Thanksgiving is a working holiday, but the nature of the work varies from person to person. If you are hosting a Thanksgiving dinner you may be working on preparing the house and the meal. Or you might be one of those people who have to work on Thanksgiving at a job that helps to pay the bills.
You might be the chef or hostess at a restaurant. You could be a bus driver, bag boy, cashier or guy behind the counter at 7-11. Many of us enjoy the holiday because it offers a time during which we stop working. It is a vacation from our normal lives. And that is great, as Martha would say it is a good thing.
I have several Thanksgiving traditions. One of them is a football game. It is not a game I watch, but one I play in. Every year my fraternity plays on Thanksgiving day. I started playing in 1987 and with the exception of the Thanksgiving I spent in Georgetown in 1990 haven't missed one since.
Today I lined up against a boy who told me that he was born the year I graduated from college. So I did what every guy my age would do, I kicked his ass, rubbed his nose in the mud and told him to go home and play with his Lincoln Logs. It is a man's game and we're very manly people.
Of course I don't ever want to see video footage of the game. Allow me to think that I look like a gazelle running and not some awkward, herky-jerky marionette. I glide through the line and sack the quarterback. When necessary I smash a hole in the middle and stomp the ground with all who oppose me. Please allow me to retain this simple fiction.
The game was great fun, but this year was a bit different. It was different because it was a working Thanksgiving for me. I didn't play the entire game because my partners and I took time to work on our business. It was important. It is important and I am glad that we did it.
Part of the reason that I am writing about this is because we are chronicling our journey.If fortune smiles upon us one day we will look back upon this time and talk about it. It will be a fond recollection that we will share as well as a lesson that we pass along to our children.
Success and opportunity are there for those who know how to acquire them. We happen to believe that part of the process is hard work. And we hope that there is a payoff to this hard work.
Although this is a working Thanksgiving for me I am well aware that it is not the sort of work that others are doing. In a few moments I will stop typing and head off to a much needed shower. For a few moments I'll sit inside and watch the mud caked on my arms flow towards the drain. And then I'll dry off, change clothes and head off to dinner.
I am thankful for the opportunity. I am grateful that I have a place to go. And now if you'll excuse me I really must move as the dark haired beauty has told me that I must give her two hugs and three kisses before I am allowed to eat dinner.
Five years-old and that girl is already barking orders at me like some kind of drill sergeant. It is a good thing that she is so damn cute because I don't take orders or instructions very well.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
A Holiday Gift Guide- Some Unusual Gifts
Here at The Shack we are well aware that Chanukah is less than a month away and as a result we have done absolutely no shopping for those eight crazy nights.
After all, what fun would it be to do all of our shopping in advance. It would remove the sheer joy of fighting crowds for parking and being assaulted mentally, emotionally and verbally during those fabulous trips through the mall.
Besides we like sharing this experience with our Gentile friends who have to help out that joyful fat man with his adventures in chimney cleaning and present deliveries. So we are pleased to present to you the first post on potential gifts for the holidays with a post about unusual yet useful gifts for the holidays.
Today's featured gift idea is one that I mused about inventing on Twitter.
I thought that it was a great idea. So did @JessicaGottlieb and @AintYoMamasBlog. In fact following the Tweets we exchanged I contemplated trying to find a way to invent this product. But as it turns out someone already has and since old Jack is a good sport I am happy to give them a free plug here.
The Calmar Consulting Corporation offers AquaNotes which offers you the chance to write in the shower or the tub. And because Jack is a romantic old fool we'll even share this next section with you:
Or even a simple, "I appreciate the way that you fold my napkin in my lunchbox. Thank you sweetheart." Of course that assumes that you still carry a lunchbox. Some of us never outgrow those cool units from the '70s.
Later on we'll be glad to offer some standard gift selections for you. In the interim here is a list of some unique items that just might be of interest to someone you know.
It is A Bathroom Revolution
How to Make Hard Boiled Eggs
What Not to Do-Snakebites
The Cubicle Celebrates 40 Years
How Velcro Was Invented
My New Desk- I Have To Get One
London Restaurant Tries To Solve Gas Crisis
Who Wants To Buy An Artificial Foreskin
Untapped Sources of Energy
The Mangroomer
Business Cards That Will Get You Business
Medical Technology- The future is now
Inventions You have Got To Have (Includes the ladies urinal, toilet forehead support system and much more.)
The Nose Pouch
How Much Would it Cost To Build The Death Star
Lose Weight With The Greatest Exercise Ever
The Best Clothing You'll Ever Own
When Disaster Strikes- Blow Up Your House
A free guide to the toilets of the world
After all, what fun would it be to do all of our shopping in advance. It would remove the sheer joy of fighting crowds for parking and being assaulted mentally, emotionally and verbally during those fabulous trips through the mall.
Besides we like sharing this experience with our Gentile friends who have to help out that joyful fat man with his adventures in chimney cleaning and present deliveries. So we are pleased to present to you the first post on potential gifts for the holidays with a post about unusual yet useful gifts for the holidays.
Today's featured gift idea is one that I mused about inventing on Twitter.
I thought that it was a great idea. So did @JessicaGottlieb and @AintYoMamasBlog. In fact following the Tweets we exchanged I contemplated trying to find a way to invent this product. But as it turns out someone already has and since old Jack is a good sport I am happy to give them a free plug here.
The Calmar Consulting Corporation offers AquaNotes which offers you the chance to write in the shower or the tub. And because Jack is a romantic old fool we'll even share this next section with you:
The development of AquaNotes® made this Shower Thinker’s life more complete. But, in truth, he had only begun to understand the concept of "complete". After reuniting with a long-lost love, he married and a new necessity arose…the need to have a special water-proof notepad on which to leave love notes in the shower for his new, wonderful bride. That’s when Aqua LoveNotes® was created.Those love notes would be very useful. It is a great way to leave your special someone a note reminding them that you are tired of finding their hair everywhere or that there are a number of special things that they can do to send you off to work with a smile in the morning.
Or even a simple, "I appreciate the way that you fold my napkin in my lunchbox. Thank you sweetheart." Of course that assumes that you still carry a lunchbox. Some of us never outgrow those cool units from the '70s.
Later on we'll be glad to offer some standard gift selections for you. In the interim here is a list of some unique items that just might be of interest to someone you know.
It is A Bathroom Revolution
How to Make Hard Boiled Eggs
What Not to Do-Snakebites
The Cubicle Celebrates 40 Years
How Velcro Was Invented
My New Desk- I Have To Get One
London Restaurant Tries To Solve Gas Crisis
Who Wants To Buy An Artificial Foreskin
Untapped Sources of Energy
The Mangroomer
Business Cards That Will Get You Business
Medical Technology- The future is now
Inventions You have Got To Have (Includes the ladies urinal, toilet forehead support system and much more.)
The Nose Pouch
How Much Would it Cost To Build The Death Star
Lose Weight With The Greatest Exercise Ever
The Best Clothing You'll Ever Own
When Disaster Strikes- Blow Up Your House
A free guide to the toilets of the world
Yom HaShoah- Holocaust Memorial Day
Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day has begun and I find myself searching for the proper way to express my thoughts about the day.
It is of critical importance, this day. It is a time to reflect upon the horrors of the past so that we do not forget that they can happen again. One of the saddest truths about humanity is that we have ample examples from past and present times of the barbarism that man can exhibit towards other men.
There are a number of issues that surround this day that concern me. As more time passes and more survivors die it becomes easier for the world to forget and for the deniers to try to make their case.
I have often wondered how the deniers can claim that six million did not die and that it was a smaller number of only a few hundred thousand. Either number is incredibly hard to digest, to fathom, to understand. Is there any less horror in saying that only 100,000 lives were intentionally snuffed out.
The answer is no. But it would be wrong to allow the horror of those days to be diminished and wrong to those who perished and those who survived. So it is critical that we confront those who make these claims and show that they are false.
While I was trying to determine what I wanted to include in this post I reviewed what I had done in the past and noticed that I had mentioned Ahmadinejad several times. I don't mean that in the context of having mentioned him several times in a post, but that I did so in more than one year.
Ahmadinejad was/is a constant in these posts, a Holocaust denier and antisemite who has called for the destruction of Israel. History has taught us that when someone in a position of power makes these sorts of outlandish threats you need to pay attention.
You don't make label it as being flowery political rhetoric or make any sort of excuses for it. It would be dangerous and foolhardy to ignore these remarks or take them as anything less than a declaration of his intentions.
There are too many examples of what happens when people remain silent. Africa burns and the world ignores its screams. Darfur now, Rwanda earlier.
If we are to take the lesson of never again seriously we need to apply it today and tomorrow. The world has a very short memory of just how brutal we can be to each other. Watch and be dismayed. May we never see such things again.
Crossposted on Yourish.
It is of critical importance, this day. It is a time to reflect upon the horrors of the past so that we do not forget that they can happen again. One of the saddest truths about humanity is that we have ample examples from past and present times of the barbarism that man can exhibit towards other men.
There are a number of issues that surround this day that concern me. As more time passes and more survivors die it becomes easier for the world to forget and for the deniers to try to make their case.
I have often wondered how the deniers can claim that six million did not die and that it was a smaller number of only a few hundred thousand. Either number is incredibly hard to digest, to fathom, to understand. Is there any less horror in saying that only 100,000 lives were intentionally snuffed out.
The answer is no. But it would be wrong to allow the horror of those days to be diminished and wrong to those who perished and those who survived. So it is critical that we confront those who make these claims and show that they are false.
While I was trying to determine what I wanted to include in this post I reviewed what I had done in the past and noticed that I had mentioned Ahmadinejad several times. I don't mean that in the context of having mentioned him several times in a post, but that I did so in more than one year.
Ahmadinejad was/is a constant in these posts, a Holocaust denier and antisemite who has called for the destruction of Israel. History has taught us that when someone in a position of power makes these sorts of outlandish threats you need to pay attention.
You don't make label it as being flowery political rhetoric or make any sort of excuses for it. It would be dangerous and foolhardy to ignore these remarks or take them as anything less than a declaration of his intentions.
There are too many examples of what happens when people remain silent. Africa burns and the world ignores its screams. Darfur now, Rwanda earlier.
If we are to take the lesson of never again seriously we need to apply it today and tomorrow. The world has a very short memory of just how brutal we can be to each other. Watch and be dismayed. May we never see such things again.
Crossposted on Yourish.
Purim 2009
One of these days I am going to get around to making a t-shirt that offers a solid explanation for the reason why Jews celebrate many of our holidays. Before I offer an explanation for the shirt let me preface it by saying that I am not the first M.O.T. to come up with this line.
In fact, I might not even be the first to come up with a T-shirt, but we'll deal with that later. I want the shirt to read something like this:
In fact, I might not even be the first to come up with a T-shirt, but we'll deal with that later. I want the shirt to read something like this:
Why Jews Celebrate Jewish Holidays"They Tried to Kill Us!They Lost!Let's Celebrate!Let's Eat!"
Obviously it needs to be cleaned up a bit, but you get the general idea. More importantly we're a few days out from one of my favorite holidays, Purim.
Purim is a joyous celebration and a time in which the community really lets loose. If you spend any time tooling around the J-Blogosphere you'll see a million posts about it. I think that I have four or five of my own that talk about the chag, which is also why I mulled over whether I had anything new or important to add to the discussion.
Anyway one of the aspects of Purim that is fun are the costumes. It is not uncommon for some people to start thinking well in advance about what/who they want to dress up as, but I am not one of them.
Don't ask me why, but I tend not to dress up in costume. Blame it on too many years of dressing up like Goofy. But I do have fun helping the kids find an outfit. They love it and I get a lot of pleasure from watching them.
One of their favorite parts of the holiday is the traditional Purim carnival. They love playing all the games, especially the one that offers goldfish as a prize. Every year I try to avoid the damn thing and every year I end up coming home with new fish. It is not that I am against having fish as pets, rather it is that the Purim carnival goldfish generally has a lifespan of three days.
As a point of interest there is no uniform agreement on when to hold the Purim carnival. This means that some shuls will have it the week before the holiday and some will hold it the week after. In theory this shouldn't be a big deal, but the past couple of years that kid I call "Little Jack" has always heard about a couple of them.
So the end result is that he starts grinding me to take the family to many carnivals. Now I have never been afraid to say no to the kids, but it still doesn't stop the multiple requests to "see what is different" at each carnival.
And now if you'll excuse me I am off to change the clocks and get some much needed shut-eye because the whole leap forward bit is similar to enforced jet lag.
If you are interested in past posts about Purim check out the links below.
Chanukah 2008 Continued
You know that line about those who forget history are doomed to repeat it? Well tonight kind of made me think of that. Let me set the scene as best I can.
The year is somewhere around 1976 or '77. Your hero (that is me) is a young schoolboy. Happy, well adjusted and glad to recite all of the Welcome Back Kotter lines with his friends, "up your nose with a rubber hose" was a personal favorite.
My family is at home. My sisters and I are involved in different activities around the house. At some point in time my middle sister and I have a disagreement about something. I can't remember what I did, but like a good big brother I really aggravated her. She hauls off and belts me in the mouth. It doesn't hurt, but it does knock out a loose tooth.
I am infuriated by this. Looking back I think that I was more upset by the idea that my little sister got one over on me than anything else.
Flash forward to the present. The family is at my folk's house. It is filled with aunts, uncles and cousins. I hear my son scream and he comes marching up stairs holding his mouth. I see blood and ask what happened. He hands me a tooth and tells me that his younger cousin kicked him in the mouth and knocked out his tooth.
That younger cousin just happens to be the youngest child of the sister that knocked out my tooth. He is truly sorry and tells me repeatedly that it was an accident and it probably was.
A little bit later all if forgiven and forgotten and we go to light candles. I bask in the glow of the lights and the smiles on the faces of the kids. We finish the blessings and the kids run and sit in the living room. I look at my father and say that he should get ready to play grandpa.
We walk over and my son tells me that they are all ready to get their gifts. I look at him and say that we're not doing gifts tonight. My niece looks at me and says, "don't tease us Uncle Jack." I smile and tell her that I am not.
Jaws drop and confused looks from the children are pointed towards us. My son takes the lead again and says that it is not funny, the joke is over. I assure him that tonight there are no gifts and then the heavens unleash a torrent of young voices upon us.
I quiet them down and remind them that the holiday is not only about gifts. I give them two minutes of patented parent P.R. and add a dose of guilt. And then I remind them that another reason we are not exchanging gifts is because not all of their cousins are there. Not to mention that the good news is that they will get gifts the next night.
Kids shrug their shoulders at me and grumble for a moment. I offer a free kick in the pants or punch in the nose. No one takes me up on it. They run off to play and I look at my father.
"What are you looking at," he asks. I tell him that I want his opinion on how I did. He smiles, pats me on the shoulder and says "you're learning." I smile back and tell him that it is still ok for him to give me a gift that night.
He smiles and sticks out his hand. I place my hand in his, knowing what is coming.
"Congratulations."
And the lesson here is that old family tricks never die, even those that still aren't funny. Ok, I laughed, but that is a long story in itself. We'll save it for a different day.
The year is somewhere around 1976 or '77. Your hero (that is me) is a young schoolboy. Happy, well adjusted and glad to recite all of the Welcome Back Kotter lines with his friends, "up your nose with a rubber hose" was a personal favorite.
My family is at home. My sisters and I are involved in different activities around the house. At some point in time my middle sister and I have a disagreement about something. I can't remember what I did, but like a good big brother I really aggravated her. She hauls off and belts me in the mouth. It doesn't hurt, but it does knock out a loose tooth.
I am infuriated by this. Looking back I think that I was more upset by the idea that my little sister got one over on me than anything else.
Flash forward to the present. The family is at my folk's house. It is filled with aunts, uncles and cousins. I hear my son scream and he comes marching up stairs holding his mouth. I see blood and ask what happened. He hands me a tooth and tells me that his younger cousin kicked him in the mouth and knocked out his tooth.
That younger cousin just happens to be the youngest child of the sister that knocked out my tooth. He is truly sorry and tells me repeatedly that it was an accident and it probably was.
A little bit later all if forgiven and forgotten and we go to light candles. I bask in the glow of the lights and the smiles on the faces of the kids. We finish the blessings and the kids run and sit in the living room. I look at my father and say that he should get ready to play grandpa.
We walk over and my son tells me that they are all ready to get their gifts. I look at him and say that we're not doing gifts tonight. My niece looks at me and says, "don't tease us Uncle Jack." I smile and tell her that I am not.
Jaws drop and confused looks from the children are pointed towards us. My son takes the lead again and says that it is not funny, the joke is over. I assure him that tonight there are no gifts and then the heavens unleash a torrent of young voices upon us.
I quiet them down and remind them that the holiday is not only about gifts. I give them two minutes of patented parent P.R. and add a dose of guilt. And then I remind them that another reason we are not exchanging gifts is because not all of their cousins are there. Not to mention that the good news is that they will get gifts the next night.
Kids shrug their shoulders at me and grumble for a moment. I offer a free kick in the pants or punch in the nose. No one takes me up on it. They run off to play and I look at my father.
"What are you looking at," he asks. I tell him that I want his opinion on how I did. He smiles, pats me on the shoulder and says "you're learning." I smile back and tell him that it is still ok for him to give me a gift that night.
He smiles and sticks out his hand. I place my hand in his, knowing what is coming.
"Congratulations."
And the lesson here is that old family tricks never die, even those that still aren't funny. Ok, I laughed, but that is a long story in itself. We'll save it for a different day.
What is Chanukah
I intend to write a post about the holiday, but again find myself very tired. So for those who want a serious explanation about the day I offer you this link.
Chanukah Begins Woohoo- Night One
I think that I am in a bit of a blogging rut again. I am just not happy with the quality of my posts so I keep nuking them and starting over. Every time I say something like that the Shmata Queen accuses me of trying to generate more comments to feed my ego.
I usually respond to those accusations by making fun of the burning river and reminding her that she has lived more than half of her middle aged life outside of that place. 1...2...3...DUCK!
In case you are wondering that was strictly for myself. The queen has this big black purse that your grandmother would be jealous of. I can't believe how much junk she has in there. I think that she thinks it is sort of like Felix the Cat's Bag of tricks.
Let me tell you, the last time she managed to hit me in the head I saw stars, they were in her eyes. Those bright eyes positively glowed. All hail the lovely queen. Ok, enough of the fake fawning and homage and back to the point of the post, it is Chanukah.
It is one of my favorite holidays. I can give you a million reasons why. I can talk about how even though it is a minor holiday in importance, it is quite significant. But it is really late and I am not in the mood to be very serious. So instead I'll opt to say that the serious post comes later.
Right now let's say that I like the holiday because of the memories of the past and those that we are creating now. The look on my kid's faces is classic. Let me tell you if you really want to have fun tell your children that you are getting them socks and underwear for gifts and then really give it to them. Watch as they try to maintain their composure and be grateful.
It is a great tool to use to teach, the holiday that is. We always spend time talking about why we celebrate it and why we should be thankful for what we have. And they also get my lecture about why I hate the holiday season and the message that there is one time of year to be good.
We usually give the kids something every night, but not every one of those gifts is a major one. The formula is to try and give them each one big gift and a bunch of little ones.
More on this later.
I usually respond to those accusations by making fun of the burning river and reminding her that she has lived more than half of her middle aged life outside of that place. 1...2...3...DUCK!
In case you are wondering that was strictly for myself. The queen has this big black purse that your grandmother would be jealous of. I can't believe how much junk she has in there. I think that she thinks it is sort of like Felix the Cat's Bag of tricks.
Let me tell you, the last time she managed to hit me in the head I saw stars, they were in her eyes. Those bright eyes positively glowed. All hail the lovely queen. Ok, enough of the fake fawning and homage and back to the point of the post, it is Chanukah.
It is one of my favorite holidays. I can give you a million reasons why. I can talk about how even though it is a minor holiday in importance, it is quite significant. But it is really late and I am not in the mood to be very serious. So instead I'll opt to say that the serious post comes later.
Right now let's say that I like the holiday because of the memories of the past and those that we are creating now. The look on my kid's faces is classic. Let me tell you if you really want to have fun tell your children that you are getting them socks and underwear for gifts and then really give it to them. Watch as they try to maintain their composure and be grateful.
It is a great tool to use to teach, the holiday that is. We always spend time talking about why we celebrate it and why we should be thankful for what we have. And they also get my lecture about why I hate the holiday season and the message that there is one time of year to be good.
We usually give the kids something every night, but not every one of those gifts is a major one. The formula is to try and give them each one big gift and a bunch of little ones.
Dear Santa Take a Memo
So you might be wondering what the Jewish kid is doing writing Santa a letter. I know that I would be, but since I am the one writing the letter I know what is coming. Ok, scratch that, I write from the hip, or is that shoot from the hip. Whatever. All I know is that I am the guy who can say and do anything. But as a side note just because I can doesn't mean that I will.
Alright, now that we got that out of the way let's try to dig into the meat of the matter, or in this case the meet of the matter. Santa and I have a funny relationship. A couple of years ago I was described by another blogger as being a suicidal Santa Claus. And it is true that I did wish death upon Santa not to mention that I once beat him up.
There are any number of reasons why I just don't like the guy. Perhaps it is because I associate Santa with guys like this one, not to mention that I still hate the holiday season. So here I am Santa, forced to deal with you again. A couple of years ago I had a conversation with the big kid about you. I had thought that it was kind of a one time deal. I explain that you are fake and that would be the end of it.
Apparently I was wrong. You see I got to have this conversation again last night. It seems that the dark haired beauty and her big brother got into a long discussion about who you are. She may be four, but she really doesn't miss a beat. She told her brother that not all Santas are fat and that means that they play tricks on kids. Her brother told her that all you Santas are fake and she got angry.
The little one put her hands on her hips and started lecturing me about grownups being mean to kids. She thinks that you are rude and inappropriate...Santa. You might think that it is strange that a four year-old would use that sort of terminology, but apparently she can be a good mimic. If nothing else she has learned the art of the female look of death accompanied by eyerolling, sighs and all sorts of hand waving.
I was ordered to make you stop being mean to kids. You aren't allowed to fool them any longer. She wants you to go away so that kids know that their grownups are giving them gifts. I tried to explain to her that it is ok for other kids to believe in Santa and that she doesn't have to worry about it. But apparently she has decided that among my many roles I am also the official protector of children. I was instructed to punch you in the nose, kick you in the butt and then push you out the door.
Santa, you are getting off easy because if she was familiar with eye gouging, fish hooking and the fine art of getting kicked in the crotch she would have insisted upon those as well. So dear Santa, I tried to get you off. I did my best to convince her to just let it go, but you know how women can be, especially when they are tired and hungry.
So my advice to you is to start running because if she sees you I am going to be ordered to go Muhammad Ali on your noggin.
Have a nice holiday season.
Best Regards,
Jack
Alright, now that we got that out of the way let's try to dig into the meat of the matter, or in this case the meet of the matter. Santa and I have a funny relationship. A couple of years ago I was described by another blogger as being a suicidal Santa Claus. And it is true that I did wish death upon Santa not to mention that I once beat him up.
There are any number of reasons why I just don't like the guy. Perhaps it is because I associate Santa with guys like this one, not to mention that I still hate the holiday season. So here I am Santa, forced to deal with you again. A couple of years ago I had a conversation with the big kid about you. I had thought that it was kind of a one time deal. I explain that you are fake and that would be the end of it.
Apparently I was wrong. You see I got to have this conversation again last night. It seems that the dark haired beauty and her big brother got into a long discussion about who you are. She may be four, but she really doesn't miss a beat. She told her brother that not all Santas are fat and that means that they play tricks on kids. Her brother told her that all you Santas are fake and she got angry.
The little one put her hands on her hips and started lecturing me about grownups being mean to kids. She thinks that you are rude and inappropriate...Santa. You might think that it is strange that a four year-old would use that sort of terminology, but apparently she can be a good mimic. If nothing else she has learned the art of the female look of death accompanied by eyerolling, sighs and all sorts of hand waving.
I was ordered to make you stop being mean to kids. You aren't allowed to fool them any longer. She wants you to go away so that kids know that their grownups are giving them gifts. I tried to explain to her that it is ok for other kids to believe in Santa and that she doesn't have to worry about it. But apparently she has decided that among my many roles I am also the official protector of children. I was instructed to punch you in the nose, kick you in the butt and then push you out the door.
Santa, you are getting off easy because if she was familiar with eye gouging, fish hooking and the fine art of getting kicked in the crotch she would have insisted upon those as well. So dear Santa, I tried to get you off. I did my best to convince her to just let it go, but you know how women can be, especially when they are tired and hungry.
So my advice to you is to start running because if she sees you I am going to be ordered to go Muhammad Ali on your noggin.
Have a nice holiday season.
Best Regards,
Jack
Thanksgiving In The Snow
I am a California boy. Born and bred here in paradise I can count on both hands the number of times that I have been in the snow. If you search through the archives you'll find the post that in which I shared that I have never driven a car in the snow. Been a passenger, walked through it, but never been the driver.
As a point of interest some of those experiences in the snow have been in Buffalo and Toronto. It was pretty damn cold. Cold enough that I got the general idea for what it must be like to be snowbound which is part of why I have never wanted to torture myself by being forced to live that way on a regular basis.
It occurs to me one of the reasons that I haven't really ever gotten into the holiday season is that I don't really relate to all of the winter imagery. When people talk about how hard it was to shovel snow or walk through snowstorms on their way to school I smile and nod my head. I get the general drift. It is wet, cold and uncomfortable. I get it. Walked and driven through plenty of rainstorms.
Anyhoo, this past Thanksgiving marked 19 years since I spent my first and only Thanksgiving in the snow. As I sit here typing I am trying to recall how it was that I ended up in Georgetown for the holiday. Ok, that is not entirely true, I more or less remember. A good friend of mine went to school there. What I don't remember is how we came up with the plan for me to go out there for Thanksgiving.
What I can tell you is that we were joined by two other friends. They went to Vassar and so they flew in from Poughkeepsie. Ok, so there were four of us. Four friends there for the holiday. Four friends ready to enjoy each other's company, but only three of us were really equipped for snow. Can you guess who didn't have snow gear.
Ok, there really wasn't much snow. But for a kid from Los Angeles it was different to wander down the street and worry about slipping on the ice. It felt a bit like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life.
Over the years the Shmata Queen has told me all sorts of stories about how people hate L.A. and or make fun of it. I think that she was surprised when I told her that my experience had been very different. I can't tell you how many times people have found out that I live in L.A. and asked me all sorts of crazy questions about what life is like here. Do I know ever see any actors, is it really sunny all the time, how close do I live to the beach, have I ever seen any shows being filmed.
Before the wacky woman inserts her two cents let me say that I have had people make disparaging remarks about L.A. in front of me, but it has happened relatively few times. More often than not I have gotten either the gushing or ambivalence. Either way, I don't care. I have always liked it here. Truth is if more people left it'd be better, but I digress.
I'd write more, but I have a four year-old sitting on my lap. She just woke up and has found that tugging on my beard is an effective way of getting my attention. They say turnabout is fair play, so I grabbed her pony tail. Did I ever tell you that she is cute even when she looks at me with fire coming out of her eyes.
See you later.
As a point of interest some of those experiences in the snow have been in Buffalo and Toronto. It was pretty damn cold. Cold enough that I got the general idea for what it must be like to be snowbound which is part of why I have never wanted to torture myself by being forced to live that way on a regular basis.
It occurs to me one of the reasons that I haven't really ever gotten into the holiday season is that I don't really relate to all of the winter imagery. When people talk about how hard it was to shovel snow or walk through snowstorms on their way to school I smile and nod my head. I get the general drift. It is wet, cold and uncomfortable. I get it. Walked and driven through plenty of rainstorms.
Anyhoo, this past Thanksgiving marked 19 years since I spent my first and only Thanksgiving in the snow. As I sit here typing I am trying to recall how it was that I ended up in Georgetown for the holiday. Ok, that is not entirely true, I more or less remember. A good friend of mine went to school there. What I don't remember is how we came up with the plan for me to go out there for Thanksgiving.
What I can tell you is that we were joined by two other friends. They went to Vassar and so they flew in from Poughkeepsie. Ok, so there were four of us. Four friends there for the holiday. Four friends ready to enjoy each other's company, but only three of us were really equipped for snow. Can you guess who didn't have snow gear.
Ok, there really wasn't much snow. But for a kid from Los Angeles it was different to wander down the street and worry about slipping on the ice. It felt a bit like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life.
Over the years the Shmata Queen has told me all sorts of stories about how people hate L.A. and or make fun of it. I think that she was surprised when I told her that my experience had been very different. I can't tell you how many times people have found out that I live in L.A. and asked me all sorts of crazy questions about what life is like here. Do I know ever see any actors, is it really sunny all the time, how close do I live to the beach, have I ever seen any shows being filmed.
Before the wacky woman inserts her two cents let me say that I have had people make disparaging remarks about L.A. in front of me, but it has happened relatively few times. More often than not I have gotten either the gushing or ambivalence. Either way, I don't care. I have always liked it here. Truth is if more people left it'd be better, but I digress.
I'd write more, but I have a four year-old sitting on my lap. She just woke up and has found that tugging on my beard is an effective way of getting my attention. They say turnabout is fair play, so I grabbed her pony tail. Did I ever tell you that she is cute even when she looks at me with fire coming out of her eyes.
See you later.
Abba Was The Torah
Yom Kippur was............great.
Yom Kippur was............terrible.
Yom Kippur was............long.
Yom Kippur was............hard.
Yom Kippur was............meaningful.
Yom Kippur was............well I am not really sure what else to put there. I suppose that if I thought about it I could come up with a few more adjectives, but I think that I am done with Mad Libs for the moment.
I spent a good part of the day with my tallis over my head and I am sure that more than a few people figured that it was an attempt to sleep. To be clear I certainly wouldn't try to go to sleep with a wool blanket over my head, far too hot. Really it is just an attempt to focus on davening.
Davening is not something that comes easily to me. It is something that requires a fair bit of effort, especially when I am battling hunger, thirst and a raging headache. A good friend of mine once suggested that I combat lack of focus by only davening in Orthodox shuls. The idea was that I'd find it easier to focus with more likeminded people and a mechitza.
I laughed at the idea. Been to plenty of Orthodox shuls and had no problem finding plenty of people to distract me. These three guys are talking, that guy over there keeps wandering in and out and the dude over there thinks that if he doesn't mutter loudly G-d can't hear him.
And let's not get started about the mechitza. I have a very graphic and active imagination. The inability to physically see women won't prevent me from engaging in any sort of thought about them. In short, if I don't work hard to stay focused it is easy to get distracted.
Truth is that I prefer to daven outside, but that is a story for a different day.
Read Torah again this year. New usher gave me grief about reading, decided that he didn't like where I was sitting and suggested that I was too far from the bima. Thanked him for his concern and told him that I started reading during the Reagan administration. This was confirmation that my headache was in full force.
Walked up to layn/lein and suddenly I hear my daughter's voice "Go Daddy Go!" It made me smile. Smiled bigger when I heard her argue with her mother about being able to cheer for me.
Later on that day she proudly walked up to her grandparents and announced that "abba was the Torah." Got to spend the next ten minutes trying to explain to her older sibling that she is four and he really didn't need to correct her. He then told me that I am a person and I couldn't be the Torah.
By that point in time my head was pounding. I was tempted to put on a Torah cover and breastplate just to prove him wrong, but I couldn't figure out where to place the rimonim and what shoes to wear with it.
BTW, if you took that last paragraph seriously you need more sleep.
Anyhoo, I am glad that we're in the home stretch. This time of year always makes me feel a little bit crazy.
Crossposted here.
Yom Kippur was............terrible.
Yom Kippur was............long.
Yom Kippur was............hard.
Yom Kippur was............meaningful.
Yom Kippur was............well I am not really sure what else to put there. I suppose that if I thought about it I could come up with a few more adjectives, but I think that I am done with Mad Libs for the moment.
I spent a good part of the day with my tallis over my head and I am sure that more than a few people figured that it was an attempt to sleep. To be clear I certainly wouldn't try to go to sleep with a wool blanket over my head, far too hot. Really it is just an attempt to focus on davening.
Davening is not something that comes easily to me. It is something that requires a fair bit of effort, especially when I am battling hunger, thirst and a raging headache. A good friend of mine once suggested that I combat lack of focus by only davening in Orthodox shuls. The idea was that I'd find it easier to focus with more likeminded people and a mechitza.
I laughed at the idea. Been to plenty of Orthodox shuls and had no problem finding plenty of people to distract me. These three guys are talking, that guy over there keeps wandering in and out and the dude over there thinks that if he doesn't mutter loudly G-d can't hear him.
And let's not get started about the mechitza. I have a very graphic and active imagination. The inability to physically see women won't prevent me from engaging in any sort of thought about them. In short, if I don't work hard to stay focused it is easy to get distracted.
Truth is that I prefer to daven outside, but that is a story for a different day.
Read Torah again this year. New usher gave me grief about reading, decided that he didn't like where I was sitting and suggested that I was too far from the bima. Thanked him for his concern and told him that I started reading during the Reagan administration. This was confirmation that my headache was in full force.
Walked up to layn/lein and suddenly I hear my daughter's voice "Go Daddy Go!" It made me smile. Smiled bigger when I heard her argue with her mother about being able to cheer for me.
Later on that day she proudly walked up to her grandparents and announced that "abba was the Torah." Got to spend the next ten minutes trying to explain to her older sibling that she is four and he really didn't need to correct her. He then told me that I am a person and I couldn't be the Torah.
By that point in time my head was pounding. I was tempted to put on a Torah cover and breastplate just to prove him wrong, but I couldn't figure out where to place the rimonim and what shoes to wear with it.
BTW, if you took that last paragraph seriously you need more sleep.
Anyhoo, I am glad that we're in the home stretch. This time of year always makes me feel a little bit crazy.
Crossposted here.
Wrestling With Atonement- Yom Kippur Kraziness
I am willing to bet that few people have written a post about Yom Kippur while listening to Wild Cherry's Play That Funky Music. It is not really the sort of music that one thinks about as setting a proper mood for introspection but it happens to be what is playing on iTunes right now. In another moment I'll shift gears and put on something more appropriate, but this will work for now.
In a relatively short period of time the sun will rise and set and rise and set and another Yom Kippur will have come and gone. And so I find myself sitting in the dark contemplating what it all means to me and what I have learned.
I'll start out by quoting from Moments When I feel Closest To G-d:
At some point that feeling changed, but I can't say when. I have been trying to figure out when and what changed, but it is like grabbing smoke. The harder I try the harder it is to determine. So if you'll bear with me I am going to to just ramble a bit.
Unetaneh Tokef grabs me
Part of me shrugs my shoulder at it all. It is easy to blow it off and say that people die, earthquakes happen, fires burn and the world goes on. Certainly I won't say that divine punishment is the reason for natural disasters. Neither will I say that some people die early because of some unknowable divine plan. That is not how I roll.
But I have come to appreciate setting aside time to sit down and take a hard look at my life. It is not always easy to engage in that sort of introspection, to take a hard look at the good and the bad. And that is what I do.
I try to take time to consider who I am. I am a flawed individual. There are many things that I need to improve upon. It would be unfair, unreasonable and unwarranted to suggest otherwise. I have made mistakes that I am very sorry for. I have traveled upon some dark roads that I wish that I could have avoided.
I don't expect to find salvation by admitting all my sins. I don't believe that with a few words they can all just be forgiven and washed away. That doesn't make any sense to me. Neither do I believe that I should engage in endless self-flagellation for them.
What I will try to do is the best I can to improve. I'll do what I can not to repeat the mistakes of the past and to try and be better for the future. A large part of that effort will be spent on trying to help my children avoid the pitfalls that I fell for and into. It was a challenging year, but that is how it goes.
So here we are at the end of the post. Have I learned anything more about myself? Nope. Not sure that I have done much other than babble. But I am a believer in the exercise so if I am still blogging you can expect to see this kind of post again.
And for what it is worth, if I have offended or upset you my sincere apologies.
G'mar Chatima Tova. I wish you an easy fast. May you be inscribed and sealed.
In a relatively short period of time the sun will rise and set and rise and set and another Yom Kippur will have come and gone. And so I find myself sitting in the dark contemplating what it all means to me and what I have learned.
I'll start out by quoting from Moments When I feel Closest To G-d:
"I have written a number of times about my struggles with G-d, how I YelledI used to dislike Yom Kippur immensely. I didn't really find meaning in it. It was a day that seemed to be predicated upon enduring being uncomfortable. I didn't find the davening to be significant, meaningful or interesting. Most of the people around me spent the time in shul complaining about something and few had anything positive to say.
at G-d and the challenges I have had with davening. If you are really interested you can read more here, here and here. There are probably a couple more links but that is enough time shilling for my own blog.
If you are here you are probably interested in what I have to say or trapped beneath a heavy object and unable to do move away from the keyboard. If you are trapped and without an internet connection I encourage you to search for meaning in what I say, I do all the time because what is the purpose of living if there is no meaning in life.
That is not really tongue in cheek, it is just my wry sense of humor saying that we all need to find a reason to be here and that it is an individual thing that does not have to mirror your neighbor."
At some point that feeling changed, but I can't say when. I have been trying to figure out when and what changed, but it is like grabbing smoke. The harder I try the harder it is to determine. So if you'll bear with me I am going to to just ramble a bit.
Unetaneh Tokef grabs me
"On Rosh Hashanah it is written and Yom Kippur it is sealed
How many shall pass on and how many shall come to be;
who shall live and who shall die;
who shall see ripe old age and who shall not;
who shall perish by fire
and who by water;
who by sword and who by beast;
who by hunger and who by thirst;"
Part of me shrugs my shoulder at it all. It is easy to blow it off and say that people die, earthquakes happen, fires burn and the world goes on. Certainly I won't say that divine punishment is the reason for natural disasters. Neither will I say that some people die early because of some unknowable divine plan. That is not how I roll.
But I have come to appreciate setting aside time to sit down and take a hard look at my life. It is not always easy to engage in that sort of introspection, to take a hard look at the good and the bad. And that is what I do.
I try to take time to consider who I am. I am a flawed individual. There are many things that I need to improve upon. It would be unfair, unreasonable and unwarranted to suggest otherwise. I have made mistakes that I am very sorry for. I have traveled upon some dark roads that I wish that I could have avoided.
I don't expect to find salvation by admitting all my sins. I don't believe that with a few words they can all just be forgiven and washed away. That doesn't make any sense to me. Neither do I believe that I should engage in endless self-flagellation for them.
What I will try to do is the best I can to improve. I'll do what I can not to repeat the mistakes of the past and to try and be better for the future. A large part of that effort will be spent on trying to help my children avoid the pitfalls that I fell for and into. It was a challenging year, but that is how it goes.
So here we are at the end of the post. Have I learned anything more about myself? Nope. Not sure that I have done much other than babble. But I am a believer in the exercise so if I am still blogging you can expect to see this kind of post again.
And for what it is worth, if I have offended or upset you my sincere apologies.
G'mar Chatima Tova. I wish you an easy fast. May you be inscribed and sealed.
A Tale of Two Widowers
This is the sort of post that I struggle to write. I struggle because I have a story to tell and I want to convey the message in a particular way but I am not quite sure how to do it. It is a story of life and death, of the power and pain of love.
It is moments like this where I wish that I could write music because such a tale deserves an appropriate soundtrack. A full orchestra that could impart the highs and lows of this story because I am not quite sure that I can do it justice. Since that is just not possible I am going to do my best to fumble my way through this. All I can do try my best to catch the Silver man, so here we go.
Just a few short hours ago I was at a holiday dinner with my family. The table was covered in with a beautiful linen table cloth and adorned with china and silver. Several assortments of flowers were spread out throughout the table. And of course there were lots of guests surrounding the table.
Now I could tell you about the peals of laughter emanating from children like silver bells or I could share the sounds of my grandparents and relatives discussing the election and the rabbi's sermon. It wouldn't be hard because those are probably things that you can relate to.
But then I might miss out on sharing a tale of two widowers. Two men who lost their wives roughly a year ago. Two men who sat at the table and enjoyed the meal, but whose eyes and words revealed the depth of the pain of loss.
It seems unfair that I can't tell you their individual stories because it is. It is unfair because they lost the light in their candle long before they ever expected to see them go dark. It is unfair because it is unfair. Sometimes evil people live much longer lives than good people. It is unfair because life is unfair.
And it bothers me that I have to teach my children that no matter what we do life will never be fair. It bothers me that I have to teach my children about death and that no matter what they or anyone else does, they will experience death. One day the people they love the most will be gone and all they will have left will be memories.
But I'll do my best to teach my children to seek the positive side of all this. If the loss doesn't hurt than there is a problem. I have often thought that to a certain extent you can expect the loss to be as painful as the love was joyful.
I spoke with both of these men at different times this evening and I spoke with both of these men during shiva calls. And part of what struck me is how deeply they loved their wives and how their losses wounded them.
At separate moments they both made a point of telling me to make sure that I truly live my life because the person I love most could unexpectedly be taken from me. It is a theft like no other. I can't say that I truly understand what they are going through, but I can say that I am convinced that the hardest pain to deal with is mental pain.
You can always find a way to get around the physical pain, but mental pain is a harder nut to crack. How do you turn off your memory. How do you forget and would you really want to.
So I find myself lost in thought about the words that they shared with me and how to apply them to my life. I don't want to wake up and say that I failed to live my dreams because I failed to try. It is one thing to have tried and failed and another to have never done so.
I can find a way to live with the failure of having tried and been unsuccessful, but I don't think that I can live with never having tried. Someday is a great way to put off the future, but someday doesn't always come.
And so I find myself pondering the new year with similar thoughts and questions to those I had last year. If I have any sort of resolution it is to make a greater effort to live my dreams and to do the things that I need to do to have a happier and more meaningful life because you really don't know when it might all come crashing down upon you.
Crossposted here.
It is moments like this where I wish that I could write music because such a tale deserves an appropriate soundtrack. A full orchestra that could impart the highs and lows of this story because I am not quite sure that I can do it justice. Since that is just not possible I am going to do my best to fumble my way through this. All I can do try my best to catch the Silver man, so here we go.
Just a few short hours ago I was at a holiday dinner with my family. The table was covered in with a beautiful linen table cloth and adorned with china and silver. Several assortments of flowers were spread out throughout the table. And of course there were lots of guests surrounding the table.
Now I could tell you about the peals of laughter emanating from children like silver bells or I could share the sounds of my grandparents and relatives discussing the election and the rabbi's sermon. It wouldn't be hard because those are probably things that you can relate to.
But then I might miss out on sharing a tale of two widowers. Two men who lost their wives roughly a year ago. Two men who sat at the table and enjoyed the meal, but whose eyes and words revealed the depth of the pain of loss.
It seems unfair that I can't tell you their individual stories because it is. It is unfair because they lost the light in their candle long before they ever expected to see them go dark. It is unfair because it is unfair. Sometimes evil people live much longer lives than good people. It is unfair because life is unfair.
And it bothers me that I have to teach my children that no matter what we do life will never be fair. It bothers me that I have to teach my children about death and that no matter what they or anyone else does, they will experience death. One day the people they love the most will be gone and all they will have left will be memories.
But I'll do my best to teach my children to seek the positive side of all this. If the loss doesn't hurt than there is a problem. I have often thought that to a certain extent you can expect the loss to be as painful as the love was joyful.
I spoke with both of these men at different times this evening and I spoke with both of these men during shiva calls. And part of what struck me is how deeply they loved their wives and how their losses wounded them.
At separate moments they both made a point of telling me to make sure that I truly live my life because the person I love most could unexpectedly be taken from me. It is a theft like no other. I can't say that I truly understand what they are going through, but I can say that I am convinced that the hardest pain to deal with is mental pain.
You can always find a way to get around the physical pain, but mental pain is a harder nut to crack. How do you turn off your memory. How do you forget and would you really want to.
So I find myself lost in thought about the words that they shared with me and how to apply them to my life. I don't want to wake up and say that I failed to live my dreams because I failed to try. It is one thing to have tried and failed and another to have never done so.
I can find a way to live with the failure of having tried and been unsuccessful, but I don't think that I can live with never having tried. Someday is a great way to put off the future, but someday doesn't always come.
And so I find myself pondering the new year with similar thoughts and questions to those I had last year. If I have any sort of resolution it is to make a greater effort to live my dreams and to do the things that I need to do to have a happier and more meaningful life because you really don't know when it might all come crashing down upon you.
Crossposted here.
Tisha B'Av- 2008
Sometimes the words flow from my fingertips through the keyboard and onto the screen. Sometimes they say exactly what I want them to say, their meaning is clear and I am happy. But sometimes they fail to convey what I need or want them to share, their meaning is garbled and unclear.It can be a terribly frustrating experience, but it sometimes serves as a good reminder to take a moment and consider what is taking place around me. Tisha B'Av is a day that I use to reflect and remember and to look forward upon that which is coming.
I don't know why, but I am reminded of some of the lyrics from Graceland:
"There is a girl in New York City,Scratch that, I know why I thought of it. A dear friend of my parents is in the midst of tremendous turmoil. Last year he lost the person he cared for most and now he is lost and unsure. A grown man, unsteady on his feet and although his eyes are open his vision has been stolen from him.
Who calls herself the human trampoline,
And sometimes when I'm falling flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Whoa so this is what she means,
She means we're bouncing into Graceland,
And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart,
Everybody sees you're blown apart,
Everybody feels the wind blow,"
Heartbreak can do that to you. A broken heart can make you lose the ability to feel the warmth of the sun and to see the blue of the skies. A broken heart can make you question all that you are and all that you thought you would be.
Tisha B'Av reminds me of heartbreak on many levels, like I said it is a day that I use for thought. I could write more, but I think for now I'll share some pieces of some old posts with you instead.
"Shabbos may be spiritual and religious in nature, but let’s face it. A group of teens on their own in a foreign country, there is bound to be some activity because we were all on hormonal overdrive.I am spent. Here is one more link. I'll be back later: Eicha- An Aching Heart Mumbles.
So I was a bit surprised with my reaction to our first Shabbos in country. It began with a walk from the base to the Old City, the Kotel was our destination. I remember parts of it well. The conversation I had with a very dear friend stands out to me, some of the buildings and people do too.
But it wasn’t until we began walking over the rooftops in the Old City that I began to notice that there was something special in the air. It wasn’t until we got closer to the Kotel itself that I really began to feel something.
It was the connection that I had felt there earlier in the week. The bond that I felt towards all the other Jews in the plaza who were davening and the unmistakable feeling that G-d was there with me, us, them, everyone.
It was stronger than it had been before.
It was almost surreal.
I felt like I was in some kind of science-fiction movie in which I was traveling through time and space. It sounds goofy, but I really did feel like I was standing in the same place that I had been in thousands of years before and at the same time experiencing it for the first time.
And more than anything else I was pleased to feel like I was part of the group, I was in on the secret. I was happy to be able to daven with kavanah and real belief and not to sitting there waiting for Maariv to end. It wasn't a chore to be endured but a pleasure.
It was just one more piece of chain that brought me back into the fold that made me believe again. This is a story that really could be much longer and much more eloquent and to some extent I feel that I am not doing it justice because how I can share something like
this, how can I explain something that tugs at places so deep inside you don’t know that they exist.
If I was a man of brevity I would end this tale here, but there is too much to share, too much to say and I need to add another moment or two to my story.
The next morning at Shacharit I was a little disappointed because that feeling from the night before was fading. It was like an amazing dream, the kind that you wish would never end so you try to go back to sleep and get it back, hold onto it so that it doesn't disappear. But trying to do that with a dream is a little bit like grabbing a fistful of water, no matter how tight your grip it spills out from a million different places.
I can remember daydreaming, lost in thought of the night before. We had danced with reckless abandon and sung out loud, almost shouting the prayers, but still with reverence. There was a power and an energy. As I look back I realize that it was a little bit like being buzzed, there was a high and I fed off of it. All week I waited for Shabbos to return so that I could experience it again and each time I got lost in the moment. I began to wonder if this feeling was going to be limited in time and place. I got my answer a little later.
It was Tisha B'AV and we were in the hills overlooking the Old City. We read Eicha and discussed the burning of the Temple, the sack of Jerusalem and the moment made a huge impact upon me. I could look out on the city and picture the flames, in my mind Jerusalem was burning. I could hear the screams of the women and children, smell the fear and feel the greed of the invaders.
I might have cried, but I couldn't tell you for certain. I was so caught up in the moment, so enthralled and so amazed that something could move me that way.
The next day we returned to the Kotel and again I lost myself in the crowd, but this time I made my way amongst the crowd to the wall itself and just lay my head against it. My eyes were closed and my hands caressed the stone.
Time passed and the end of the trip grew closer. I began to get anxious about returning to Los Angeles because Jerusalem had become home to me. If I could have I would have stayed. I would have stayed indefinitely."
Surviving The Family Barbecue- July 4, 2008
Summer is my favorite time of year. Even though I have been out of school for years and years the end of Spring still makes me itch for summer. There is something about this time of year that gets the old ticker beating hotter.
Years ago it was anticipating a good summer romance, endless possibilities filled my summers. I never knew exactly what would happen, just the certainty that I would head back to school with a million new stories to tell.
This year I was granted yet another chance to engage in a practical application of the old saw, "you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family."
There is nothing better than going to the old family barbecue so that you can be subjected to the pompous proclamations of a know-it-all and his self inflated sense of self. And did I mention that this preening peacock resembles the bird in more ways than one. If not you let me do so now by saying that his pea brain makes him sound like a, well you know.
I usually try to avoid the moronic monkey by hanging out in places he won't frequent. It is not because I am afraid of him, but because I have a hard time censoring myself around him. He says such ridiculous things it is impossible not to comment.
The man is a college professor. I'll do the university the favor of not mentioning his name or what courses he teaches. I'll even give him partial credit for being an obnoxious putz by saying that his mother has taught him that wealth means that you are something special.
But since he is an adult I can only go so far in relieving him of accountability for acting like an ass.
Years ago it was anticipating a good summer romance, endless possibilities filled my summers. I never knew exactly what would happen, just the certainty that I would head back to school with a million new stories to tell.
This year I was granted yet another chance to engage in a practical application of the old saw, "you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family."
There is nothing better than going to the old family barbecue so that you can be subjected to the pompous proclamations of a know-it-all and his self inflated sense of self. And did I mention that this preening peacock resembles the bird in more ways than one. If not you let me do so now by saying that his pea brain makes him sound like a, well you know.
I usually try to avoid the moronic monkey by hanging out in places he won't frequent. It is not because I am afraid of him, but because I have a hard time censoring myself around him. He says such ridiculous things it is impossible not to comment.
The man is a college professor. I'll do the university the favor of not mentioning his name or what courses he teaches. I'll even give him partial credit for being an obnoxious putz by saying that his mother has taught him that wealth means that you are something special.
But since he is an adult I can only go so far in relieving him of accountability for acting like an ass.
The Great Matzah Shortage of 2008
This week I received a couple of interesting phone calls/emails from various friends who complained that they have run out of matzah. It surprised me as more often than not I hear stories about families that have too much matzah.
Well it seems that there might be more to the story than I realized. I just stumbled across a story on the New York Times about this very topic.
Well it seems that there might be more to the story than I realized. I just stumbled across a story on the New York Times about this very topic.
"The reasons behind the matzo shortage range from manufacturing problems, decisions by some stores not to carry the product this Passover and vague talk of a possible work stoppage.
“It seemed like the whole region had a problem getting it in,” said Jason Hodges, a supervisor in the grocery department at a Whole Foods in Miami. A person who answered the phone at a ShopRite in Philadelphia said stores there were sold out, as was the Food Emporium in Briarcliff Manor, N.Y., in Westchester County.
“We heard there was a strike or something,” said the Food Emporium manager, Frantz Baptiste. “The first shipment we had was a month ago, and we never got another one.”
Phone calls and e-mail messages to the largest suppliers of unleavened bread products, Streit’s, Manischewitz and Yehuda, brought no response on Monday, possibly because executives were off for Passover, which began Saturday night.
But Manischewitz officials have said that problems with a new state-of-the-art oven in its only New Jersey plant caused it to scrap this Passover’s supply of Tam Tam crackers, its little six-sided matzo morsels, as well as some less popular matzo varieties.
Trader Joe’s stores opted not to sell Passover matzo this year, as did some Costco stores. “It’s not a huge item for us,” said a Costco spokesman, Bob Nelson."
Passover- The High Cholesterol Holiday
When I asked people to share their favorite Pesach memories I forgot to include one of my own. One of the things that I like best about Pesach is the food. There are some dishes that only come out once a year. One of my favorite is my mother's Apple Matzah Kugel.
However as much as I like it, there is only so much kugel that I can stand. I love fried matzah (matzah brei) and I love brisket, but there is a limit to these too.
As a not quite recovering carbaholic it is tough to go all week without it. Ok, it really isn't that hard to do. The hard part is being told that I can't have it. Take a memo, if you don't want me to do something you should never tell me that I cannot. Call it childish, call it obnoxious, call it whatever you want, but the fastest way to encourage me to do something is to say that I cannot do it.
It just makes me see red, but I digress. Back to the matter at hand, food.
Passover recipes are chock full of items that are sure to send your cholesterol soaring. In the old days I used to eat enormous amounts of eggs. I am sure that my picture was on the wall at the chicken post office as public enemy number one.
Now in a more enlightened time I head off to Costco and grab a case of Egg Beaters and it is off to the races. On a side note one of the nicer things about using Egg Beaters is that it reduces the amount of collateral damage caused by young children handling eggs because in my house they love to crack those eggs.
Really, it is no yolk. Give those wacky children of mine some eggs to crack and they're happy as a clam. Not that I'd feed them clams. No clams, crabs, mussels or the like in this house and that is not for shellfish reasons.
Oy, the puns aren't very funny so I'll have to wrap this up. But before I do allow me to say that I do have one other Passover food that I enjoy. Gefilte fish. The mighty Gefilte, king of all the fish is a fine treat during this lovely holiday.
One of these days I'll have to share the tale of what happened during my last fishing trip. I was strapped into the fighting chair for a solid six hours. The battle that took place between me and the mighty Gefilte was epic, the stuff of legends. Stay tuned and I just might share the tale with you. Note, that I said tale and not tail. I don't like sharing tail, but since this is a family blog we'll just end this post right here.
However as much as I like it, there is only so much kugel that I can stand. I love fried matzah (matzah brei) and I love brisket, but there is a limit to these too.
As a not quite recovering carbaholic it is tough to go all week without it. Ok, it really isn't that hard to do. The hard part is being told that I can't have it. Take a memo, if you don't want me to do something you should never tell me that I cannot. Call it childish, call it obnoxious, call it whatever you want, but the fastest way to encourage me to do something is to say that I cannot do it.
It just makes me see red, but I digress. Back to the matter at hand, food.
Passover recipes are chock full of items that are sure to send your cholesterol soaring. In the old days I used to eat enormous amounts of eggs. I am sure that my picture was on the wall at the chicken post office as public enemy number one.
Now in a more enlightened time I head off to Costco and grab a case of Egg Beaters and it is off to the races. On a side note one of the nicer things about using Egg Beaters is that it reduces the amount of collateral damage caused by young children handling eggs because in my house they love to crack those eggs.
Really, it is no yolk. Give those wacky children of mine some eggs to crack and they're happy as a clam. Not that I'd feed them clams. No clams, crabs, mussels or the like in this house and that is not for shellfish reasons.
Oy, the puns aren't very funny so I'll have to wrap this up. But before I do allow me to say that I do have one other Passover food that I enjoy. Gefilte fish. The mighty Gefilte, king of all the fish is a fine treat during this lovely holiday.
One of these days I'll have to share the tale of what happened during my last fishing trip. I was strapped into the fighting chair for a solid six hours. The battle that took place between me and the mighty Gefilte was epic, the stuff of legends. Stay tuned and I just might share the tale with you. Note, that I said tale and not tail. I don't like sharing tail, but since this is a family blog we'll just end this post right here.
Pesach Preparations Have Been Completed
With the exception of heating the food all of the preparation is complete. Now all that is left is leisure time. Hah! I hear some of you cursing me now. That is not nice.
Ok, did I mention I was only kidding. ;)
Ok, did I mention I was only kidding. ;)
Shopping for Pesach- Bring Big $$$$
I don't mind having the family seder at my house. In fact I very much enjoy it, but what irks me to no end are the inflated costs of purchasing Kosher for Pesach foods.
The truth is that we don't really buy all that much in the way of the premade mixes and what have you. It is much more enjoyable to make our own stuff and far tastier. But we seem to have fallen into the trap of buying Pesach cereals.
The kids like them and I admit to enjoying a few of them myself, but the cost for such a small box is ridiculous.
One of these days I think that I am going to break down and try out one of the Pesach retreats.
The truth is that we don't really buy all that much in the way of the premade mixes and what have you. It is much more enjoyable to make our own stuff and far tastier. But we seem to have fallen into the trap of buying Pesach cereals.
The kids like them and I admit to enjoying a few of them myself, but the cost for such a small box is ridiculous.
One of these days I think that I am going to break down and try out one of the Pesach retreats.
Purim 2008
It is Purim 2008 and we just returned from shul. My head is pounding. It was loud. It was raucous. It was fun...until the kids melted down. We're talking nuclear meltdown. Unusually loud and exceptionally long. Ok, it really wasn't that long, but when you are tired time has a way of dragging its lazy butt around.
Purim is an exceptional holiday. It is one of my favorites which is why I always write something about it:
Purim
The "Purim Code"
Triage For a Goldfish- Resuscitating The Fish
Purim is one of My Favorite Holidays
The Boy Pummeled Me
As I look back at these posts I cannot be help but be struck by how many changes have taken place in my life. In a short period of time the world I knew changed...dramatically.
I can't really say that I am surprised by any of it. Life doesn't stop moving. You can't stop time. You can't go back. All you can do is move forward. But there is something very exciting about that. It is the tingle I get when I remember that life is what we make of it. Esther and Mordecai could have sat back and let things take their course. They could have watched, but they didn't.
If I look forward I see the opportunity to do more than grab the brass ring. I can get the silver man. It just takes a little patience and the ability to remember that the world is not black and white.
Life can be fulfilling or it can be incredibly dull and distasteful. It is what you make of it. Purim is another reminder of that.
Enough of the Tony Robbins material. I don't know about you, but I got suckered into taking the the kids to two Purim carnivals last weekend. They of course won more goldfish. And as expected the damn fish died today.
What a lovely prize. Not quite as good as the ceramic dogs they used to give away on Wheel of Fortune, but close.
Hope that you all had a great Purim.
Purim is an exceptional holiday. It is one of my favorites which is why I always write something about it:
Purim
The "Purim Code"
Triage For a Goldfish- Resuscitating The Fish
Purim is one of My Favorite Holidays
The Boy Pummeled Me
As I look back at these posts I cannot be help but be struck by how many changes have taken place in my life. In a short period of time the world I knew changed...dramatically.
I can't really say that I am surprised by any of it. Life doesn't stop moving. You can't stop time. You can't go back. All you can do is move forward. But there is something very exciting about that. It is the tingle I get when I remember that life is what we make of it. Esther and Mordecai could have sat back and let things take their course. They could have watched, but they didn't.
If I look forward I see the opportunity to do more than grab the brass ring. I can get the silver man. It just takes a little patience and the ability to remember that the world is not black and white.
Life can be fulfilling or it can be incredibly dull and distasteful. It is what you make of it. Purim is another reminder of that.
Enough of the Tony Robbins material. I don't know about you, but I got suckered into taking the the kids to two Purim carnivals last weekend. They of course won more goldfish. And as expected the damn fish died today.
What a lovely prize. Not quite as good as the ceramic dogs they used to give away on Wheel of Fortune, but close.
Hope that you all had a great Purim.
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