Rick and I have rented yet another storage unit in Manhattan.

As you may remember, in addition to the apartment where we actually live, we already have one place for our junk way uptown.  Now we have another one on 23rd Street.  The two of us are becoming quite the real estate moguls.

So today Rick went up to our new unit in Chelsea and filled out the required paperwork.

“You have to agree to the Good Neighbor Policy,” said the Manhattan Mini Storage employee.

Rick nodded.

“It means you agree to not store anything illegal.  No drugs. No firearms. No dead bodies.”

Rick laughed.  “You have my word,” he promised.

“Ok. That’s good. But we’re also going to need a signature.”

No dead bodies?! Well, NOW what are we going to do with them all? Shove them all under the bed?

And let’s just say you are the type of person who would actually murder someone. It seems like you might not stress too much about Manhattan Mini Storage’s “Good Neighbor Policy.”

We rented the storage unit because we want to de-clutter our apartment a bit in case we decide to sell.

Of course, as we try to move out some of our belongings and a lot of toys, 4 year-old Dylan has a growing list of things she wants for Hanukkah and Christmas.

Like this big hobby horse from the local drugstore that looks like it would provide about 4 whole minutes of entertainment before being shoved in a closet. Actually, 4 minutes might be optimistic.

I asked my mother today if there was anything she wants for Christmas.

She asked me for a cassette player.

I gave her a CD player a few years back but apparently she is looking for something a bit more outdated.

She explained that she has two Buddhist cassettes that she can only play in the car and she wants to be able to play them at home.

I explained to my mother that there was just NO WAY that anyone sells cassette players anymore.  They are hanging out in the Sam Goody graveyard, chatting it up about the glory days of the 80′s when everyone was making a mix tape for their boyfriend or girlfriend.

And as it turns out, I was completely wrong. They do still sell them. See what I mean?

So I guess if I can’t find her tapes in that fancy new CD form, I’ll just buy her the cassette player.

I just want my mom to be happy.

And plus she would just look so ultra cool with her own boom box, blasting her enlightening meditation tapes down the streets of Durham, North Carolina.

The above photo is actually not my mother. Any resemblance is completely coincidental and not intended.

I misplaced my brother-in-law earlier this week.  I know, first the shrimp and now an actual person.

My brother-in-law is this super sweet, charming Memphis boy who maybe should not be navigating the streets of Manhattan alone.

I spoke to him at 3:30 in the afternoon and gave him directions from Midtown to the West Village.

About a 30 minute trip.

Except an hour and a half later, there was no sign of Memphis boy.

I’m obsessively calling his cell phone and wondering how exactly I’m going to gloss over the “missing brother-in-law issue” when my sister arrives in New York later that night.

“Hey sis. Welcome to New York. Where’s Erik? I’m sorry, Erik who? Oh, you mean Erik your husband!  I didn’t realize you were referring to THAT Erik. It’s a pretty popular name. Of course, not as popular as the name Michael.  But still, pretty damn popular. What? Oh, where is he? Well, you know that crazy guy. He’s probably off scouring the streets of Manhattan for some decent BBQ or a good Elvis impersonator.”

After 2 hours, Erik finally showed up and I was so relieved. He apparently took a very creative route downtown. I wasn’t taking my eye off that boy. He safely watched “Elmo’s Christmas Countdown” with the girls.

We got to spend Thanksgiving with lots of great family and even the driving wasn’t too bad. Although for a large portion of the 3 hour trip, Dylan insisted on having the window open with a strong 40 degree breeze because her “back was sooooo hot.”

After amazing food, my sister Quinn did the traditional reading of “Lucky” magazine to the youngins.

And the next morning, Quinn introduced us to The Gobbler…

Yes, that’s a bagel with turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce.

May The Gobbler find its way into your lives this holiday season.

My 4 year-old daughter Dylan really digs seafood.

In the past week, she’s eaten salmon sushi rolls, mussels and fried calamari.

The girl will not touch the “cake” part of a “cupcake.” But mussels? Absolutely.

So recently I went to the grocery store and bought some shrimp to saute for her.

Two days go by.

And I realize that the shrimp are strangely MIA.

Not in the fridge.

Not in the freezer.

Not in the stroller, thankfully.

So I just let the shrimp go, trusting that the universe will take care of those sweet, lovely shrimp, wherever they might be. And I am at peace.

And then I notice an odd smell in our coat closet. And after a quick search I find those shrimp in one of my reusable cloth shopping bags. Apparently, the universe just dumped them in there. How rude.

So, umm… I guess, no shrimp for dinner.

Instead, I cook up some eggs for my girls and put the frying pan in the sink.

At which point, I am quickly reminded that super hot pans melt plastic. See….

Yes, that tupperware and elmo cup are stuck to the pan.

So as you might have concluded by now, I kind of won’t be cooking Thankgiving dinner.

We are headed to my Aunt Terrell’s in Connecticut and we will bring alcohol (already distilled), a pie (already bakery made) and an Asian salad (already a well received dish at previous Thanksgivings and a very simple recipe).

By the way, if you like to shop at the Citarella on 6th Avenue, you may want to avoid the loaves of French bread for the next day or so. Because there was this little girl touching all the loaves. I don’t know who she is exactly but I think she might look something like this.

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

I am so grateful for all of you who take a few minutes from your insanely busy lives to read this blog. I am grateful for all your funny, smart, fabulous comments.

I am thankful for my handsome husband and cute little girls that can’t keep their sticky fingers off fresh loaves of French bread.

mama bird notes:

Yes, all you google cheaters were right. That was singer and songwriter Neil Sedaka, sitting next to actress Kathleen Turner at Juror Appreciation Day here in New York.

I’m sending the mama bird bonus prize to Aimee because in her comment she admitted to throwing up very publicly during jury duty. So the poor girl deserves a prize.

All the celebs were looking up at this.

And yes, Vera Wang was there. Not wearing a wedding dress.

And just so no one is bitter about Rick’s free jury pass, please know he has served multiple times on juries. In fact, just four years ago, he and his other jurors let a drug dealer go free. Yes, seriously. So please don’t think he’s not doing his part for the American justice system.

I’m always trying to be a little more eco-friendly when it comes to the holidays. And I just love this Green Toys’ Cookware and Dining Set for kids.  It’s made of recycled milk jugs and it’s made in the USA.

The 27 piece cookware set includes a skillet, a stock pot with lid, 4 plates, 4 bowls, 4 cups and 4 full place settings. Man, with all that… your kid can practically serve your holiday dinner. Of course, it’s an imaginary dinner. But still.  $41.  Available here.

Do you remember the last time you had jury duty? Kind of boring, right?  A lot of sitting around.

Well, my friend Lanie did serve on a defective penile implant case.  But even penile implants get seriously dull after a couple days.

So my husband Rick goes off to jury duty last week but Mr. Fancy gets to participate in Juror Appreciation Day. This is a day when “notable New Yorkers” get excused from their jury service in order to tell the rest of us why we should freakin’ love jury duty.

See, there’s Rick between Nathan Lane and Katie Couric.

Oh and yes, that’s actress Kathleen Turner all the way to the left.

The first person to name the guy between Kathleen Turner and Nathan Lane definitely gets some kind of mama bird bonus prize.

So you can imagine my delight to learn that my local TV news anchor husband is a “notable New Yorker.” I’m now realizing that I need to give that boy more respect at home.

After Rick’s high profile day at the courts, I wanted to make sure his weekend was just as glam.

So we went shopping for a new toilet seat….

We spent time discussing the merits of a $25 toilet seat vs. an $11 toilet seat. I mean, would my arse truly feel the $14 difference?

Rick started chatting it up with another customer to get his advice.  Why? I guess because it’s so darn fun to talk to strangers. And who better to make our plumbing decisions than some random guy wandering down the Home Depot toilet seat aisle.

Finally, we splurged for the $25 seat.

Just Rick and me doing our part to jump start this economy.

And because you just know that ritzy Katie Couric isn’t sitting on some $11 cheapo toilet seat.