Sofa… So Good.

“The sofa has left the building,” my husband said to me over the phone.

Monty on the couchI jumped up and down. My husband had decided to upgrade his leather office couch, and the reject was coming home to go in our playroom. Until now, the playroom had plenty of room to play, but no place to sit. When they were tired of standing, the kids had sat on beanbag chairs, the floor, and occasionally, in desperation, the dog. We were ALL very excited about this seating upgrade. Especially the dog.

With the help of several burly co-workers, my husband got the sofa into our SUV and drove it home. But once home, it took him, me, both kids, and the dog just to get it out of the car and into the house. OK, the dog didn’t really help. He was just there for moral support.

Still, it was clear that there was no way the four of us were going to be able to get the sofa across the house, down the stairs, and into the basement playroom.

“Can’t we tryyyy?” I begged. I like to set an example for the kids that immediate gratification is something to strive for.

“No way,” said my husband. “It’s too heavy. Someone will get hurt.”

“Hmph,” I pouted. My husband shook his head. The kids shrugged and walked away. Only the dog backed me up.

“When the guys come to finish painting the fence tomorrow, I’ll ask them to move it,” said my husband firmly. “Can you wait 12 hours?”

“Fine,” I sighed, as I plunked down in the leather sofa dumped sideways across my breakfast room floor. “Cuz I’m just loving this six foot sofa in the kitchen, you know?”

The next day I waited anxiously for the workmen to arrive. By noon, it was clear they weren’t coming. By 3pm, I had an alternate plan.

“Come on guys, were going to move the sofa,” I said cheerily to my kids when they got up.

“Mom, we couldn’t move it WITH dad,” protested my son. “How do you think we’re gonna do it without him?”

“Like this,” I said, lifting up one end of the sofa and raising it to the ceiling so that the sofa stood up on the other end. Then I went around to the other side and lowered the ceiling end of the sofa down the other side to the floor. I stood back and grinned. “Ta-da!!”

The kids eyed me skeptically, but then they joined in helping me roll the sofa one end over the other across the house. The dog, of course, followed and offered moral support.

My plan worked perfectly until we got the to the top of the basement stairs. While I had overcome the weight issue, there was one problem I just had not foreseen.

“It doesn’t fit!’ declared my son.

I examined the width of the sofa and then the width of the basement stairs. One was significantly narrower than the other, but not in the way I would have hoped.

I thrust out my lower lip. If I could push an eight pound baby out of my body… twice… I could get a stupid sofa down a narrow flight of stairs.

“We’re going in!” I announced as I barked at the dog to move
and I pushed the sofa on its end to the top of the stairs.

“It’s not gonna fit!” yelled the kids.

“We’re gonna MAKE IT fit!” I yelled back.

I sent the kids down the stairs and shoved the top of the sofa. It slid down the wall and came to a rest just above the stairs.

“ANGLE IT!” I yelled to my son. The two of us turned the wedged sofa slightly on its side. It slid down a little further, and then got stuck midway down the staircase on a ledge on the side of the wall.

I studied the stuck sofa for a few minutes, and then, With the dog at my feet and the wind in my hair, I flew in the air and landed on top of the sofa, knocking it past the ledge and onto the stairs, where I rode it down to the basement floor.

The kids stood back in amazement.

I got up and grinned. “And THAT’S how you get a sofa into the basement!”

“Nice!” exclaimed my daughter.

“One thing,” said my son.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He looked around. “Where’s the dog?”

©2014, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

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Filed under This Old House, Who Are These Children and Why are they Calling Me Mommy

Moons Over Manhattan

source: sc cunningham

source: sc cunningham

“Hey, look at that,” said my husband staring out the window. “There are people doing yoga on the roof of that building.”

We were on the 20th floor of a building in New York City, having a romantic dinner at a chic restaurant known for it’s great food and beautiful views.

“What are they doing?” he wondered aloud. “Oh. Oh no!”

“What? What is it?” I asked, straining to see.

“Um. I think they’re taking off their clothes.”

I jumped up from my banquette and ran to the wall of windows. There, in plain sight on the roof of the next building several floors below us, were sixteen people on yoga mats, doing downward dogs in their birthday suits.

“Ewww. Naked people doing yoga,” I squealed.

“Not just naked people: Ugly naked people,” clarified our waiter.

It was indeed a spectacle. But apparently I, the suburbanite, was the only one surprised by the events out the window.

All around me diners kept dining, drinkers kept drinking, and no one seemed to notice or care that right outside was an x-rated display of group exercise.

Honestly, I didn’t know which was more shocking; the people doing naked yoga outside, or the people not paying any attention inside.   Unfortunately, I was paying attention and I was having a hard time focusing on my lovely goat cheese and frisee salad and the lovely company of my lovely husband, while sixteen not-so-lovely-looking people Saluted the Sun with a full moon.

Obviously, it wasn’t the yoga part of this display that was troubling me. My husband does yoga and my sister-in-law teaches yoga, so although I, myself am not a yoga-phile, I have had some firsthand experience with people doing yoga. I am also not unfamiliar with themed yoga. I’ve read about such yoga options as Yoga for Couples, Yoga for Babies, and even something called Doga, for people who want to do their downward dogs with their Labradoodles. There are the food-yoga classes, such as Yoga with Chocolate, and Yoga with Wine, as well as the popular, Yoga with Pizza. There are classes that combine yoga with gymnastics, yoga with aerobics, and even yoga with belly dancing.   There are probably yoga classes for people who love “Star Wars” (Yoga with Yoda), and people who like their yoga with fruit on the bottom (Yoga with Yogurt). There are so many variations on the yoga theme that I’m sure if I were to search the Internet, I would certainly find Naked Yoga and maybe, even, Naked Yoga with Dogs. However, just because you can do it, doesn’t mean you should, especially on a rooftop in New York City and certainly not within view of someone who wants to keep her appetite intact.

Knowing this was a pricey dinner, I tried to keep my eyes on my plate and enjoy the rest of the meal. But ultimately, we decided to skip dessert and go for coffee someplace else, preferably on a lower floor. Then, as we were on our way out, we ran into a friend who was on his way in.

“Are you having dinner here?” asked my husband.

“Yes,” said the friend. “We heard the food is great and the view is terrific.”

“True,” I replied. “But you might not want to do both at the same time.”


©2014, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

bookbutton-04“Lost in Suburbia: A Momoir. How I Got Pregnant. Lost Myself, and Got My Cool Back in the New Jersey Suburbs”  makes a great beach read! To get a copy for you or a cool mom you love, CLICK HERE

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