Holiday Gifts Roundup!

This is a list of awesome things that I think you should look into for Chanukah gift giving (or, you know, general gift giving). Ready? Ready!

Of course, first ont he list is the Craig N Co. Hanukkah Music Sampler, which, by the way, is still free! You can't go wrong with a free gift of awesome music, whether it's for you or your mom or your bubbe! And ... The Kosher Shopaholic has a whole bunch of giveaways, including Rebbetzin Tap and Friends DVDs, so go over there and enter, enter, enter. Again, free stuff, folks.

Over on ModernTribe, I spotted The Brisket Book, which, unfortunately isn't for me, but I can think of about 30 million men who would appreciate this book, not to mention a few ladies. I'm looking at Mel over at Redefining Rebbetzin's husband; he's a big meat eater. Maybe this is the perfect gift? The author says:

If brisket does indeed improve your life, then The Brisket Book promises to be the ultimate life-affirming resource for anyone who has savored--or should savor--this succulent comfort food.

Seriously. Everything you ever wanted to know about brisket is in this book. Including pictures of cute little old Jewish ladies kvelling about the meaty meat. 

Also over at ModernTribe is Salt-M Russian Stacking Doll & Pepper, which is, um, amazing. The pepper is in the salt. I'm looking at Vicki for this one. I think she can appreciate it, because, you know, she's Russian and Russians like these kinds of things. (snicker) But seriously, cute. Super cute. I just wish it weren't plastic, but I'd still take it. 

One of my favorite sites for random awesomeness is UncommonGoods.com, where I found the Construction Plate. I'm prepared to open a restaurant that serves only vegetables served on these plates. I think it would be both fascinating from a psychological perspective and, well, just entertaining and fun! On the pricier end over at UncommonGoods is something I've wanted for eons, and that's the Custom State Necklace. Of course, I'd get a big ole' Nebraska with the gem located in Lincoln, but I can't bring myself to spend the cash money on it. Feel free to take up a fund. I'd love to muster up the change to get one for Kate over at Suburban Sweetheart. (Ooooo-hhiiiii-ooooo!)

There is a cheaper version of the state necklace available on Etsy, but, well, it's not the same. Not exactly. Still pretty cool. Although, now that I think about it, this one also is pretty gnarlysauce. 

Maybe I'm hungry, but food is a theme here. Check out this book that just came out a few weeks ago: Scanwiches. It's "part coffee table book, part cookbook, all mouth-watering celebration of the world's most versatile meal." However, that description doesn't mention that it's amazing. As in, "full-frontal food porn." (This one has me thinking of Kate, too, is that weird?)

And, of course, anything from Archie McPhee & Co. if you're a classicist and like vintage/retro items (or ones that resemble them anyway) like an Inflatable Beard or a super classic item like the Ark of the Covenant!

Okay friends, that's enough for me. So go, buy stocking stuffers and Chanukah goodies until your hearts' content! Let me know if you find anything funny or worth sharing on any fo these sites. Oh, and, you know, if you want to get me something, you know where to find me. (I'm serious about that plate.)

Jews + Chinese Food

I couldn't help but share this. My darling husband Tuvia sent this to me (I believe he got it from his pops). Enjoy!

EDIT: This image needs attribution. Just got wind that it was drawn by David Mamet for Tablet.

Do You Throw Your Latkes in the Air?

I'm sure you guys have seen this already, but I can't help but share. And ask: What's up with the astronaut?

In Jerusalem, All is Aglow

In Nachla'ot, this is what we see. Lights, lights, in every shape and size.

I'll admit it: I am incredibly spoiled being in Jerusalem for the first half of Chanukah. In fact, spoiled probably isn't even the most appropriate word. I need a word with more awesomeness and emphasis on "special" and "unique."

If you've never been in Jerusalem for Chanukah, then you're missing out. There's something about walking down a street and, when you turn to look down any alley, seeing doorway after doorway bright with the lights of chanukiot or menorahs. I was telling Tuvia that it reminds me of Christmastime back in Missouri and Nebraska, when my dad would insist on us driving around -- as a family -- to look at the varied and unique displays of lights in every neighborhood of town. Some went all out with every last inch covered in beautiful white lights (classy) and some would go all out with plastic Santa figurines and colorful lights upon every door and window frame (barf).

In Jerusalem, you see gigantic chanukiot and small ones. Silver and pewter, small glasses filled with oil, some in boxes, some simply on chairs in doorways. The variety is beautiful, the light is uplifting. I suppose this is one of the times of year where Jerusalem feels whole, connected, complete, and as one. I can't fully describe how beautiful it is -- you have to see and feel it to believe it -- but I hope some of the photos here can give you a taste of what it's like.

You can light 'em on a chair ...

I also wish I could go into a big academic diatribe about Chanukah really being (probably) a belated Sukkot celebration, but I'll save you the drama that it might unfold. I'll just say that for what it's worth, most people don't know the whole story about Chanukah and how it evolved through the years to what we know today. I will add, of course, that I love how appropriate it is to see so many chanukiot lit on the right side of the doorpost here -- after all, this is where we are meant to light our chanukiot because they are meant to sit opposite the mezuzah upon our right doorposts as a reminder of the rekindling of our commitment to HaShem and the Torah.

At any rate, Chag Chanukah Sameach, Chag Sameach, Happy Chanukah -- all from Jerusalem, which is a'glow (but not a'blaze, Baruch HaShem!).

We chose to set up our tea light chanukiah on our window ledge. Chag Chanukah Sameach!

For more photos, check out my Facebook! Also, for what it's worth, we were interviewed by the friendly faces behind Tuesday Night Live in Jerusalem, so stay tuned to their website to see if my hilarious comments about Israelis and Floridians make it on-air.

Chag Thanksgiving Sameach!

Happy Thanksgiving from ... Israel! Okay, not the most Americana place to spend the celebration of our most traditional and long-standing American holiday (which, I'll admit, has dubious beginnings), but this is the second year in a row that I've been in Israel for the holiday. I do think, however, that being in another country celebrating with other ex-pats probably gives you more of a sense of holiday spirit than when you're in America with the holiday saturating your lives. 

FACTOIDs: The first known use of "Thanksgiving Day" was in 1674. Today, we celebrate Thanksgiving Day as we believe it was celebrated in 1621 as a harvest feast shared by the English colonists (Pilgrims) of Plymouth, RI, and the Wampanoag Indians. 

I was never a big Thanksgiving celebrator. I don't like big meals. They always said to me "you're going to eat too much, run away." The holidays where we like to think it's okay to gorge are the holidays that I avoid gorging. And now, being Jewish, I get the big holiday meal once a week on Shabbat! Even then, I'm usually too busy to gorge, so it just doesn't happen (and now that I can't eat challah, a lot has changed).

My mom usually made the traditional goods: stuffing, a big ole' turkey that we'd eat on for a week, green bean casserole, and a host of other goodies. Things we never did? Sweet potatoes with marshmallows or cranberry sauce. In fact, I didn't know those were a thing until well after I'd graduated college. Green bean casserole has always been -- and will always be -- the food that sweeps me back to the holidays, no matter the time of year I eat it. Being gluten-free means that I haven't made the casserole in eons, however, because I'd have to make my own french fried onions and find a parve, gluten-free cream of mushroom soup. But the smell, the taste, the consistency ... in my world, Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving without the stuff. Thus, I can confidently say I haven't felt like I've had an actual Thanksgiving in years.  Stuffing is something I've always loathed. It just grossed me out. Lucky for me, I can't eat it now anyway!

Oh! And pumpkin pie! Color me a sucker for pumpkin pie. A little whipped cream? Okay, it used to be a lot of whipped cream, but it's been a while since I had a pumpkin pie (crust = not GF).

Are you catching a trend here? The traditional American eats are not friendly to those who can't eat gluten, from the stuffing to the casseroles to the desserts. This is good for me because many of the traditional eats I was never big on anyway. Maybe I was meant to move to Israel and not celebrate the American holiday?

Nah.

In fact, I mentioned that it feels more American to celebrate with ex-pats in the Holy Land, and it's true. You get to get together with other American Jews, in Israel, to give thanks to a country that (in truth) did so much for the Jewish community over the years. (I have mixed feelings about exactly what America did for Jews, but that's for another post. By this I mean the encouragement of acculturation and assimilation, as well as the loss of memory.) It's just funny to be surrounded by falafel and schwarma and yet be downing classic Americana food.

So here's to Thanksgiving, American style, no matter where you are celebrating. May you eat plenty of turkey, veggies, and even a little bit of dessert. And may all of you who spent your childhood in public school recall the paper bags that sacrificed their lives so that you could "look" like an Indian with your gnarly leaf-colored paper-bag vest!

Chag sameach!

My Favorite Things: A Winner!

You can print this out AND color it!

So, the saga of "no internet at home" continues. Supposedly some buff studs (ha) from Cablevision will be coming out today to try and fix it, which, unfortunately, is of no help to us because the next three days are Rosh Hashanah + Shabbat. The light will be blinking green while I'm davening. A lot of good that'll do me!

As a result of this internet lag, I'm very behind in everything. Yesterday was my first day of classes, and I have to say of the two classes I've been to so far, one (teaching a second language) will be challenging because of the teacher's very interesting teaching style (don't take notes!) and the other will be fascinating (sociology of education) if only for its first-day class discussion of what a society is and whether stratification is necessary and happens sort of on its own. I have a lot of reading to do, however, which is never fun. Hopefully, though, I can make waves in my teaching a second language course by finding some scholarship on using social media in the teaching of a second language. Anyone have any materials for me?

At any rate, Rosh Hashanah starts tonight and -- like every year -- my head is exploding and my mind, body, and soul are ill prepared. Am I ready to hear the shofar? Am I ready to experience newness and renewal and the excitement of 5771 and all of the awesome holidays that come after? Have I considered what 5771 will hold? No, I haven't. I haven't had time to breathe. Oh, and I've come down with a cold. The rest over the next few days will be excellent, but what does that say for my reflection and rediscovery? I wrote a Jewels of Elul blog post at the beginning of Elul, and I reflected on past years' posts. But all of the cooking (I was up until 2 a.m. last night) and running around has made me weak and exhausted. Thus, I only hope that at some point over the next few days it clicks, and I figure out where I'm going. I'm all about fresh starts and new beginnings, and this Rosh Hashanah should provide a much-needed refresh on my browser. So I want to wish you all a SHANAH TOVAH and may your new year be sweet, filled with all that you deserve! I'm so excited to start another year here on the blog with such an amazing crop of readers. You guys are awesome!

But now why you're really here: the winner of the My Favorite Things Giveaway! I took a nod from An Extended Vacation who uses the random number generator to signify the winner, as opposed to my typical method of typing EVERY name into the random picker (which is time consuming). The winner?

No. 4, which is Sophia! 

(I had a screenshot but it appears my computer ate it, so you're going to have to trust me on this one, folks.) So, Sophia, if you're reading this ... email me. I wanted to get the box sent out today, but because of the madness of preparing for the holidays, that's not going to happen. It'll go out on Monday, I hope. But believe me, it's worth waiting for :)

Tisha B'Av Cometh!

Jews the blog-o-sphere over are blogging about the impending fast of Tisha B'Av (literally, 9th of Av) that begins tonight and lasts for 25 hours through tomorrow evening. We eat a big meal tonight, followed by a hard boiled egg dipped in ashes, and then we begin our fast. We go to shul, we hear the reading of Lamentations, and we spend the day avoiding work, not wearing leather shoes, sitting low to the ground, and reflecting on the day in the Jewish calendar that seems to swallow up all the of the bad things that happen to us.

Four years ago, I wrote about my experience fasting on Tisha B'Av and my frustration with one Jews approach to Tisha B'Av for Secular Jews. Three years ago, I wrote about my frustration with the sentiment that on this day we "mourn for a life we no longer want." Two years ago, I wrote about how I felt distant from Tisha B'Av, as if I were just going through the motions.

Last year, of course, I was in Middlebury, Vermont, attempting to deal with the whole "kosher catfish" situation and touring the "kosher" kitchen on Tisha B'Av while attempting to stay sane amid classes without air conditioning in the steamy and humid Vermont heat. I was, in a word, miserable. I also was feeling pretty distant, again, from Tisha B'Av, focused, instead, on my exhaustion and the heat.

What was I doing prior to four years ago? I'm not sure. I can't remember whether my Reform experience back in Nebraska necessitated me fasting, and from what I can tell about my writings of four years ago, I'm guessing that's a big "no" on fasting and/or seeing any significance in Tisha B'Av as an active and important day in the Jewish calendar.

So what does this year mean for me? I'm not sure. I'm all the wiser, much busier, and not looking forward to fasting. As I get older, I find my body less and less accepting of fast days. I will, however, have the option of studying the necessary texts related to the day.

In reality, the one thing that's on my mind is that as soon as Tisha B'Av comes and goes, it's time for the High Holidays. Yikes. Seriously?

What I do want to leave you all with is a question: Can you carry out the mitzvah of being sad and mournful on Tisha B'Av in the manner that all mitzvot are carried out? With happiness?

Fourth of July: In and Out Like a Ghost

It's Tuesday July 6, and Independence Day just zipped on past me. In fact, yesterday zipped past me. I think it's the first Fourth of July in years that I really haven't thought much about the day or longed for July 4ths of years gone by.

This picture probably describes what I was doing on the Fourth better than I can.

Or maybe this one? 

We were on a bridge, driving back from Connecticut with a UHaul full of the rest of our "stuff." I didn't see a single burst of fireworks, and I only heard a smattering of poppage. It was depressing, mostly because where I come from, that is to so say where I grew up in Southern Missouri and Eastern Nebraska, the Fourth of July was a big deal.

I remember attending one year an installment of the dualing neighbors in their fireworks displays that rang in at $2,000+ at each house. Other years I went out to the lake with friends and watched the fireworks. One year I even hosted people at my parent's house; it was the July 4 after graduating, in 2006. We grilled out, had a water-balloon fight, and accidentally blew fireworks off in the garage (much to my father's dismay). Afterward, we went across town to watch the big display. That, folks, was a year to remember. A few years back I was in Oak Park with my then-boyfriend, drinking bears, playing bags (Chicago style), and ogling a friend's new baby. The year after that -- my last in Chicago -- I schlepped out to the local harbor, plopped down with hundreds of other people, and waited for the fireworks to begin. I watched people order Latino corn treats off carts, children edging near the water and parents pulling them back. It was a peaceful, calm, and, for me, perfect way to celebrate Independence Day.

And this year? Moving boxes, packing boxes, emptying boxes, staring at boxes, wondering when it will all be done. Painting, trying to find time to eat, nursing back pain, knee pain, leg pain, arm pain. One thing's for sure: I was never cut out to move heavy or light objects up and/or down stairs.

I was joking with Tuvia that I am a thinker, an intellectual. Worse came to worse, I wouldn't be able to snuff it physically with the rest of them. Thinking about the Holocaust, the camps, those who couldn't snuff it, it depresses me. Would I have been one of them? Such a morbid thought for Independence Day, but that's the way the cookie crumbles right now.

We hope to have everything painted and unpacked by Friday. Hopefully Shabbos will come in to a well-organized, settled, comfortable house that feels like a home. Come Monday, I'm back to being a student (for the time being anyhow, as I have to start and finish my grad exam in two weeks). It'll feel good to be back doing something that I'm good at: learning, writing, positing.

Back to the unpackin' and paintin' grind, folks. Be well!

Cheesecake Out Your Ears!

Shavuot came, saw, and left. Of course, it also conquered (mad props to the folks in my shiur for adding that neglected "conquering" into my talk on Rachav, wink wink). It was dramatic, dairy-licious, gluten free (for me anyway), and, well, long.

For the second year in a row, I stayed up all night getting my Torah study on. I woke up around 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday, went about my business, and then ended up in West Hartford for davening. We ate dinner with friends, and then headed off to the first bout of learning at the home of some excellent yidden who have the most beautiful interior (read: kitchen and sunporch) I have ever seen. After I got done coveting (oops) their cabinets and backsplash, I made my way to the sunporch, nabbed a comfy chair, and nestled in for the long haul. The first talk was given by a math professor, but unlike usual, he spent his time talking about a few songs and their connection to the texts (both biblical and rabbinic). There was even singing, which livened the audience participation and helped keep nodding heads awake. My resolve is now to track down those songs and learn them. The only one I can remember off the top of my head is "To sing is to be like the Jordan" (לשיר זה כמו להיות ירדן). Beautiful words, beautiful tune.

Next, it was my turn. I passed out my handouts (I'm an academic after all) with sources for Rachav from the Midrash and Bible, and began my talk. I like to keep things interesting, and I try to use colloquial language because I want to keep people awake and involved. I try to remain just informal enough that it's acceptable, you know? I like people to listen! And I definitely don't like talking at people. So I rocked my talk, which I'm still trying to figure out how to post up here in some fashion -- you might find something in the sidebar there to the right soon -- because the talk illicited a lot of really interesting questions and conversation. After it was over, I felt so good, not to mention completely reawakened. After all, it was 1 something in the morning!

Another fellow gave a quick talk and we all schlepped on to the shul for the second half of learning. We got there, meeting the sprawling group of teenagers that were funneling in, and then? The alarm went off. BURGLARY! BURGLARY! Talk about an inopportune time for the alarm to go off. I waited in the lobby and the policeman showed up after about 10 minutes (very prompt there, fellas), and I had to explain to him exactly what was going on. Late night learning, holiday, Judaism, blah blah blah. He seemed to buy it, so he asked if anyone had the code for the alarm. Alas! Only the rabbi. "Oh, I'll go pick him up and bring him back," the police man said. My response? "No dice." I explained that he'd need to get the code from the rabbi and then drive back with it. As he walked out the door, we also asked him to get the key to the ark. "The what?" he said. The ark! "You guys have an ark here!?" he joked. Luckily, right as he stepped outside, the rabbi's son showed up and saved the day with the code. Baruch haShem!

The rest of the night was kind of a blur. There were two more shiurim (let's not even get into the drama surrounding what happened with the third), and by the time davening rolled around at 4:45 a.m., I was exhausted, full of coffee and sweets, but unable to stand up straight. The interesting thing is that it was as if I were in trance. I stood, and I read the words so fast (you see, early-morning, post-all-night davening usually moves at the speed of light, which it did), and my eyes closed on their own. It was almost like I was experiencing the davening out of body. The words swimming around me. It was, in a word, weird.

I went back to the place I was staying, and crashed around 6:30 a.m. I slept off and on until 9:30 a.m., when I got up, got dressed, and walked to the other side of town to the other shul for a supposed 11 a.m. shiur that, in reality, didn't start until 11:45. I sat, half-alive, through their davening, tried to stay awake during the shiur, and then enjoyed a lengthy meal with a former professor and his family (which, can I say, is completely awesome). I didn't end up back over at my bed until around 5:30, and by then I decided it was futile to even attempt to sleep. I stayed up, forcing Tuvia to do the same, and we chatted with my hosts. Then came davening, then dinner at the rabbis (by which time I was practically loopy and giggling 90 miles a minute). I found my way home, rinsed off the allergens that had stuck themselves to my entire body, and went to bed around midnight.

All told, I had been up for nearly 40 hours with a nap probably clocking at two hours, max. I slept like a baby (which, someone pointed out, does not mean that I woke up every two hours crying for milk or in the fetal position sucking my thumb). The problem was that I didn't want to wake up for shul yesterday, and even after a short nap yesterday I still woke up exhausted. This morning it was painful to pull myself out of bed. I am exhausted. 


Luckily, it was worth it. All-night learning lends itself to a lot of interesting conversations and interactions, especially with people whom I probably won't see much of once Tuvia and I trek off to the greater NYC area. We're begging them all -- already -- to come visit, stay, and eat with us, and I hope they do. We've made too many good friends here to just wish ourselves away. But Shavuot this year was interesting, especially learning about some interesting characters found in the Talmud/Midrash called Mashiach ben Yosef and Mashiach ben David. 


Don't worry. I'm going to write a whole post on that. Maybe @DovBear will let me post it to his blog? Who knows. Shavua tov, friends. Time to get down with Shabbos now. 

Easter @ The Intersection of Memory Lane

Here's a deep theological and meaningful question for you: How would the world function if Starbucks wasn't open on Easter (and other holidays, at that)? Okay, just to keep your minds at ease, I am at Starbucks, but I'm not partaking in the coffee (or anything else for that matter). I bought one of those really overpriced bottles of water that will help save the children of the world; I brought my own iced coffee from home. I figure I probably could have gotten by coming in here and just sitting (since I'm here all the time anyway), but that would have left me seriously guilt-tripping. So it's water. Water for free Wi-Fi and the ability to be in my "office"-like mentality in which I prepare to grade 80 undergraduate exams that will be ... interesting. The class is up to the Jesus as a Jew stuff, and that always makes for lively exam answers.

I'm actually surprised by the amount of people in here. I'm also surprised at the number of people on the road (driving to church?). I made a trip to Wal-Mart last night for some Pesach cooking utensils, and the rush at 9 p.m. was insane. People (obviously parents and grandparents) were shoving chocolate bunnies and Peeps and marshmallow covered eggs into their shopping carts, along with those cheap easter baskets and that obnoxious grass stuff that you'll be picking out of your carpet for weeks. Ahh, memories.

I grew up, as you all well know, in a Christian community in a "Christian" household. Our holidays never included Jesus (sorry, dude), but rather the popular American themes of the holiday: Santa at Christmas, the Easter Bunny at Easter, etc. I got Jesus at Vacation Bible School with friends in the summer and later in high school I got it through clubs and church adventures and Weekend of Champions retreats (think: giant Christian slumber party).

As a kid, I woke up every Easter in a full sprint to my designated Easter bucket. My parents, you see, bought each of us a bucket (my older brother's blue, mine pink, later my little brother's was yellow I think), stuffed with that annoying grass stuff. My favorite treats were the chocolate covered marshmallows (which, luckily, are a Passover favorite now) and those little candy-coated chocolate eggs. My mom bought Peeps by the case, it seemed like, and we'd eat them while watching television and waiting for dinner. Sometimes we got nicer treats, things that actually weren't food and could come in handy (toys, that is). Dinner usually consisted of ham, cooked in some honey-BBQ combo and all the fixins that went along with every other holiday, like deviled eggs and mom's marshmallow/pineapple concoction. I remember one year mom wasn't in the mood to cook, so we ended up at Red Lobster for Easter eating shrimp and french fries. Now that was Easter eating.

As I got older, Easter got less interesting. I don't know when I stopped believing in the Easter bunny, but when I was in high school it became more about Jesus. Yet I didn't wrap myself up in the holiday; it just wasn't my way. I worked at McDonalds and then at Wal-Mart, and I always volunteered myself to work the holidays. I loved the pre-holiday rush (people-watching, that is) and the extra dollars in my pocket were nice. I suppose I should have known from the beginning that Christian holidays wouldn't be on my list of "things to do" in the future.

Then again, I've never been a big holiday person anyhow. Jewish holidays seem to wrap themselves into the fabric of the life of the Jewish people, however. It seems different in certain ways.

It's funny to think that many hundreds of years ago a Jew sitting in a Starbucks on Easter Sunday would have been a death sentence. I find it less weird to be out and about at Christmas because I know that a lot of the background behind Christmas isn't historically accurate (but still, mad props to my Christian friends, I love you guys; and I know a lot of the Jewish holidays have their issues, too). Being out on Easter makes me a little uncomfortable. Is that normal? Residual fear from the Middle Ages a little weird? Probably.

Anyhow. I've got about 80 exams to grade and then some food to cook for the last two days of Pesach (and seriously, baruch haShem, because this holiday is eating away at my insides and making me physically ill [that's not just me overreacting, I really am physically ill]). So Happy Easter to my Christian readers, Moadim l'simcha to my Jewish readers, and to all my Muslim and Pagan and Buddhist and Wiccan and Hindu and Atheist and Agnostic readers -- enjoy your Sunday, mmk?

Chavi Goes All Purim On Yo Tush!

Motzei Shabbos moonlight, on the way to shul for the Purim Party!

I've never had a truly stellar and outrageous Purim experience before. My shul back in Nebraska always did a Purim Spiel (think, the megillah as a musical to the theme of Classic Rock or Beatles Classics), but I never dressed up or really rocked out Purim style (last year Tuvia and I were on a plane back from Chicago around now). And, of course, Purim isn't even over -- it's really just begun. But man alive, what an experience so far.

Our shul did three readings this year: the regular loud one, a women's one, and the quiet reading. Our amazing friends prompted the quiet reading, because of their children's sensory/noise concerns, and the turnout for the reading was outstanding. Not everyone loves noise on Purim, so we opted for a single grogger spin, and a quiet boo, or some subtle key shakes. It was excellent, and for my first time really listening to the megillah in full (I've read it about 1 million times) was really beautiful, especially because the person reading it was one of our closest friends.

And then? Then came the party. If I could describe it to you, I'd say this: It was like a bar mitzvah gone completely wrong. I mean that, of course, in the most positive way possible. The only thing it really lacked was a giant bouncy castle and some farm animals. there was a big racetrack for people to race cars, video game stations set up for guitar hero and other systems, and there was even a setup for MarioKart racing, bucket seats included. There was a bubble guy there who basically led the kids in the Chicken Dance while magically making bubbles appear, as well as a face-painting lady, and my favorite thing of all: the Ben and Jerry's people! There was a baked potato bar and pasta and cookies and candy and soda pop out your ears, and the kids, I'm sure, are at home right now regurgitating their evening's indulgences. The band that played was, in my opinion, less than impressive. But I have to share their pictures anyway. The lead singer fancied himself a modern day Mick Jagger (those moves were ... interesting) and the masks were a straight rip from that other band that tours and does shows in animal masks (is that Animal Collective?). Overall, I was just bummed. It made me long for and miss desperately Blue Fringe. Now THAT is a band!

But the best thing about the big ole crazy Purim Party? THE COSTUMES. Holy mother of Moses! There were gigantic bottles of mustard, penguins, hippies, a greaser dad and his poodle skirt wife, Dr. Seuss characters, knights, cowgirls and cowboys, Star Trekkies -- and those were just the ADULT costumes! And there was our costumes, and those, folks, were something special. Can you figure out what we are?

Okay, probably not. So, only two people out of several dozen got our costumes, which are what I call "punny" -- funny puns or plays on words. My costume is Pink Eye and Tuvia's costume is Swine Flu. A few other punny costumes were our friend who was dressed all in black with postage stamps attached (Black Mail) and another who was toting around a piece of mail around her neck while dressed in a wedding gown (Mail Order Bride). These, my friends, are creative costumes! Just a note, you'll NEVER see me in that much pink ever again. Ever. That robe was so bulky, too. I look kind of ridiculous. We want to mix things up for the second reading and party/seudah tomorrow, so we'll see what happens.

Oh, and the most amusing thing? The payot-toting, goat-mask wearing drummer of the band! AWESOME.

For those of you looking for a little something more in your Purim, I highly recommend looking up or checking out a copy of Greek Esther. The version we read and know now is Hebrew Esther. There are three main versions of Esther that float around -- Hebrew, Greek, and the Alpha text. The latter is a Greek text that pretty much resembles the Hebrew version we have today (a translation). However, "Greek Esther" is a version of the Esther story that is about 170 lines longer, includes tons and tons of HaShem, and has many inclusions in it that make the modern reader question why the rabbis chose to canonize Hebrew Esther, not Greek Esther. After all, Hebrew Esther doesn't mention HaShem, not once. In Greek Esther, Mordechai and Esther pray to HaShem, Mordechai has a vision about HaShem's plan, and more.

The simplest answer, of course, is that the longer version was written in Greek and Greek = bad. Another theory is that there originally was a longer Hebrew Esther that the Greek Esther was based on, but because it was lost by the time the rabbis got to it, they still believed that Greek = bad. My question is why they didn't translate the longer version into Hebrew and go with it (heck, burn the Greek copy!). Of course, the rabbis would probably say that the whole point of Esther is that HaShem, while implicit, must be hidden for the story to be truly impactful as it takes place in the Diaspora. The funny thing is that the Rabbis, in the Midrash, essentially DO what Greek Esther does in that it elaborates and sort of embellishes the Hebrew Esther and the result is that if you read Hebrew Esther with the Midrash you sort of get the same feel as Greek Esther.

Anyhow, I could talk about this for hours, but what I'm saying is this: Go read Greek Esther. It'll BLOW your mind. Chag Purim Sameach!! Chaviva out!

What!? Pigs need automobile gas, too!

I am a Secular Christmas Dropout!

Riding down in the elevator of the new Science Center, on my way for coffee while Tuvia finishes up his day at work, I read the sign: "Science Center closes at 3 p.m. today in honor of the holiday!" In my head, all I can think is, How weird that this has become just another day for me.

It's so weird, every time Christmas rolls around, to think that I used to be a huge fan of Christmas. I loved the songs, the trees, the lights, the celebration. I never really took the idea of it being the birthday of Jesus to heart, because I knew my history and I knew my religion. Regardless of this, in my parents house Christmas was the kind of day where everyone sat back and watched TV, played with the new gadgets and gizmos, and ate Christmas classics. Oh, and we also gorged on cookies. My mom was big on cookies during the holidays, and she usually sent my dad into work before and after Christmas with tins full of confectionery goodies: No Bakes, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Chinese Chews (now that I think about it, the name is kind of inappropriate), those cookies she made with the cookie gun that had all sorts of shapes, like Christmas trees and snowmen and snowflakes, as well as fudge and lemon cookies and every other kind of cookie her little hands could make. We'd chow on Chex Mix (homemade, of course), and watch whatever happened to be on television. New video games were torn open and inserted, played for hours. I remember one of my favorite gifts of all time was this nifty Crossword Puzzle thing, where you turned the knobs and you'd get a new game each time. I got my share of Barbie dolls and art supplies and books and definitely pajamas, too. But the aura of the day was beautiful. It was relaxed and casual and a day where we wouldn't do anything -- after all, you couldn't, because everything was closed. Sometimes we'd have to run out to Walgreens for batteries or milk or green beans, but really the only reason to go out was to look at the lights.

I still love the lights, of course. But only the white ones -- the colorful mess of wires and lights that ends up on some people's houses leaves me feeling queasy. There's something universal about the lights of the holidays (the white ones, anyway).

Now? Chanukah came and went, and each day was just another day, aside from the lighting of the Chanukiah and the opening of a few presents. It wasn't one day of extravagant present-opening or gorging on sweets. Chanukah just isn't set up for that, and it wasn't meant to be. In fact, I'm not sure that there *is* a holiday set up in the Jewish calendar that can compare to what we've turned Christmas into. And I'm okay with that. At the same time, the nostalgia that I feel for Christmas concerns me sometimes. It feels wrong or inappropriate. I bob my head to Christmas tunes in the store, and while sitting at the dentist yesterday (Christmas music blaring despite the fact that most of the dentists at this particular location are Jewish) my feet were tapping to the classic Christmas carols of my youth. At one point, I was busy singing those songs in choir and in class. What a different world I lived in!

I imagine if I lived in Israel, the feelings of Christmas would fade over time, and I probably wouldn't even long for the lazy days of mom's cookies and bulk gifts and cheesy, old Christmas ornaments. Did I mention the tree? My mom loves her tree -- it was her prized possession, always. Every year she struggled to get us to help her put it up, and begrudgingly we would always help her. Now? Mom doesn't have anyone to help her. She managed to get my little brother to help this year (with the help of his girlfriend). She sent me a photo of one of the ornaments, a very old one that she has put on the tree since the 1980s. It's a mirrored one, much like all of her early ones (the entire tree is white/silver with a few hints of color here and there), and her comment with it was "Did you know that one of the mirrors was a six pointed star....we must have know way back then that it would represent you :)." My mom, as always, has brilliant insight into these things.

At any rate, I just wanted to share some of my thoughts with you all. Very stream-of-consciousness here, so I apologize if it's unreadable. I'm just trying to figure out the emotions at this time of the year. It's impossible to wash them away, or to even wish them gone. In fact, I think the fact that I have positive memories of that time of my life is good -- Secret Santa, ornaments, mom's green bean casserole and Chex Mix, the constant gift of flannel pajamas -- they're all a part of who I was and inevitably will shape who I become. Plus, I think they give me particular insight into what it means to be a Secular American (Jesus never existed in our Christmas, period). Someday, when I have kids, I think I'll be able to explain things better because of my experiences. Let's just hope that they develop a sense of worldliness like I have, so that when Christmas time rolls around they will neither long for it nor disparage those who celebrate it.

If you're in the mood, read a very emotional Christmas Day post from 2007, or about Nittel Nacht, the traditional way Ashkenazi Jews spend (or don't) Christmas Eve!

Light my Cupcake Menorah?

Oh Cupcake Menorah, oh Cupcake Menorah, how lovely are your candles! (Sung to the tune of Oh Christmas Tree, but a little more appropriate here.)

I have to give a hat tip to @ModernTribe_Jew for Tweeting about this. Talk about the cutest and coolest idea ever. Yesterday was National Cupcake Day, so this treat is right on time for your menorah lighting. Also, who wouldn't love to just chow down on that menorah after the candle burns out?

Check out EatMeDaily to get the recipe and how-to for this classy and tasty menorah.

Miles, miles, miles and shiurs out my ears!

Shavuot was, in a word, excellent. In another word? Exhausting. The best way for me to relate the entire experience would probably be a timeline, so here goes. Elaborative posts shall follow!

Thursday

7 p.m. Head to our dinner hosts' house to drop off five challot and a bunch of soda and some juice for the young adults' dinner after services. Then headed to our OTHER host's house (where we sleep) where we dropped our bags, dropped the car, and schlepped off to the shul. Clocked distance: 1 mile. 


8:30 p.m.-11:30 p.m. After a rousing and people-filled service, not to mention a delightful shiur by a 5-year-old boy about the giving of the Torah and the varying tribes (which he named in order), all of the young adults headed next door for our big dinner. There were about 18 people and a few babies and kids in attendance. The dairy meal was outstanding, and left everyone full for the walk to our first shiur-fest location. Thus, around 11 something or other, we all headed off our OTHER host's house (where we sleep) for the first leg of our adventure. Clocked distance: 1 mile. In the rain!


11:30 p.m.-2:15 a.m. There were a ton of people at the first stop, and a truckload (not really) arrived at the house not long after our group arrived. They flooded like a clown car into the playroom adjacent to the living room where all the of the adults were listening to a shiur on a new form of minyans that have been popping up where women are granted similar aliyot as men. I'll be honest: I don't get much out of some of the victimist feminist theories that are out there. I like to think that I'm pretty darn forward thinking, but I love the mechitzah, I love that men and women are granted different "roles" within Judaism. It's not defeatist or realist, it's just that I get how things are. The second shiur was absolutely fascinating, and I'll write a whole other post on it perhaps. Or maybe I'll get the fellow who gave the shiur to write a guest post! It was an interesting look at how the rights of converts truly parallel those of Abraham, the original convert. Just as G-d gave Abraham, so G-d gives to the gerim. I'm not doing it justice, so I'll wait and deliver some more thoughts later. The final shiur was given by the rabbinical intern, who spoke about an Epistle to the Yemeni Jews by Maimonides, which was about how to discern a false prophet. Fascinating stuff! And then? With a bit of exhaustion in my step, we all headed off to the shul for the final portion of the program.

Friday

2:15 a.m.-4:15 a.m. We got soaked heading back to the shul -- the weather was miserable, yet beautiful. The streets were quiet and the street lights glistened in the puddles on our trek. I stepped in a gigantic mud puddle, but managed to laugh it off. We arrived at the shul to a group of loud and rowdy teenagers, the same who were stacked into the playroom earlier (they were a huge group of NCSY kids, about 35-40 of them). I grabbed a hot chocolate, and we regrouped when everyone arrived, settling in the main sanctuary for another interesting shiur. I'll admit that my mind was a little floaty at that point. I remember it being fascinating, about whether a stolen item can be used to complete a proper mitzvah (like eating stolen matzo on Pesach), and I think there was even another shiur after that but I forget. It was hard to stay up, but it was nice to have a group of about 10 other people who were there with me the entire night, laughing and joking, schlepping around the shul in order to keep awake. Clocked distance: 1 mile ... in the rain!

4:15 a.m. Someone announced that we could start davening at 4:20 and everyone got really excited -- we thought we couldn't start services until 4:30. A friend and I ran out into the lobby to check the sheet with all the times but, well, there was no announcing time for the service, so we ran back in and it turned out it was a false announcement! People were slowly arriving for services, and everything had been prepared for the service start. Amen. I was exhausted, my knees hurt, I needed sleep!

4:30-6:00 a.m. The service was a muddle of Hebrew, quick traditions and readings. Everyone was in a horrible hurry to get home to their beds, so there was no singing, much to the dismay of myself and one of the other women there. We tried our hardest, only to be scolded (playfully) by a friend! The entire thing started and finished in one quick action, and it disappointed me. Here we are, in this ultimate, beautiful moment of reliving the revelation at Sinai and it's zipped through as if it were a grocery list for meat loaf and mashed potatoes. I wanted to say, "Stop! Slow down! Read slowly! Feel the words, breathe them!" But alas, I was exhausted, and my energy didn't allow me to protest. So there I was, standing, listening to a speed reading of the 10 Commandments/Decalogue, and I wanted to cry. Even as the words were quickly read, I still felt them, in my own way, and it was beautiful. 

6:00-6:20 a.m. I walked home from shul, alone half of the way and half with a few friends, in the rain. The sky was gray and cloudy, and rain misted in that annoying way where it isn't enough but it's far too much. There were few cars on the street and the birds were in heaven with all the wiggly worms crawling out of the earth. I arrived back at my host's house, having realized halfway during the service that I neglected to secure a way to get back INTO the house upon my morning return. So I arrived, sat on the front stoop, waiting for Tuvia to come out on his way to work or someone to see me sitting there. I sat in silence, watching the birds pick at the ground, the rain falling from the trees, and people driving by on their way to work stuffing breakfast sandwiches in their faces. What an interesting, beautiful world. Clocked distance: 1 mile. 

Around 6:45 a.m., someone happened to walk out of the house, letting me in. The someone had fallen asleep early in the morning while studying, and had just woken up. Lucky me! I went upstairs, said hello to Tuvia who was on his way to work, and fell not so quickly asleep. 

Friday-Saturday

Shabbat was like any other Shabbat. Services (with lots of Shavuot-y goodness), meals, socializing, davening, schlepping. I walked back and forth to shul twice, clocking an additional 4 miles. I ate more than any normal person should ever eat in a two-day span, that's for sure, everything from pizza to cheesecake to blintzes to lasagna to macaroni and cheese. I think every dairy food possible made its way through these lips. The entire weekend was long, filled with people and constant movement from place to place. By Saturday night I was absolutely worn out. I can't imagine what it would be like for Shavuot to fall on a Weds-Thurs followed by Shabbos. It might well be murderous to the social butterfly. Overall ...

I clocked more than 8 miles (my knees weep), 

heard about 6 shiurs + 1 d'var Torah by a 5 year old, 

ate more than 5 meals (not to mention snacks), 

and stayed up until 7 something in the morning one day. 

For my first Shavuot, in full, it was excellent, outstanding, educational, spiritual, and moving. Next year, I'll probably take a schluff on one of the leather couches between 4:30 a.m. and the full 9:30 service on Shavuot so I can get a "real" experience of the full service, not a rushed incarnation of it. But overall? Beautiful. 

Shavuot, Here I Come!

Every year, since I began studying Judaism, for one reason or another, I have been unable to participate in the all-night marathon that is Shavuot. This year? I'm finally doing it. I'm starting my evening with Tuvia at a friend's house after mincha/maariv for a festive meal. From there, we're walking with the group over to our host's house for some early evening studying until about 1 something in the morning. From there, there will be much studying and whatever else occurs at all-night study, at the shul until about 6 in the morning (services start at 4:30 in the a.m.). At that point, I'll be schlepping home for some much-needed shut-eye in preparation of Shabbos tomorrow night.

Now, I am fully aware that the origins of this holiday were largely connected to the harvest -- the Festival of Weeks (since Shavuot means weeks in Hebrew), which began with the harvesting of barley during Pesach and ended with the harvesting of wheat during Shavuot, is the conclusion of the festival of the grain harvest. Perhaps the more commonly and widely observed aspect of the holiday, however, is that Shavuot is the commemoration of the giving of the Torah at Sinai. Furthermore, it's become a big holiday for consuming oodles of delicious dairy delicacies, which is something I can really wrap my fingers around. Now, there are no Torah prescriptions for this holiday outside of abstention from work, special prayer, and holiday meals, but that hasn't stopped us from really taking on the many traditions of the day (or two in the Diaspora). There is a great mnuemonic device that is used to remember these customs: acharit (אחרית, "last")

• אקדמות – Akdamot, the reading of a liturgical poem during Shavuot morning synagogue services
• חלב – Chalav (milk), the consumption of dairy products like milk and cheese
• רות – Ruth, the reading of the Book of Ruth at morning services
• ירק – Yerek, the decoration of homes and synagogues with greenery
• תורה – Torah, engaging in all-night Torah study.

Of course, perhaps the biggest treat for me during Shavot is the reading of Ruth, if for no other reason than that Ruth is the tour de force name issued when it comes to converts -- she's sort of the mother of converts everywhere. Her name is issued often, as even after her husband died and she was asked by her mother-in-law Naomi to turn back to her family, Ruth followed Naomi all the way back to the land, stating fervently, "Your people shall be my people, your G-d shall be my G-d." Those, folks, are the magic words! I could write a lot more about Ruth, Naomi, and their fabled relationship, but we'll save that for another time and place. 

As for where the dairy consumption comes from, there are a few different ideas behind the tradition. One of the  most interesting, I think, is that since we didn't have the laws of how to properly butcher animals, the Israelites opted instead to eat dairy until Moses returned from receiving the laws. Makes sense, no? Another idea is that the tradition comes from the fact that Israel is referred to many times over as the land flowing with "milk and honey." Even further, the gematria (numerical value) of milk -- chalav -- is 40, which commemorates the 40 days and nights that Moses spent atop Sinai. Fascinating!

Right now, the internet is flowing with lots of blog posts on Shavuot, and as the holiday approaches this evening, Jews everywhere prepare to shut down their computers and cell phones to take on the two day chag -- after all, Shavuot is two days, but since it falls during Shabbos, it's really two days Shavuot mixed in with some Shabbos. Talk about an exciting few days. 

Hopefully, I'll come out on the other side of the chag with some interesting tidbits and reflections on schlepping across the neighborhood, downing lots of dairy, and hearing the book of Ruth read as so many Jews all over the world also will. It's a powerful thing, I think, and I'm so excited that for the first time this year I'll be there, experiencing it. 

Until then? I'll continue to watch the Spelling Bee on ESPN, dream of cheesecake, and nosh kosher berry muffins. 

Chag sameach! May your chag be filled with study, prayer, dairy delicacies, friends, family, and peace.

Come on Baby, Light My Fire!

It's Lag B'Omer! What's this mean? Well, it’s a tradition on the yahrzeit of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, reputed author of the Zohar, to have a bonfire and celebration! In Israel, Mt. Meron is completely alight with bonfires and music (that was last night).


Now, for those wanting more info, here's what I can tell you: Lag B'Omer is essentially a way of saying the Thirty-Third Day of the Omer. The Omer is the count between Pesach and Shavuot (the day the Torah was given), and on Lag B'Omer all the restrictions are sort of put on hold and music and singing and dancing are all permitted and encouraged.


In the land of Chavi, this means I can finally get a haircut and Tuvia shaved his beard. To be honest, I kind of miss it. A lot. It was growing on me, actually. Now he has his baby face back, and it's taking some time to get used to it. 


Last year I was in Chicago for the Lag B'onfire, and this year there wasn't anything like that here. I vow to next year make plans a Lag B'onfire if the community will let me. Until then? Maybe I'll light a candle and hope for the best. 

Wait, What Just Happened?

Well, Pesach is over. I really anticipated Passover this year, too. I planned a menu, a shopping list, I planned some more, cleaned, I did everything by the book (what book?) and in the end I was still overwhelmed and ill prepared. I ran out of cream cheese three days in, didn't get enough veggies and had to go buy some and neglected to really get anything on my shopping list beforehand because, well, I put the list in a "Passover 2009" folder which promptly got buried under a gigantic stack of papers about two weeks ago.

So much for planning!

But the whole week flew by, and my initial reaction to it being over is "Wait, what just happened?" I didn't feel spiritually connected to Passover this year. I didn't spend much time studying or reading about the actual seder itself, why we celebrate, all the things I like to do before major holidays. You see, these holidays happen only once a year. I'm a pro at Shabbat -- it happens every week! I always feel spiritually and emotionally connected to Shabbos. But the holidays? They come once a year and that means I have very, very few under my belt. I get that everyone else has been doing Pesach since birth and the seders are exhausting and irritating. The traditions and practices are old and lengthy and I get why people don't get into seders and just want them to end. But for those of us who haven't really had the chance to experience 15, 18, 30, 50 of them? Well, we're at a loss. I know I should have done more to really get myself into the holiday, but we were traveling and kashering and toveling. I had homework, quizes, tests, stressors. The holiday came, it went, and I'm left jaw dropped wondering why it passed without me feeling it pass over.

Next year! That's what I say every year. Next year? I'll start preparing in January. The moment Chanukah comes I'll get the books and read the essays and study the services and the haggadot. I'll be better prepared. Next year. It'll pass me over and I'll feel its breeze on my face.

Until then? Well, it's back to the regular chametz-eating schedule. Bread, cereal, bagels, muffins. Color me stoked. I enjoy my matzo and cream cheese, but a girl can only take so much.

Pesach Reflections, Part II

I know this is long, but bear with me. The Pesach Miracle comes toward the end, as well as a question about those of you filling out the poll on your matzo toppings ... keep reading!

With a free day before the Second Seder in West Palm, Tuvia and I decided to trek out to the ocean. After all, my one trip to the Atlantic was amid a horrible rain storm in freezing cold weather, so I was looking forward to a beautiful day dipping  my toes in the ocean and collecting seashells. I'm not a big beach bum kind of person, but the vastness and blue of the ocean mystifies me! So we schlepped out, and I convinced Tuvia to dip his toes in the water. The beach was super crowded with families and the water was a little too chilly in my mind for swimming. The sky was clear and blue, the water matched in brightness, and colorful boats floated in the distance. We headed back in toward Tuvia's aunt's house for the second seder, stopping to change first out.

We arrived, and the night mimicked the previous night in many ways. The seder was very short, with few people carrying on for the second half of the seder (in truth, it was the same three people -- Tuvia, myself, and his cousin). It bummed me out a lot, but what can I do? The meal was good and the conversation was interesting. The crowd was mostly the same, save a few new neighbors and a semi-distant relative and his wife. There was philosophical conversation about what happiness is (oy, not going to even go there) and the evening sort of lulled around the living room as people trickled home. The hugs and warmth that were given to me by Tuvia's family is incomparable to anything I've ever experienced. I felt so welcomed by the family, like a true member of the family. Oh, and the dog? Yes, the dog ate the afikomen -- twice. And Elijah never came! Oy. Next year in Jerusalem!

On Friday morning, we got up and schlepped to Tuvia's grandma's place for one last goodbye and a breakfast of matzo brie and matzo pancakes. I've never had matzo brie before -- I tried to make it once and failed miserably -- and bubbe's was absolutely OUTSTANDING. I have yet to make any here yet, but I fully intend on making some tomorrow before the second chag! We said goodbye to his grandmother, headed to his aunt's for some more goodbyes to the cousins and everyone, and headed off to the airport.

On the way to the airport, my anxiety about the iPod incident continued to boil. I'd called the credit card company the night before (despite the chag) to find out if there was anything they could do -- most credit card companies have purchase protection for about 90 days after the purchase for lost, stolen or damaged items. The woman on the phone was kind to relate her own lost item (the bottom of a car seat, really?) and apologize that nothing could be done. So heading to the airport, my anxiety started to build again. I kept thinking -- maybe someone found it? Maybe someone turned it in? Maybe it will magically be there? After all, we were boarding at the same gate we de-boarded from.

We checked in, went to the gate, and there across from us sitting in the waiting area was a little old couple with a bag of matzo. I was jealous and starving and wishing I had some matzo. But I muffled my hunger, approached the woman at the counter who had been so brash with me just days before, and was informed they still hadn't found anything but that I could file a report with baggage claim. Right. It was gone, that was it.

The plane ride back was a lot more smooth than the ride to Florida. The moment we landed in New Jersey we were to pack up Tuvia's car with gefilte fish, matzo, kugel, Judaica, and more and head immediately to West Hartford for Shabbat. Yes, once again, travelling on the chag. It tore me up inside to do so, and I hope that if we go the same route next year, we won't travel on the chag. (NOTE: TUVIA!)

We arrived back in West Hartford just as Shabbos was beginning. Our host family had waited to have dinner until we arrived and we were so thankful. We were welcomed to a house full of friends, extended family, neighbors and children. The meal was loud and boisterous and the food was delicious. It felt like Shabbat in all ways except the amazing Everything Challah was nowhere in sight! We laughed and talked, related our seder experiences, and afterward everyone retired to the living room and we chatted about family and children and Judaism until the wee hours. Shabbat day was a repeat of the night before, with long and loud conversation among friends and loved ones. People from all over discussing religion and Judaism and Pesach and tradition and the chag and matzo. There was so much, so many people, so much noise! And it was beautiful. There was something also involving a hanging sheet in our sleeping quarters, but that's more fun as an inside joke. If you want to know more, let me know and I'll email you the hilarious details :)

But because of the stress and anxiety and constant noise and people for three days straight, I had Tuvia take me back to campus motzei Shabbos -- but only after a quick trip to the supermarket to shop the motzei Shabbos/seder SALES!!! I got some great deals, let me tell you ...

But the Pesach Miracle? I've been in contact with my credit card company, to no avail. I've filed a report with Continental, to no avail. I'd Tweeted and kvetched and cried about the stupid iTouch I'd lost. My success, my achievements, my physical manifestation of feeling good about my accomplishments. And then, as I'm lamenting how many jerks there are in the world, someone -- an e-friend out there in the ether -- decided to donate to the cause. I didn't ask, or plead, or request. There is merely a soul out there who is fighting the good fight, proving that amid all the jerks there are a few mensches. It was an unexpected gift, and thank yous have been issued but I still feel they are not enough. There is no doubt in my mind that this person will obtain their reward and place in the World to Come. If not, well, more immediately. I hope that someday, when I have the means, that I will be able to perform such giving to ease the minds and hearts of those around me. So all is not lost, fear not, dear readers.

So now, I'm busy eating  matzo and cream cheese and lots of other deliciously dairy things and I think my body is rebelling. I'm hoping to head to the store tomorrow maybe to get some fresh fruits and veggies, but we'll see if that ACTUALLY happens. Otherwise, I'll scavenge for food at the rabbi's for the second chag.

Also: For those of you voting in the poll to the right there -- what is the NOT LISTED that you guys put on your  matzo exactly? I'm super intrigued.  

Pesach Reflections, Part I

Where to begin, where to begin. I spent my day working on a paper for my Ancient Near East course about the importance of an interdisciplinary approach to ancient studies, as well as cutting down my Golden Calf paper from last semester for a Society of Biblical Literature conference that is less than two weeks away. Oy. Now, I'm a pro on nanogenerators as I prepared a sample blog post for a friend who is considering taking me on as his once-weekly blogger for a new engineering business he's presently setting up. Yes, I might actually become a paid blogger. My take? If you're a good blogger, you can blog on absolutely anything in the world and make it sound like it's your first area of expertise. So here's hoping I'm a good blogger.

But Pesach? I had matzo pizza today and it absolutely elated me. I know I won't feel that way come Thursday, but for now, it's comforting. So far, all of Passover has been incredibly comforting. I've never felt so loved, wanted, needed, accepted, and cared for in my life than I have over the past several days. It's all thanks to the three-day chag. Two days of Passover seders in West Palm Beach, Florida, by Tuvia's family and then Shabbat in West Hartford with our host family and their extended family, as well as many, many guests. I was left feeling exhausted last night, just wanting to sleep, and now that I've slept, all I can think about is how special I feel. How blessed I truly am.

The holiday started out with a devastating turn of events. The iTouch I had bought the week before as a reward for years spent paying off credit card debt, not to mention being accepted to Middlebury's Language School and having my paper accepted to SBL, was stolen from my flight to West Palm from Newark. I'd left it on a seat and it was swiped up in the blink of an eye. The anxiety and stress from the past two weeks culminated in a near-asthma attack, a muffled anxiety attack, and hugs from perfect strangers apologizing for the loss of the $300 item and my sense of security and accomplishment. I spent my time pre-Pesach first night hastily changing passwords to my email, Twitter, Facebook, and other programs that were pre-loaded to appear on my iTouch. So when I got the seder? I didn't want to be there. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to rest and relax and not be near people. I needed to be quiet and sad. I needed to crawl inside myself like I do when things feel like they're falling apart.

Instead?

I was hugged by Tuvia's grandmother and cousin and aunts and uncles and friends and more family. I was attacked by tiny dogs shoving balls around tiled floors in the most beautiful and grand homes I've ever been in. I was shuffled to a two-table-long seder where the Maxwell House haggadah was the text of choice. Men placed on kippot and the seder leader -- an Israeli whose Hebrew made me feel calm -- began the festive meal with blessings. The food was delicious, the conversation fascinating. I got a chance (both nights, actually) to share my academic works. I got to talk about the Golden Calf and oranges on seder plates and why Jews dress the way they do. I got to put my brain on display and for me? That's something that I live and die for. It's self-indulgent, I'm sure, but I like to teach people things that they might not know or that they might have misconceptions about. It was brilliant and I left the seder that night feeling special, as a true Jew, as someone proud of my knowledge and someone who was sitting around a table with people who will someday be my family. The only bummer of the night? After the festive meal, well, no one continued the seder. There were three of us who had to finish up with the third and fourth cups, letting Elijah in, bensching, and all the other bits and pieces of the second half of the seder. The seder was seriously lacking from the meal. For me, I'd rather have a seriously lacking meal and a full seder. But I shouldn't complain -- it was an amazing time.

Everyone hugged and departed and Tuvia and I trekked off to our hotel near the turnpike. We slept, exhausted, after a long and stressful day that left me without proper footing. As such, we slept in really late Thursday, as our only plan for the day was to head to the Second Seder -- same house, same time, most of the same people. We got up around noon, slapped on some clothes, and headed downstairs for some pre-breakfast coffee. To our excited surprise, the hotel had put out a gigantic plate of matzo! Never in my life had we been so excited to see matzo.

Only in West Palm Beach, folks. Only in West Palm. Did I mention this was my first trip to West Palm?

But more on next time ... stay tuned for Pesach Reflections, Part II!

Tears for all those years!

Love, love, LOVE, this video! It's quite catchy. I hope to catch some of you humming this during the seder :)




Hat tip to Hadassah Sabo!