Overwhelmed

It's motzei shabbos hagadol, erev pesach 5767.

I walk into my room and am overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude.
I have my own room.
Wow.
With happy walls and pictures and things that I love.
I have my own laptop.
That I bought with my own money.
With internet that I can tap into at any time I wish.
(Thank you neighbor)
I have a car.
My own car people!
I can go wherever whenever...
Not to mention a house, 2 awesome parents, a fab family, goodly friends, health...

Gosh.
I am so blessed.

Thank you Hashem.

p.s this is possibly the corniest post I will ever write...but yeah, 'tis how I feel at the present.
A gutte voch folks.
c

L'Alter L'tshuva

I would like to take this time to publicly wack brother Eli for missing his flight and therefore not coming home on Thursday as planned.

If he only knew how excited I was for this day maybe he would have tried a little harder to actually go to the airport.

Hmmph.

I know it is a conspiracy - as he wanted to stay in NY for yud aleph nissan, not to mention shirking any and all pre-pesach duties that come with being home days before the holiday.
Now it's down to hours before the holiday and all he'll have time to do is burn the chometz.

Thanks alot.

Speaking of yud aleph nissan, I would like to invite Eli to say a few words of inspiration.
Eli.

Thank you, thank you.
Hi, my name is Eli.
Kindly disregard any unkind things my sister Chani may have said about me.
They are false, untrue and she is clearly trying to paint a less than complimentary picture of my extended stay here in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.
Truth be told, the only reason why I missed my flight is because I'm a total and complete yukel.

(the joys of putting words in people's mouths... :)

As far as yud aleph nissan - cut the speeches.
Would everyone stop talking and do something already?
Go to the mikvah, davven, give tzedaka, learn some nigla and chassidus, make a hachlata, farbreng...it's the Rebbe's birthday, be a chassid.

L'Chaim Zaidy

Today is my Zaidy Friedman's Yahrtzeit.

What do you say about a man who was so humble most of the good he did in his life went unnoticed?

Zaidy's story is yet to be told in full...

It's times like these that I feel ashamed that I don't remember more.
I wish had a photographic memory.
Or at least a load of videos of Zaidy growing up in Poland, rescuing Jewish families escaping from the Nazis, forging passports, in prison, out of prison, raising a wonderful family, giving endless amounts of tzedaka, living a life so full of mitvos it was to be envied...

One thing stands out.
A small memory.
Seems insignificant.
Almost silly in the face of such greatness.
I remember the handshakes I would get when I arrived at 701.
They say you can tell a person by their handshake.
Zaidy had the best handshakes.
Warm and full and secure and so full of love.
We would shlep up that flight of stairs, red eyed, jet lagged, with arms full of suitcases at 7:00 in the morning.
Zaidy was always up bright and early, ready to leave for the minyan.
The shake always came with a huge smile and a twinkle in the eye.
I felt slightly awed when Zaidy would shake my hand.
Wow.
What a Zaidy.

I loved the shtreimel and bekishe, shabbos meals with zemiros, the smells of the house, driving to Boro Park to visit the Elte Zaide...a glimpse into an almost forgotten world of holiness.

I may not remember much, but I know this.

What a blessing to have such grandparents.

If only more people would do as many favors for our fellow Jews.
If only more people were as selfless and righteous, always making another person's needs come before their own needs.

Imagine a world full of Zaidy Friedmans?

Awesome.
L'Chaim Zaidy.
Bubby misses you terribly.
Just for that Moshiach should come this instant.

Regards from the muse of the blog

A Picture is Worth...

Did you ever wish you could revisit a time and place but still be the age you were back then?


A sunny day in 1984
I'm with Bentzy on the beach.
We just moved to California from Florida and Bentzy is wearing a paper crown made from orange bulletin board border stuff and a Tzivos Hashem tshirt.
I'm making some crazy pose with a huge closed eyed smile.
You can see my shadow and my reflection.
Life was good and sweet and so so simple.
I love this picture.

Erev Pesach 1999
I'm lying on a bench in Lily park with two casts decorated by a friend who came to visit erev pesach only to find me with two broken arms.
One cast has a flower design.
The other has pesach artwork.
I remember sitting in my parent's room erev pesach feeling forlorn and forgotten as everyone ran around, minutes to candle lighting, showering, dressing, blow drying.
Bluma walks in, takes one look at me and starts to cry.
"Oh my gosh, your so sad because you can't take a shower and you probably have nothing to wear because nothing fits over your casts and everyone is too busy to help you and you didn't even complain...
I don't cry easy but when I do I remember.

Summer 1985
I'm with Raizel at the CGI carnival.
We both wear long white knee high socks with jumpers too short you can see the tops of our fancy footwear.
On our heads are the old green and white Gan Yisroel hats.
We both wear red, white and blue.
The carnival flag streamers that they used year after year at my favorite day of camp hang overhead.
We had a dunk the counselor booth and Rabbi Engel used to sit in it and there were these ATV bikes with a whole trail through cones (before they were outlawed due to danger) that I was finally old enough to go on.
I can smell the hay from find the pencils in the hay and feel how they stuck into you on the hay rides...taste the cotton candy and sugar cones.
Camp Gan Izzy of Orange County CA was my favorite place in the whole wide world.
When I turned 14 I was given a choice to go to sleep away camp or stay for my 10th year at CGI.
It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make.

1986 At the Children's Museum in Long Beach
I'm with Bluma and cousin Yossi Moss and some nice Hispanic kid.
We are sitting behind the counter of a game show of sorts.
My face is painted.
Bluma's is not.
Typical.
:)
I don't know what ever happened to that museum...it was fab.
They had this room full of cushions that had velcro on them where you bounced around and threw the cushions all over and a fire truck with real fireman clothes to dress up in and a science show that before you walked in there was a video screen with a mad scientist singing "potassium, magnasium, pastassium..." (as I recall it...)

~~~~~

Did you ever paint an old chest of drawers with your sister and end up painting her shoe green?

Did you ever have a warm and cozy quilted light blue and white pajama nightgown with flowers and lace on the cuffs?

Did you ever get chosen to say one of the twelve psukim in front of thousands of kids at a camp rally in Los Angeles with Rabbi Levitansky who was a real cool cat and made a "kuleh"?

Did you ever take a picture at knotts berry farm where they put your face into a body and you laugh and laugh and laugh at your faces in 'singing in the rain' because you look so ridiculous?

Did you ever go back to the home you grew up in only to find that the big huge backyard you remember is surprisingly small and the whole house has shrunk while you were gone?

~~~~~

Be grateful for all the good memories.
I'm sure you've got a truckload too...


Good memories are the blessings that made us who we are.
- anonymous
(yeah right, it was me)



- post adapted from the new wall of pictures plastered behind the desk in my room at 3260 El Dorado Dr.

Stay Stronger

Dear Fellow Warrior,

Know that you are not alone.
Fire can not burn you.
Water can not drown you.

You are a soldier in His army.
I salute you.

This Train of Thought Returns

Remember the time you were in so much pain you didn't notice there was anyone else in the world.

Remember the day you woke up depressed and couldn't brighten up your own day, forget about anyone else's?

Remember the wedding you went to wearing that outfit you hate, and were so caught up in how you looked you completely forgot it was someone's wedding and the only reason you are there is to make them happy on their special day.

I used to think that the reason why I need to be happy, healthy, calm, patient, inspired, comfortable with myself... is so that I can be a happy, healthy, comfortable person.

But it's not about me.
It's about you.

Life is all about being available.
Available for everyone else.
If you're sad - you're not available.
If you're sick - you're not available.
If your self-conscious - you're not available.

When I am having a hard day, I have no patience for your troubles.
When I am feeling uninspired, how can I inspire you?


L'chaim to a happy, healthy, awe inspiring week!

Memories of a weekend

Bluma tells me a story.

The other day Menachem asked her with all the sincerity of a five year old, "Mommy, if I stay up all night learning Torah and I don't go to sleep, will Moshiach come?"

~~~~~

Meir could live off books.
He eats them for breakfast lunch and dinner.
Anytime, anywhere.
He's always ready for a story.
Bluma and Mendy's kids have a way of referring to all Jewish people as "heilik".
Which is such an awesome way of putting it.
So every story I read gets the following questions from Meir.
"Is that boy heilik? Is that a heilike man? Is she heilik?
:)

Once they went to a kosher store in LA and Mendy asked them what kind of store they were in.
Meir said, "A heilike store!"

~~~~~

Watching the kids playing in front of the house in Poway.

I am leaning against the red honda, feet on the curb, back on the car.
My car is parked a good foot and a bit from the curb so my lean is quite the lean.

I stand chatting with the 15 year old soccer player next door.
She laughs.
I look to my left to see Shneur Zalman.
Better known as shnazzy wazzy, 1 and 1/2 year old cute patoot, little long haired smurf man, who has recently begun copying everything and anything you do or say.

Well there he is copying my stance.
Feet on curb.
Back on car.
Only he is about as tall as the distance from the car to the curb so his body is nearly horizontal.
!!!!
LOL
:)
Sorry if it's hard to picture...take it from me, it was a hoot and a half.

Moshiach should be here any second now...

The proof is in the pudding

This video needs time - but is well worth it.
Amazing how we've been saying this forever...but when an evangelical christian says it the effect is awesome.

:)

Pack your bags people...
Who's sitting next to me on El Al?

Cute Kid on YouTube

Look out for boogie board and yellow...yellow all abeenoo

Gut Shabbos

Dear friends,
Wherever you may be when the sunsets tonight...
Have an awesome, peaceful and joyous Shabbos.
And remember.
We are only passing through.
And when we finally arrive, every day will be shabbos.
Savor the flavor of Moshiach.

Regards from Poway.
:)
c

How do you like me now

CAUTION:
Clicking on the following link may change your day.

The only myspace worth visiting...


The songs change daily so check back and check back and check back...

Album releases Lag B'Omer Im Yirtzeh Hashem.
Yahooooooooooooooo!
!!!!!!!!!!!
Lovin it people.

Huh?

If I could I would make a party in its honor.
Finally.
After almost ten years.
Ok.
Fine.
Maybe it's just five.
Either way, we have at last gotten rid of the 10 or so boxes of shaimos from the garage.

Every year I clean the garage.
And every year the shaimos boxes get restacked.
Sometimes against this wall.
The other wall.
Behind the tables, on top of the bookshelves.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Well this year I just about had it.
So one fine day I piled 'em into my trunk and headed off to Yeshiva Ohr Elchanan Chabad in Los Angeles.
Better known as YOEC.
Better known as home of the rosh and many male relatives in the past.
Also the single dumping spot for burial of shaimos in all of southern CA in case you are in need.

Why do I share, you may ask...?
Good question indeed.
Truth is I was gonna launch into a whole philosophical twist on pesach cleaning and getting rid of old things that have been piling up in our lives - like old grudges that we keep stored in the closets of our minds like pack rats... or all those stupid insecurities we hold onto taking up so much space...

Hmmm.
Nope.
Instead I will share something else.

(back to yeshiva that fine sunny cali day in LA)

As I go to pay for my large donation to the shaimos plot in the local cemetery, (tary?) I look up on the wall of the YOEC office behind the secretary's desk.
There lies a sign.
By the looks of it, it's been there since before my brothers moved in.
The sign is a sign.
It speaks of things I cannot express in my own words.
So I will quote, verbatim:
(I took a picture of it with my cell phone so there is no loss of wordage...)

We, the unwilling, led by the unqualified,
have been doing the unbelievable
for so long with so little,
we now attempt the impossible
with nothing...

Huh?
I love.

Echoes of Chabads the world over...

Aside from the unwilling.
And the unqualified.
;)

Gut Shabbos Y'all.
Fight on fellow soldierettes.
The battle is nearly won.
L'Chaim!

Do Menachem

"do menachem..."
Sheindel D in response to my opening a window on my computer - thereby covering my desktop photo of this picture.
:)

From the Outside Looking In

El Dorado Park Estates houses some of the wealthier inhabitants of the town of Los Al/L.B.
Fancy cars line the streets and spoiled children play in the neighborhood park.

I've always felt slightly self conscious as the only family on the block whose father was a Rabbi and made less than $500,000 a year.

Not that I'm ashamed...don't get me wrong.
I've just always felt like we had to be on extra good behavior.
Like the need to keep up the good appearance of the house.
And make sure the cars went to the car wash more than once a year.
I mean, we represent the entire orthodox Jewish community for goodness sakes.
:)

It's not about people thinking we have a nice house.
It's about people not thinking the rabbi's family is bringing down the neighborhood.
Ok fine.
Slight complex.
Admitted.

Our backyard neighbors have quite the view from their house into ours and although we've never met are quite aware of the typical American, affluent family that they are.
Cute blonde kids.
Lotsa pool parties and late night bbqs with friends.
Beautiful house.
Yeah.
I'm sure they are quite aware that our family is most definitely not the norm around here and have probably noticed some strange goings on at our place...


Anyhow, they have been doing some construction on their pool.
Due to some work on their wall which is also our wall, the green hedge that grows near our pool has come loose and hangs precariously over on our side.

We mentioned this to the rich backyardigans and they promise to take care of it.

A week or two have gone by and the hedge still has not been fixed.
So I decide to take a little walk around the block and have a chat with the neighbors.

Actually I was hoping they wouldn't be home as I'm wearing my um, pesach cleaning best...so I write a note planning to leave it in the mailbox.

A silver BMW greets me in the driveway.

Yikes.
They're home.
A timid knock.
Opened by a perfectly manicured blonde American mom.

"Hi I'm Chani - your backyard neighbor..."

A look of dread comes over her face.

She stammers, "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry...my husband got your note, is that your dad, the rabbi...we came in last night through the garage so we didn't notice the note till this morning at 6:00 when Jim went to work - he left me a text message to take care of it ASAP. We are so sorry, you know contractors...they never show up when you need them."

(oops, guess my father beat me to the note...)

I quickly appease her letting her know my parents are NOT upset at all...only our holiday is coming up and we have guests coming for the weekend, and if they can please get it fixed we would appreciate it.

Her body sighs in relief and a smile appears.
"Do you want to see the pool?"

I'd love to.
Truly.

From here on in the conversation flows as "Janie" proudly shows me the fabulous new innovations to her home and pool as they have recently redone the entire inside of the house as well as the backyard.
I am struck by how differently two houses can look...ours is the same floor model, but the similarities end there.
Wow.
Nice.

It seems that the neighbors installed three waterfalls in the new pool and my blonde friend begins to apologize for the noise the falls make, hoping it doesn't disturb us.

Growing up in a large family doesn't exactly lend itself to a quiet household and I've always cringed to think what the neighbors think of all the noise.

Here's my perfect opportunity and I take it to apologize for all the noise we make...
(For all the kids, grandkids, Shabbos and holidays late into the night with singing...Sukkos!!)

"Oh no, please. Actually, I love your music.
I hear it all the time and I'm starting to recognize some of the songs...I hum along even though I don't know the words."

(Oh my goodness. Did she just say she loves our music??)

"Y'know, my kids used to call you the normal family...
Cuz you ate dinner together and didn't watch tv a whole day."

(Normal? Did she just say normal!)


:)
:)
:)

lol - peeping toms with no shame.
I run home, laughing the whole way back to 3260 El Dorado Drive.

Oh Soul

Let's say you're with a young child...somebody curses or something violent or inappropriate takes place.

You immediately try to shelter or protect the child.
Cover it's eyes, it's ears.
Leave.

"How can you say that?
Can't you see there's a child here?"


~~~~~


Just the other day I was reading a book.

And as I read I came across a line that was slightly crude and unrefined.
Not appropriate reading for a young Jewish girl like me.

Suddenly it hit me.
My soul is the child within me...
I felt like I wanted to take it all back.
Cover it's eyes and ears.

Sorry soul.
You shouldn't have heard that.
Or seen it.


And the battle continues...

:)

Avrum Pajam

One of my fave bubby stories:

Avrum Pajam was back in the US collecting money for yeshivas in the holiest of lands.
He is what is called a meshulach.
One never knows when he'll show up, but when he does he moves into avremel's room off the kitchen in bubby's house and stays for a month or so before moving on to greener pastures.

As one of Bubby's only living relatives, Avrum looks like he walked out of one of those books from the late 1800's.
Wow.
I am personally fascinated by him and mesmerizes me with the way he talks. And sings. Just about everything he does makes me smile.

It's shabbos and we are sitting at the table.
Avrum is dressed in his shtreimel and bekishe, eyes closed, face shining as he sings Zeidi's old zemiros.
When Avrum isn't looking an older relative turns to one of my cousins and says that in all the years he's known Avrum (about 50) he never, ever heard him say a bad word about someone else!
Can you imagine such a thing!
A tzadik in our times...

Later on my cousin was upstairs chilling with with bubby.
She was so impressed with the story about Avrum that she shares it with bubby.

Bubby listens to the saga.
As the story ends, bubby appears confused.
She looks at my cousin.
"So what's the big deal?
Of course. A chassidishe yid doesn't speak lashon harah."



d

Regards from Sunny California

Today was one of those days.

Did you ever notice how your mood affects your confidence which affects your relationships which in turn affects your whole day...

There are days when I can't get up the nerve to call anyone on the phone.
What will I say?
What will they say?
I have nothing interesting going on in my life.
I have no friends.
I have nothing to wear.
My hair is frizzy.
I'm just a nerd.
:(

But then there are those days where I wake up and the sun is shining on my pillow.
Birds are singing in the trees outside my window and I have all the confidence in the world.

Suddenly I want to call EVERYONE.
The office is interesting again.
All my old ideas come crawling out from every dusty corner of my brain.
Idealism is reborn.
I can do anything.
I can go anywhere.
I can be whatever you want me to be.
No challenge is too great.

I still have nothing to wear.
My hair is frizzy.
And I'm embracing the nerd in me.
Life is good.
:)


When we were kids there was this book called the Wonderful/Horrible Wednesday.
It's the story of a Wednesday through the eyes of a child with a split personality.
The story goes that both of the children go through the same exact day - but for one it was awful and for the other it was grand.
Every experience is painted as perfectly wonderful or dreadfully horrible.
Well...
I hope your Wednesday was wonderful.

Mine was.

Empathy

There is a good reason for suffering and challenge.
There is a positive to every negative experience in life.

For every tear I shed, a whole new world is opened up to me.
Every time I overcome something, I can help you overcome it as well.
If I can share your story, if I can finish your sentence...I can help.

Perhaps this is the reason we suffer.
For although we may hurt, the pain is nothing compared to the reward of empathy.



But what if I've never been there?

What if I've never seen the things you've seen.
Never fought your battles.
I've never even heard of the places you've been.
That place you're stuck in right now.

I can't relate.
:(
Wish I could.

All I can offer is friendship.
The promise that I will do whatever I can to be there.
Whether I can relate or not.

If only I can fast forward to old and grey and wise.
What is wisdom - if not the ability to relate.
The gift of vision - to see the world through your eyes.

Bursting

Have you ever felt like you're bursting?

You're like hello.
G-d?
Anyone there?
Could you send me a sign?
An email?
Something...
Please.

Tell me what you want from me.
Why was I created?
Details.
I need some serious details.
Not the general picture.
I need the nitty gritty every second of the day outline.
Tell me where.
What time...

You've put me through the training.
You've given me the tools.
Now give me an assignment.
My assignment.
I'll be there.
I promise.

Tell me to move, I'll move.
Tell me to stay, I'll stay.
Tell me to dance the jig, sing the song, spread the word, light the flames...


This soldier is reporting to duty.

Happy Chof Gimmel Adar

Good morning window.
Good morning negel vasser.
Good morning toothbrush.

Good morning oatmeal.
Good morning siddur.
Good morning hama.

Good morning car.
Good morning office.
Good morning computer.

Good morning sunflowers.
Good morning bluebirds.
Good morning sisters around the world.


I hope this good morning makes it's way past noon, through evening...till it reaches night.
:)

Must go to bed.
A gutte nacht.
See you at the other side of morning.

Irony at 12:05 in the am

Today's Tanya speaks about the world we live in and how the words "higher" and "lower" doesn't mean that there is more or less G-dliness in the worlds.
Because He is the same with or without the worlds and all of the worlds have the same amount of G-dliness in them.
The only thing that makes a difference in higher or lower is:
That in the higher worlds G-dliness is more revealed and in the lower worlds G-dliness is more hidden.
Down to the lowest world, our world, where G-dliness is so hidden that the world itself says - "I am and there is nothing else besides me."
And how light shines that much more in the darkest of places.
Etc.
Etc.


Now I start to get excited.
Not only am I saying Chitas - which was a hachlata I made every year of life past the age of who knows what but was never able to keep for more than a month (did i say month? let's try week) - but I'm actually learning!
I can translate on my own!
And I understand what it's talking about!
My pride knows no bounds.
My chest fills with self-importance.
I get it!
Me!
Shnooky Shapiro!!!
(see marvelous midos machine volume I)


Oh the irony.

Here I sit learning about G-d.
And instead of humility/awe in my creator... I'm getting excited over myself.
lol
:)
Joke's on me.

But there will be no kicking of self tonight.

Rather an embracing of the fact that I am privelaged to live in this lowest of the low worlds.
Where G-dliness is so hidden,
that I can pride myself -
in myself -
even while learning that there is nothing but Him.

Hmmmmm...

So I'm on my way home from hebrew school today with Mottel in the backseat.
Music is blaring from the speakers.
Udi Davidi.
Mottel begins to tell me about some random 5 year old thought.
but I don't even notice.
The music is blaring.
Mottel asks me some random 5 year old question.
I hear him not.

Only the music.

Suddenly the song ends.
Mottel speaks.
Oh.
Hi!
Mottel!
You were speaking?
I quickly turn the volume down...
Sorry kid.
It's not like I was ignoring you.

~~~~~

This makes me think.
It's like we have two speakers in our heads.
speaker #1 is tuned to channel me.
speaker #2 is tuned to channel you.
If the balance is off, everything is off.
Sometimes my speaker volume is turned up so high I can't hear anything else.
I don't even notice there's another speaker.
Someone else is talking?
Huh?
Suddenly I notice and I'm like, woah...yikes.
Turn that speaker way down.
There are other people in this world.
So I turn up the you speaker loud and strong.
Blaring.
And life is good.
Or so I think.
Only now my volume is so low...
My soul is crying...
But i can't hear it.
Cuz I'm on mute.
Or you're so loud I couldn't hear me if I tried.

So I learn to play with the volume.
Bring me up a tad when I need some inner peace..
Blast you on full when life throws you some punches.
For everything there is a time.
And a sound.
The key is staying in tune with the volume changes.


L'chaim to listening to the sounds of your soul, harmonized by the sounds of others.

The Bue Lizard

By Yoo Hoo

Life is not a ferris wheel in Golden Gate park.

Nor is it a fire hydrant on Schenectady Avenue cooling Negroes in the hot August sun.

It is merely the ups and downs of a tumultous Jet Blue flight from Fort Lauderdale to Oakland.

You go girl. You go.

You go until you can’t stop because the stop sign’s been removed by a veering Lincoln led by a USC jock ten Coronas later.

You can’t see the sign? Well, why don’t you slow down and check again.

Maybe you didn’t see it cuz your eyes r closed. Maybe you didn’t see it cuz your mouth is full and your ears are red.

Maybe you didn’t see cuz your blind as a bat on a moonless night in a Bedouin cave off the coast of Jakarta.

But then,

But then there’s always tommorow

when the sun will shine and the ice will melt, and the snow will turn to water. And the lizard will emerge from beneath the rock and look you in the eye and say with a puzzled smile, “Hey, what in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”

PS This poem is meaningless.

The Fifth Commandment

Jetblue flight to JFK had me watching a snippet of some ridiculous show on the 36 channels of filth they are so proud to advertise.

.........


There was some mom in the o.c. going to surprise her son in college with her obnoxious daughter who was there yelling at her mother that her son hates her and why is she going and a whole bunch of bleep words to accompany the message. Then the camera follows her all the way till she lands in her son's frat house only to be greeted by an equally obnoxious son who refuses to hug her and tells her she should never have come to the cries of this pathetic blonde high pitched mom's screams of "surprises are supposed to be fun!"

..........

????

What the world?
Where have I landed?
Is this the society we live in?
I mean, if the show can air there must be enough people who either enjoy watching this garbage or relate to it on some level.

Makes me think about the ten commandments.

It's kinda like He knew we would be overwhelmed with the 613.
So He took the ones most important to Him, the ones that no matter what... needed to be kept.

Ten. Commandments.

Imagine what the world would be like if they were never spoken...
Imagine what the world would be like if everyone kept them.
Just ten.

So how do you rate?
Believe in G-d?
Keep the Sabbath holy?
Don't kill?
Steal?

Why is it that if I slip up on Shabbos and in middle of the night by accident turn off the light in the bathroom I am totally devistated...
But when I talk back to my mother I don't even notice.

Why is it that I would never dare to dream of walking into a church and getting down on my hands and knees to pray...
But have no problem rolling my eyes when my parents do something that slightly embarresses me.

Why is it that I gasp when a murder is committed...
But my conscience is silent every time I make my parents do something for me when I'm to lazy to do it for myself. Or worse, when I make my parents do something for themselves because I'm too lazy to do it for them.

~~~~~~~

You may have heard the famous story of uncle Manis with my great uncle, Feter Chaim...

Bubby was serving dinner at 1414 President St.
Feter Chaim was there for a visit.
Manis sat at the table ready to eat...one thing stood in his way.
He was missing a fork.

His mother was in the kitchen, so he called to her, "Ma, can you bring me a fork?"

Suddenly the Feter Chaim turned to him with eyes full of shock and hurt...
"Banutz zich mit de mameh?"
"You're using your mother?"


~~~~~~


How could he make his mother do something for him that he could do for himself?
A Mameh...
The most respected queen of the house!
!?!???!!!

Makes me think about my relationship with my mother.
Yikes.
Sorry Ma... for, yeah... everything...


Granted, some people are blessed with parents that are almost impossible to respect.

Honor them anyways.
It's your special challenge in this world.

Because HE wants it more than anything else in the world.

As a dear friend so eloquently put it...

"TV sucks.
its the anti everything.
its poison.
you talk about cults and how they suck you in and warp your mind.
please.
brainwashing?
try a little tv.

its 500 people -or however many channels you have- screaming for your attention.
networks and their research departments spend millions figuring out what makes people tick and much more importantly what will get them to watch more tv.
this is some pretty serious premeditaed evil.
so while you are watching one dose of drama or reality tv they make sure to feed you snippets of the next piece of poison about to be served up.
what buttons can i push, what emotions can i stir to make you watch longer?
how bout breaking the heart of some kid on national tv?
how bout making an --- out of someone if front of 31 million people?
maybe a little backstabbing?
betrayal, cheating?

and than they give these #%*&* awards.
LO bleeping L!
they should all be locked up and forced to watch - for three days straight with no sleep- the ---- they produce.

"you dont have to watch it".
shut up, bunch of irresponsible hate mongering baffoons."

I'm Back

Regards from New York people!!!

What a wedding...
What a family...
What a kallah...
What emotions...

So happy I went...

Grand to be home...

Love,
Hanabella

Stop Kicking Yourself

B"H

Stop Kicking Yourself
---------------------

Why do we kick ourselves so hard when we make a mess? Because we pat ourselves so nicely on the head when we succeed. As though success and failure is all in our hands.

Yes, we believe. We believe that it is not our talents, our brains, our good looks and hard work that brings success, that everything is in the hands of heaven.

But when we walk out the door into the cold, real world, we leave our faith behind in a world of fantasy.

If we would chew on it a little and allow it to digest before we went through that door, if we would let it sink into our minds and our hearts, then it would be more than faith -- it would be a vision, an attitude.

It would be more real than even a dollar bill.





A Daily Dose of Wisdom from the Rebbe
-words and condensation by Tzvi Freeman
Adar 18, 5767 * March 8, 2007

So Many Colors in the Rainbow

New stages in life call for a new perspective on things.
It's like you suddenly tap in to a whole new color.

Let's say you've been living for so many years...and you've never seen the color yellow.
Never even heard of it.
Or maybe you've heard of it but you never really thought about it.
Or you thought about it but you never really understood it.

Then one day you wake up.
On the morning
of the beginning
of the rest of your life.

And suddenly you see the color yellow.

It's in places you've been to hundreds of times before - but you never noticed.
It's in the weave of the fabrics you've always worn - but never saw.
It's in the things people say - that you've heard countless times, but never really heard.

The world has become a more colorful place.
It makes me want to revisit all the places I've been.
All the people I've met.
What else was I missing out on?

Mrs. Langamo

My memory leaves much to be desired.
But thankfully there are a few things that managed to stick.
(aside from all the broken bones and traumatic fist fights with bluma)

Birthdays in kindergarten.
Ahhh, just the thought makes me smile.

Nowadays kids have full block parties with bounce houses and pony rides.

We had magic markers.

Mrs. Langamo would gather all the children around her in a circle.
She would call up the birthday child to sit beside her.
Then she would take out a large index card and with a magic marker would draw an invisible picture on the card.
She would then make lines with the other markers.
First a line across the top in blue.
The second line would come out green.
Then yellow.
Wherever the magic marker had been, a picture would emerge in white.

We sat with baited breathe.
Every single time.
And it was always the same thing.
It was always a cupcake with a candle on it.
And the words happy birthday underneath...

I thought she was such a good artist.

I got to take that card home on the day of my birthday.
When I turned five years old.
It was the most exciting day of my life.
What a gift.
:)
I really loved that lady.
They don't make too many kindergarten teachers like her.

I remember when we got a new rule in our classroom.
Velcro sneakers were just coming into fashion and we all had a pair.
All of us would sit on the rug during circle time opening and closing the velcro.

open.
close.
open.
close.

Mrs. Langamo made a rule.
No more velcro.
Mine were pink.
Light pink.
Sheindel D. would have loved em.
:)

I remember planting alfalfa sprouts in those green plastic strawberry cartons.
I remember falling off the monkey bars.
I remember the wall full of manipulatives that we got to play with one at a time and then put back in the correct place before taking the next one.

I wish I remembered more.


L'chaim to Mrs. Langamo of blessed memory and to all the small things that made us happy in kindergarten.


There's a fine line between immaturity and youthfulness.
The trick is the hold on to that spark of youth as we grow old and wise.

Blog for Sale

(excerpts from a conversation I had with myself)

Self 1:
This blog has got to go.
You are not fit to have a public forum for thoughts and ideas.
Who do you think you are anyways?
...........

Self 2:
Why do you take yourself so seriously?
What do you care.
Get over it.
It's just a blog.
Gosh.

Have you ever felt like people have a certain perception of you and maybe you even give off certain vibes that may be true about part of you but there's a whole other side to you that is hidden?
And then when you're around those people that think that about you you're afraid to be yourself because you will squash the perception they have of you?

I remember meeting a woman once at a wedding in NY and she went on and on about how beautiful I was.
The next morning I woke up late and groggy, walked into the kitchen to find the very same woman I had met at the wedding.
I was suddenly so self conscious...

Hmmmm.
Not sure if that has anything to do with anything but it came to mind.

What's the point?

The point is that there are so many more important things in this world than whether or not I am fit to have a blog.

Like global warming...
Brittany's new haircut...
What to wear to Sarah's wedding...
Catching my flight...

So I will shut up.
And continue to write.

But I make this disclaimer:

The posts on this blog reflect the thoughts of a very human human.
With shortcomings and selfish moments and bad judgements.
Yikes.
That will be all.


:)


Bottom line - The desire to be selfless is in itself selfish.

Go figure.



p.s. if this post appears to be an attempt at humility, it is not.
p.s.s if the p.s. appears to be an attempt at humility, it is not.
p.s.s.s. if the p.s.s. appears to be an attempt at humility, it is not.
p.s.s.s.s. if the p.s.s.s. appears to be an attempt at humility, it is not.
p.s.s.s.s.s. if the p.s.s.s. appears to be an attempt at humility, it is not.

Olga Grichanok

More from the artist of "Train Station".
Why do I like this artist so much?
I think its because she covers the entire canvas with color...
:)
Enjoy.

Who's the Enemy?

I wait for permission to post a part of the note you emailed me tonight...
But you my friend are asleep.
And I am impatient, lest I forget.
You will forgive me in the morning.
I hope.

:)

the battlefield, open grassland anyone can open fire
at any moment
your heart skips a few beats just from the sound of
the grass
or if you are hiding in house waiting to attack

my battlefield is my body
my very hands could be my weapons or my enemy's
weapons
with one touch i could be doing a mitzvah, with
another i could be opening something on the internet
(like youtube) that i really dont want to do
but it is amazing to be on this battlefield and win
maybe i will get hit a few times, but i make it
through, i go on the right path.

Chag Purim!

"Purim in Crown Heights is so much fun.
This place is so boring.
You don't even feel like it's Purim here."

These were the words that greeted my groggy ears this awesomely, happily, wonderfully day of Purim 5767.

My dear crown heightser definitely had a point.
Los Alamitos CA is no place for a Jew on Purim.

But it reminded me of another place and time...

..................


"In Israel everything was Jewish.
We didn't have to do anything to know it was the holiday.
Here in America you have to work so hard to have a Jewish identity."

These were the words that greeted my slightly less groggy ears that freezing wintery day at HTHS, Manhattan Hebrew School 5763.

The Israeli woman also had a point.

But was it a complaint?
A critcism?


..................


Welcome to the front lines in the battle against the evil inclination. (a.k.a. golus, n.h.)
Drum roll please...

Yeah, back at headquarters the chiefs and commanders have the music full blast.
The meals are at five courses.
It's black tie only attire.

They just roll out of bed and are seemingly attacked by a barrage of holiday cheer and familial warmth.



Here on the battlefield things are a little different.

We are strangers in a strange land.

The holiday is covered with a blanket of ignorance and indifference.

For us it takes a little more effort to find the joy.
You actually have to create the feeling.

But once you've ignited that spark in the bunker, the whole room fills with light and spreads the happiness to all who feel it's glow.

Welcome to Purim in the trenches.
Proud
to
be
here
with
you.

:)

c

Raizel has quite a little pumpkin...

Regards from Florida!

It's Purim!!

What do you want to be for Purim?

A Rebbe?
A Teacher?
A Parent?
A Child?

Oh the people you can be...


We are told that a purim costume is more than just a costume.
The costume affects our lives in ways we can't imagine.
There are stories of great Rebbes who changed the course of history through a silly purim shpiel...

Wouldn't it be awesome if you became your costume just for a day??

This year for Purim I wish someone would dress up like a doctor.
Who is blessed with the ability to cure the greatest of illnesses.

Or a shadchan who has two big hats filled to the brim with names, spending a whole day pulling out perfect matches.

I wish someone could dress up like a multi-billionaire who spends all day and all night giving out money to the lines and lines of people waiting outside.

Or a clown making rounds, cheering up the world one person at a time.

Who will be Mordechai?
Who will be Esther?
Charvonah?
Anyone?

Spread the joy people.
Get in the mood...
It's over before it starts.
Simcha Poretz Geder.
Break all boundaries.
Kick you n.h. over the moon.
No room for you in this month.
Sorry.
Buh bye.
See ya.
Wouldn't wanna be ya.