Queen Of The Cul De Sac

“This is the best neighborhood”

I kept repeating this to myself as we moved in. It was what the realtor/new neighbor kept telling me at closing. I was told, in no particular order, the neighborhood was:

1. best friends

2. always having parties

3. full of kids who all played together

4. always having parties

Considering we knew no one in a 300 mile radius, that sounded good to us. As I have come to find out since that party- some of things that were promoted to me were as accurate as some realtor listings that say the apartments  are “triple mint, spacious with vues”. If you’ve looked for a place in Manhattan, you know what I mean.  You can complain about it and sulk, or you can accept the way things are and bloom where you’re planted- air shaft or no. So to speak.

So, when within days we were indeed invited to a neighborhood party, we headed out.  We were game for what we expected a traditional  block party would entail (I have no authority on this, other than going to the San Gennaro festival in Little Italy every September) but we were completely unprepared for this kind of socializing. First of all, the kids were there AND it was an “adult” party. Not swinging adult party, but plenty of booze and getting wild. In the city since there is very little room to let your kids roam around while you party, most events are an either/or proposition.  I was just standing around pretty much shell-shocked, finding it hard to believe that I was a half week into living in a suburban house and I’m standing in a backyard party circled by screaming children and people dragging their coolers filled with “drink of your choice”- in most cases this was juice boxes and Coors Light, lots of Coors Light.

Standing there mute is not what I usually do and I noticed the irony that everyone probably thought my husband was the outgoing one– which he’s not. I have never seen him work a crowd like this-  probably because he was afraid I was going to lose it and hustle everyone out of there on a train to Manhattan.

I probably should have known I wouldn’t be best friends with everyone right away when the most people said to me was to comment on how cool my high heels were. As in “wow you’re so dressed up- those shoes are cool” Now, it was billed as a party–high heels should not be considered innovative. But I had to take whatever attention I got and grab some friends quick. The lady of the house that had been opened for this event came up and introduced herself to us. She was the picture of suburban perfection. Huge smile, attractive short haircut, wide-leg capri pants, a summer twin set and a drink in hand. Her home was beautifully done and her backyard had a beautiful patio, deck, tiki torches and lighting for the trees. She seemed to be well liked and friendly so I gave it a shot. Then…we discussed how we had just moved from New York City. And she smiled that big smile and said- “Well that must have been fun, but I guess it was time to settle down and grow up.” I couldn’t tell if that was hostile or just her true feelings. My true feelings were ‘we obviously have nothing to talk about’, but instead I asked about how she got her deck so polished.

That pretty much sums up our first suburban cul de sac party. Later I would learn that we left way too early to see any of the good stuff that happens when neighbors, booze and the midnight hour collide.

Opportunities for rebellion and danger are few and far between out here. This summer I have deliberately and repeatedly courted danger. I continue to walk barefoot on our deck.

Not a composite deck or a fancy polished wood deck. Oh no, - a wood deck, one that needs to be sealed and has the occasional nail poking through. Who knows what could happen out there- all kinds of splinters lurk. I know the danger. Yet, the siren call of the plants needing to be watered lead me astray, as does the cat who needs to be pulled in at night. My husband is convinced I will be taken down for this disregard of personal safety. He doesn’t realize that he has married a rebel who courts just such trouble.

Walking out on the deck without flip flops may not qualify as taking a gypsy cab from the West Side Highway at 2 a.m., but I take what I can get. And I continue to defy the odds.

I have thought of something that would make suburban living so much better. The Chinese Food Truck. Like the ice cream truck, but with Chinese Food, or Mexican or whatever the entrepreneur wants to sell. Let me explain- one of the biggest problems out here is not being able to get fast and delicious delivery. As a result, I have been cooking more meals than I ever have in my life- meals at 9:00 at night. There are delivery- but like Domino’s or there are restaurants that work with services like Takeout Taxi- but they’re expensive, slow and the food they feature never even travels well. I have to say Takeout Taxi is the worst innovation I have ever encountered.

This is how it would work- The truck has a supply of meals with pictures on the side. Essentially it’s a food truck like you’d see on urban street catering to workers on lunch. Except, they’d drive through suburban neighborhoods and sell their food to desperate people who don’t want to cook. Which is pretty much everyone who has to schlep around all evening. The only thing I haven’t figured out is what song they should play.

If this plan is implemented, a new sight will be seen around cul de sacs everywhere. Women, all kinds of women, in both business suits and sweat suits will come running out of their houses with dollars shouting with glee- It’s the Chinese food man, It’s the Chinese food man!

I’m pulling out of my development the other day and as I’m waiting for traffic to clear another car pulls in. This was an old, small, car with a formerly white body. But, the residents of this car could have been Paris Hilton and her crew tooling around in a Mercedes convertible. Suddenly, in my station wagon filled with dinner-eating children as we rushed to another practice, I felt like the biggest loser. Well, not suddenly, I always feel like the biggest loser driving in my station wagon as I careen from one obligation to another. The reason being that it seems so banal, so pointless.

Anyway, you might ask why would that car and its driver/passenger re-affirm my inadequacies? The two teenage girls with ridiculous sunglasses pull in the development probably to go pick up their friend but they were so working it. You could just tell they felt so cool and as a result, they were. They must have just gotten their licenses and had that euphoria that said they were completely free and “yo, check me OUT!” They simultaneously had self satisfied exhilaration and disdainfully aloof looks on their faces. That is hard to do if you’re trying. I’m guessing they were going to pick up a friend and do whatever kids do out here- I can’t even speculate or make a funny joke- I’m completely out of my element. But I’m going to assume that it did not involve paparazzi or even a night past midnight.

My point here is that I realized that if these girls were able to make driving from one neighborhood to another seem so cool by just believing it to be cool, maybe I can believe that I’m that cool driving around doing errands just by dint of driving. So, I’m going to have the song “Ridin Dirty” by Chamillionaire is going to be my theme song for driving. For some reason it seems to exude cool.

If that doesn’t work for you, I have a formula:

The assumptions for the formula are: American societal norms

If someone else thinks something is cool then», it is cool.

If enough young people think it is cool then it is super cool.

If something costs more, then», the something looks better.

Thus, if enough teenagers think driving is cool, it is.

My car is more expensive than theirs » my car is looks better» thus I am super cool driving around in a good looking vehicle.

NOTE: this formula may only apply in theoretical lab applications

If this does not work in actual conditions, revert to singing Chamillionaire. Throw in some Cristal for good measure.

I had always thought that Manhattan had a pretty good lock on the excessive consumption, beautiful people, and fancy luxury market. That was because I had not been to Las Vegas until just recently. Any place with more than one Cartier shop in a mile is obviously competing for center of excessive consumption. I never went because I was convinced I would hate it- that it would be cheesy and nothing would look good or taste good and it would be populated with people from places that I forget are part of the lower 48. Much of that was true, but much was not. In fact, I thought it was a pretty good distillation of Manhattan. It is a place where a democratic approach of ‘as long as you’ve got cash you’re in’, rules.  It’s a place where you don’t have to drive and it’s open all night. And, an especial plus for me- getting dressed up did not involve a halter top from the Gap.

Also, like New York of present day they have managed to keep crime and crazy people away from people who stay in the happening area- unlike too many cities to mention that haven’t figured out how to concentrate crime away from their income hubs (for good or for bad- it’s definitely a plus in current New York- if you disagree with that, Google Alphabet City)

Well, enough social commentary. Suffice it to say that I thought it was a great time, with actually fabulous food. I had always heard that the food was good, but I was assuming that was from people who think Applebee’s is good [that might make this post qualify for Why Am I Such a Bitch]. In particular, we loved our evening at the outpost of San Francisco restaurant Fleur De Lys, and the service was unbelievable. I began to suspect they mistook us for someone else. And I’m embarrassed to say, but just breathing the air at The Venetian casino was so pleasurable to me I shouldn’t even admit it. Overall, it was a weekend very similar to a weekend out in New York- without the subways or the cold. Ironically, one of the places with the least New York vibe was, you guessed it, the casino New York, New York.

In response to my near incessant complaining about the high cost of education, I was recently asked if I had any suggestions on how to better save for college and its attendant costs. I have been thinking about this and with the cost of gas and milk going up and the stock market pretty volatile, I’ve had to dig deeper for some more creative ideas. The following are some cost cutting and saving measures that your financial advisor may have overlooked:

Auctions

Stop trying to save an inconsequential amount of money by giving handmade gifts to your family. Spring for a 25 dollar Outback gift card and focus on where the real money is-Auctions! At my daughter’s nursery school there was an auction and each class offered a hand made object that the entire class made. I was astounded as I watched parents fight with increasing bids for a bowl decorated with 25 fingerprints or a pillowcase with handprints. If parents are willing to pay for that, think about grandparents. No more gifts- all items are to be auctioned off to family members. Think about it- is your mother-in-law really going to let your mother steal away the I Love Grandma painting after the way she hogged all the best seats at your wedding? 800 dollars minimum! Repeat throughout the year.

Acting

Your kids are cute. You know you think it, so do something about it. For just a few days a week going to auditions and training your baby to smile, you could make at least a thousand dollars a year. And, for those of you beginning to plan a family I was once told that preemies are a hot commodity on television as there is a minimum age for babies to appear on TV. At six months preemies are the acceptable age and are still so darn newborn cute. I hear smoking and coffee can help you out with that.

Stop Volunteering

Chances are, your child’s school has asked you to help out from time to time. Some classes, like Art, have a regular “helper.” Since I have started working in the educational field, I have discovered that they actually pay some people to do that work. So, from now on tell Mrs. Smith “first one’s free, after that all construction paper projects are twenty bucks.” That 20 bucks invested over 10 years will pay for the eventual open container charge your child gets on Spring Break sophomore year. It really is the incidentals that add up.

Food Savings

Every article in a parenting magazine talks about how picky kids are and how they never eat anything. Stop fighting it. Eventually they’ll start eating when they turn 11. Until then, just feed them the crackers they want anyway and give them a couple of generic brand vitamins to prevent nutritional deficiencies. I guarantee a savings of at least 100 dollars a week.

Scholarship Planning

A recent New York Times series pointed out that there is actually very little money in college athletics, unless you play basketball or football. The take away of that story to me is stop wasting time on soccer! And academic scholarships? Brainy kids are a dime a dozen. Focus entirely on football and basketball. Additionally, I have heard stories about how some of the most accomplished athletes struggled as children in poverty with only their ball as a toy. This is win-win. Stop buying your kids toys (major savings) and give them a simple basketball or football. Can you say full ride Big Ten?

Hopefully this will help some of you out. I will continue to be on the lookout for more ideas. Every penny counts when you’re trying to pay 45 grand a year.

One of my biggest problems with the suburbs as opposed to the city is the lack of connection you have with other people. We’re safe in our cars and backyards here instead of pushed up against each other and in each other’s business. The other day though a string of events that I have dubbed Sisterhood of the Traveling Snacks made me realize that even out here, you can have that connection and it emphasized to me how much we need each other and how good it feels to be understood. Not inconsequentially, it reinforced that we’re all completely chaotic and a mess.

A few weeks ago, my friend from the city came to visit us for the weekend. As she was leaving and I was scurrying to get ready for my place I had to be, she tossed me some packaged snack cookies from her road trip so that I’d have something in my car. Fling they went into my pantry and were forgotten. Until….the following week when I realized I didn’t have a snack for soccer camp and into the lunch bag they went. Then, this morning as I dropped off my son at Adventure camp I ran into a friend who was running very late and asked if I had any type of snack because she had nothing to send in. Rummaging through my car (my mobile pantry and supply station) I found a (several) lunch box(es) and opened them up. One had a half drunk water bottle covered with grass, but the other one, lo and behold, had the bag of cookies that had originally traveled from New York, to my house, to soccer camp, and now to Michelle at Adventure camp.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I thought how good it felt to both receive the snack and pass it on. Like some airline or cellphone commercial I pictured this bag of cookies crossing over time zones and regions, handed off from one desperate mom to another. I’d like to think that perhaps Michelle’s son didn’t eat the cookies or traded them and they are still moving around the nation. And our girlfriends are a sisterhood, connecting through shared snacks and all.