The Gold Mine

BOYNTON BEACH MEMORIES...

Let me just state for the record that when something tragic, sad or depressing hits my family, I usually find that humor is a great way to deal with disaster. And so, this past week, when my husband, kids and I raced to Boynton Beach, Florida after hearing that my dad had a heart attack (read Role Mommy Confessions for the story) I discovered what I believe to be the birthplace of Jewish comedy as we now know it. Yes, the borscht belt is alive and well in a remote retirement hub in Florida and the undercover mom mined for some golden nuggets while she was immersed in a family crisis. DEFIBRILLATOR PERSON OF THE MONTH The comedy gems were subtle at first. Like the sign we encountered as we approached the front desk at my parents' development in Palm Isles to get the kids guest passes for the pool. Perched atop the receptionist's desk was a sign that read "Defibrillator Person of the Month." Now who exactly gets this kind of honor bestowed upon them? The person who defibrillates the most senior citizens in 30 days? Or is it the unsuspecting guy who is suffering from a nasty case of heartburn that's defibrillated upon? You know you've hit the retirement scene when they're honoring the defibrillator person. What I later learned was that each month, a new person is trained on the defibrillator so if you're having chest pains or want to freak some people out, just give a jingle over to the defibrillator person and he'll come a running. COFFEE TALK Before we headed over to the hospital, we hit the Palm Isle cafe where all the yentas and kibbitzers were congregrating and conversating. As they noshed on bagels, omelets and lox, I started to give a listen.

"I heard that while Neil (my dad) was lying there on the tennis court and the players on the other court just kept on hitting. Can you believe it?" A few feet over I eavesdropped on a table of eight chatting loudly about my dad's condition. "You know, he even visited his doctor before he came down to Florida and that bastard gave him a clean bill of health. Can you believe it?" THE SHOW MUST GO ON In addition to being an avid tennis player, my dad is quite the thespian and this year he has a pretty meaty role in the latest Palm Isles Players tour de force. So when he was holed up in his hospital bed, the director's phone began ringing off the hook.

"Hello Myron. What can I do for you?"

"You know Phyllis, if Neil can't do the show because of his condition, I can do a mean fox trot."

HEY THERE GORGEOUS

While waiting to be checked out of the hospital, my dad wanders to the front desk to ask the name of the internist on duty who can give him a clean bill of health.

"His name is Dr. Gorgeous."

"You mean you don't have a Dr. McDreamy in this place?"

OVERHEARD ON THE HOSPITAL P.A. SYSTEM

Paging Dr. Suck Up. Paging Dr. Suck Up.

A SEINFELD MOMENT AT FLAKOWITZ BAKERY

"I'd like to order lox, whitefish, cream cheese, tuna salad..."

"Not so fast - I can't remember that well," says the elderly man taking orders.

After asking the customer what else he needs, he replies,

"I just need the bagels now."

"Oh, we're running kind of low on those. How about a babka?"

IRV AND IRENE FARBISSINA (SOURPUSS)

As my mom and I are waiting on line in the bakery section at Publix, a heavyset bald man speeds by in his motorized wheel chair while his wife calls out to him.

"Irv - should we get a pie?" "NO!!!" Irv scowls back. When a friendly woman walks over to look at the pies too, she asks Mrs. Farbissina, "Are there any sugar free pies over there?" "How should I know? Do I look like I work here?" Irene shrugs. Incidentally, I discovered on this trip that Jerry Seinfeld's mother lived down the street from my parents in Palm Isles and Larry David's parents lived in Sunrise - where my aunt and uncle used to live. Now I know why they were both comedy geniuses - they got 3/4 of their material from the yentas and the kibbitzers down in Florida!!! Now that Seinfeld is in syndication, I've officially assigned my mother comedy dictation duties. Anytime she observes something hilarious, she's instructed to write it down and send it my way. So have no fear, there's plenty more tales to tell from the shores of Boynton Beach and I can't wait to uncover them!

Things that Annoy Me During the Holidays

It's only a few days away from Christmas and the Undercover Mom is here to share her thoughts on the five things that drive her nuts during the holiday season.

1. "It's the most wonderful time of the year" - Come on - you know the song. It's been blasting out of your car radio since Thanksgiving. What the heck is it with radio stations and holiday music? It seems like every year the holiday tunes start playing incessantly the minute I shut off the Macy's Parade and hop into my car to buy cranberry sauce. Frankly, I've had it up to here with the 55 unique interpretations of "Frosty the Snowman." And hearing Rod Stewart doing a Julie Andrews rendition of "My Favorite Things," is pretty darn creepy. Wasn't he the "Do You Think I'm Sexy Guy?" Come on pop stars, rap artists, rockers, crooners and country singers. If you don't have a new CD to release, do not torture us with your own musical take on the "Little Drummer Boy."

2. Wrapped up in Gift Wrap. Since I'm a last minute shopper, I wind up frantically searching for gift wrap the day before Christmas and the pickings are always slim. Why do we all have to wrap presents anyway? Between trying to find the damn scissors, to rationing out the scotch tape because I forgot to pick up another roll, I've gotten to the point that I'm about to picket those wrapping paper companies. In fact, I've actually come up with an ingenious way to wrap a gift without having to cut, tape or glue a thing. Buy a nice shopping bag with some holiday decorations on it, stuff in some tissue paper, plop in the gift (remove the price tag of course), sign the little card the bag comes with, and voila, you've got a present. Same thing with boxes - a pretty box with a bow is always the way to go. Stop chopping down trees to make wrapping paper. It only winds up in the garbage anyway.

3. Holiday tips. How many people are on your tip list this year? The mailman, the paper delivery guy, the garbage men, the landscaper, the guy at the gas station, the parking attendant, and on and on and on. Here's a tip - stop expecting everybody and their uncle to tip you for doing your job. If you do something above and beyond the call of duty - like deliver my paper with a sugar free vanilla skim a latte, then you my friend, deserve something special.

4. Photo Card Guilt. Once again, none of my friends will know what my kids look like this year unless we've actually gone to visit them. We do not have a mailing list and we haven't posed for a family portrait except when we were getting our passports. Thank you to all of our friends who have sent lovely cards and photos. Another year has passed and we still refuse to create and send holiday cards.

5. Pedestrian Traffic. If you work in midtown Manhattan then you know exactly what I'm talking about. It literally drives me to the point of insanity when I rush out of my office to catch my commuter train and get caught in the middle of a pedestrian snarl along Fifth Avenue. Yes - this year that Cartier gift box that opens up and plays music along with a light show is pretty cool. But, if the light is green, make up your mind and cross the street. I only give myself 14 minutes to catch my train and this holiday foot traffic totally drags down my Metronorth arrival time.

I know I may sound bitter - but trust me, it's all in jest. Tonight when I sang "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" with my kids at dinner, I had a great time watching them sing along with me. But maybe that's what the holidays are all about - enjoy your family and friends, take some much needed time off, open those gifts at home, but most of all, stay out of my way.

Observations on the Train

Maybe it's just that I spend a lot of time commuting, but lately that people have become really rude as they ride the rails to and from Manhattan. Suddenly, the space that's usually taken up by my morning coffee klatch, or the four old men playing a mean round of poker, has been filled with tourists, little kids, students and others who haven't taken a course in commuting 101. Take the student I sat across from last week. As I barely made the 5:48pm express, I squeezed through the aisles desperately searching for a seat and noticed that the four seater had two available seats whose only inhabitants were a laptop computer bag and a knapsack. When I looked over to see who was hogging the seats, I realized it was this young college kid who obviously doesn't ride the train that often. I asked him to move his stuff so I could sit down and he actually had the nerve to look at me and say, "Can't you just sit somewhere else?" I squeezed into the seat and then looked across to find a woman dropping off a baby stroller with her husband than dashing out off the train...probably for a much needed mom's night out. The baby was actually pretty well behaved, so I was impressed with the effortless hand-off between this commuter couple. Then there was the complete gross out situation. It was the end of a long day, most of the seats were occupied and I looked across a four seater to see a man who was pretty disheveled, sitting with a computer on his lap and his shoes completely off. That wouldn't have been as offensive if the man didn't proceed to put his feet on the seat in front of him where I normally sit with my girlfriends every single morning. EWWWW...my 8:48 am commute will never be the same.