon of chocolate and a sense of humor. After all is said and done, I guess life is really easy, but people make it hard. I strive daily to make it easier by laughing at the absurd, feeling compassion for the struggling and opening my heart to humanity. I wish all my readers, love laughter and all their wishes fulfilled.

“The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter…” Mark Twain