Debra Weiner2013-05-18T19:10:25-04:00Debra Weinerhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=debra-weinerCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Debra WeinerGood old fashioned elbow grease.Bake Biscotti or Finish the Book?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.14618382012-04-30T10:48:32-04:002012-06-30T05:12:02-04:00Debra Weinerhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/debra-weiner/parmesan black pepper biscotti. But I also want to write more. My blog is seriously envying the amount of attention I am paying to my kitchen.
Here is my current dilemma: an editor has approached me about publishing a second edition of my book, How to Recognize Your Future Ex-Husband.
The book's 2011 release coincided with the busiest time of the year for me in my other professional life, where I own and manage a busy communications company. I have a lot of anxiety about this, and when I feel anxious, all I can think about is cooking, not writing. Anyway, the editor would like me to write another 10,000 words. This isn't an unreasonable request, but for some reason, I'm having trouble sinking in and hearing the voice -- the one that steadily spoke to me as I churned out each section month after month. That voice was with me for a very long time -- until now.
Perhaps that voice is being obscured by the clanging of pots and pans and other assorted sounds emanating from my orchestra of appliances. Frankly, any excuse to use my KitchenAid standing mixer is irresistible. Should I go to Whole Foods for ingredients to make a complex new banana bread that I just read about in Cook's Illustrated? There's also the raw cauliflower salad that would be perfect for what remains from this week's Fresh Direct delivery; and we have all of those green olives, and a fresh bunch of Italian parsley.
When endlessly researching writing and book blogs last year, I came across Luisa Weiss' The Wednesday Chef (www.thewednesdaychef.com). Luisa is a former cookbook editor, and Viking is about to publish her first book, My Berlin Kitchen: a Love Story (with Recipes). See, I've become entirely captivated by Luisa and her blog. One night I stayed up until the wee hours reading every single entry from 2005. I also like her blog because she lives in Berlin, and Berlin is now one of my two favorite places in the world (second only to Rome). If this weren't enough, I then discovered (through Luisa's blog) Deb Perelman's Smitten Kitchen (www.smittenkitchen.com). Now, between the two of them, it has been impossible to redirect my energy out of my kitchen and into my writing. I've purchased more quarts of buttermilk in the last twelve months than I care to admit.
All of this is terribly inconvenient because before the editor requested the extra material, I began to write a film treatment of the book, and I am determined to have Patricia Clarkson play the therapist. The casting is crucial. While I could be swayed about my preference for Rebecca Hall as Ivy, the protagonist, I am absolutely set on Zach Galifianakis as Arthur, the burly, lapsed Orthodox-Jewish, Monty Python-loving, contempt-for-the-rest-of-humanity doctor and medical writer.
I believe that this is a story that Nora Ephron, Nancy Meyers, and Jennifer Westfeldt would all vie to direct.
Imagine a romance that doesn't quite work out the way you expect, but helps pave the way for an even better tale, because the guy in the first story taught the girl everything she needed to know about recognizing those all-important signals like having a boyfriend who a) speaks to his mother only in Hungarian, b) tells his mother that his girlfriend is only half-Jewish before she even meets the girlfriend, and c) frequently expresses his derision for self-help books and the people who read them -- knowing full well that his girlfriend is a long-time subscriber to therapy and those types of books.
Oh, and then there's the food.
Ivy and Arthur use food to avoid the big issues in their lives. But they are both so interesting and funny, such good cooks and conversationalists, that this never occurs to them until they've moved in together and started a new life in a Hudson Valley suburb of New York City. After visiting every restaurant and café in town, one month before Passover, the relationship begins to disintegrate. They both shut down around sex and money. Not even a perfectly executed brisket or Marcella Hazan's Bolognese sauce can keep things together and they eventually break up. But then, something else happens that changes the story, but I can't go into that because I haven't yet finished the film treatment.
OK, I need to excuse myself because I have to pick up my bi-weekly delivery of organic produce and decide whether or not to use the escarole in a salad with blood oranges and avocado, or sauté it with garlic, crushed red pepper, and white canellini beans.
What would you do?]]>References For A Rabbi?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11086622011-12-15T11:11:16-05:002012-02-14T05:12:02-05:00Debra Weinerhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/debra-weiner/
Our wedding weekend began on a beautiful Indian summer Friday as I drove up the Taconic State Parkway on my way to Stormville, New York. We are fortunate to have good friends with great houses. This one in particular was a one hundred year-old farmhouse planted on a lush and rustic six acre property. I intuited that the weather was going to turn colder over the weekend, so I contacted the tent rental company and ordered a heater just in case. This turned out to be one of my better decisions.
8:00 a.m., Saturday: we wake up to cold, rainy weather. The grounds are soaked, and I am filled with terror that the sun will not come out in time to dry the grass and warm the air. At 10:00 a.m. my husband is on the couch playing his guitar and I ask if he has finished writing his vows. He says that he hasn't. Sensing my irritation, he puts his guitar down, grabs a yellow legal pad and sits outside at the damp picnic table to compose his thoughts. In contrast, mine have been typed, printed, and slipped into clear acetate sheets in my three-ring planning binder.
12:00 p.m.: thankfully the sun came out and things were looking better all around. The hand-painted Chuppah (canopy) was erected and the chairs were assembled near the tennis court. The morning humidity had an unfortunate impact on my freshly blow-dried hair. It made it frizz, and in my rush to get ready, I grabbed hair-spray instead of hair-straightening lotion, and my mane became a giant clump of embattled curls. I finally gave up and made my way down to the cocktail reception. Because I was wearing a sleeveless dress, I was snapped into in a pre-Spanx onesie that kept riding up and poking out. The ill constructed under-wire made it look like I had two rotisserie chickens bobbing underneath my dress.
2:00 p.m.: the sun wasn't sure if it wanted to be there or not. It was finally time for the show to begin and the rabbi arrived in time for a quick run-through of the details. I made it clear that we had 30 minutes to get through it all, because the food preparation was timed in relation to its duration. Ignoring my instructions, the rabbi went on to pontificate about his opinion of U.S. foreign policy, the existential malaise enveloping our culture, and his frustration with narcissistic, self-absorbed people. This went on for one hour and fifteen minutes!
I was livid. The sun had now completely retreated, everyone was cold, and the caterers were in a frenzy. I finally turned to him and said, "this must end NOW!" He finally pronounced us man and wife and we ambled over to the heated tent, seething at his disregard of our explicit directions
After speaking with a friend about all of this a few weeks later, I learned something that made me even angrier. This friend had dated one of the catering staff and she told him about an exchange that took place between the rabbi and another staff member. Apparently while everyone was dining inside the tent, the rabbi had gone up to the staging area and requested that the remaining San Pellegrino mineral water and Diet Coke be brought to his car. The staff person was perplexed and said, "I can't do that without asking the bride and groom." To which he replied, "You are questioning the word of a rabbi? They told me it was fine, now pack it up."
Five years later I met a woman at a party and we got on the subject of mixed-faith weddings and the difficulty of finding the right rabbi. She began to tell me a story of her wedding, a decade earlier, which took place at the now defunct Tavern-on-the-Green in New York's Central Park.
She said that she had finally identified a Reform rabbi who turned out to be a huge disappointment. Apparently he spoke way over his allotted time, stole the favors and the flowers off of the tables, and was audacious enough to ask the buffet staff to pack up several trays of food for him to bring home.
As you might have guessed, it was the same rabbi! Let this be a gentle reminder to always ask for references--lots of them.
]]>How to Recognize Your Future Ex-Husbandtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9330902011-08-22T12:12:45-04:002011-10-22T05:12:02-04:00Debra Weinerhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/debra-weiner/
When someone asks me to describe my new book, How to Recognize Your Future Ex-Husband in two sentences or less, this is what I tell them. The essence of the book is about understanding the rationalization process and how it obstructs our ability to identify the early warning signs of trouble ahead.
Here are three of the numerous "domains" of dating where rationalization shows up most
frequently:
Anger: A man who is too angry too often (and too early in the relationship) may be emotionally unstable. Anger can make us feel less vulnerable and will often impersonate intimacy. Genuine intimacy is about trust and feeling safe, and it is impossible to experience either with someone who is angry most of the time. Rage should never be a first-line response. So don't try to spin it like his ease in expressing anger is indicative of how he feels close enough to be authentic. In fact, if says something like this to you--run--he is definitely a future ex-husband!
Boundaries: While the nature of romance is about the blurring of boundaries (two become one, etc.), it is very important to establish boundaries early on because they ultimately provide a solid foundation in which to cultivate a deeper commitment. One time a friend of mine was dating a man who constantly ate off of her plate and sipped her wine whenever they went out to eat. On the first date she politely told him that she was a bit germ-phobic and didn't like to share her food or drink. This admission made him feel hurt and put-off, so instead of respecting her request, he continued to sip her Pinot Noir and munch on her pickles and coleslaw. Don't rationalize that this isn't a big deal in relation to all of the other wonderful things he does for you. What is most important here is his response to your stated preference. If he doesn't respect it, he is definitely a future ex-husband.
Money: In our culture, money is the code word for love and power, and we often worship wealth with complete disregard to character. Rich people can be stingy, and often cannot give easily of themselves emotionally. What seems tolerable in the beginning becomes a source of conflict later on. The other side the coin is buying gifts and showing-off. An expensive piece of jewelry on the third date should trigger an alarm. Again, don't rationalize that he is simply a generous person who shouldn't be demonized for having affluent tastes. His showering you with baubles or pricey dinners is more about him, and what he needs to do to feel good about him. This is a signal that there may be a huge amount of narcissism looming--a definite marker of future "ex-ness."
There are many more examples of how this process and the destruction that it leaves in its path. However, it can be averted. If you have been divorced or repeatedly disappointed in love, it is important to understand how and why you succumb to the rationalization process so easily. Here, awareness is everything and can quickly halt unproductive behavior patterns.
Let's practice. If on the first date he says something like "will the children have your nose or
mine?"--excuse yourself politely, call your best friend, and say "I think I've just recognized my
future ex-huband!"
Debra Weiner is the author of How to Recognize Your Future Ex-Husband, and is a Managing Partner of Aventine Co., which produces the annual PAINWeek® national conference.