My Rebbe and Me

Great anticipation.
Joy and jubilation.

My heart goes thump thump, thump thump.
Smile widens.
A giggle gurgles upward.
(say that 10 times fast)

In honor of my bas mitzvah (that passed 3 weeks before) I was privileged to be the one to accompany my mother to New York for my cousin Layah's wedding.

It's Sunday morning.

I'm twelve years old, in NY, preparing to get a dollar from the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

We are waiting in line.
A looooooooooooooong line.
The kallah, my aunt and uncle, bubby and zeidy, cousins, mother and me.

Wearing the nicest outfit I could find in my suitcase, I practice over and over again in yiddish:

"Mein Bas Mitzvah is Geven Bais Adar"
"Mein Bas Mitzvah is Geven Bais Adar"
"Mein Bas Mitzvah is Geven Bais Adar"

My bas mitzvah was on the second of adar.

Mother reminds me to be sure and speak loudly so the Rebbe will hear me.
And to listen carefully when the Rebbe answers and try to remember what he says.
And don't forget to say adaynk.
Thank you.

~~~~

Finally we reach the house.
The door.
The room.

Everything is happening so quickly...
Rabbi Groner hustles us through...
The day is short, the line is long, and the people are waiting...

Layah the kallah near tears as she accepts her bracha and multiple dollars...
My aunt, my uncle...
Zaidy and bubby asking for a bracha for my elter zaide...
The kallah's sisters...
Then it's my turn.

"Mein Bas Mitzvah is Geven Beis Adar."

The Rebbe says "Zolst haben a shnas hatzlacha, besuros tovos"
(you should have a year of success, we should hear good news)

My mother follows proudly...


Oops.
Forgot to say adaynk.
:)

Garments of the Soul

It was a sunny spring shabbos afternoon.
Brother and I were making our way home from shul.

We spoke of this.
Of that.
The other.

The comfortable banter of siblings on a warm walk home...

So I was wearing a particulary random outfit that shabbos.
One of those slightly mismatched, whatever outfits.
Brother had much to say about it, as he loves to do, and I had much to defend about it, which I failed to do.

1. I was in a rush to go to shul.
2. It's getting to hot for my winter stuff.
3. It's still too cold for my summer stuff.
4. Nobody in our shul really cares.
5. I think it looks just fine, thank you very much.

~~~~

But then I got to thinking.
About clothing and words and minds and souls...

~~~~

Let's say your closet has a few nice things in it.

So whenever you have time to think about what you will wear, you can put together something nice.
Very nice.
Very, very nice.
Ohmygoodnessyoulookgorgeous kinda nice.
:)

Great.
But you also have a whole bunch of junk.
Those random items you never give away because you still like them even though they don't look the best or are not really fit to be worn.

So if you are in a rush, with no time to think, or things are in the wash, somethings missing...you just grab whatever comes to your hand and run.

And pray you don't bump into anyone important.

~~~~

If you think about it, words are kind of like clothing.

We have all kinds of words in the closets of our minds.
The good, the bad and the ugly.

Usually the words that we use are nice, good, wonderful.
Indeed.

We choose them wisely when given the luxury of time.

We use them to inspire.
To impress.
To impart.

Words can be awesome.

But then there are those times when things get a little crazy.

Times when there's no time to think and you just kind of grab at whatever words may be in the closet.

Like the time you stubbed your toe.
Or your shin, your elbow, your eye.
(can you stub your eye?)

Like the day that car swerved in front of you, nearly scratching your new car.
Or the time you missed that appointment you've been waiting months for...

Suddenly all kinds of words come flying out!
The ones you didn't even realize were in the closet.
The words you tsk tsk when hearing someone else say...

Where were those hiding?
Where did I pick that one up from?

Uh oh.

~~~~

Lesson learned that fine day:

It's all about what's in your closets.
Removing all the shmutz and filling them with only beautiful garments.

So no matter what, no matter where, no matter when...

You will always be caught well dressed.

Good Shabbos from Baby Rashi.

A Tale of Two Bloggers

My zaidy used to cash checks for people.
Whenever he would see someone who owed him money coming towards him on the street he would cross to the other side so as not to embarrass the person.

My zaidy did not have a blog.
But if he did, he would not have written this post.






It was a dark and rainy tuesday afternoon.
I was sitting at my computer, all alone.
Not a soul was around.
All was still.
Quiet.
Peaceful.

When suddenly I heard it.

"Hear ye, hear ye.
Ladies and Gentleman.
Boyles and goyles.
Children of all ages, shapes and sizes.
Gather around!
Step right up if you dare and go for the ride of your life on your very own Bloggercoaster!

Complete with a 700 foot drop, corkscrews, upside down tummy tossers and colossal hills!
Famous throughout BlogLand as the most popular of our attractions, the bloggercoaster is sure to threaten the brevity of the boldest of chaps.

Many choose to watch rather than ride.
What will you choose?
Are you brave enough?
Can you withstand the test of character?
Will you crumble under the pressure?
Step right up...
It's absolutely FREE!"

~~~~~

Who can resist the temptation of braving a bloggercoaster?
I was no exception.
I had much to share.
And much to say.
And so, with a few timid steps, one backward glance and a flying leap...I was off.

Up

Up

Up

Up

Up

Up

Then suddenly CRASH!

Down

Down

Down

Down

Down

~~~~

Yes, there were the highs of the ego...
Swelling with pride for a thought well expressed.
Then the lows of abandonment...
When nobody said a word.
Is anyone out there?

You try so hard to convince yourself...

"It's not important.
So nobody comments...
Let them not comment!
Who needs comments?
But I love comments.
Do I need comments?
What do I care anyways?
It wasn't such a good post.

Maybe I should erase that one.
Maybe I should erase all of them.
Maybe I should get over wanting to erase everything.

So I'm not as wise as I always thought.
So I am as wise as I always thought.
I have nothing to write.
I have a one track mind.

What does it matter anyways?

So I sound a little stupid today.
So I sound a little smart today.
So my sister laughs at what I say.
So I care more about what others think than I dare to confess..."

Aha!
Human frailties exposed once again.
:)

Sometimes it's best to get off this bloggercoaster.
Take a step back.
Take a good look.
Take a deep breathe.
Take a hot bath.
Take a long walk on a short pier.
Take a break.

Remember who you are.
Remember why you are.

Re-evaluate yourself.
Break down old borders.
Break old habits.
Go do something useful.
Do another Yid a favor.

Go learn from your zeidy.

The Long Way to a Short Point

(notes from monday eve. - been trapped in a painting wonderland for 3 days without wi-fi)

Boarding flight 248 with non-stop service up to Oakland CA.
A nice good evening to go flying.

(Oops, I forgot something. Can one give themselves shliach mitzvah gelt? Can you be your own shaliach?
Hmmmm…
I fold a dollar bill into the shape of an airplane and stick it in my pocket.)

~~~~

There are a bunch of places.
That when you fly to them.
You can tell what kind of place you’re headed to just by the passengers on the flight.

My flight is full of ultra cool slash punk slash ripped jeans slash tattooed peoples.
Typical SF crowd.

The dude in 2D looks more dead than alive with that spacey expression, almost begging me to wave my hand in front of his face to see if he’s awake or asleep.

I find seat 6C.
Some guy is in it.
Thanks a lot.
:)

Sitting back in the my most legroom in coach, you look good in leather jetblue seat, after ousting my would be seat robber, surrounded by an ultra individualistic, liberal, modern, liberated crowd of people…my brain starts a wanderin…

~~~~

I wonder how many people on this plane are happy.
It’s not everyday you know that I get to spend quality time with random fellow humans.

People usually compare their state of being with the people that surround them on a daily basis.

My own sheltered everyday week in los al ca. consists of me, my wonderful parents, my sister and awesome designer nechama, brother and fellow office-mate shmuel, my friends up on the hill, workmates, mailman (really nice guy), cleaning lady chella (um, yeah, gotta love her), my fave post office lady Bernadette and, of course, my secretary* who organizes my life, brings me coffee everyday, schedules my manicures and pedicures and takes care of all my affairs so I can spend more quality time with my pillow.

*(jk)

No really.
These are the people in my frame of reference.
So I can compare my state of being with them.

Am I happy compared to them?
Healthy?
Smart?
Giving?
Calm?

It's like when you graduate top of your high school thinking you're all that (because compared to your class you were a genius) but when you hit the real world, suddenly you're floundering near the bottom.

Your frame of reference just got seriously bigger.

I wonder how I rate compared to the happiness of the people on this plane.

This new crowd of folks from the enlightened north…
Are they happy?
Really happy.

~~~~

I just got my free credit report from Citi Bank today.
It seems the kind folks there want to protect my identity from being stolen.

Well, in the report there is also a rating that you get.
A credit score.
I don’t recall the exact number right this moment, but I scored somewhere around 730 credit points which is apparently good, but not great.

Then it goes on to say that my credit score is higher than 50% of Americans.
Pretty cool, huh?

Now.

Wouldn’t it be cool if there was a way to see where you rate on the totem pole of happiness compared to those around you?

Imagine if there was some sort of statistic that popped up at random times giving you random information about you and how you rate compared to the rest of the people you’re with.

Like sitting on the plane suddenly the screen in front of me would say “You are 95% happier than the rest of the passengers on this flight.”

Or “Compared to your seatmate your family scores 967 being that the person seated next to you has one estranged brother, no parents and an abusive step uncle.”

At a baseball game your ticket would say, “From the 10,000 people at this game your health is better than 85% of them.”

That would really help us appreciate our lives and what we were given.

How could I kvetch if I knew that my friends would be there for me 89% more than the friends of all the people on my block.

Or complain about my low score on lactose tolerance when the lady behind me at the grocery store is deathly allergic to wheat, sugar, salt and string beans…

Yes indeed.

I guess the only time we should compare ourselves to others is when it makes us grateful for what we have.

Shhhhh.

Shimon his son said: "All my days I grew up among the sages and did not find anything better for one's person than silence."
(last weeks perek)

Did I ever mention that Pirkei Avos has to be one of my favorite books in the whole wide world?



p.s
For the first time I've been counting sefirah with Simon Jacobson's book and it is totally awesome so I was thinking today how I need way more than just one day to work on each of the forty nine steps. I could work my whole life on perfecting these sefiros!

Then I realized...Duh...That's the whole point.
:)
L'chaim!
A gitte voch alleh yidden
c

Tada... :)

Creative Genius Discovered Next Door

If this FLYER is any indication of how the show will go, then you are in luck people!
(created by our very own nahama who has kept me awake till this cooky hour, unable to tear myself away from her magical design skills)

























You like?
I like.
We like.
I want one in BIG for my wall.
:)
Yessir.

O.K.
G.N.
S.T.
D.L.T.B.B.B.

H.A.K.
L.
C.

May You Be Healed

Do you believe in G-d?

Do you believe that He recreates the world every moment?

Every second.

That he has the ability to make fire cold and marble soft. To change every plan made by man?

~~~~

Every single day in shacharis before shma we say the words: Hamichdesh bituvo bichol yom tamid maasei bereishis.

He, who in his goodness creates anew, continuously, every single day, the work of creation.


Do you believe the doctors who say: "It never can be", or the G-d that says: "Do you dare to limit my abilities? I recreate the world every second...do you think this excludes you?

(who me?... :) )

Do you lose faith in light of what others predict for you?

Boruch Hagever Asher Yiftach BaHashem, Vihaya a Hashem Mivtacho.
Blessed is he who trusts in Hashem and Hashem becomes his trust.

Sometimes the only thing we have is our trust in the Aibishter.

When the whole world says one thing and you hope and pray and put your trust in Him for the alternative...and the world laughs at you and says: "Who do you think you are...you're gonna be the exception to the rule???"
NO!
Because by putting your trust in Hashem - Hashem becomes the rule, rather than the exception to the rule.

And the person is blessed through the Bitachon.

~~~~

It's Rosh Chodesh Iyar.
The head of the month that stands for "Ani Hashem Rofecha"
I am Hashem your healer.

May you be blessed this month with healing on all levels; be it physical, spiritual, psychological...
Be it thanking those who've done for you.
Be it forgiving those who've hurt you.

Including yourself.

May all your booboos go away.
And may the matzah of healing continue it's magical effects through the rest of the year.


A gutten chodesh.
L'Chaim!!!

Hassidic Rambler

I have a friend who's a chassidic rambler who recently started a blog.
Her mind is like a leaf blowing in the wind...tumbling hither and tither...thinking, thinking, thinking...

So it got me thinking about how blogs are so personal and really reveal your innermost thoughts and feelings and it's not like when you meet a person in the flesh because they can keep their mouths shut and you never know what they're really thinking, only what they want you to think and life is so much safer and more protected but I guess when you blog you can lie but that would be so dumb because if you use them properly blogs can really help you to become more honest with yourself and also to be brave and not worry so much about what people think about you and if you what you are saying sounds dumb or if people will like what you post and if anyone will comment... and how everything can be used for the good or for the bad and some people use the internet to spread light and i don't want to think about what other people use it for because it makes me sad.

What is it about fellow Jews. Where does our love come from?
Why is it that when I sit looking at pictures and reading the profiles of young students at Virginia tech I feel so, so very sad, but when I read about and see the picture of Liviu Librescu, the 76 year old professor who was shot while fending off the madman from his students my eyes overflow with tears for this adorable man with his little white kipa.
It makes me want to appreciate all the holocaust survivors of the world.
All the bubbies and zaidies.
I want to hug them and speak with them and hear their memories, their words of wisdom.
Why do we need death to remind us about life?

But I don't want to end on a sad note so I will share a hassidic rambler note...soup bucket money radio.
True story - my cousins were playing balderdash and they were doing initials so the initials were S.B.M.R. and my little cousin rg didn't really understand that you should make up something like "Southern Baltimore Music Recital" she thought it was just any random words so she wrote "Soup Bucket Money Radio".
Shoot, Shmulie's gonna bite me for spilling 8th day secrets.
And RG will bite me too.
Nu.
Mah La'asot.
:)
Nighty night my fellow Jews.
I love you very much.
c

The Color Goddess

People come, from near, from far.
They come by subway, taxi, car.
The cost is steep, but as they say...
"Sure, beauty has a price to pay."

And there upon her autumn throne,
She beckons women to her home.
With promises and hopeful dreams,
Of colored pallete dressing schemes.

They told me it would do me well
To have a spin on the color wheel.
"Consider it money well spent,"
They wished me luck and off I went.

~~~~

And so it was that fateful autumn day.
I found myself at Two Fairmont Avenue.
Hudson-on-Hastings, New York.

Feeling slightly curious, fairly excited, a tad selfish and generally pleased with myself for being able to afford the luxury of getting my colors done by the best in the east, I made my timid way to the door of the Color Goddess.

Jessica.

(applause)


We sat in that sun-filled room overlooking stunning autumn foliage.
Shelves of colorful fabrics lined the walls.
A desk.
A mirror.
A chair.

The process was actually quite fascinating.
The way she figures out your skin tones and hair tones with paints and brushes.
Followed by dress styles, house styles, hair styles, makeup.
What best suits you.
How to wear it.
How to walk.
Where to live.
What to buy.
My oh my.

And as she spoke her dear assistant scribbled furiously in her book.

"Take the scruffiness out of your dress...live in a place with lots of hills...lots of velvet...lots of roses...hydrangeas..." and on and on, the details of my perfect world.

~~~~~

An hour passed, then two or three.
Before the women could agree.
My colors, season, style of dress...
It adds up to a shepherdess!

~~~~~

Wow.
A summer shepherdess.
How do you like that!
Fascinating.
:)

Returning to my uncle's car (which i had left with the light on and burned out the battery thereby needing to be jumpstarted by some shady characters who appeared to live in their car) I started back towards home.

Driving...
Thinking...

Jessica lives tucked away in her perfect autumn setting.
Autumn leaves, autumn trees.
Peach walls, torquoise hallways.
Jade jewelry, orange blouses.

This is her life.

Surrounded by the things that make her beautiful and make her happy.

And indeed it is loverly.

~~~~

Sometimes we take for granted the lifestyles we are born into.
The families we were created with.
The values we were taught from birth.

Leaving Jessica I am hit with an appreciation for way we live.
I was always taught that we do not live for ourselves, but for others.
When someone goes on shlichus, they move to a town to spread the light of yiddishkeit in such and such place, not for the view from their window.

I start to feel some guilt.

What is this?
All this focus on me and what makes me look good and what makes me happy...
Summer shepherdess, summer shmepherdess.
Who needs it???

On the other hand this doesn't mean I shouldn't do things to make myself happy.
Or to look lovely.
:)
Just as long as I don't get too caught up in making my perfect world...

~~~~

My closet fills with the colors of my new pallette.

Dusty rose.
Muted teal.
Raisin.
Chocolate brown.

I'm looking better than ever.
(some dare to disagree) :)

And aside from the occasional pangs of guilt for this color fetish, my summer shepherdess persona slowly fades and I think I'm over it.

~~~~

Until one fine day in the middle of May.
(Adar didn't rhyme)


I'm in Tzfas, Ir Hakodesh.
We are learning a sicha on Parshas Mishpatim.
Rabbi Pasternak teaches about the four things a shomer watches for someone.

Ox, donkey, garment and sheep.

The four correspond to the different kinds of klipah or yetzer harah...which affect the bnei yisroel.

Ox - destructive
Donkey - cold to G-dliness
Garment - beged, bagda = rebellious
Sheep - Scattered, wandering

It seems that the time before Moshiach comes is the time when the Jewish People are compared to sheep.
The first law in Shulchan Aruch says "don't be embarrassed by those who oppose mitzvos in public."
This refers to people who are ashamed to do the right thing because there are others who ridicule it.
They poke fun and dare you to go against the flow.

The sheep are missing the boldness to do what is right!



Suddenly it hit me.
Sheep...shepherd...
Summer shepherdess...
Why didn't I think of this before!
A holy cause for the shepherdess!
It's a good thing.

Hurrah!
Thank you Jessica.

And you thought it was all about me...
:)

JewishWisdom.Blogspot.com

Yosef Marcus is a Chabad rabbi in Shmateo Ca.
He is a pleasure to read.
And an honor to know.
His blog ended prematurely due to lack of publicity.
So sad.
This here one was one of my favorites.

~~~~

Younger people tend to be extremists. They see things in black and white. Grey areas do not exist. Over thirty? Can’t trust ‘em—they all sell out.
But when people get older, they begin to mellow. Most people, anyway—but not the Chassidic Rebbe, Mendel of Kotzk. Here’s what he said about the middle of the road:
“The middle of the road is for horses.”
And it’s more insulting in Yiddish, because the Yiddish word for horse, fehrd, can also mean an idiot. The Kotzker Rebbe was an extremist. Diplomacy did not appear in his dictionary. He said it like it was—and people loved it. They came in droves to hear him shout and berate. Not because it was entertaining but because it was a breath of fresh truth. Raw. Gloves off. “Who are you to study the holy Torah? Do you even appreciate that this is Divine wisdom? You filthy, self-absorbed, cowardly fools….”
Truth. He was obsessed with truthfulness, with sincerity, earnestness. He couldn’t stand religious phoniness. Are you here to serve G-d or your own ego? And most people didn’t pass his test; they didn’t achieve his standard of commitment. He is famous for saying: “I don’t need the thousands of students! Let them all go back where they came from. All I want is ten earnest men who will stand on the rooftops and scream, “THERE IS NOTHING BESIDES THE HOLY ONE!”
If it’s the truth, how can you not scream it from the rooftops?
~~~
So that’s how Chassidic teenagers rebel. Because everybody has to rebel, to forge a unique path in the world, distinct from the parents. If your parents are liberal you become a conservative; if they’re secular you become religious, and so on. But what can the Chassidic rebel do? Abandon the religion? Not even a question. He believes in it more than his parents. So he rebels by becoming even more religious. A fanatic. There’s no room for compromise. The world will be offended? What world? Doesn’t it say that there is no world?
There’s no compromising with the world, says the holy rebel. If it’s the truth, how can you not scream it from the rooftops?
So the father tries to explain. But the teenager is not even listening because the father has already sold out. The father may have a long beard and a long coat and may study Torah all day and night—but he’s willing to compromise and so he has made peace with the devil.
The teenager argues: What can the father know of spirituality, truth, holiness, martyrdom? Nothing. He has either forgotten or never known. Because if he knew, if he knew now, he would agree.
~~~
But let’s leave this overly dramatized tension between parent and child for a trip to Baghdad. Not the Baghdad of today with its suicide attacks and kidnappings but the Baghdad of the late 1800’s with its flourishing Jewish community. Three imaginary rabbis are invited to a pre-circumcision celebration for the newborn son of a wealthy and prestigious member of the community. The party will take place the night before the circumcision and there will be much dancing and singing.
The first rabbi says he’s sick. He cannot attend.
The truth is he is not sick at all. He simply does not want to attend. Who would not want to attend a party? The food and drink will be plenty, the entertainment top notch, the venue high class. Many people live for the party. The party is what it all comes down to. You work hard so that you can afford to have a good life, celebrate, enjoy, drink, dance, laugh with friends (and people you wish will one day be your friends).
But the three rabbis in this apocryphal tale authored by the Ben Ish Chai of Baghdad did not see it that way. The atmosphere at the party will not be a religious one and all the revelry will be for them a waste of time, time that could be better spent studying Torah. Furthermore, the event will continue past midnight and they would be unable to recite the midnight prayers, Tikkun Chatzot, to mourn the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and yearn for its rebuilding.
So the first rabbi says he’s sick. He doesn’t want to offend the man. After all, the man is an important figure and it would not be to the benefit of the community if he were offended by one of the rabbis. So he lies for the sake of peace. He’s within his halachic rights in doing so, in fact in good company—Jacob was creative with the truth when he fooled his father into thinking he was Esau.
The second rabbi, who knows about the first rabbi’s response, no longer has the option of claiming illness. What, there is some kind of a plague among the rabbis? No. The man will become suspicious and think that the rabbis do not trust the kosherness of the food in his home!
So, against his will, perforce, he accepts the invitation.
And the third rabbi must do the same.
So now it’s the night of the party and our three rabbis have each taken a unique path. The first rabbi is at home sitting peacefully with a volume of the Talmud in his study. Steam is rising from the herbal tea his wife brought him and which will turn cold since he’s too engrossed to notice. It took only a small lie but now he is in heaven. And maybe it wasn’t such a lie because he is sick, lovesick for the Divine, like King David.
The second rabbi is in hell. He’s sitting at the party uncomfortably, like a demon has coerced him to be there, he’s trying not to listen to the frivolous music, looking this way and that way, his face is red and he’s huffing and puffing. At midnight he can’t take it anymore and he runs out of the hall.
And then there’s the third rabbi. He is also sitting at the party but he’s tranquil. He’s smiling pleasantly to himself. He has brought with him, in his mind, three conundrums he had come across that day in his studies. He spends the time at the party deep in thought, solving these Talmudic mysteries, completely oblivious to his surroundings. At midnight, he puts his shawl over his head and recites the Tikkun Chatzot with great devotion.
~~~
Of course, the third rabbi wins the prize.
And that’s Ben Ish Chai’s point: Torah is best when it can be combined with etiquette, says Rabban Gamliel in Ethics of the Fathers. The first rabbi got Torah but he was unable to attend a friend’s celebration. He isolated himself—not good. “Don’t separate yourself from the congregation,” said Hillel in the Ethics.
The second rabbi got to attend but it came at the expense of his Torah study. Also not good, since Torah must be combined with etiquette not sacrificed for it.
The third rabbi got the best of both worlds: he attended the party and managed to study at the same time.
Yet with all due respect to the Ben Ish Chai and the imaginary host of the party, I would like to invite two more rabbis to the party. The first of my guests is a rabbi who is so “with-it” he doesn’t think twice before accepting the invite. He already knows which tie he’s going to where. “You have to live in the world,” he says. A rabbi is not a priest. You can’t be so closed up, so rigid. Get with the program, he says.
And so he comes to the party all smiles, fresh from the shower with pink cheeks that match his tie, and he’s pressing flesh, handing out his card, slapping backs and laughing heartily at his conversationalists well-intentioned if unsuccessful attempts at humor as well his own tried and true yarns. He enjoys a glass of the eighty-dinar-a-bottle wine. “What’s the difference between a ten dinar wine and an eighty dinar wine? Seventy dinar!” (More hearty laughter.)
A beautiful evening.
And now the fifth rabbi, who not only wins the prize he is the prize. This rabbi doesn’t want to go to the party. Like for the original three rabbis, Torah is for him the dearest thing. But he goes. Because it’s the right thing to do. And not always must you give in to your desires, even your spiritual desires.
But although he’d rather not go, he goes with joy. Because everything is for the best. And King David said, Serve G-d with joy. And every situation you’re put in is produced and directed by the Holy One Himself. Every situation is an opportunity to bring more light into the world. So he comes to the party, shmoozes with this one and that one and at the end of the conversation he says you know we should study together some time and he pulls out his notepad and they’ll be studying on Thursday at noon, two weeks hence. And with the other guy he asks him how his daughter is doing and offers a few words of comfort and he strikes up a conversation with another guy who looks out of place, and he greets him first, like the rabbis said in Ethics of the Fathers, Be first to greet every person and offers him a Torah insight and a story about oil and vinegar from the Talmud. And he goes home.
And tomorrow’s another day.

To My Soldier

HA!
I stole your picture!
:)

Wishing all you soldiers ah gutte, gezunte, mazeldike, freiliche, moshiachdike, rosh chodesh iyardike voch!

Love,
Soldierette Hana

Need I say more? Respect, people.

After a long and heated d.m.c. with a dear relative about the pros and cons of blog life (what with the modesty slash privacy slash yikes factors) I seriously considered closing down shop.

Blogging suddenly appeared less innocent than I had seen it till now.
And in many ways she was right.

I mean, just because it's a blog and not my house does that make this a kosher place to hang with anonymous dudes and chat with no-name guys?

Not that I would want that.
Oh no.
Yet just the fact that that's where it could end up made me wanna crawl into a tree trunk and go to sleep for a long, long time.

But it was cold in the tree trunk and not quite as comfy as my bed.
So I made a compromise.

Keep the blog.
But let it be known...

This blog is for GIRLS only.

(and anyways boys have the cooties)

Miracles Abound (edited version)

So many miracles on this 24th day of nissan year 5767 since the creation of this lowest of worlds with the highest potential for G-dliness.

~~~~

It was one of those retail therapy session days.
Meant to sooth the spirit and inspire the wardrobe.

Goal:
To get a gift for baby Rashi and perhaps a little something for me to wear.
The latter is due to a huge lack of summer attire.
Which I blame wholly on the missing modesty of 99.9% of designers this time of year.

The miracles began when I decided to park at a different entrance to Cerritos Mall than I usually frequent.
Coming in through this new and previously unexplored doorway I am forced to pass by Lady Footlocker.
Not my favorite store...and yet something makes me walk in.

And there on the display table, in all their glory, lay the sneakers of my dreams.
:)
Oh, the colors and design on my fab Diesel sneaks were so perfect.
Perfect, that is, until I glanced at the price tag and noticed a rather steep $89.00 sticker...
(ok, maybe newyorkers spend that much on fashion sneakers, but here in CA we are slightly more responsible. ;) )

"It's about time I spend a little on looking half decent," I told my frugal soul.

And so, without a second thought I tried on those puppies, strode confidently to the counter and prepared myself for spendage.
When suddenly the young gal behind the counter rings me up and announces:
"That will be $56.00."
I was sure she made a mistake.
$56.00? What happened to $89.00???

My conscience starts up with me...should I tell her the real price? Is it my fault she rung up the wrong amount?
But no.
She made NO error.
The shoes were on SALE!!!

Three japanese cheers...
phooey, phooey, phooey!

Needless to say, I floated out of Lady Footlocker on wings of gratitude and a wink at my worn out Converse down below.

But the miracles are not over.

Time flies by like clouds passing in the sky...

Baby Gap proved ever reliable with a 'cute as a flute' little white sleeveless, summery, something or-other, size 0-3 months.

And a gift box to boot.
Not to mention tissue paper.
Pre-folded.
And a gift bag.
Thank you very much.
:)

Sadly, the effects of my footlocker miracle were short lived.
As I visited store after store, my heart sinks.
Waaaaaah.
There is nothing to buy!
And I look like creme-de-cacao.

Something about seeing new clothes makes your everyday attire seem dowdier than last years goodwill sale.
I start to doubt my entire sense of fashion, taste, existing wardrobe and hope for the future.
All seems lost.
My self esteem is in the dirt.
This retail therapy has turned into retail reality-check slash loserville.

Da da da dum.

Suddenly I hear a voice from behind me.
Chani...?
I spin around, slightly shaken, to find an old friend from days gone by.
We will call her Charlie for the sake of anonymoty. (sp?)
(wrong, just checked Word. anonymity)

Let me tell you a little about Charlie.
Charlie is sadly not the happiest person you've ever met.
Aside from being a social misfit with a disfunctional family, Charlie suffers from an over-eating disorder and a severe weight problem.
She has few if any friends.
No job.
Little going on her life.
So sad.

Charlie asks what I'm buying, "as it is Sefira," she points out.
Oops. Totally forgot.
I hide my shoe bag.
(There goes my sneaker miracle.)
(Although now that I think about it, my Converse were obviously ruining my shidduch, and for that you can definitely buy new.)

I tell Charlie that I came to buy a gift for my new niece.
She wishes me mazel tov, so I ask her what she is doing in the mall, oh holy sefirah shopper?
(Just kidding)

Charlie leans towards me confidentially and whispers, "I came to buy some clothes but Lane Bryant didn't have a size for me."

:(
Oh dear.
Lane Bryant...that's the store I once walked into...admiring a skirt hanging in the window.
A kind sales person approached me and gently prodded me towards the door.
"I don't think anything in here will fit you my dear."
(Darn, that skirt was so cute.)

A silent tear trickles invisibly down my face.
Poor thing.
Forget about shopping for new summer clothes, this dear girl can't even find something that fits her.

My mood is broken.
Pity for Charlie shakes me out of my spoiled, 'nothing to buy', 'nothing to wear' reverie.
Sorry Charlie.
Sorry Hashem.
Sorry for forgetting to thank you for all the challenges you spared me.
Sorry for not appreciating my favorite jean skirt...brown corduroy jacket with the embroidered flowers...the ability to just throw something together and look half decent...

I will not take these things for granted.
Ever.
Well...
Till the next time I go shopping that is.

:)

And the battle begins anew.

Epilogue:
Our author made it safely home with her purchases following a large escapade at BB&B. Upon opening her trunk she finds too many parcels to carry. Eyes raised towards the heavens she wishes someone could come help her with the bags.
Not a moment later a car pulls up from behind.
It's Nahama.

Did someone say miracles?

In Memory of Music

Random music thought #1

Zalman (age 5) and Shalom (age 3) were hanging out at Jewish Cypress.
Shmuli, trying to keep them happy and occupied, gives them a tiny tape recorder to play with.
I overhear Shalom telling Zalman that "it's is a digital camera."
Big, wise, older brother Zalman replies: "No, it's a CD player."
lol.
:)

~~~~

Random music thought #2

If you were to take a backward walk through the evolution of music players:
You'd see a dude jogging listening to his ipod.
Listening to his discman.
Listening to his walkman.
Running down the street with a backpack strapped to his back with a huge record player in it, blaring.
Only there's no shock resistance so everytime he hits the pavement the song skips.
Heh.

~~~~

Random music thought #3

Did you ever have a song that you knew since you were a kid, before your mental capacity was fully developed, and then one day when you're older you suddenly think about the words and what they mean and you're like wow!
nice.

I would like to dedicate this post to Avraham Fried.
A man of great piety, empathy, sincerity, soul and talent who sings from the heart, says what he means and means what he says.
Here's a song I grew up on, only to find the words actually meant.

Aderaba:
Aderaba, give in our hearts the ability that everyone should see the strengths/good qualities of his friend, and not G-d forbid his weaknesses/imperfections.
And that everyone should speak with his friend in a straight way and no hatred should rise up in our hearts one to another, G-d forbid...

Yeah.
Whatever.
It totally sounds way better in the Hebrew.

~~~~

Best of luck with the no-music thing soldiers.
And whenever you miss the music, remember why.
And then go right ahead and love your fellow Jew more than anything else in the world because it gives Hashem the greatest nachas.
And then He will surely bring moshiach tzidkeinu bimheirah b'yameinu mamash!
Amein.

Tata for now.
c

In Ah Vinkele Shtayt...

"It was a warm and sunny Tuesday morning.
The clock on the nightstand read 11:30.
Two young maidens lay fast asleep in their cots, oblivious to the holiness and beauty of the day outside.
A gasp upon awakening.
Alas, the hour so late!
Whatever to do?
A mad dash was made to the house of worship where festive holiday prayers were nearing their end.

The chazzan, a young wippersnapper from Rostov imported for his incredible cantorial capabilities and range of both note and emotion stood at the lecturn.
Musaf never sounded so sweet.
Tears flowed down the cheeks of the young boy's mother, her heart swelling with pride.
For a moment the small, cozy shteeble seemed to transform into another shteeble, somewhere far away near the Don River.
But let us not get caught in the Russian forest.
Let us rather follow this happy congregation to the home of the Rabbi where the race was on to prepare yet another fresh and delicious masterpiece for the now starving worshippers.

Humility will not allow for us to tell of the obvious amazingness of certain maidens who worked endlessly, attempting to alter the flavor of this holiday feast using the only two ingredients allowed in the cooking competition.
Lemon juice and Salt.

Many soulful melodies were sung round the "room in the heart, room in the home" dining room table that warm and sunny Tuesday afternoon...



-excerpts from "Little Pesach in Los Al" Available in paperback wherever it is sold.


Whatta wondaful week it was.
My feet hurt from the brown suede platforms I wore to shul today.
My hands hurt from doing a million dishes and ripping out the kitchen.
My head hurts from who knows what.

But mine heart is full.
Dank Dem Aibishter.

Pesach was awesome.
My family rocks the hizzy.

:)
:)
:)

How was your pesach?
(In 20 words or more)

c

Be My Guest

Well hello there my dearest friends and extended blog family.
Just so you know I've decided to officially change this site from a blog to an official chill space.

Welcome to my living room here in cyberspace.
Feel free to make yourself at home, pull up a chair, a couch, recliner.

As you have probably noticed we recently hired an interior decorator to do some renovations around here so please let us know what you think of the new decor.
And if you have any suggestions don't be shy.
:)
Thanks.

Yeah.
So...what can I get you?
Anyone for something to drink?
We have cocoa, coffee, tea, smoothies and water...

~~~

Anyhoo, thanks for stopping in.
Sleep over if you wish.
And don't forget to bring something next time you come.
Flowers.
Food.
Friends
Anything starting with an 'f'.
Why an f?
Well, f is for friendship.
Duh.

Ok.
Can someone please turn off the lamp?

Lost in Transportation

Have you ever tried to express something.
That was so clear in your mind.
But when it's time to put it into words.
For some reason it makes no sense?

Or it suddenly sounds so much less intelligent than it sounded inside...

Is there a disconnect here?
Am I missing the conduit from thought to speech?

It seems that here in my head everything is so obvious and understandable.
Ideas and creative brainstorms make complete sense when tucked away in the recesses of my mind.
I can't wait to share these thoughts with you...

~~~~

Then the mouth opens to speak.
Ooops.
What happened to clarity of mind?
The ipod of the brain has unplugged and lost all it's memory.
Suddenly the words get all tangled up.
My tongue confuses those thoughts I've visited time and time again.
Twisted ideas I never meant to share come pouring out like an unblocked sewer pipe.
Wait.
Did I just say that?
That's not even what I meant...
I take it back.
Help.

What is it?


Is my mouth to shy to share the boldness of my head???


What am I talking about anyways?
This isn't even what I meant to say.
All I wanted to do was wish you a gut moed and a great shabbos.
Gosh.
I think I'll go to sleep.

~~~~

Deflate

Directions:
Remove pin from package.
Insert in ego.
Wait for deflation to begin.
Listen to the sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

What they don't tell you is it doesn't last.
So much for the "guaranteed to work - or your money back".
Yeah right.

How many times do I need to say it?
GET AWAY FROM ME!
Be gone.
Do not follow me.
Do not shadow me.
Over years and up hills and down valleys, through rivers of tears, mountains of hope I manage to bump into you.
Quite expected at times.
Surprising at others.

It's like this.
The ego goes puff puff puff.
Then one day I've had it.
So I shoot you down.
Or so I thought.
Till I gloat when I've hit the bulls eye.
So I beat myself up for the gloat, and find myself at the bottom of the pit.
Which I must admit.
Feels pretty good.
And I walk around on the ocean floor.
Proud of the depths I have reached.
Till I realize you've followed me here too.

How many disguises do you have?
Let me count the ways.
You come in the form of silence when asked "who did the dishes".
You come in the form of a knowing smile when someone else trips over their own ego.
You come in the form of a pat on the back for a humble job well done.

Will you ever leave me be?
Is there an expiration date on you?

Pesach.
Chametz.
Matzah.
Deflate.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

And the battle continues.

Regards from Mini Mo in Florida.

Shnook is pretty darn cute.
Nice job by Razelle the Gazelle.
:)
Who aside from having a child worth blogging about experienced her first seder far from home in the wilderness of the bal harbour shops...

Her view was that of an endless ocean, endless sand, endless palm trees and endless warmth.

Isn't it ironic how the joys of one are the sadness of the other?

Miss you sis.
Hana

Overwhelmed by it all

Something about the home-coming of mother with 2 day old child leaves me feeling slightly choked.
Bluma walks in with baby.
She looks at the three children she abandoned for two days.
Sheindel D stares at the little bundle.
Zalman hides his smiling face.
Shalom grins.
Brother Shmueli is hyper and humming with electric energy despite intense charlie horse from the two hour each way walks from and to the hospital to name baby Rashi.

Life is awesome and awe inspiring.

My sis-in-law had a baby girl the night of the first seder leaving a housefull of guests, food, kids, jobs, seders, pajamas, bedtime stories, breakfasts and what to wear to be manned by others.
Nothing went the way it should have.

I love when life is more important than everything you ever had planned...

~~~

Chassidim Zegin Zich Nisht

This song is dedicated to my dear friends on their departure from the sunnier coast to the cooler coast. (literally and figuratively)

Chassidim Don't Say Goodbye

Have a wonderful trip people.
This year in Yerushalayim!!!

Wit and Wisdom

Re: Advice on cleaning for Pesach
From: The Lubavitcher Rebbe
To: Jewish Women everywhere.

"Dirt is not Chametz...
And children are not the Karban Pesach."

:)

Don't Get Lost in the Give Away Pile

Some Pre-Pesach Musing from a Floridian Philosopher.

~~~~~


You ever read the book,
"It started with a doormat"?
Great story.
I read it to my little cousins once,
and after i finished,
I read it to myself again.

In case you didnt I'll give u the 411.
Its about a mother, who notices one day
that she needs a new doormat.
As soon as she replaces the doormat
she realizes that the door doesnt look too impressive.
They would need to change it, or paint it at the least.

Sooner or later, they are redoing the gardens,
the carpets, painting the interior and exterior of the house...
Everything is finally redone.
Brand new.
Spanking clean.
Gleaming.

The family hosts a party,
and their happy to do so in their new shining,
spectacular house with the fabulous welcome mat.
The party is great and all the guests leave.
As the mother sees out the last of the guest,
she stares down to the floor,
and thinks to herself,
wow i really need a new doormat!

Aside from being an adorable story..
It got me thinking today.
Sometimes we notice something isnt right.
We dont like the way we reacted to something
So we go on a " I must change rampage "
And so we start scouting through our bank of faults and pull out everything..
and sooner or later,
we have driven ourselves in a rut.
We reminded ourselves that we arent as good as we think,
And now were sitting in a ditch unwilling to move.
To sad to acknowledge the wonderful qualities we do have.
So there is a lesson I think,
Everything has time and place.
With pesach around the bend,
all the cleaning, and cleaning out closets,
pulling out those not such great stuff,
the clothes that dont fit ; the traits that dont fit.
Dont get carried away.

Dont get lost in the give away pile.

-cflg

~~~~~

- note from blogger.
this thought is so true.
and so happy to share with others who would most definitely benefit from the lesson...
ahem soldier.
:)
c

Double Dare

I'm lying in bed.
Thoughts in my head.
Hamapil has been said.

Is blogging considered speaking?
Is typing like talking?

Why am I at the computer at 2:22 in the am?
Hmmm....

I was just thinking.

About the new generation of soldiers.
Wherever they may live.
Growing up today.
In this liberal, anorexic, self conscious society.

In a world of the internet where all the shmutz we've worked so hard to keep out of our homes can creep in at the touch of a key.
Where innocence is sold to the highest bidder.
At a time when it's cool not to care.
When peer pressure can lead to things your parents never dreamed of in their worst nightmares.

I can't say I envy you.
Although in truth I should.
Because your battle is that much harder.
And the winning that much more awesome.

Ignore all the doomsayers.
All the judgemental pessimists who look at you and say:
"They'll never win. This battle over good and evil is lost on the new generation."

Stay strong fellow warriors.
Prove them wrong.
I dare you.