By Nancy Slotnick, on Tue Dec 4, 2012 at 8:30 AM ET
Paper towels are my guilty pleasure. Is that pathetic or what? But I’m totally serious. Especially the Viva ones, that are so soft and absorb everything. I never have to touch a sponge. My husband wipes up turkey grease with a Crate and Barrel hand towel and it kills me. Why? I wish it didn’t. I’m trying to train myself not to care. Shalom Bayit is the term for letting sh*t go for the sake of peace in the family. It’s more than that. It’s letting go of thinking that the way I do everything is the right way. Realizing that there are many ways to skin a cat. And that some of us would never dare skin a cat. But my husband would if we were hungry enough. I respect that. He does love cats too.
So I have to pull it together when he puts the Tupperware on the bottom shelf of the dishwasher. I stole that line from Liz Lemon on 30 Rock, btw. I was encouraged to know that I’m not the only one who worries about crap like that! But a little scared to think that I’m about as sexy as Liz Lemon sometimes. I used to be sexy though. And I think I still can be on a good day. In further tribute to Tina Fey, I don’t own Mom Jeans. But I’m not quite Nancy [MILF] on Weeds. That’s probably good news for my son, as well as for the paper towel industry, but it might not be so good for me.
I must channel my inner MILF. Okay, excuse me, there’s something I need to go do.
By Krystal Ball, on Fri Nov 30, 2012 at 1:30 PM ET
Krystal Ball’s rant this week from MSNBC’s “The Cycle”:
Krystal’s daughter Ella
Just listen to that good old-fashioned common sense. You know, really breaks our government problems down for the common man in that classically patronizing yet wholly inaccurate way that politicians seem to excel at. There are a lot of lame talking points out there, but this one probably drives me the most nuts. And while I mostly hear it from Republicans, far too many of my own have fallen for its folksy kitchen table appeal. Here’s the problem.
First off, how much like the federal government is your household really? Granted, things may be a bit different in your home than mine but we haven’t had a whole lot a luck getting anyone to accept our family currency. And the international markets? They’ve turned their nose up at buying our bonds. When we have borrowed money, it sure wasn’t at 1.5% like US Treasuries. I will say, sometimes our neighbors do get a bit out of hand but I think a drone strike might be a bit over the top. In fairness, my daughter did attempt a Mitch McConnell style filibuster but it didn’t really work out for her.
And actually, even if you did pretend that your household worked exactly like the largest most complex government in the world, the analogy still doesn’t make any sense! You may not have noticed but our families buy things on credit all the time. Especially at this time of year. Plenty of families take on long term debt for things like, I don’t know, a house? Or an education? In other words, investments for the future. Hey! That does actually sound like something the federal government should do. Businesses borrow too! So don’t give me this nonsense about how for families and business owners the revenues and expenses have to add up every year. They don’t. My family and many others have yet to pass a balanced budget amendment.
Finally, come on y’all. Have a little bit of creativity!!! I know you’re trying to break things down in a way that regular folk can relate to, I get it. But every time I hear a politician or pundit use this tired hokey worn-out analogy it’s like they think they’re the one who birthed this brilliant thing. Certainly everyone will be won over by their winning wit and creativity. Guys. The gig’s up. We’ve heard this patronizing, illogical, trope about 1 million times. I’m begging you. Please stop. Time to come up with some new material. Or better yet, actually have enough respect and faith in the American people that we can wrap our little minds around the big problems facing the country. Trust me. If y’all can understand it, we can too.
In 2005, after reading yet another inspiring book by Deepak Chopra, I gave myself a birthday present and attended my first Chopra Center weeklong class called, SynchroDestiny.
The title still excites me and I can tell you that it was fantastic. Dr. Deepak is a terrific presenter with a peaceful, engaging presence, and when he signed my book he was warm and present. At our farewell dinner we chatted about a mutual acquaintance and I felt, and do still, that he is swell guy and one of the most influential leaders of mind-body medicine in our modern world today.
It was at this Chopra Center class that I was introduced to meditation for the first time, and it was there that I thought meditation was baloney the first time, the second time, the third, and twice a day for the entire week.
I really did want the promised health benefits of optimum blood pressure, deeper mental and emotional stability, and a state of “restful awareness” that would ensure a stressless existence, but my struggle to sit still in silence seemed to indicate I was wasting my time. I could NOT calm my mind, I could not focus, I could not enjoy it and I certainly did not see a future in meditation for myself.
As you gain experience with meditation, you’ll begin to feel the reappearance of youthful energy and vitality that is being released from the deeper level of the nervous system. This is a very profound change and the real fountain of youth.
Perfect Health: The Complete Mind Body Guide, Deepak Chopra, M. D.
But I persevered along with the other 50 or so attendees because it was part of the deal and because I had paid for the entire Chopra Center experience with my birthday savings. And because I was loving the rest of the SynchroDestiny intensive.
So I returned home and went about life as usual and felt pretty good. For me, there’s nothing like a vacation that includes learning, great food, AND massage. And because I hate to give up before the promised results, I continued to try to meditate daily despite feeling I was getting nowhere.
And then something happened two weeks later, the day my handyman Elvis, worked in my attic.
CRAAAAAAAAASH! I looked up from my computer to see Elvis’s feet dangling through a hole in my second story hallway ceiling as huge pieces of paint and dry wall and ceiling continued to break off to expose his entire lower body.
I should add here that because we have vaulted ceilings from the living-room up, the distance to the closest floor is 40 feet.
Yes, a man was falling and holding on for his life, in my home, no joke. And he was screaming, and kicking his legs around in panic, just the way it looks in movies. The fear was palpable.
But I felt completely and genuinely calm, “Hey Elvis, don’t worry, you’ll be ok—just hoist yourself back up slowly and come on downstairs—I’ll make you some tea.”
What? Who was this strangely calm and reassuring being that had taken over my senses, my spirit, my own vocal chords?
Read the rest of… Lisa Miller: Adventures and Fun with Deepak Chopra & My Handy Man Elvis
UPPER WEST SIDE — Nancy Slotnick has been setting people up in New York City for decades.
But now the longtime Upper West Side resident is bridging the gap between online dating and traditional matchmaking with a new concierge dating service called Matchmaker Cafe.
Slotnick has spent the last year building a database of single people, now 3,000 members strong, who can browse each other’s Facebook profiles before requesting a meeting that Slotnick and her team help orchestrate.
Matchmaker Cafe fights the inertia that Slotnick said usually accompanies online dating, where two people end up talking online for a while but never meet. Her service “cuts to the quick,” she said.
“People have more of a tendency to put [a meeting] off or to stand each other up without the matchmaker,” she said.
Slotnick picks what she calls “hot spots” that lend themselves to easy transitions from coffee to drinks or to a longer meal, or to meeting other singles if the date doesn’t go well. She then meets both parties at the arranged spot and introduces them. The meeting serves to reduce the anxiety and awkwardness of a blind date, she said.
“It adds the hand-holding through the process,” she said.
Matchmaker Cafe has been in beta mode since 2011, but this month Slotnick launched the paid model, in which clients pay $39.99 a month for the ability to request meetings with other members.
Women tend to be more passive on the site, creating a membership for free and then waiting for others to ask about them, Slotnick explained. However, she said that anyone serious about finding love should devote 15 hours a week to the search, which means going out to traditional dating spots like bars, but also becoming open to interactions at places like gyms, grocery stores or even the subway.
“With careers, people don’t have qualms about strategy, but with dating it’s supposed to magically happen,” she said. “You do have to have [finding love] on your radar screen as a goal.”
Behind the scenes, Slotnick makes herself available to customers with advice about how to make it work, an added service that she said distinguishes her model from existing online dating companies.
But, “I don’t believe you can outsource [the work of creating a relationship],” she said.
Slotnick spends part of her time moving around the city scouting new locations for dates. She said she hopes to eventually create partnerships with these dating hubs.
Slotnick once owned one of these hubs herself, when she started Drip Cafe on East 83rd Street and Amsterdam Avenue in 1996 as a place devoted to helping people find relationships. In the pre-internet, pre-online dating era, cafe customers could spend time flipping through binders of hand-written dating profiles, and then Slotnick would help them schedule a date at the cafe. She said that at any one time, 20 to 25 dates were happening at Drip.
During the cafe’s eight-year run, “we made hundreds of marriages,” Slotnick said.
Drip had a liquor license and offered counter service, which Slotnick believes are essential elements for creating the kind of freedom of movement that promotes interaction among guests.
Though Slotnick believes the Upper West Side went through a period when many of the neighborhood’s residents, and Drip’s customers, settled down and started having children, there has been a resurgence of singles in the area lately, she said.
“The Upper West Side is getting single again,” she said, noting the many singles moving to the Lincoln Center area.
One of her favorite places to arrange meetings is the lobby of the Empire Hotel. She said she also sees possibilities at the new restaurant The Smith in Lincoln Square.
By Nancy Slotnick, on Tue Nov 27, 2012 at 8:30 AM ET
“You never don’t know” is what my mother-in-law says when she means “You never know.” It must be said in a Polish accent with the conviction that only a Holocaust survivor could pull off while using a double negative. So by the theory of transitivity, “You never don’t know” equals “You always know.” I’m going with that theory. You always know.
If you can tap into your instincts, and distinguish them from anxiety, you always know. “Is he the One?” You know. “Should I have that opening line?” You know. “Should I write that email to reach out?” You know, but you don’t always listen to your gut. You talk yourself out of it.
Do you expect greatness to come your way or mediocrity? Or disaster? Murphy’s Law is more about Murphy than about a law of nature. I think Murphy attracted bad luck because he’s always expecting bad luck and it feeds on itself. Of course if you want to attract good luck you have to do the work. There’s plenty of good luck out there and it will come your way sooner or later. You just have to be prepared to seize your luck.
Here’s how: Let’s say you’re on a train traveling for the holidays, like I am right now. Let’s say you’re single and you secretly wish that the man of your dreams would sit next to you. You do hold out the hope for good luck. But you also dread the fat lady who talks your ear off or the crying baby that blocks the audio of Gossip Girl Season 2. Even though you’ve already seen it. You are tempted to just put your backpack up on the seat next to you, put on your headphones and go into “Do Not Disturb” mode. If you’re lucky, then the train is not sold out and you will get two seats to yourself. But is that what you really want?
Read the rest of… Nancy Slotnick: You Never Don’t Know
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Nov 26, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
“You can’t manage whay you can’t measure.”
Wrapping up our 6th annual father – daughter weekend with my 14 year old daughter, Maggie.
All 6 have been excellent but some feel a little better than the others —but we have never had a concrete, objective way to measure the success of our annual weekends.
Until now.
Late this afternoon I got a call from my credit card company for an “Alert for potential fraudulent activity with my credit card.”
They needed me to confirm three unusual purchases this weekend that deviated from my usual habits—-all involving female clothing purchases.
I finally explained “I am with my 14 year old daughter this weekend.”
Even that gentleman on the other end of the phone from what seemed like a call center in India understood. “Thank you, Mr Brown” he laughed. “I understand now!”
By Krystal Ball, on Thu Nov 22, 2012 at 3:00 PM ET
Contributing RP Krystal Ball, her MSNBC “The Cycle” co-host SE Cupp, and special guest Joy Reid spoke about what they are most looking forward to over this turkey day holiday:
By Jonathan Miller, on Thu Nov 22, 2012 at 10:00 AM ET
Today’s Thanksgiving celebration is especially meaningful to Seinfeld fan-boys like me.
For today also marks the 20th anniversary of the most brilliantly funny 22 minutes television has ever seen — the uber-classic episode entitled “The Contest.”
“The Contest” is about…well Seinfeld never uses the word either. So if you are too young to remember, or too sheltered to have seen it, or you can’t wait to laugh again, enjoy the first few minutes of comedic history:
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Nov 21, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Thought for the day.
Squeeze something of value out of everything you do today.
When scrounging, gratitude for a seemingly small thing is a good fall back. Sometimes those “small things” are really pretty big things.
For example, yesterday I was stuck somewhere and Sponge Bob Square Pants was on TV in the background. I watched several minutes to see what useful life “take away” was coming my way.
Sure, I love Sponge Bob Square Pants as much as the next gu,y but yesterday’s episode Bob was off his usual charming and clever game.
And then it happened.
The next scene prominently features a character names Squidward. And I had my “take away.” And didn’t even have to squeeze hard.
I am so grateful my parents did not name my Squidward. Even with a cool middle name, having the first name Squidward would have provided challenges and obstacles in my youth I may not have been able to successfully surmount. Even though I am a human being and not an animated cartoon character.
And you can see the toll it’s taken on Squidward himself by looking at his drawn face and vapid eyes.
Yes, mom and dad, thank you. And is so often the case, the “small gratitude” turned into a large gratitude.
And then someone changed the channel to Fox News. And I became grateful my name wasn’t Shep.
Are you beginning to see how this Thought for the Day works?
I read a story this morning that was written in 2005, about a lost and traumatized baby hippo in Kenya, who “adopted” a tortoise to be his mother. An elderly male, the tortoise is said to be a century old.
“They sleep and eat together, and have become inseparable” says the director of the nature preserve.
As if that’s not moving enough, I am tearful after learning further that this baby had survived a tsunami-ravaged river that swept him into the Indian Ocean where tides eventually washed him ashore. Dehydrated but hanging on, rescuers found him on the beach (and brought him to the nature preserve).
For me, this story tugs at the strings.
And when I step back, I find it interesting that both tragedy and miracle are (now in my heart) here in this story—two seemingly opposing forces. And a third force, inspiration, is here as well.
So, is inspiration born of tragedy and miracle? Is inspiration the baby hippo of the married couple, Tragedy & Miracle Kenya?
If you are like me, your favorite stories are about true-life people overcoming adversity.
Why do those stories appeal? Because there’s something truly amazing and life affirming and heart-filling about knowing that others have faced what seemed like insurmountable obstacles, and not only survived but found deeper meaning in life.
It’s hardly ever easy to recognize the worth of something tragic while in the middle of it. No tsunami, loss, or pain feels like it’s going to lead to something positive.
Read the rest of… Lisa Miller: Unusual Inspiration
