When She's Out of Bagels...

First of all, the bar mitzvah was lovely.  I cannot give enough thanks to Heaven, and to all my friends who came out to help, and to all the guests who came from far and near to celebrate with my son.  I need to think over more of my thoughts about this new young man before I say anymore about him and his big day.

SOOO, let's focus on the totally superfluous:  I broke out those rusty decorating skills to make a couple cakes.  I have to explain that these cakes were made in the shul kitchen, on their limited equiptment, plus the few pieces, such as frosting tips and spatula, I bought new to use once. (Funny tangent: while I was cooking, the Rebbetzin showed me that they had kept the frosting tips, connectors and gel colorings from my older son's bar mitzvah 6 years ago.  Bleah, didn't use those... but I didn't dump them either. ???)  This was a joint kiddush with another family holding their son's ufruf (pre-wedding celebration), and we catered ourselves, plus they were hosting meals in the shul... it was a very busy, packed tiny shul kitchen.  The cakes were the last things I made before shabbos, and I was under terrible pressure to finish them as quickly as possible, so the designs have nothing to do with what I had planned, and everything to do with what I could accomplish fast, and on the fly.

Sorry, Blogspot won't let me edit.

I am not thrilled, but apparently thaey looked really nice and impressive in reality.  So nice that I got a couple requests to make cakes for coming affairs.  Now I remember why I got out of the cake business:

"Hello Sweet Perfusion, I am hosting sheva brachos (a wedding week meal/ party), and I really wanted to get a pretty cake, but Mrs Her-Family-Owns-the-Local-Bakery is going to be out of town.  Then I saw your cakes and remembered 'S.W. makes fancy cakes.' Would you be able to make a cake to feed 70?"

"Well, I have to tell you that my fees are high.  A cake like at the bar mitzvah would be $$$."

"Oh really?... Mrs. HFOtLB doesn't charge so much."

yes, I know, and neither does the supermarket. Mrs. HFOtLB has a bakery behind her with all the supplies, ovens, pans, etc. all ready. but I don't say this.

"Well, it does take me about 7 hours to make one of those cakes, so that is what I have to charge."

"Oh... well..."

"I guess I could make just a sheet-cake, and decorate it fancy, for $$."

"Okay, that sounds alright, let's do that."

And I am left feeling cheated, and unhappy about the work I will be doing for well below minimum wage.  No, I'm not unhappy, and I look at it as chesed, and a chance to show-off a bit.  But I do feel a bit used.

It reminds me of the joke:

Mrs. Goldfarb walks into Abram's Bakery.
"How much for a dozen bagels?" asks Mrs. Golfarb.
"$3.95," answers the baker.
"So much?  At Bloom's Bakery they are only $2.95 for a dozen."
"So, why don't you go buy from Bloom's?"
"He's out of bagels."
"So, when I am out of bagels, they are also $2.95."

Googling "sympathy losere images" responds with a few great images.

I wish I had the kind of personality where I didn't internalize everything.  It bothers me when total strangers are upset with me, so when someone consistently and deeply hates me, I can't let it just roll over me.  I know, I know, I should just feel mildly sorry for him, confident in the assurance that living well is the best revenge: except for monetarily (and possibly career-wise) I am clearly ahead...

[Wow, everything takes on a different flavor now that I know he is trolling this.  Hey you, loser. F-off. You are not wanted here, and you are hurting yourself and the children as much as you are hurting me.]

Anyway, i should be getting groceries, and instead I lost about 3 hours just feeling scared and sorry for myself.

I was sitting with the boys last night, before they got to sleep, just talking about whatever.  Moo has taken to calling these our "whine sessions", where they can just complain about whatever is bothering them that day, although truthfully, there is not too much whining. So I'm just relaxing, yawning, thiking about how much I have left to do before I go to sleep. And I mean to let out a lazy "I'm so tired", and instead it comes out "I'm so scared."  Dang! Did I really say that?! Damage control!!

Too much stress personally and universally, and I'm scared.  Maybe I shouldn't be, I know.  But, I'll tell you for sure, I avoid classes about "Betachon (the trusting side of faith) means never having to say 'I'm scared'".  For me, right now, that would be like saying "Anything is possible, so lift that car off the ground."

I have books for Po waiting at the library.  Between cycles at the laundromat, I went at 11:57 - I read the sign that the library doesn't open until 1:00.  So I did other stuff for the boys, was insulted by the wasband, who tried to humiliate me.  In the end he definitely comes off looking like a total jerk to more people than he anticipated,

[Hey you, I said go F-off, I'm not writing for your sake]

and yet, I go home and sulk and eat for three hours, go back to laundromat, then library at 4:12 - library closed at 4:00.  DAMNIT!!!!Damnit, I can't take it, damnit........and I just cried.  Then went back to the laundromat, then here to work (also for the second time today), to set up something that had to be done this evening to prepare for tomorrow.  And I so hate my job anyway. Hfff.

And I just want someone to bitch to, but all my friends are being so good to me and already doing so much for the barmitzvah, and I really don't want to go to the well again. But maybe I will anyway.
 

Freakiest Baby Item in a While

Oh my gosh! I passed the box for this monstrosity out on the curb for garbage collection.  A child is supposed to sit on this "chair" with a gaping hole and ARMS TO GRAB HER, then do her business in it to HEAR IT TALK TO HER TO CONGRATULATE HER afterwards!?!?!?!?
And we wonder why kids are so messed up...

(Yeah, I do have more relevant stuff to write, but I'm holding my tongue for now.  Let the troll sit tight.)

Guess Who's Reading

Back in the ancient days, when Zenith computer monitors displayed little more than orange type on a black screen, and email was a new toy mainly confined to academia, my programming professor, recently transferred from the abandoned “communications” department, warned all us young’uns to be careful not to send out emails in the heat of the moment.  Emails are written in private, allowing one to escalate an entire rant to unfortunate heights without the stabilizing factor of the recipient present, or at least listening in real time by telephone.  Emails do not allow for the nuances of timber, pitch, facial expression, etc.  Emails are there for the recipient to save and use, every word captured exactly. And, unlike snail mail, emails are so darn easy to send immediately, without the need to stuff into an envelope, address, stamp, and walk down to the corner mailbox, affording less time to awaken your better judgment to just rip the silly thing to pieces.

Luckily for me, although not to my credit, I am so in love with the flow of my own words in print, that I will often re-read my email letters many times to perfect before I hit that Send button. (This is yet another example of a commonality between myself and the Wasband that one might point to as a reason why we belong together…what can I answer?...)  So I felt relatively safe that my computer-disseminated thoughts were not coming back to bite me.

Yet, someone has been trolling this blog, probably as well as my FaceBook comments. Now I know I had said previously that, as this is a public site where I ENCOURAGE strangers to read my essays, it doesn’t make sense to accuse a reader of “trolling”.  I guess I didn’t consider the possibility that someone would attempt to use what I had written here against me in court.  Whoops! Silly me.

So let me share some of the things I learned today:

·         You really never know who is reading.

·         You really never know to what unimaginable levels some people may be driven by anger.

·         You will have a hard time using a post from a semi-anonymous, hobby-type blog as admissible evidence in an American court of law.

·         Should you attempt to enter into a protracted legal battle, it is wise to find counsel who is able to convince you when your case is frivolous. 

I might have thought one would not need to be even an ex-lawyer, to understand those last two points. Again, silly me.  

For all the rest of you followers, perhaps I should be clear: You should not take anything written here as unaltered truth.  Although all these blog posts start in my head, triggered to some extent by occurrences in my life, I let them flow into an artistically judged essay.  This is a semi-anonymous, hobby-type, clearly-public forum = I can write whatever the hell I want, and who is to say what is fact or fantasy.  Unless you are Ms. Useful or Little Miss Inside, if they even exist, or a select handful of other people who actually know me enough to reasonably see these essays for what they are, it is absurd to assume you have any idea what is true, what is a metaphoric stroll or dizzying hyperbole, and what is pure fairy tale. 

But really it’s all completely true, except for the stuff that isn’t, that is anyway, even though it isn’t…

Okay?  Anyway, hi there troll!!! It’s so satisfying to know you are took the time to read me.  And although no one else would understand your humor, The Flopster Society had me rolling with laughter.

More of the same

Because we live in bizarre coincidence world, mine is the block of divorcees.  I certainly wouldn't have chosen that, it wasn't when I moved in - one family was still together when I came, and one women moved back to her parents house after I was already in my place.  Don't get me wrong, it is a lovely block, and I'm glad to be there; I just wonder if it is perceived by others as the divorcee street (although I don't think any of us has finalized the divorce yet.) 

I was thinking this because I look at the other two women and think deep in my head, "Are you really sure?  You need to try harder. This just isn't right, is it?" I realize I have no business to think I know what really goes on in their lives, but still, this is what I think. And I then wonder, "How many people still think that about me? What do my close allies think? I know I was right to leave; do they?"

I was looking outside today, just thinking about nothing, and remembering a calm phone conversation with my mother this week.  For years before I left the wasband, every conversation with my mother quickly became heated, with me explaining how unhappy I was all the time, and that I couldn't absorb any more negative feelings. Toward the very end, I couldn't stay on the phone with her more than a few minutes.  Soon after I left, my mother started telling me how much better I sounded, not so unhappy and explosive.  Then later, she marveled that we would actually have pleasant phone calls.  Now she almost takes it for granted - I am happy with life, or at least content most of the time. I know she never questioned the separation - which was a happy surprise to me at first - because she felt how toxic the marriage was to me.

Eh, probably most people are too busy with their own lives to think about mine. Still, I want to ask those close friends. But what would it serve? - if they say they know it was good I left, I will wonder if they are being sincere, and if they say I was wrong, I will think they are blind and slow-witted. 
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Okay, time to get sukkah stuff.  Yay!

Wasband Dreams

More stressful days, more disturbing dreams.

As I said last time, my kids and I were supposed to appear in court on Wednesday, but the case was "continued to an unspecified date in the future. The judges and courtrooms are in the process of moving their facilities and they cannot hear this case tomorrow. "  This is good and bad, and generally stressful.

So I had a dream last night that I was remarrying the wasband.  And the whole dream, I kept thinking, "How is this happening?  It must be a dream, but it's not a dream.  Can I stop this?  Can this possibly be good?"  The part I remember most was that I had a glass hat that kept slipping off my head, because the wig underneath, with all the hair underneath that, was just too big. And I wondered what I did to keep my hat on the first time, and then I remembered that I didn't wear a hat the first time.

A glass hat - now what could that mean?  It was a beautiful hat though, very chic, but 100% impractical for concealing your hair.

I have had several similar dreams in the past of marrying the wrong person for bizarre reasons, back since I was in middle school.  Is this a conventional dream subject?

I suppose the obvious meaning is that I'm feeling stuck, still married, and still getting so much bad stuff from the wasband, and I can't figure out whether it is best to stay in my present position, or to push to get out of this marriage.  Am I covering my hair, or am I showing my hair; am I imprisoned or am I free? Do I just have the trappings of freedom, made even harder to handle by all the junk underneath?

I'm hoping not to have any small talk this Shabbos.  Really don't want the burden of answering "Yeah, it's been a fine week, how about you?", but not about to either take off the glass hat, or the wig underneath.



*********************************************************************************
On a totally different subject, I am proud to say that I have made a tiny but beautiful upgrade to my apartment, it makes me so happy.  Last week I packed up the boys in the car, along with a drying rack that I bought for Pesach, but never used. We went to Lowes to return it. Po asks jokingly "Why are you returning this item Ma'am?  Did something happen to it."
"None of your concern," I reply. "Now I want to exchange this for a new toilet seat."

The boys think it is ridiculous that I was so disturbed by the old toilet seat.  But it was faded white, with tiny cracks in the paint, and it was the wrong size so that it encouraged yucky build-up all around.  Bleh! I can't believe I waited this long. 
I recently heard a study, which I can now find, on the disgust factors separated by gender.  I can't find the study I want because there are so many similar ones out there.  Basically, if you hook up electrodes to women, you get the same range of disgust response to dirty toilets as to carnage, where as the response in men to dirty toilets - not so much. 
Po is very interested in the psychological differences between the genders; for him, this is one more piece to his theory "ladies are very different from me."

Do they teach them this at teachers' colleges?

I and my kids need to appear in court on what would be their first day of school for this year. 

This is horrible for so many reasons.  But anyway, I am trying to contact their teachers, to explain the situation, make sure they are prepared to get the boys initiated a day late, and mostly to let them know that the boys are going through a rough time.  It's hard to know how much to tell the teachers, what is most helpful, and to good purpose. Honestly, my main thought is, understandably, to make things better for the boys.  But I also know it may serve to remove a stumbling block from in front of the teachers:

My father passed away when I was in elementary school.  We went to stay with my father's family for a couple weeks, out-of-state, and they arranged for me to go to the local day school.  I can't remember almost anything from my elementary years in general, but I remember that week fairly well.  I actually enjoyed the school very much, made friends much easier than at home, so I suppose I just appeared to be some little girl on an extended vacation.  After a couple days, the recess teacher came up to me to say hello.  "And how did you come to join our school for this week?" she asked all cheerfully...

And it all just fell out in tears, "I'mherebecausemyfatherdiedandhisfuneralwashereonsundayandtheysaidishouldgotoschoolbecauseidon'thave
tositshivaalldayandthatswhyi'mherrrrrrreeeeee."  Hiccup.

I feel so terrible for that teacher.  I have no idea who it was.  I wonder if there is any way to find her an let her know I never held any bad feelings against her, and it really wasn't anything terrible that she said.

I once, unintentionally did something to hurt a little child, and I will feel guilty about it forever.  It is one of my worst memories.  But the child was so young at the time, I bet she doesn't even remember, and I don't even know her name.  But it would be wonderful to be able to settle that matter. So, I want to do what I can to avoid creating such a terrible memory for someone new.

A Last Hurrah

Movie Buddy is leaving on Sunday for the other side of the continent.  I am so happy for him and so sad for me, and we went out yesterday for a (pen)ultimate movie viewing.  I had reserved his company for "Boyhood" at the beginning of the summer.  He took a break from his preparations, and we finally made it to the theater last night.

"Boyhood"...there was so much hype leading up to its release.  I will say that it was a very powerful film, but certainly not because of the story.  The story was okay, but we both agreed that the message was kinda' thin: a boy who has such uncertain childhood in a world of imperfect adults still develops into a good, curious, credulous yet questioning, unbroken adolecent.  Yes we understand the idea, but the movie does little to really probe what it is he still believes in, what directions he questions.

What really hit me, and I mean hit me "bang" in the gut, what the amazing feeling of authenticity. The curiosity of actually watching the characters/actors age was certainly the teaser that brought many people into the theatre, and it was very satisfying.  But BEYOND just having the time progress "truthfully", the time references that weren't neccessarily "references" when they were shot, there was something that felt 100% right about every scene.  I can't put my finger on how it was done, I do not understand the craft of it, but from the first scene, I literally (literally!!!) wanted to say to Movie Buddy "that looks just like that place I remember!"  And I did not grow up anywhere near Texas.  Riding the bikes in the little ravine, the apartment complexes, the empty parking lot, the dorm room... somehow even the beautiful southwest scenery I have NEVER seen: the quarry lake, the mountains and canyons, they looked so right, and almost familiar.

Also the dialog was so authentic and familiar feeling.  Even the high school / college "questioning life" rants and boy/girlfriend banter was wonderfully recognizable and natural for its innate empty wispiness.

And because it was all so authentic, and because I am already living this movie, I collapsed, and let every scene pull me where it intended.


I pleaded with Movie Buddy to give me a few more hours, so he is coming over tonight to watch "Little Miss Sunshine": same movie, but set as a comedy. Like "Penny Lane" vs. "Elenor Rigby".

Please keep a space for me, I'm always thinking of you.  Good luck Movie Buddy, onward and upward!

Another dream: the Normal Family

 Hmm, seems that I never got around to finishing this, back in February.

Tired.  Spent last night in a motel near my mother's place, so I could take her to 7:30am (out-patient) surgery.  Snowed again overnight and into this morning.  B"H, all went well, I drove home, came to work a couple hours, because unscheduled people were using equiptment that I needed, so I had to get that stuff done today.  Spending time with my mother is so taxing.  I'm not really at liberty to explain why, so please just accept it: very taxing!
I'm starting to feel extra over-anxious again - maybe it is just Purim/ Pesach/ taxes time of year, coupled with these papers at work.  I had a dream last week.  I can't even remember it very well, but it was pretty much the idea that wasband and I were going to live together again primarily to pull resources, and the provide kids with "normal" home.  Wouldn't I love that - And ISN'T THAT SAD! Or is it?
Okay here is the sad:  I would be giving up on ever having a real husband = helpmate, partner soulmate, beloved, etc, whatever title/ qualities you want to use, I would never in my life have had this; and according to most novels, poems, plays, songs, this is a pretty good thing to have.
I have been back to reviewing Fraiser, watched the 6th season birthday episode, where Fraiser confides to Eddy how upset he is to still be single, how alone he will feel when Daphne moves out.  Made me feel that it is not over-dramatic to be sad to be single (not that anyone should try to learn life's truths from television...still...).
On the other had is it so sad?  A friend on FB posted parted of what looked like a play, where the "mother" or "grandmother" is explaining that many, if not most, relationships are only meant or able to be transient, so better to be single and happy, than married and miserable.

It's always relevant,  because I have these same thoughts when people equate the tragedy of illness with the "tragedy" of being single, most notably when saying Tehillim (Psalms).  Is it a tragedy that a) someone will never share a life with a helpmeet / soulmate, or b) someone will never get married?  And if it is choice a, then why didn't all you people help me more when I was trying to escape my sham of a marriage?  I certainly was being prevented from sharing my life with a mate capable of sharing my life.

And still, if I thought I could "live" with the wasband, but never have to deal with him, never have to interact, had the same freedom I have now - yeah, I think that it extremely tempting.  "Live" here = sleep in the same house, but not the same bedroom; also have a separate kitchen, bathroom or living room; keep money extremely separate, maybe have an accountant to pay shared bills, attend social and child-rearing functions together, but had very liberal options on spending shabbos separately, etc.

I guess this is just another "I'm still at this same place" post.

But as I said on Monday: really, I'm pretty well right now. 

Bli Eyin Hara!I have a first author paper "in press", another paper where I'm middle author is about to come out, jewelry is selling a bit, my son talks to me a bit, kinda' and might take my help this summer.

I ran, it wasn't sickening

Day 382:  194.6
Just wanted to post something I am so happy about.

I have been trying to run to lose weight and look better, and just to be able to run and to feel stronger.  So I would get up early, stumble out the door, run around the block a couple times.  After 3 weeks, I kinda gave up because I HATED IT.  I hated getting up early, I hated running, it felt back, made me wheeze, caused pain in my shoulders, was totally boring, and just generally felt bad from the first step to the last.

So that was about a week and a half ago I last ran in the morning.

Last night it was so nice out, I went for a nice brisk walk.  I came to a good straight bit of sidewalk, and something said "run".  So I ran.  Just a couple blocks.  I loved it.  And it was real running, not just that slow jogger shuffle I had been doing. Woo.  Today, I was late for an appointment a few blocks from my work.  Again, went a block or so in real run!  I like it.  I'm excited to see if I continue to like it.

Day 380

195.6

And beyond that, I'm at much the same point I was 380 days ago.

I haven't been able to communicate much with my local dudettes, feeling really alone.  I'm not in a terribly dark mood, in fact doing pretty well! but lonely, especially as I have had several good things happen, and I couldn't seem to find anyone to "appropriately" congratulate me or share in the happiness, big or little.

I was at a memorial service yesterday, for one of the community leaders, but not someone I was at all close to personally.  The whole time I only felt sorry for myself, especially when one of the speakers noted what a good friend the departed was, and how important it is to have a good friend to share with: a joy that cannot be shared is an empty joy, and a sorrow that cannot be shared is a much deeper sorrow.  YEAH, YEAH, LIKE I NEED SOMEONE TO TELL ME THIS.  I couldn't stop the self-pity; but as this was a eulogy, I felt I could just cry, why not?  So I cried a while, then asked "Please God, you who knows me, and knows what I need and what I want, please help me stop being so self-absorbed, and until then, let these tears be a kaporah, an atonement for me, and let their merit be for all your children."  Aren't I wonderful???  Ugh, as I drove home, I thought that in my way, I am just as narcissistic and self-centered as the wasband.

So let me praise myself a little more (and I'm warning you, it's a doozy):  A few hours before the memorial service, I was at an engagement party for a sweet, lovely young woman with whom I regularly spend shabbos lunch, since we are both very often guests of the same family.  We talk, and we both have a passion for spades, but I never thought she took much more notice of me.  On my way out, as I gave her and her fiance my congratulations, she just burst out that I was an inspiration to her, that everyone knows me and thinks that I am so sweet and tells the girls how nice and good is Sweet Profusion, etc., etc.
What does one do with this?  On the one hand I genuinely want to say "no, it's not true, I'm a big nasty loser", and on the other hand to ring out, "Yes, finally! I'm glad to hear you all see the truth! Now go shout it from the mountains." 
And I was reminded of a David Sedaris monologue, Diary Entries

He expounds "Sometimes things happen and I don't know what to do with my face.  Take for example..."  and he expounds on the bizarre things people tell him on his travels, and he witty responses, real or imagined.  In fact I couldn't think of any response, so I just looked incredulous, then started to tear, then hugged her to stop. 


I got a call this morning from an older woman who lives on the same block where the wasband still lives.  Apparently, he has been guest by her and her husband often, and recently the wasband has been inviting the older couple over for meals.  She approached me in the most tactful, gentle way, "I talked with you over shabbos, and I see how Wasband has changed, and I want to ask: Do you see a chance for reconciliation?"  And in a remarkably tactful and gentle and unemotional way, I was able to convince her that really we are much better apart, happier, nicer, better, even if the wasband has not fully realized this yet (I am not trying to imply that he put her up to this, I do not believe that would happen).  But what does still pain me everyday is that my son has not internalized it, so please, if she can help, that is where efforts should go.

I'm having a hard time tying the idea together here.  I guess it's that I want to be showered with praise for these 15 pounds I lost in a year('cause I was 194 on Friday, before shabbos and the vort), and I'm all "whoop-de-doo, let's try on all those clothes I was avoiding," until I crash to the somewhat insincere "ugh, you still a disgusting blob, and all you can do is 15 pounds in a whole year?", and the more sincere "who even cares anyway? there's no one who cares what you weigh."

But you all care, right?

Grapefruit Love

Instead of going through Facebook, which is full of all those horrible (to lonely me) Mother's Day posts, I'll share with you what I was thinking about today (and I see this is kinda' a continuation of the last post, although not about elephants).

I'm still making my way through the piles of left-over Pesach produce, so I brought in a grapefruit for lunch.  I love grapefruit, but they are such a mess to eat bare-handed.  I was reminded of the most romantic thing anyone ever did for me: when my college boyfriend would peel the membrane off grapefruit sections for me, unasked, just because he knew I would like it. 

It is hard to explain what makes for a beautiful gift.  But certainly the price, and even the effort are not necessarily the major factor.  Mostly, it's the reflected message "I know you, you are meaningful to me."

Happy May 12.

Ode to a Promiscuous Pachyderm

This is a public mash-letter, to one of the most important people in my life:

I was recently sent a short article, "Attachment and Connection" by Dr. Bruce Perry.  Dr. perry writes that that we can plot development of personal attachment (such as that between parent and child) into six distinct stages:  Proximity, Sameness, Belonging or Loyalty, Significance, Love, and Being Known.  I don't really have time or energy to elucidate here, but I think it is pretty clear even as just this list.  I reacted very stronly to the article, thinking about the amazing attachments I have to a select few people in my life, those who cross the boundary into Significance, Love, and even Being Known.

It is a terrible sorrow to feel that there is no one who knows YOU, it was a very large part of the depression that held me, that I still often fall in;  It is a tremendous joy to be with share with another, and feel "known." 

So to you who makes me feel significant, loved, and known, I give you the name Little Miss Inside.  It is not a perfect name, because it doesn't seem to include Little Miss Bubbly, Little Miss Kindness, Little Miss So Cute, Little Miss Popular; and Emunah is already taken.  But somehow this bubbly, kind, so cute, popular little miss invited me inside.  You are rich in attachment already, but here is another who hopes you understand how deeply you are significant, beloved, and (I hope) known.

But don't be upset if I sometimes slip back to Little Miss Slutty Elephant.

How do I get rid of THESE before Pesach?

I used to have a coworker, a very sweet, smart young man,of Italian decent, who I believe had never been more than 300 miles from home, and never wanted to (although that all changed before we both left the lab, but that is another story).  So, one day, he asked me, “have you ever eaten a bagel with cream cheese?”

I thought this must be the set up of some joke.  “Sure, of course I have.”

“I don’t get it.  How can people eat that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Cream cheese doesn’t fit on something sweet.”

“Sweet?  Bagels aren’t sweet… Wait, what kind of bagel do you get?”

“Usually blueberry.  Sometimes raisin.”

“Eww, well no wonder.  Those aren’t bagels!  Raisin bagels are an abomination of nature!”

So I was in the bakery the other day, saw packages of bagel half dozens.  Thought this would be a nice simple lunch treat.  And what do you know – I thought they were pumpernickel  swirl!  Cut them open, Eww!  Raisin.  They should mark those things clearly, it ought’a be some kind of law!

Best Purim in Years

Yeah, that's exactly what I looked like, but prettier, and with a gold mask painted on...and glasses.

A few weeks ago, I cried my heart out to my friend (let's call her Ms.Useful from now on) about how much I have come to hate Purim in the past few years, since it was the best holiday I had, full of good memories and excitement, and I loved generated more excitement for the kids...until all my fun was co-opted by another (guess who!).  And this year I wouldn't even have the kids at all.

She said that I had to allow myself to learn and grow and enjoy the holidays as my own person, not only through the kids, not just as a Mommy. It was hard to let go of all the expectations, real or imagined, external and internal.  But it was really a great day, and (almost all of it) without the kids.  I did make a costume for the son who requested one, and it came out GREAT , not even considering it was totally last minute, with no pattern, and within one hour (I am quite vain about how well I can sew costumes on the fly).  I did bake some items for shalach manot with the kids.  But I knew that shalach manot were really going to be just mine, and the costume was not going to be a family affair.  I threw myself into preparing, and wrote my own little poem, which was really an after thought for the stuff I had already decided to send.  I happened to be at a friend's house shabbos evening, andasked if she still had the blue wig from a couple years ago: "I have a whole collection I bought at '5 Below'".  And it was the most comfortable costume I have had since the year of the "giant baby".  And even the seudah was really nice - a big family+Sweet Profusion dinner, and I was so happy and comfortable being there, better than it could be at the shul seudah.

I have commented before on how insightful I found the idea of Augustus Something-or-Other (sorry) who proposed, as an alternative to ending your life by suicide, rather, ending your identity by becoming a totally different person.  I don't plan to actually run off to Alaska, but certainly better in every way to let my identity take on a much larger non-mommy role, than to decay in the mommy role until it's not good for anyone...even if some people did see this as selfish or lazy or ugly, which no one but me seems to anyway!

Okay, wanna learn of my amazing mishloach manot? 
Homemade lekvar hamantashen (and pretty! this is one place I make the kids take pride in doing it right!)
Homemade rumballs.
Homemade petit-fours, all butter!! butter cake with real butter cream frosting.
Cafe-au-lait
Panini lightly baked with olive oil and garlic
Cream cheese and lox
Insert:

These butter cakes are made with real butter,

The rum balls really have rum,

Homemade Hamentaschen

Supplied for your noshin’

Are filled with traditional plum.

Sometimes we see a closed shutter

On the window of reality

These treats’ looks reflect

Ingredients you expect

We present them to you guile-free.

The café au lait is quite dairy,

And has a good kick of caffeine,

Both cream cheese and lox

Are of the real stocks

And not texture vegetable protein.

Today we should drink and be merry,

To celebrate Hashem’s hidden plan.

We wear masks that hide

The face that’s inside

To praise He Who knows more than man.

Yet we ask for the day to come quickly

When the Master reveals what is true

That time’s not yet here

Still our aim should be clear:

Wishing a wonderful purim to you!

Minimal packaging, used goody bags left over from last year, but had to get disposable coffe cups.
With all cholov Yisroel ingredient, it was more per package than I normally spend... so I did have to limit to 20.  And really, even that was fine too.