Walls

 Hey, I painted my kitchen wall.  Actually, did it 2 weeks ago, over Chanukah.

I just did one accent wall (because it was easier, cheaper, cool, and quicker to paint back if my landlord disapproves).  I especially wanted to make a more definite separation between the kitchen and "dining area", which kind of blur together in this apartment.  The color always looks darker on the wall than on the sample chip, and it came out pinker that I thought, but really I am quite pleased.  This was one (heavy) coat of medium gloss paint.  I let it dry overnight, then added the decals.  There used to be a product called "wallies", made out of wall paper material, with water-soluble paste on the back, but I couldn't find those in any local stores.  The decals are pretty, and very easy to move, but slightly harder to work with since they are thinner, and just don't look as professional - if you look close at all, you can see they are stickers.  So I put them up relatively high instead of in the middle of the wall, or down along the side, as I originally intended.  Still, I am, again, pleased with the effect.

I really should have asked the landlord first, I just didn't even think about it.  Now I am hesitant to do more renovations without asking, but hesitant to ask, since I already painted a wall.  Oh well, I'm gonna see what more renovations I can do of the completely impermanent kind.  I bought a bookshelf off Craig's List yesterday - hideous, but practically free ($15). I actually saw 2 of the SAME ITEM for sale, both listed as in excellent condition, but didn't fit in with the owners' decor. 

I was hoping it would fit in my large closet, but it just misses. so now I am trying to decide 1) whether to put it up and where and 2) whether to try to buy shorter planks to replace these the long ones that came with it. Then I would need to borrow a drill and such, unless it fits Home Depot or Lowes pre-drilled shelf planks, which is not such a crazy thought. 

Totally random thought - when by oldest son was very little, he was friends with a granddaughter of  the Home Depot founder (technically, one of the 2 founders) and we joked about him marrying into the Home Depot dynasty. One of the many alternate realities that don't appear to be my own.

I really wanted to write about thoughts on the looming prospect of DATING.  But I changed my mind, and did something easier, so I can now go home and cook for shabbos.  But, maybe next time...

.

Upbeat Lasagne

Okay, the subtitle of this blog says these are supposed to be (mainly) upbeat posts, and I feel that I have been pretty poor about that recently.  So, here are two happy dining experiences / hints I wanted to share.

Last night I went to a pot luck lunch party.  I spent the morning doing laundry, and at work, and got home with no time to spare.  "What can I bring for a Chanukah lunch?  I'm not gonna start deep-frying now, and I bet they already have the basics (and they did).  I don't have the produce for an interesting salad, and I'm not gonna start soaking lettuce, besides, I bet somebody else will bring that too (and they did).  Well, I have lots of assorted dairy (from the last time a friend went to the big kosher supermarket an hour away).  I have lots of tomato products, and I have no-boil lasagne noodles (note-to-self: tell goat story sometime). And since I am just going next door, I can let it cook while I am out."  Okay, here we go with my quick and clumsy lasagne; no big whoop if you already are used to making lasagne, this is just for those of you who might fear the task, especially if you wonder how there can be any consistancy with out meat.  Also, this will work with minimal dairy if you use tofu for the filling, although it doesn't taste half as good.  This is one of the first things I taught my son to cook start-to-finish.

Filling:  Blend together in food processor:

• one pound farmer's cheese, ricotta, or cottage cheese if you must, or tofu, or any combination.
• 2 eggs
• about 1 cup bread crumbs or cracker meal (we usually use saltines and left over bread, just throw it into the bood processor with the cheese)
• some (sorry I'm bad at measurements) salt, pepper, garden spices e.g. oregano, parsley, basil, marjoram. 
• Just enough water to get a thick paste that is spreadable.  Actually, if you have yoghurt, that is even better.

Sauce:
At least 24oz of spagetti or pizza sauce. 
What ever jarred sauce you have is okay, but you have to add at least 1/2 cup water per jar of sauce to properly soften the noodles.
I like to add a little red pepper paste, like 1Tbsp pepper/ 1cup tomato.  It's one of the things I usually have on hand.  You could also add any pepper dip, eggplant dip, pesto, you get the idea. something easy for YOU.

Spread:

• Very watery sauce
• noodles (try to not over-lap no-boil-noodles)
• sauce, some shredded cheese
• noodles
• filling
• a little more water
• noodles
• sauce 
• lots of shredded cheese

Cook covered at 350 for about 40 min.  Then cook uncovered at 425 for another 10 min to let the top solidify and cheese grill.

Okay this looks hard the way I wrote it, but it IS NOT HARD.  Really, as I said, it was one of the first things my teenage son would make regularly (most shabboses!)  Just go with the some-of-this-some-of -that flow, if you can.  It does make a big mess, be prepared for big clean-up.


Next hint is much simpler.  Fell into this in another "what have I got here?" happenstance.
Best simple dessert: cranberry sauce parfait.

Fill a wine glass with whole cranberry sauce (use the recipe on the bag of cranberries - it is super easy, or canned if you must);
Cover with a layer of manderine oranges or crushed pineapple or similar canned fruit;
Scoop on a dollop of whipped topping.
Yum, yum, yum, looks pretty, super quick, adults and kids both love it.

Okay, be happy.

Didn't mean to go here..same old, same old

Okay, here is one of my ugly big secrets...I find no joy in any Jewish holidays.  Or any secular holidays, or any any-holidays for that matter.  But It is the dull thud of the Jewish holidays that carries, in addition to the depression, the fear of stigma.  It's like a grade school child, who raises no eyebrows for saying "I hate math," but can't admit "I hate recess," without being labeled 'odd'.  (BTW, guess which way I went in grade-school.)

This all comes down to my same old rant:  as a child, I saw what all my friends had that I did not, comforted myself with the assurance "You will make it so for yourself and your children when YOU are the parent," and I did not live up to my own expectations.

I have been trying for the past few years to make a small party of friends on Chanukkah, since there isn't any family close enough to be willing to schelp out to my (our) tiny place for one night.  I don't even know if there will be occasion for that little party this year.  We will see.  I have so much catch-up to do at work, and I missed my oppurtunity to do laundry last night, since I had to wait until shabbos was over to light candles, and then to sit with the chanukkah candles, and by then, it was unlikely I could make the cut-off for 'last loads' at the laundry-mat.  On the upside, I did have a very fun time playing Scribblish

with friends (great game for a mix of adults and kids of reading age!) And today I have another party with friends, and a party at the shul I miiiight go to (mainly for the Chinese buffet).  So I'm not just dumping and saying to hell with it.  But honestly, the feeling of 'gratitude and joy for the miracles of long ago' is just not there.  I would rather have the time to fix up my graphs at work, and paint my kitchen, instead of sitting by the menorah.

I have been thinking about a young woman I ran into last week.  I used to see her fairly often, walking with her husband around the neighborhood.  "I haven't seen you for awhile," I said, assuming this was true because I had been out of the neighborhood for the past year.
"No, I haven't been around, I moved back with my parents."
Oh...So, I am trying to make benign sympathetic small talk, while she tells me all her circumstances.  And she tells me, among the rest "I have decided not to be orthodox for now."
Now, this is a very young woman, and I will give her some slack in the semantics of her statement, and the apparent depth of thought, so I am no longer considering her case in the post.  But for MYSELF, the concept of "deciding" not to be orthodox seems hollow.  Deciding not to "act" orthodox is a clear deal, with several obvious reasons; the two biggest being:
1) you don't believe the orthodox vision life, the universe, and everythign to be true, or
2) even though you do believe orthodox Judaism to be correct, you don't want to follow the laws.
I know, I know these are huge categories.  And included in the first would be the person, who just never thinks deeply about it at all, people who think that all branches of major religions have got it wrong, etc, etc, etc.  Right now, I hope that I am still following the laws properly, and not going slack.  I am occasionally into the first group, maybe often, when I look at the state of Orthodox Judaism of the 21st century.  But I remember a sermon given by Rb. Ilon Feldman, many years ago.  I can't remember anything, except the conclusion: "Many people rationalize  'well, I believe in God and torah, but I just can't follow all the commandments, that's not me.'  So what will be, when you fianlly go to heaven after 120 years?   The ministering angles will ask 'Did you keep the torah commandments?'
'No.'
'And why not?'
'Because that is not who I was.  I was a sinner.'  Is this the answer you want to give?"

Okay, as I keep saying, I'm not a good orator, so it comes out sounding shallow and flimsy.  But to me, it is powerful.  Anyway, I keep slogging along, because I really do believe it is the right thing to do, and somehow is fulfilling SOMETHING good for me and the universe, and really I want to please God the way one wants to please a friend or parent or some other allegory, but still the connection feels very slack.

Okay, I gotta get back to my laundry.

Quick old fogey Rant

Today when I came into work, I saw a whole bunch of out-of-service terminals, with a sign on each, explaining that the hospital has discontinued its "Electronic self check-in" system, in order to provide more personal service, yada, yada.  Thank goodness.  I don't care why they did it (my guess would be numorous mistakes and the extra man-hours of floaters to help the people "self-administering"), I am just happy to see the change.  I work in a cancer hospital, so the people coming in are usually older, and no one can be in a great state of mind coming for cancer treatment, so why make them go through this stupid puzzle of trying to fill out their own admission forms? 
I hate computers, have I mentioned?  I am old, and poor, and do not have internet connection at home, and I can never get phone numbers anymore, because the phone books have been put out of business, I guess, and have no way to reach people I don't already have listed in my phone, and often end up calling people out-of-state to ask, "will you look up a number for me?" 
There are other things too:  I can't find movie listings.  I can't just order things by phone, because there are no operators for some of these on-line-businesses.  Blah blah blah, but they all pale next to the phone-number hassle.
That's all - I guess I'm just waiting for the pendulum to swing back toward "faces" vs. wi-fi.

stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff...

So I am starting to get personalized junk mail again, as in credit card offers, cable ads and catalogs (although the solicitations for charitable organizations haven't found me yet, and all my donations have gone out locally, leaving little trail).  The x-finity and citibank envelopes go straight in the trash, but I kinda' missed the catalogs, I think I'm actually going to request some more.
So my mother has been asking what I want for chanukkah, and what the kids would want.  My mother and I have completely opposite tastes, and I have generally asked her not to get me anything for the past few years.  This past year I could say it outright, with the "explanation," I have NO ROOM, please don't get me anything, just get consumables for the kids.  So now, she sends me money - which is worse than nothing, in my mind.  I end up just putting it in my purse and spending it on groceries or whatever, and have to fudge to her about some fun way I spent it.
So I was looking at the housewares catalog I got yesterday, thinking what stuff would make a good gift to request.  My mother's senior center often goes out to places with housewares stores, and Mom really likes to shop there, so if I can, I try to request some goof-proof kithchen item.  But here is (one of) the reasons we can't make each other happy with gifts.  I would overwhelmingly prefer a gift of $30 gloves or scarf than a $30 coat (or a $30 knife to a $30 food processor).  A $30 coat is generally going to be in the garbage within a month, and I will never feel happy wearing it - that is why I still have my leather varsity jacket (which my mother hates).  I can't afford a new coat that I like, so I would rather wear my 20-year old "vintage" coat than a Value City new coat.  My mother understands this in theory.  She always praises this thinking by telling me, "Yes, my father always said 'better to see one play than 10 movies.'"  But she just doesn't really feel it.  I guess we are both really cheap, but she is more "fun", and I am more stuffy.  She doesn't-like-to-spend-a-lot, so she buys lots of little cheapo stuff.  I a-lot-don't-like-to-spend, so I just don't spend.
So, here is the post I wrote last week, but never got to finish:

I think manic season has worn down, mostly due to physical limitations.  The previous week of interstate, early-morning celebrations, return to dance class, and intense late-night beading, plus some kinda low-grade infection leading to flare-up of arthritis, has left me sore and tired.  Whereas, I had a hard time getting to bed before 1am for the past couple weeks, I am now hurriedly slogging (now there's an oxymoron) through the dishes and abbreviated tidying to get in bed by 10pm.

And yet, I am in a very good place emotionally - very satisfied with what I have, where I am.

I was especially thinking about this today, as I tried to straighten before I left the apartment.

Apparently last week I didn't have any great desire for any stuff (although I really want to decorate, do plan to paint the walls, etc, but more on that later), and I actively thought about it as I looked around.  But now I want.  Even without a TV or newspapers, I saw the Black Friday ads, and I WANT. 

So was this thought clear?  Or do I just come off as an ungrateful snob? Or both?

Righteous Indignation

About a year ago, I finally asked for a surrogate mother.  I went to the older, well-respected women in whom I confided, in whose house I took refuge, who was one of the mediators when I still trying to work out the marriage.  Even though we were already close, I asked for a further step.
      "I am jealous of these other women who tell me about their surrogate parents, the people who guided them in their journey toward a greater religious life, and became close enough to consider as family.  So I went to Jewish day-school!  I still need someone to go to for religious advice, intimate advice, general clarity and support!"
      "Let me be that person," she answered on cue.
I haven't been good about following up and really strengthening the relationship in a filial manner.  We are friends, close friends, but I don't run to her, or even speak to her, all THAT often.

This weekend, I received an insulting proposition.   It was somewhere between a high school student asking his principal out to the movies, and the homeless man camping outside Sears yelling out "Hey, hot mama, wanna share my blanket?"  I got a phone call from a third party, letting me know that a certain man, whom she does not know well, asked if I was "available".  I am well acquainted with this man, and this was completely inappropriate!  In so many ways!  The initial shock left me with only a flustered response "Just tell him I'm not divorced."

Oh no, what now?  Who can help me?  After several poor ideas, the answer hit.  I ran to my surrogate mother.
       "I got a call from 'Jane' yesterday.  Her husband was approached by 'Plony', asking...if I am available."
       "OH MY GOD!"  dial, dial, dial.  "'Mr. Surrogate', go find 'Plony' right now, and tell him not to ever approach 'Sweet Profusion' again.  Tell him that she is not interested in seeing him socially, it is not happening now or ever in this life time." "Nebach..."

Let me tell you, I don't think anything this year has boosted my self-esteem the way that mother's righteously indignant "OMG!" did.

Feeling just great.  Exhausted, but great.  I have gotten lots of  complements on the jewelry, even from total strangers, like the cashier at the quickie-mart.  I will again have a full table for shabbos dinner, including all my kids.  I hope to get back to a dance class tonight, after a year's hiatus.  I attended a bris on Monday and a bar mitzvah today, so I heard torah reading both Mon and Thurs for the first time probably since high school.  My intern is really moving on my pet project at work, woohoo, ready for cloning.  I even have a little gift for the wasband as a belated birthday surprise (don't worry, it's just a barmitzvah coffee mug, since he couldn't make it, and some cocoa-butter for his hands, which, like mine, crack terribly every winter).   I do have some insights on minyan attendance (as in, I wish I went regularly again, it's so much better than praying alone at home, but I just gotta save it for after the chanukkah bazaars.

Okay, if you would participate in a survey, take a look at the jewelry pictures here and here.  What do you think I should charge?  The simplest pieces can now be made in about an hour, but the complex ones may take up to 10 hours.  So I need it to be worthwhile for me, but I want to know what people are willing to pay. I have also now made a bunch of these

but with the toggle clasps. 

To anyone who gives me come input, I will gladly give you some sort of discount when I open the Etsy store.

Manic is much better

Sorry all for the sparse posting this month, I'm trying to set up an etsy site for the bracelets, etc.   Also I couldn't think of much to post.

After a short, boring, moderately-depressed period, I'm definitely manic again.  Unfortunately, I don't translate this energy efficiently into the projects I need to do - like cleaning and cooking for shabbos.  I spent a lot of time working on the jewelry.  Last night, I did go grocery shopping, made fish burgers, marinated mushrooms, cooked squash, potatoes, put away laundry, washed dishes, beaded half a small bracelet.  Okay, not too bad.

In the car this morning, I listened to the Rimsky-Korsokov production of Flight of the Bumblebee, a very short piece.  At the end, I laughed and laughed, just as if I saw a favorite scene from a comic movie I hadn't watched in a while.  Wasn't that a pleasant way to start the day?  It's no surprise that when I read today's Cakewrecks, I had tears of laughter rolling down my cheeks. 

I need to go get some veggie-turkey deli to make wontons.

I don't post political on FB

...but I was very tempted to by this article.  Friend and family ask how I can oppose strict abortion laws.  "I don't want to give the state the right to mandate my religious practice."  But, as I have said before, I am a poor debater.  Here is an article from the Huffington Post to explain better than I ever could.  Why would you think conception by rape would be the only sticky issue?! 
 
Baruch Hashem!  I was never forced to make such a decision.  But situations come to us, not only according to our request.  When it comes to government power, we all have to take seriously the "is it right?" concern, not just "this doesn't effect me personally".  I have similarly tried over and over to debate privacy policy.  People answer "But I have nothing to hide."  Well, lucky you!  How about if the federal government decides to make an equivalent to Megan's Law for abortions, so if you are evil enough to choose not to have a late term miscarriage, it will be announced publicly to warn you neighbors?  We should probably include all those recorded "spontaneous" abortions too - after all it's still labeled an abortion.  Then I would be on the list.  Maybe we should just avoid going in to the OBGYN all together.

Oh, think this is terribly rare, not worth muddying the argument with it?  Here is an unfortunately similar post
 from a friend, who decided to go public with her story to build awareness.

I think "IT" is real...

This is in response to several posts I have read on the "shidduch" (dating) oriented blogs I have been drawn into.  It is another opinion piece which many people, myself included, may feel I have no credentials to write, and therefore is should be just a jumping off piece to your own critical thinking - and yet, I feel it very, very deeply, so please do take this view into consideration, and feel free to share.

People who have been (or feel they have been, or are told they have been) looking to get married for a LONG time without success may come to believe that they are looking for the unattainable if they resolve to look for "love".  Isn't it enough to like the prospective partner, if you share commonalities, have a common plan for the future?  Won't love grow out of these?  Isn't the perception of "love" during dating just a chemical reaction, that in reality clouds your ability to judge the "true" characteristics of the other person?

To paraphrase the Dowager Countess of  Downton Abbey, marriage is, hopefully, for a very long time. 

Even if you think you have shared goals, situations can change which make you sharply re-evaluate and change your goals.  Even if you have shared interests, people change, new possibilities present, and change a person's focus.  Troubles AND joys come which can throw a relationship hard, or slowly erode as surely as gentle streams of water erode mountains.  For two people to stay together through this is a miracle! - how many times have you heard this vort?  There must be something supernatural to keep two people together through a lifetime. 

And so there is love.  The love between a parent and child is a given - as clear as the chemical lust between young lovers.  If you haven't been there yet, believe me.  When my last one was born, I finally made it the whole delivery without any anesthetic, but plenty of pitocin, so I was damn tired and relieved at the end  - and then I saw him.  And within two seconds I went from feeling just glad to have that "thing" out of my body TO "the baby, oh look at the baby, oh my baby" gush of love and protection and devotion and love.  Love between a couple is not a biological rush in the same way, and so the question of when it resolves is an open argument.

When I realized engagement to the wasband was imminent, I asked a friend, not a close friend but someone who knew me pretty well, "Do you think it is more important, for the success of a marriage, that the prospective couple be ready for marriage, or that they both love one another?"  I obviously felt I fit only one of these criteria - the fact is that I fit neither, but anyway... My friend, also just a college kid didn't have an answer.

Well, I came to my answer fairly quickly - they both need to love the other.  I went to stay with a very close college friend, after I had been married maybe a year or so.  She was talking with me and another older (not old, don't get angry at me, just older than we, already married many years, with children, etc) woman very close to her.  My friend told us about a man she had seen several times, told us he was very nice, they got along well, he had good future plans, etc.  "...And, so I know that love doesn't just happen, that it is more important to look at his character, and see if we are compatible, and then love will come later.  Wanting to fall crazy-in-love is a foolish thing, I'm going to be sensible..."  We two married ladies jumped, "No, don't, WAIT!  There must be an element of love.  Compatibility is a must, but in isolation, it can only carry you so far before you are left feeling disappointed and dissatisfied.  Look for love."  She found her true b'shert in the next man she met, and both were obviously in love.

So that is what I leave you with:  Look for love.  Yes, be careful not to be blinded by lust.  Yes, love alone is insufficient.  Yes, even "love" takes a lot of hard work.  But for G-d's sake - He created love for us.  Love is good.  Look for love.

Pretty

Last night the shul sisterhood had a "Spa and Sushi" event.  This morning, my nails are a bright coppery-gold.  In some cultures, this is considered quite attractive...

No, I'm just kidding - I picked out the color, and I am very pleased with the manicure.  I think it looks beautiful.  The other ladies seemed to agree.  Those of us sporting bold colored polish were happier with our choices than the women who picked more conservative colors.  I might also have been happier with the results since I do not keep my nails closely pared these days (whoops -not paired, they are closely paired), as do many of the other attendees.

I also decided to show off my fanciest-yet beaded bracelet.

This is the veiw from the back.  People wonder if it is like a glove; no, it leaves your hand very free.

  So, while I'm at it, I will show you the stuff I have been working on in the last couple months (I have been popping off bracelets almost every other night for the past couple weeks, Channukah Bazaar season is coming up.)

I want to learn some more designs like the star - such as snow flakes.  But I am also desperate for more snoods.  Anyway, I'm glad to be arms-deep into the pretty.

Hats (and gloves) again

I love hats.  LOVE.  I always planned to wear hats as an adult, never was really excited about wigs.  For the first ** years of married life, I was too intimidated to wear hats much, I'm sure glad I got over that.  Living in the other neighborhood last year, going to a shul full of hats helped a lot.

Over the holidays, I pulled out some new hats, as well as some older ones.  The new ones came from a woman who was giving away much of her collection.  I only took two: one black with a down-slanting brim, very chic, and the second sort of a rolled-brim leopard-print tam (probably the first leopard print ANYTHING I have ever chosen).  I love the look of both with my holiday clothes.

One of the older ones was from the Renaissance Faire.

Mine is similar in shape to these, in plum velvet, with gauffered ginko leaves.  It is a great hat, gorgeous, but huge, so I don't wear it too often.


Ladies, there is nothing wrong with wigs, but don't you want to do something fancy once in a while??  Even when I go to weddings now, I try to put something in my "hair" - flowers, a facinator, a big barrette.  But why am I even starting on this, with a crowd that overwhelmingly wear black suits to weddings??

Anyway, for the present, I'm keeping my hair long, making more snoods, and collecting hats as I find them.

As for gloves - I need some.  I have a terrible habit of playing with my nail, creating hangnails, and generally doing all kinds bad stuff to my fingers on shabbos.  I can't put on moisturizer, my skin is dry, and I don't even realize what I'm doing until the skin around my nails is a painful mess.  It popped into my head this Yom Kippur, that I should wear some little cotton gloves.  So I am on the look-out for nice, plain cotton gloves (is it even possible to still find kid gloves?).  My first round looking on the internet turns up mostly slutty halloween stuff, followed by slutty "bridal" or "prom" stuff.  Sears has gloves, but they look like the things worn by toll-booth operators.  I'll try to let you know if I find anything - let me know if you have a lead.

Frankenweenie

Had a remarkably pleasant night with movie buddy, when we went out last Saturday night to see Tim Burton's "Frankenweenie". 

It was great fun.  Lots of allusions to other horror movies, really fun animation, even a stop-motion film inside of another stop-motion film.  I unfortunately missed bits of it, because I was really sick with some stomach bug - and I still loved movie.

I highly recommend this as a fun, clean, not stupid movie that you can take your family to see.  Less creepy than corpse bride, I would even recommend it for fairly little kids.  I'm gonna go again, to see what I missed, and laugh all over again.

After these things... he remembered Vashti

I'm thinking in the manner of Achashvarosh's ministers.  The last couple posts show me becoming way too nostalgic, especially for the time I was part of a couple.  I am not nearly so angry as I was a year ago, and I am "remembering" the wasband.  So! it is time to either A) remember why I had to call it quits, or B) find something else to fill the void.  I tried a bit of A) today, looking through old emails.  This succeeded in making me not miss the wasband, but by way of making myself sad and angry again, so not the preferred method.  Okay, I think maybe it is time to ramp up option B)...which would necessitate speeding up the legal processes, state and religious. Despite all the advice I get, joking and serious, to get out and start dating, I'm still married, dammit! so just hold your horses.

Look over there! Where?

The other night, in the car, I heard a snippet of Joe Jackson's "Is She Really Going Out with Him".  It was a "visceral response" moment.  The song brought back a flood of memories from college through early marriage.  The wasband and I didn't agree too much on music (like many media, he seemed to be interested much more in the "knowing about" music, than actually enjoying it; but maybe I'm wrong; anyway...), but we both like Joe Jackson.  I'm listening to it again as I type, and I want to be back with those people who knew me when I used to feel free and fun. 

And I wanted to flirt with the wasband.  Come on! he was my husband for almost half my life, and in the most obvious ways, I was much more intimate with him then anyone else in this world.  So when I want to flirt with someone - he is the first person to come to my mind.  When I want to remember being a young adult, when I want to share memories of the children, when I want to remember being a lover, when I need to feel close to another soul, the person I imagine next to me is...him.

 Right after I heard the song, I went in to a school meeting, and I saw the wasband walk into the room.  For a second, I expected him to come sit with me - because for umpteen year that was the obvious expectation, thus the inertial response.  Then I became scared, terribly scared, had an anxiety attack with the heavy breathing and heart pumping.  I don't know why exactly, but I just wanted to run. 

I keep thinking of the scene from "The Way We Were", when Barbara Streisand call Robert Redford, after their first breakup, to say she needed to talk with someone close about how angry and upset she was with him, but the only close friend she could think of, with whom she would want to talk,  was him. (If that wasn't clear, go watch the movie.)  Anyway, I felt that way a LOT over the years.  These things don't disappear all at once, you know.

Stewing Soup and Old Memories

Okay, this is what I started to write yesterday:

If I can kasher my range tonight, and there is no clear reason I can't, I want to make soup.  This whole summer, I barely cooked at all.  I want to make some thick, hearty chock-full-of-veggies soup.  Fall is the time for applesauce, cranberries, orange veggies, and soup.

The yucky thing I really should do first, is clean out the tupperware of soup stock I made when I first moved into "the house" a month ago, along with a couple other tupperwares of food I dragged along to the new place.  I would love to just dump the entire containers, but I can't stand the idea of the waste of the plastic or the $5.  I guess the smell will be the deciding factor.

Two years ago, I made the most delicious soup from a bounty of vegetables and herbs from the farmers' market and my own garden.  Amazing what a strong memory that made;  I have very strong memories around food (no surprise). 

If it were up to my little guy Po, all we would eat would eat would be vegetarian Matzoh Ball soup.  This actually represents a fairly wide range of soup bases, but generally root vegetables, lots of onion, maybe a tomato, and assorted spices including parsley and dill.  This is based on the first soup I ever learned to made - my grandmother and aunt's chicken soup.

But I didn't cook anything, except noodles at 11:30pm.  I kashered the range, scorched the backsplash a bit, and then the upstairs neighbors came to ask if everything was alright since they smelled gas.  I decided I was done then.  But meanwhile I was beading a gorgeous piece (photos to follow soon, I hope), and in the middle stopped to try to organize some remaining boxes from the move.  I don't have a bookshelf yet - a friend is moving out of town soon, and she said I could have her bookshelves in a couple weeks.  So most my books are mostly sitting in piles of boxes in one of the closets, along with whatever else I crammed in the boxes, in the mad dash to move this last time.

I opened a few boxes, hoping to consolidate the contents, and I found a lot of old correspondence.  In the mix, a few envelopes stood out as clearly having come from the wasband, back before we were married.  I had to look.  Maybe that seems a given, but I hesitated, wondering if I should return them.  I learned from Miss Manners that when a courtship ends, it is proper to return the letters received - they presumably contain much that the writer would find embarrassing, at the least, once the relationship has ended.   Plus, they are special, like a gift, that you would offer to return if things went splits.  In fact "returning letters" used to be a euphemism for ending a relationship.  But after almost 20 years of marriage, I wouldn't return an engagement ring (even if I hadn't thrown it across the highway those many years ago), so I ain't giving back the letters.

Then, as I went through the pile of card and envelopes, I read more letters from many people in my past.  (Aside - what another terrible, terrible effect of technology, that the next generation will not be able to do this!!!)  There was so much that I had forgotten, so much that I remembered.  I was clearly attractive (in whatever manner) to many people, in a way I could never let myself believe.  Man, I have such an inferiority complex!  What a shame.  I know it is completely worthless to continue to cry over mistakes in the past, but that is what I did.  Hopeful I will learn from the past - that I have worth.  That is really a difficult assignment.

Free Extra: Here is a clip of Bill Braudis explaining that he wants the engagement ring back, now that he married his bride.  Totally different idea, but just something I was reminded of.  Also, I think this one has the "6 cats before coffee" line that I am always thinking of.

Maybe a Little Inspiration

BLI EIYIN HA'RAH  (get away, you evil eyes)!

I have to keep saying this loudly and clearly, because things seem to have fallen into place better than I could have possibly imagined, and I do not usually have this kind of mazal.  Okay, I take that back, I do seem to have lots of great things (jobs, last year's apartment, cake decorating classes) fall into my lap.  But my general state of being is usually pretty dark.  I have such a good feeling about the new apartment that I am worried worried.  Friends say "It's a new year; We have been praying for you; Your luck is changing."  But I remember the message , my fortune is to have a hard life, I can't trust that I have any power to overcome this fate.

We learn that fate is real, that the fortune of the nations is indeed written in the stars, but that the Jewish nation can overcome their fate.  As an aside, I think a lot of people have a hard time accepting that astrology is real (true astrology, that is, not the stuff in the newspaper; I don't know if there are still any people today who know how to interpret the stars), or that magic does exist and so we must really be careful not to use it.  Anyway, as a general rule, Jews can overcome their fate.  But still, this wasn't just a message interpreted by an astrologer, it was given to me by a personal messenger in a dream.

But the facts are: In 1week, I found a great apartment that had been not as great (yuck carpeting, paint, bathroom floor all replaced) when I saw it 1 1/2 months ago - right before the owner went out of the country and took it off the market, until last week when I looked at it again. It is on a nice block with great neighbors.  I got lots of stuff from the house, so the apt is furnished okay, I am quite pleased.  I didn't pay rent for Sept (although I used a lot of that for moving fees).  Most important, I have gotten lots of warmth and support from the community, and so I have a much better feeling about them than I had while I was in the house.  And I am happier and more optimistic than I have been in quite a while.

But I am spiritually numb.  It has been a shallow holiday season so far.  In my head, I can see God has been helping me, but I don't sense a presence close to me.  But maybe this story can inspire one of you.  May we all be sealed for a good and sweet year.

My Heroes

I have been the recipient of huge favors this week.  I had been feeling so sorry for myself, and so guilty about being such a sponge, that I hadn't been able to accomplish almost any moving or holiday preparations.  Two amazing women stepped up to the plate and basically took charge.  One woman called around and found apartments and came to check them out with me, and told me I was going to stay with her family until I found new digs.  The other woman pulled me out brooding yesterday, took me around to talk to more people about apartments, and packed up most of my possessions today.  Both of them made a LARGE amount of phone calls to tell friends, "S.P. is back in town, and she needs your help and support NOW.  Go and at least call her NOW. "  I couldn't do that, I am so shy.  They are amazing, calling all those people, many of whom they barely knew.

One of these women told me, "On my tombstone, I want it to read 'She was useful'."   I think this was after I told her I have been ruminating on whether the balance of my place in this community is as a spring or a sponge, and I would now say over to the sponge side.  She said not to worry, and told me about a household she knew, who were invaded by a family-of-horrors that stayed for months without trying to find other accommodations.  She assured me that sleeping in a friends basement for a week, while actively trying to move to another apartment is not being a sponge.  Okay, as always, I know there are people worse than I am, but still, it's uncomfortable on so many levels.

Anyway, what I really want to write about is another woman, from my past, who performed the most courageous act I ever witnessed.  She stood up (literally), said to authority, "No, you may not,"  and was above fear of what anyone would think of her.

We were both at the wedding of  a mutual friend.  The wedding was in the hometown of the groom, and so most of the guests and almost all of the rabbeim at the event were friends of the groom.  The bride's father was to fly into town that morning straight from a business lecture he was giving in another city, but his flight was canceled, then delayed, etc, so that as the kabalot panim (reception of the guest before the ceremony) started, he was still in the air.  Long-story-short: the big-wigs of the community were insisting on getting the ceremony started, the groom agreed, the bride was sobbing as she tried to receive guests, and we, her friends, were trying to figure out what to do as the men keep gathering up at the chason's tish (men's reception area) to move to the bedekin (last check of bride by groom before the ceremony).  The bride's brother had been going in to explain that they could not start, but there was some community banquet later in the evening (like more than 2 hours later), and the powers that be were insisting they could not wait any longer, and still the groom put up no resistance. 

"What should we do?" the brother asks.
"Someone should just stand in the doorway, and keep them from coming out," I say.
We all look around.  "I'll do it," says G, and she does.  She stands in front of the door, as the men start to sing, stretches out her arms, and blocks the passage.
"Move out of the way," says man, whose identity I hope never to learn.
"No. You will have to wait.  The mitzvah (commandment) is to bring joy tho the bride and groom, and right now the bride is in tears because her father will miss her wedding."
"You can't do this...I'll go back and talk to them, but you cannot intimidate us."
1 minute later: "Alright, we will wait a little longer, but it is not because of your little stunt!"
What ridiculous bluster!!! As if she even cared WHY the ceremony was stalled, even if it wasn't obvious for all the world that SHE WAS THE CAUSED.
Beautiful.  End of story - the father made it to the ceremony.  Well, almost end of story, but the rest is not mine to tell.

I never told the women how much I admire her.  So here it is: G. you are phenomenal, truly my hero.  Not that you should be thinking about headstones, but you can certainly ask to have this put on yours if you wish. I also don't know if the bride knew this story, but I imagine she has.  If not H., there you go, give G. your love.  I wish we had all done more...

Just news...

...not much observation.  The house sold, I was given 9 days to move out; with Rosh Hashannah in there, it's really only 5-6 days.  I was beyond pissed and beyond depressed.  It's the beginning of September, so there are barely any apartment immediately available.  This was awful.  I was already feeling so sorry for myself that no one welcomed me into the neighborhood, and now I had to deal with trying to find a solution, on my own, with no resources.  I spent the last day and a half stumbling around, thinking horrible, depression-induced thoughts.

Well, I found several viable options.  I didn't have to do it totally alone, I even had a friend who looked at some of the apartments with me, is helping me find major appliances, etc.  In fact, I'm feeling now like I have too many option, too hard to choose - whatever I choose I will feel that I missed the right opportunity.  But I am functioning MUCH better.  Actually did a lot of stuff at work today, even though I am now taking this break to blog. 

Remember what I said before about previously, desperately wanting to partner with someone, and recently feeling like that need is subsiding?  Forget it.  I am terrified of having to make these kind of decisions alone, and be strong on my own.  Yuck.  Don't like it, can't take enough pride in it to make it a good thing, I just hate it.

I can't become complacent yet - I need to really muster all the forces I can to MOVE MY STUFF in just a few days, and then move it again in a couple weeks.  Plus I need to beg all shabbos and yomtov meals until, well, probably the whole yomtov season.  I was so looking forward to hosting meals again...  Maybe I didn't move on that fast enough. 

So what I'm telling everyone is...

..."I'm not unpacking any boxes, except the kitchen - I'm gonna take full advantage of that kitchen."  It's kinda true too, I think at least half my stuff is still in boxes somewhere around the city.  I don't know where a whole bunch of stuff is. If I have to do this too many more times, I'm gonna have to give up on ever really getting all the old stuff back in order.  I can't find my SD card reader, or I'd show you some of the nice new beadwork I have done this week.

So I'm trying to tell MYSELF that I am staying in a resort (albeit a resort where I have to clean the tub and cook the meals), living out of suitcases, for the next little while.  It really is quite a nice space which I could enjoy, if I could just stop feeling anxious in general, angry at the community and sad about my family situation.  As it is, I wake every morning feeling depressed, not wanting to start the day.  But my sleep cycle has somehow flipped back about 3-4 hours so that I am sleepy / waking at normal times.


Here's another new way in which my life resembles a "Cathy" cartoon.  I'm still making some heated attempts to  get help in dealing with my "angry son".  All the advice I get is, "Don't push too hard, give it time."  It's like the strip (sorry, as I said before, it's impossible to find the originals on line for free):

And you didn't think the artwork for Cathy could be any worse...

Stronger Herecy

I pulled out my last angry post.  But I'm now beyond angry, too numb and depressed.  Angry, bitter, and really questioning what is the whole point.  I don't have many good feelings left.  I feel that the Jewish community, as a whole, has let me down too many times to continue. A "new / old" neighbor saw me on the street this morning, as I was trying to run up a couple blocks to where I left the moving van over-night.  "Hey, it's S.P, welcome to the block."  "Yeah, whatever," and I took off.  I hate it here already, this was a big mistake, I didn't even have one day to enjoy it - plus I heard again, as I'm unloading all this crap collected over the last year, that there is a new potential buyer very interested in the house, again heard it from a third-party.

What I have yearned for since I was a pre-teen was a family to love and a "normal life".  Forget it, never gonna happen.  Although I HATE the idea of "expecting the worst so that you are never disappointed," hated it since I was a little girl, I am falling deep deep into that philosophy.  Don't get excited at all about the wonderful house, it may be taken away tomorrow.  Don't expect to ever have a home, ever feel that you are part of a community.  Don't expect that any of your children will associate with you when they are adult; in fact don't expect anything from your children.  Don't expect that you will ever be in love.Don't expect that you can ever enjoy this life.  Just be thankful for what ever crumb you can, that is what was meant to be.

I've been thinking about the Y.L. Peretz story "Bontsha the Silent".  That's me, the good-girl sucker.  When I first heard the story, as a little girl, I thought it was supposed to be funny - look at this simpleton, who doesn't even know there is a greater world around him.  It wasn't until college that I heard the original rendition, ending with the angels all downcast, while the Prosecutor laughs.  Rav Kook says that this is NOT what God wants from us, to just take all the punishment life gives us, and meekly accept it.

So why is that ALL I hear right and left.  When will someone show me how to fight for what is right, for the tzedek??  I really have to believe, more than ever, that if this is all the advice I can get, then this system is messed up.

In response to yesterday's playdate

I can’t write pretty, I’m really in a rush, and the lab is full of people, but I had to get this down.  I had a dream last night of the wasband, just a plain vanilla dream of  us as a family, him as a good Dad.  This is the first dream I can remember of him that wasn’t clearly driven by anger or love-starvation,  since…I don’t know, possible ever.  Really, I can’t think of any.  At some point in the dream, I knew it was just a dream, that the wasband and I were not together anymore – and it was not good or bad or scary or exciting, it just was.  

I was talking to a friend yesterday about the house I am moving into.  So many people ask “Why don’t YOU buy the house?”  Because I HAVE NO MONEY, DUFUS.  (that was NOT meant toward the friend from yesterday, she is close enough to not ask such a question, really, that was not aimed toward you!!!)  But a thought that popped in my head yesterday was, “What if I want to remarry?  A house to sell would be a pain.”  But then I thought, “I don’t know that I want to get remarried any time soon.”  Can this be ME, even thinking this somewhat honestly?  Even as I said it aloud yesterday, I wasn’t sure if I was being honest with myself.  I have felt so scared and lost this past year, I thought I was desperate to attach myself to someone.  I’ve always felt desperate to attach myself to someone, for as long as I can remember!

 I might be reading too much into this dream.  But it was just so peaceful, normal, even happy. 

Please, let me advance toward this happy place*.

 * These seemingly random pictures are representative of my happy place in a manner clear to only two of us, but not in the religious aspect associated with the bottom one. that bottom one is great, isn't it.  I also apologize for using these images without permission.

Anxiety returning

because my stomach can't take anymore Kefir, and I have to get my financial records together for the lawyer, and so I'm in thinking-about-divorce mode again, and I am crazy busy at work, and busy packing up to move, and not sure if I'm happy about the move, and nervous what if the house sells tomorrow, and really fed up with the old place, and had a crazy stressful "vacation" the beginning of this week, and I don't know what I will do in 2 weeks when wasband is back at work, but kids don't have camp or school, and something else I can't remember...
did I say before I don't like lists?  I guess I meant that I don't like making them for myself.

I have been meaning to get a hair cut for several months, but never found a chance, since I can't just go down the street to the "Hair Cuttery".  My hair was so long and thick, it was becoming cumbersome, snarly and hot in my terribly humid apartment.  When we came home from the beach this week,  I had this mass of stringy, hot hair that wouldn't let me sleep.  So I pulled out the shears and, hack hack, took off 6-8 inches.  It's still long, just past my shoulders, but the reduction is such a relief.  I wish there was something so easy, quick, cheap and side-effect-free that I could do to lighten my anxiety.

Non-sequitur: Here is an adorable picture...I want one:

The sweet little things

Last month when I was in the radiology waiting room, I saw an older couple on their way out.  As they went out the door, they clasped hands.  I have no idea what their story is, saw no particular expression on their face;  I just appreciated their connection.  I noticed a different older couple yesterday, coming up from the parking garage at my work (a different hospital), holding hands as they walked to the lobby.  So sweet.  I remember you, HR-S, holding hands with B, as you pushed the baby stroller into the subway.  So sweet.  I cannot reconcile the idea that frum marrieds need to avoid all public physical contact.  Maybe if there is enough verbal- or other nonphysical- support, maybe.

Last Wednesday, I was babysitting for friends, while the husband was at the Siyum Hashas.  I heard him leave a message on the machine, just "Hi H****, I wanted you to know I arrived safely.  I'll try to call you tonight.  Love you."  So sweet.

This is goodness.  If you have it, don't take it for granted.  If you are not doing it - wake up, and don't take it for granted.

This wasn't at all the Rockwell print I was trying to find, but it is good.  Another little thing I remember -when you, NLS, told J he need to dress more warmly, and fixed his collar and put a scarf (or hat or something) on him. Sweet.

So...what happened

Quick update for those of you who want to know details of my life - and a short composition on my point of view of death:

Wasband furious about "stuff acquisition", back to square one vis amicable relations.
One son very angry, his extreme reaction sends me into deep depression.  Since then, some outside intervention, things getting somewhat better, but still very cold.
Working hard to move stuff to great new place lifts my spirits a bit.
Get news that great new place looks to be unavailable.  Back into depression, anger and frustration that G-d teased me with this.
Current place becoming less and less attractive as owners prepare to sell it.
Looking for new apartment in old neighborhood. Everything is more expensive than I can really afford, but I don't think I can do another year of camping in the living room of a 1-bedroom apt.

So yeah, this summer is shaping up as nicely as last.

No, not true, I am still not chronically suicidal as in those years with the wasband, so that must be better.  And I still get some euphoric moments.  But mostly, I'm not so happy about life, don't have a great desire to keep going.

I think about this when I am at a certain class I frequent, on the topic of bitachon and emunah = belief and trust in G-d.  I don't particularly want to get into the subject of the class, just my reaction to the constant inevitable comment that one should be thankful "at least he is still alive", the assertion of other attendees that everyone would agree death is the worst outcome.  For me, that idea is only theoretic - I try to believe that it is advantageous for me to live so that I can have more chance to fulfill more commandments, therefore every single moment of life is precious. And I want to survive so that my children are not hurt.  But not because of any self-focused desire to live.  And it must be this same way for many people, that dieing is far from the worse possible thing.  The teacher from another class I used to attend on "Ethics of the Fathers" used to tell us his Rav would often ask his class, "How long do you want to live?" "'Til one hundred twenty," the students would all chime.  "Then you are foolish," the Rav would respond, "do you know how debilitated you would be, how much pain you would have? Look to live a good long life, but not THAT long."  I also use this line of thinking as a defense mechanism against my own horror when hearing about others being killed, etc:  well they died, and I hope they didn't suffer in the process, but being dead doesn't have to be all that bad.  If it was G-d's will, then how can one even claim it to be a missed opportunity to experience this live on Earth? 

Oh another thing that was going on - mammogram showed "suspicious spot", as has happped past few years.  I go for follow up, but don't really care all that much because 1) this is the third time in several years, fourth time in my life that a lump and/or x-ray spot turned out to be cyst, 2) see above.  But because I am me, what shakes me is the question "Can it be right for the doctors to insist on all the extra x-rays, given how high the radiation dose is per mammogram, and the overwhelming evidence that this is another cyst?  Isn't the risk from all this extra radiation likely to catch up with me before the natural course of my own body?  Who will take this question seriously?"  Now, if I don't care, then why do I care?????

That's all - not too insightful.  Like I said, just an update on what's happening in SW's world.

Not Very Original

I started out wanting to write a post about yet another (tiny) epiphany: good potato knishes are reeeeealllly good.  I wanted to link to the Episode of Welcome Back Kotter:  Sweathog Clinic for the Cure of Smoking (for which I unfortunately can find no free link).

Mr. Kotter tells the cigarette addicted Epstein of his own former addiction: junk food, specifically potato knishes. 
If you google "Kotter knish", you will get many hits to sites about the knish which refer to the Welcome Back Kotter episode.  So I am not the only one who remembers this show.  It made me think about a book the wasband liked to quote, something like "The Jewish Comic Steryotype in American Media," which proposed that in American films and TV (in the 1960's and 1970's, when this book was published), a Jewish feature is by default comic.  And he brings very compelling examples, especially Jews on interview shows (Dick Cavett, Merv Griffin, Johnny Carson type shows) where the interviewee mentions something Jewish, but not obvious or intentionally funny at all, but the audience laughs, assuming a joke is being set up.  The theory, I think, was that this reaction was the result of a media culture in which all scripted reference to Jews = Comic.  Not much to add to this, except to say I agree, the idea of addiction to knishes is funny in a way that would not work with canollis, burritos, or even egg-rolls  (maybe souvlaki, a la Mad About You; not a Jewish food, but a food mention on a Jewish show.  Now that I think about it, what is Khlav Khalsh in the Simpsons - did they have to make up an arabic-sounded food to be funny there?  is this based on a real food?  if so, I couldn't find it.  looks like swarma to me).

Okay, prepare to shift gears as I go into the revised subject: How is it that there seems to be substantial Kotter - knish association, but I'm not seeing the most obvious, hysterical association with the current olympic chocolate milk ads?  Legit chocolate milk ads look like a complete satire of old John Belushi "Little Chocolate Doughnut" skit!  I was in the laundro-mat when I first saw this commercial, and I BUST OUT LAUGHING.  I looked around, and couldn't figure out why everyone else wasn't laughing along as well.  Didn't anyone watch the first cast of SNL!?!

 Please, please compare this chocolate milk ad  
with this classic skit with John Belushi .

And BTW, who else remembers those old TV ads that ended by telling you they were brought to you by "The Mid-Atlantic Milk Marketic Association"?  I barely remember the commercials, one was " Glorious Cheese" to the tune of Glorious Food from Oliver.  But I will never forget that great name, the Mid-Atlantic Milk Marketing Assoc.  I couldn't find who sponsered the chocolate milk ads, not that I looked all that hard.  But I obviously have my suspicions...


Anyway, back to my original blog concept:  My memory of Gabe (Kotter) Kaplan recalling his addiction the the potato knish.  But the thing is, when I saw the show, I didn't think of a knish as junk food.  I didn't find them particularly appealing.  Somehow, all the knishes I have had were either of the frozen-food variety, or really bad pizza-dive-knishes made with pizza dough.  These are always overly chewy and and dry, bland inside and out.
Since moving to the new neighborhood, I have discovered the local bakery's knishes. BANG! what a difference, now I get it.  These are strudel-dough outside with obviously home-made filling.  They are greasy and salty and spicy and DELICIOUS.  They often give me heartburn, and they are obviously so high in calories, and I can't stop eating them, they are so good.  Yum, knish.

Summer Collage

On the way to work, I pass a public pool in a little public park.  It is a very cute place, and very inviting, as public pools go.  I was late out to work today, and I saw a sizable group of teenagers milling about, waiting to get in.  It reminded me of when I was a teenager spending all and every day of summer at the pool.  We lived in a large apartment complex, with a nice pool.  I would wake up, a little later every day, call over to my best friend, pack some lunch, playing cards, a towel, and head out to the pool.  Aahh.  That is summer. 

This is a great memory.  But an even better memory is the annual trip to the beach.  My parents like to go the same place every year, on the Delaware shore.  The years are all blurred together, but I remember riding the waves and playing putt-putt with my cousin, flying kites, glow sticks (before you could get them in every Dollar Store), the smell of newly pressed iron-ons on new T-shirts and jerseys, pizza and cheese subs, playing cards on the hotel room balcony, riding bikes on the boardwalk, book outlets, shell necklaces, fresh peaches from farm stands, the smell of the ocean... That is heaven.

I hope to get to the beach this summer.  I don't think I'm taking any kind of vacation this summer ("vacation"????? I think I vaguely remember what that word means), mostly I'm moving stuff around.  I'm moving, did I mention that?  I am moving from one house that is on sale to a second house that is on sale.  I feel like that should be a metaphor for something, but I'm not sure what. 

I have gone to a couple "garage sales", saw a lot of thing I might have gotten, except for the thought "I will be on the move again soon.  Do I really want more stuff to shlep?"  I plan to make do for a while longer with minimum.  It will be so nice to have PLENTY of space for everything I have now.

I am at the library tonight, and I want to look around.  This is just a composite of things that were floating around my head.  Maybe I will edit it more tomorrow -- find the obvious Calvin Hobbes that belongs to the paragraph above.

I love snow, babies, my new shoes.  But summer is good too.

This is as soon as possible

I was sick for four days, and that has not happened in a while.  Now I have to deal with a fast, no air-conditioning in 100 degree weather, and back pain from lying in bed so long.  Plus a mound of laundry, and all that backlog at work.  But this all takes a back-seat to the important things on my mind - the terrible reaction to me taking back my stuff 11 days ago.  Could it only have been 11 days ago? 

So here is just a little snippet to keep you amused, a great little quote from a friend the other day, even better because he is quite Republican : "What can you say about this weather?  Either it's global warming, or it's Obama's fault."

But if you are such a person, please daven for me, I am quite desperate.

the former post was retracted, since I got the slap I needed.
will update as soon as possible.

Plays, Probiotics, Cabinets and Cat(burglar)s...

...or Sometimes You Can Do It Alone,  Sometimes You Need Help 
...or The Religious Post

Wow, yesterday was an incredibly stressful day.  I am amazed it went as easily as it did.  I had two completely different stressors pulling at me in one horribly long day.

I woke up early and stayed up late to move my stuff out of the old apartment while the wasband is out of town.  He doesn't know.  But I just found out he suspected - he told one person with a key explicitly "don't let her into the house."  Fortunately I haven't played all my cards before this, still a couple up my sleeve.

Just to be clear, I'm fairly certain that I have every legal and ethical right to go into that apartment to get my stuff.  But still, he will be terribly angry, and all the need for stealth felt really freaky.  Plus asking so many people for favor after favor, just to get stuff boxed and moved and stored quickly was very hard for me.  (My friends have been great. Thank you, friends.)  I chose, collected, and moved the stuff in just a few hours.

Meanwhile, *Irene* reminded me that I had planned to go to see her perform in a play last night.  Irene is a very close older relative.  So I took off early from work (after starting late) to drive an hour and a half, straight to the play.  The play was delayed for almost an hour, because it is a little play at a senior center, put on mostly for the benefit of the players, so they don't worry too much about the time.  So Irene is introducing me around to her friends, and their questions show all the lies she has told about me.

Irene is a pathological liar.  Perhaps you think that is just a hyberbolic expression.  It is not.  I know because I have a touch of the condition myself.  It is a desire to lie for no particular gain or purpose.  I guess when I do it, it is just to make a story sound slightly more interesting, almost never to get out of a bad situation or for material gain or to make myself look better.  Really.  I don't think I do it often, but occasionally lies slip out, I can't figure out why I did it, but I can't take it back. I easily recognize some lies from Irene, for example, warped stories of happenings that I experienced first hand.  Other lies are just guessed from her mannerisms.  I tell you this not to shame her, but to explain that yesterday was not an isolated incident.  Also, she likes to point out my faults, usually jokingly, but quite clearly, right in front of me.  Multiple faults, multiple times per evening.  Sometimes they are true, sometimes they are not, and it really doesn't make a difference.

Irene's friends, who clearly have great affection for her, try to chat with me.
"Oh, you're just in research now?  Your not a practicing doctor anymore?"
"How is your garden doing?  I hear it's really growing this year."
"I loved that cannoli you made for Irene last week." (I have never made cannoli in my life, and I haven't brought Irene any baked goods in the past year.)
Irene will give me a quick, strain look, as if to say, "Please don't tell, it's just a little lie."

So you see she takes the facts and twists them to me me look bigger and better.  Perhaps I should say "She is old, she is a pathological liar.  Maybe she just made a slip of the tongue.  Maybe her friends just misheard, or didn't remember clearly."  But I couldn't get through the evening, and as I drove her home, I told her that I don't appreciate that she lies about me; that she is so embarrassed by my mediocrity that she makes up all these embellishments.  I felt bad right away.  But it is the same thing every time I see her.  I can't stop from exploding.  Before I drove off to finish moving stuff, I went back up to her house to apologize, try to smooth things over, keep this night a happy memory for her.

    **************************************************************************
A couple weeks ago, I caught the end of an interesting article on Radiolab .  The piece was about a recent study I have heard somewhere before, about feeding yogurt to mice.  Well, not literally yogurt, more like a pill of the probiotics that make milk into yogurt.  One upshot of the probiotic diet was a significant decrease in the panic reaction to stressors.  Basically: mice were fed a standard diet, or a high probiotic diet.  The mice were dropped into a tank of water.  Standard diet : mouse swims a couple minutes, is overcome by panic, goes into dead float; Probiotic diet: mouse keeps swimming and swimming and swimming, blood chemistry shows much lower levels of panic enzymes.

I would usually make fun of someone who tried to mimic the results of such a study by trying to change her diet.  But this time I figure "what the heck", bought several quarts of kefir and yogurt, and started flooding my system with probiotics, maybe an average of 30oz per day.  And....I do feel more relaxed, although somewhat queezy. Apparently, even good bacteria can play havoc with your stomach when you overdo it, no surprise.  It is hard to say, but perhaps this induced calm help me do what I needed to do yesterday, and still make it to work for a productive day today.  I don't even remember crying.

    **************************************************************************

We learn that the Jewish calendar is not merely linear.  Time does not progress as a straight line, but cyclically.  One could imagine a spiral or helix, so that each year we travel forward on one axis, while concurrently returning to the same spot on the other axis.

Last year this was a terrible time of change and turmoil, choices and loss.  I am now terribly nervous as I watch events unfold in the shadow of the last year.  I am making the choices, I am preparing for the changes.  I worry that all the choices and preparations will be overturned and fly away like ashes in the wind, just like a year ago.  Above all, I need to remember that if it happens again, it is because the Master Above took control, to do what was right for me.  And I want to try again to be grateful that He would hold my hand and pull me onto the right path by force.

I am afraid this sounds off-putting, as if I am so righteous that I can be happy when I don't get my way.  I'm not that righteous.  But somehow, it really just seemed clear before.  And I so desperately want someone, and Someone, to hold my hand and just tell me what to do, I'm so tired.  I was listening to Dune on audio CD this morning - the characters ask each other, when do people outgrow the ability to sleep in complete comfort, without the burden of worry.  Does everyone really feel this way?

I went to a lecture years ago which I probably remember because the speaker had a lovely S. African accent.  He taught "The rabbis tell us we are always being chased by something.  If we are lucky, it is by good things, like preparing for holiday guests, or a wedding.  So we can hope and pray to be chased by good, but not to avoid being chased."  That is heavy, and the thought of it makes me more tired.  I feel like there is never enough time.  Certainly this week (this month, this year) I didn't get done so many of the chores that are chasing me.  I can't find time (and here I sit blogging), and I can't figure out how to get more.  So ironically I dedicated more time to an area where I have been sorely lacking - prayer.  I had fallen into a rut of only saying morning blessings and Sh'mah, with little other set prayer.  This year I started attending synagogue every week again, after years of almost never dragging myself out on shabbos.  I regularly pray all four services now on Saturdays. I love it.  So I have gone back (just recently, can't promise if it will stick) to saying the Amida every morning.  Maybe I can try for afternoon also.

Is it the probiotics settling my nerves, or the prayer?  I believe He wants us to try ourselves, while asking for help, so I'm gonna stick with both.