When Wendy Wasserstein turned forty, she made a To Do list composed mostly of items left over from when she turned thrity. The listincluded the annuals: lose weight, exercise, read more, improve female friendships, improve male friendships, and (left over from her second grade To Do list) become a better citizen. At the end of the list were the larger-than-life unavoidables: move, fall in love, and decide about a baby.
In Shiksa Goddess, her first book of essays in ten years, Wendy writes about each f the quests and midlife obsessions.
On diets and cooking ("I was born to order up . . . My favorite breakfast china has always been a paper cup embossed with a picture of the Parthenon.") . . .
On getting in shape and hiring a personal trainer (Sue is on hand twenty-four hours to say, Stop! In the name of self-love . . . She is a fat-free beacon of light) . . . About the rise of the legendary Mrs. Entenmann, who married the boss at nineteen and went from salesgirl to bakery czarina . . .
On the truth of her denominational heritage (the name Wasserstein was changed from Waterson by a distant relative in order to get his child into an Ivy Leage college and Mount Sinai Medical School) . . .
On buying an apartment--and then seeking refuge from it for a year in a residential hotel ("Life boiled back down to basics: work, friendship, and room service") . . . About attending the Golden Globe Awards . . .
On the traditions of the holidays ("I was very disappointed the first time I saw Plymouth Rock . . . I thought it would be surrounded by Barricini chocolate turkeys, dancing sweet potatoes, and Pilgrims in crepe-paper hats") . . .
On MOther's Day and her mother, Lola Wasserstein ("Lola encourages sending a homemade greeting card. A personal citation like 'I love you, Gramma' or 'Mother, I promise next year to be married with three musically inclined children, a co-op, and a degree in dentistry' is worth thousands of words") . . . on Chekhov . . . George Abbott . . .
And she writes movingly about her sister's battle with breast cancer, and about her own pregnancy at forty-eight and the birth of her first child, Lucy Jane.
In Shiksa Goddess, her first book of essays in ten years, Wendy writes about each f the quests and midlife obsessions.
On diets and cooking ("I was born to order up . . . My favorite breakfast china has always been a paper cup embossed with a picture of the Parthenon.") . . .
On getting in shape and hiring a personal trainer (Sue is on hand twenty-four hours to say, Stop! In the name of self-love . . . She is a fat-free beacon of light) . . . About the rise of the legendary Mrs. Entenmann, who married the boss at nineteen and went from salesgirl to bakery czarina . . .
On the truth of her denominational heritage (the name Wasserstein was changed from Waterson by a distant relative in order to get his child into an Ivy Leage college and Mount Sinai Medical School) . . .
On buying an apartment--and then seeking refuge from it for a year in a residential hotel ("Life boiled back down to basics: work, friendship, and room service") . . . About attending the Golden Globe Awards . . .
On the traditions of the holidays ("I was very disappointed the first time I saw Plymouth Rock . . . I thought it would be surrounded by Barricini chocolate turkeys, dancing sweet potatoes, and Pilgrims in crepe-paper hats") . . .
On MOther's Day and her mother, Lola Wasserstein ("Lola encourages sending a homemade greeting card. A personal citation like 'I love you, Gramma' or 'Mother, I promise next year to be married with three musically inclined children, a co-op, and a degree in dentistry' is worth thousands of words") . . . on Chekhov . . . George Abbott . . .
And she writes movingly about her sister's battle with breast cancer, and about her own pregnancy at forty-eight and the birth of her first child, Lucy Jane.
