The following is an actual advertisement that I saw about 30 seconds ago in a local Chicago paper. I was simply looking for part-time job opportunities, along the tutoring or waitressing lines.
Sorry to the guy who wrote this, but it's just too funny not to share:
Here's the deal: I don't want to date you, have sex with you or even kiss or hug you.
I want you to hang out with me at bars and talk me up to other girls so I break the ice with them. Whenever I'm out with females, random girls feel so much more comfortable in talking to me.
The only requirements are that you are attractive and personable. Age doesn't even matter, so long as you're over 21. I'm 27, 5'9, 135 lb; but even having an attractive confident 40 yr old talking me up would be superb.
If you like, I'll give you my cellphone number and home address so you know my details; but I don't need to even know your last name. We'll arrange by email or cellphone to meet in a bar, and at the end of it I'll pay you $45/hr. In addition to this, if I meet a girl through you who I end up going on at least 5 dates with, I'll give you $1000.
If there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable in doing this, I'm all open to ideas. Obviously I'll pay for all drinks, tips, meals, concert tickets, etc.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I placed a very similar ad to the one above about a month ago. I got about 90 responses, interviewed about 30 of them, and eventually chose 6 to actually go out with. 3 of them I used only once, and am now down to 2 who I think are effective.
Both of my current winggirls have very hectic lifestyles, and I can only go out once a week between them. Although I haven’t found my soulmate, I’ve met lots of girls through going out with them. I’m therefore looking for 2-4 more winggirls, so that I can go out 2 or 3 times a week during the summer.
Anyone think I should apply? Bueller? Bueller?
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Cara's World Goes Gluten-Free
Those who have had the privalege of meeting my maternal unit probably know that she has a whole host of wacky food sensitivities: wheat, corn, soy, milk, oranges, and I think even egg whites. For years, it seemed as though this was solely her bizarre burden.
After returning from the Holy Land, however, it appears as though this may be my burden to share. Since coming back, I've been on what they like to call a "Detection Diet", which pretty much means I stop eating anything we think I may be sensitive to for 2+ weeks, and then reintegrate it into my diet and see what happens. So far, I don't seem to have much of a reaction to corn. So that leaves wheat products. I've not deliberately eaten gluten in over 2 weeks (okay, so I've had a little bit of challah. And maybe a sip or two of scotch. What can I say? I'm weak!).
Here's the sad part: I really do feel better. I have more energy. My brain seems to function better (though I'm sure plenty of my friends would argue this). My nose is less stuffy. So this seems to indicate that I'm either "Wheat Intolerant" or that I've joined the ranks of those with Celiac.
So, for the time being, my world is gluten-free. The good news? Bourbon is also gluten-free. We don't have to end our love affair anytime soon.
After returning from the Holy Land, however, it appears as though this may be my burden to share. Since coming back, I've been on what they like to call a "Detection Diet", which pretty much means I stop eating anything we think I may be sensitive to for 2+ weeks, and then reintegrate it into my diet and see what happens. So far, I don't seem to have much of a reaction to corn. So that leaves wheat products. I've not deliberately eaten gluten in over 2 weeks (okay, so I've had a little bit of challah. And maybe a sip or two of scotch. What can I say? I'm weak!).
Here's the sad part: I really do feel better. I have more energy. My brain seems to function better (though I'm sure plenty of my friends would argue this). My nose is less stuffy. So this seems to indicate that I'm either "Wheat Intolerant" or that I've joined the ranks of those with Celiac.
So, for the time being, my world is gluten-free. The good news? Bourbon is also gluten-free. We don't have to end our love affair anytime soon.
Monday, June 05, 2006
A Day In The Life
My random summer job is perhaps one of the most random that I have ever held. More random than a polisci major working for a genetics education outreach program. I work as the Jack-of-All-Trades for a new culinary consultant start-up. I'm supposedly the office manager, sometimes called the Administrative Assistant, but really I do whatever is needed. Expense reports? Done. Build shelves from Ikea that destroy my manicure? Done. Research the latest food trends involving pickles?
What?
Yes, that's right. Today I am researching that oft-overlooked, but oh-so-enjoyable food: the pickle. Who eats pickles? What are the nutritional benefits of pickles? Are there particular food trends- ethnic or otherwise- that involve pickles?
Just when I think my life has hit its limit for bizarre, I get asked to research pickles.
What?
Yes, that's right. Today I am researching that oft-overlooked, but oh-so-enjoyable food: the pickle. Who eats pickles? What are the nutritional benefits of pickles? Are there particular food trends- ethnic or otherwise- that involve pickles?
Just when I think my life has hit its limit for bizarre, I get asked to research pickles.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Coming Up For Air
There are so many posts that are just waiting to fly from my fingertips. They'll have to wait a little longer. I've been back for almost a full month, and can't bring myself to write those final posts from Israel that I wrote on the plane. I just don't want to close that chapter.
I miss Israel every day. And I wonder if I made the right choice in coming back. To be honest, I'm not sure that I did. There's a huge chunk of me that got left behind in Yerushalayim, and I'm still figuring out how to be the Israeli version of Cara while living in Chicago.
So, for all three of you out there that read this and are not my blood relations, sit tight. I'll be back.
I miss Israel every day. And I wonder if I made the right choice in coming back. To be honest, I'm not sure that I did. There's a huge chunk of me that got left behind in Yerushalayim, and I'm still figuring out how to be the Israeli version of Cara while living in Chicago.
So, for all three of you out there that read this and are not my blood relations, sit tight. I'll be back.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
In Honor of the Fallen
Today is my last day in Israel (for this trip, at least). Today is also Yom HaAtzmaut, Israel's Independence Day and 58th birthday. Yesterday was Yom HaZikaron, Remembrance Day for all of the fallen soldiers who have given their lives to protect our tiny little country. This is the first time I've ever been here for Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut, and I'm grateful that I was able to stay long enough to celebrate (commemorate) here.
Yom HaZikaron is unlike any kind of day of remembrance in America. I guess Memorial Day is the American equivalent, but there really is no comparison. Like on Yom HaShoah, there is a siren that is sounded for two minutes, during which the entire country stops, stands, and remains silent. For Yom HaShoah, I was at Yad LaKashish, in the Shikum, and stood with the elderly, most of whom lost loved ones in the Shoah. For Yom HaZikaron, in the evening, I stood with Miryam and Eli in their new apartment in Tel Aviv. In the morning, however, I experienced the full force of the siren. At 11:00, Miryam and I were crossing the bridge over Dizengoff when the siren sounded. The bustle and business of Tel Aviv stopped immediately. No matter where you looked, you only saw the still, silent forms of individuals standing in place, heads down, until the siren ended. It was compelling, to say the least.
We don't forget. Since the mid-19th century, over 22,000 Jews have given their lives to protect this little parcel of land that many are still trying to take away from us. We mourn for all of them, and we honor them. There are not enough words or even the appropriate words to honor them. They've given their lives to enable the rest of us to live ours. If not for them, we would have no country of our own. We would have no Tzahal (IDF). We would not be able to go to the Kotel. If not for them, I would not be sitting here right now, typing this post.
On the road from Tel Aviv to Yerushalayim, there are the rusty remains of cars that were used to try to get food and water to the Jews in Yerushalayim in the War of Independence, who were under siege in the city. Arab snipers sat in the hills and shot anyone who tried to approach. Many Jews, fully aware of the danger, continued to try to help the Jews of Yerushalayim and lost their lives in the attempt. The rusty remains are left there as a memorial to their bravery and loyalty. On Yom HaZikaron, those rusty cars are draped in Israeli flags and wreaths. Dozens of them. It is one of the most touching, inspiring sights I have seen here. The picture of those blue-and-white covered car skeletons is burned in my head.
No, we don't forget. I certainly will not. Though I don't know when I'll be able to come back home to Israel, I will not fail to remember and honor the ones who died to protect this country that I love so much. May Hashem protect and give rest to their neshamot, and may their memories be a blessing for us all.
And may Hashem protect the men and women of Tzahal who are still fighting to keep us safe. May no more of their blood be spilled, and may Israel celebrate it's next birthday in peace.
Yom HaZikaron is unlike any kind of day of remembrance in America. I guess Memorial Day is the American equivalent, but there really is no comparison. Like on Yom HaShoah, there is a siren that is sounded for two minutes, during which the entire country stops, stands, and remains silent. For Yom HaShoah, I was at Yad LaKashish, in the Shikum, and stood with the elderly, most of whom lost loved ones in the Shoah. For Yom HaZikaron, in the evening, I stood with Miryam and Eli in their new apartment in Tel Aviv. In the morning, however, I experienced the full force of the siren. At 11:00, Miryam and I were crossing the bridge over Dizengoff when the siren sounded. The bustle and business of Tel Aviv stopped immediately. No matter where you looked, you only saw the still, silent forms of individuals standing in place, heads down, until the siren ended. It was compelling, to say the least.
We don't forget. Since the mid-19th century, over 22,000 Jews have given their lives to protect this little parcel of land that many are still trying to take away from us. We mourn for all of them, and we honor them. There are not enough words or even the appropriate words to honor them. They've given their lives to enable the rest of us to live ours. If not for them, we would have no country of our own. We would have no Tzahal (IDF). We would not be able to go to the Kotel. If not for them, I would not be sitting here right now, typing this post.
On the road from Tel Aviv to Yerushalayim, there are the rusty remains of cars that were used to try to get food and water to the Jews in Yerushalayim in the War of Independence, who were under siege in the city. Arab snipers sat in the hills and shot anyone who tried to approach. Many Jews, fully aware of the danger, continued to try to help the Jews of Yerushalayim and lost their lives in the attempt. The rusty remains are left there as a memorial to their bravery and loyalty. On Yom HaZikaron, those rusty cars are draped in Israeli flags and wreaths. Dozens of them. It is one of the most touching, inspiring sights I have seen here. The picture of those blue-and-white covered car skeletons is burned in my head.
No, we don't forget. I certainly will not. Though I don't know when I'll be able to come back home to Israel, I will not fail to remember and honor the ones who died to protect this country that I love so much. May Hashem protect and give rest to their neshamot, and may their memories be a blessing for us all.
And may Hashem protect the men and women of Tzahal who are still fighting to keep us safe. May no more of their blood be spilled, and may Israel celebrate it's next birthday in peace.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
The Final Week
Can anyone tell me where I put the past eight months? They seem to have vanished without my being aware of it.
By this time next week, I'll have landed in Toronto and will be waiting to board my flight to Chicago, where my doting parental units will be awaiting me with happy faces, open arms, and (if they really love me) a cup of real coffee.
I'm not ready to leave Israel. I'm really, really happy here. I love being at Yad L'Kashish every morning. I love walking to work in the mornings. I love being able to say "I live in Yerushalayim". I love buying a kilo of strawberries for 4 shekels in the shuk. I love that almost every clothing store sells knee-length skirts and shirts with sleeves that still look cute and stylish.
Do I really have to leave? Why doesn't everyone else just make aliyah and move here, too?
So begins my final week. Tonight I go to Tel Aviv to celebrate Eli's birthday (yes, and mine, too) and to spend my final shabbat with Avi and his beautiful, talented girlfriend Lianna. I've finished up at Yad L'Kashish, but will stop by Monday morning with my camera to say my farewells and take a few pictures. The rest of my time will be spent packing, walking around Yerushalayim, and soaking up as much as I can before I go to the airport Wednesday evening.
By this time next week, I'll have landed in Toronto and will be waiting to board my flight to Chicago, where my doting parental units will be awaiting me with happy faces, open arms, and (if they really love me) a cup of real coffee.
I'm not ready to leave Israel. I'm really, really happy here. I love being at Yad L'Kashish every morning. I love walking to work in the mornings. I love being able to say "I live in Yerushalayim". I love buying a kilo of strawberries for 4 shekels in the shuk. I love that almost every clothing store sells knee-length skirts and shirts with sleeves that still look cute and stylish.
Do I really have to leave? Why doesn't everyone else just make aliyah and move here, too?
So begins my final week. Tonight I go to Tel Aviv to celebrate Eli's birthday (yes, and mine, too) and to spend my final shabbat with Avi and his beautiful, talented girlfriend Lianna. I've finished up at Yad L'Kashish, but will stop by Monday morning with my camera to say my farewells and take a few pictures. The rest of my time will be spent packing, walking around Yerushalayim, and soaking up as much as I can before I go to the airport Wednesday evening.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Chevron Meaz U'LeTamid
There were two places at the top of my Places I Must Visit Before I Leave list: Ein Gedi and Chevron. I've now been to both. I went on an organized tiyyul to Ein Gedi during the first week of April. It was beautiful, but my trip to Chevron outstrips its blogging importance.
I went to Chevron this past Sunday with my buddy Avi. I've always wanted to visit Maarat HaMachpela, the Cave of the Machpela, where Adam and Chava, Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivka, Yaakov and Leah are buried. I also learned (after I left, so I didn't get to see it) that Esav's head is also there. I don't know where the rest of him is. Chevron is undoubtedly the most publicized land purchase in the history of the written word. Open any copy of the Old Testament and there it is- a record of exactly how much Avraham Avinu paid in order to buy this cave and the land around it in order to bury his beloved wife.
Chevron is a highly controversial part of Israel. There are those who insist that we leave it for good, despite the fact that Jews have pretty much always lived there. In fact, for 700 years, Jews were forbidden to even enter Maarat HaMachpela. They were only permitted to go as high as the 7th step leading up to the entrance. Even that was too much leeway for them, according to their friendly Arab neighbors, who attacked them simply for standing where they were legally allowed to stand.
Chevron today is, in a word, depressing. The Jewish area is like a ghost town, with graffiti scrawled on metal shutters. Soldiers are everywhere. It's the only place in Israel that I've been to that feels and looks like a war zone. The atmosphere is one of death and destruction, focused on a bloody history of being oppressed by the surrounding Arabs. Yes, I said oppressed.
What else would you call it when, in 1929, the Grand Mufti gave a call for the Jews of Chevron to be slaughtered for the sole reason that they were Jews? 66 were killed and 67 were wounded in the massacre. The rest were forced to leave Chevron by the British Mandate. There's a tiny museum in Chevron devoted to the 1929 massacre. There are pictures of some of the survivors: a 7-year-old girl with her skull bashed in, a young man whose hand had been chopped off with an axe, a toddler who was the sole survivor of his family. And who were these Jews who lived in Chevron back then? They were yeshiva students and their families. Scholars. Rabbis. Dedicated Jews who wished to live close to their ancestors.
There are also pictures of how the Arabs treated the Jewish area after the Jews were kicked out. They put cows in synagogues. They burned books and Torahs. They destroyed anything and everything that held value to the Jews who had lived there. It wasn't enough to slaughter us. It wasn't enough to kick us out. They also had figuratively and literally shit on anything that had been ours.
The Jews who have returned to Chevron still live in danger. Perhaps you remember reading about Shalhevet Techiya Pass back in 2001. She was the 10-month-old infant who was murdered when an Arab sniper took careful aim and shot her in the head. What crime had she committed? Breathing? Did she cry too loudly at night? Or was her only crime being born Jewish? There's a memorial to her in Chevron. I wish every idiot out there who claims that the Jews are oppressing the Palestinians would go stand before that wall. Oppression is not being able to take your baby for a walk in her stroller without having to worry that she'll be killed by a sniper. Oppression is being mutilated with an axe for learning in a yeshiva. Oppression is being raped simply because you're a Jewish female. The army had to maintain such a high presence in Chevron in order to make sure that the Jews who live there aren't treated the way that the previous generation had been treated.
I've always believed that Chevron must remain a part of the State of Israel. After being in Chevron, that conviction is even stronger. If Israel "disengages" from Chevron, I'm willing to bet that soon cows will once again be shitting in synagogues, that Torahs will be burned and destroyed, and that any Jews who wishes to be close to Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Sarah, Rivka or Leah will find themselves staring at the shiny edge of an axe. Or maybe they don't use axes anymore. Maybe sniper bullets are the new "in".
I went to Chevron this past Sunday with my buddy Avi. I've always wanted to visit Maarat HaMachpela, the Cave of the Machpela, where Adam and Chava, Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivka, Yaakov and Leah are buried. I also learned (after I left, so I didn't get to see it) that Esav's head is also there. I don't know where the rest of him is. Chevron is undoubtedly the most publicized land purchase in the history of the written word. Open any copy of the Old Testament and there it is- a record of exactly how much Avraham Avinu paid in order to buy this cave and the land around it in order to bury his beloved wife.
Chevron is a highly controversial part of Israel. There are those who insist that we leave it for good, despite the fact that Jews have pretty much always lived there. In fact, for 700 years, Jews were forbidden to even enter Maarat HaMachpela. They were only permitted to go as high as the 7th step leading up to the entrance. Even that was too much leeway for them, according to their friendly Arab neighbors, who attacked them simply for standing where they were legally allowed to stand.
Chevron today is, in a word, depressing. The Jewish area is like a ghost town, with graffiti scrawled on metal shutters. Soldiers are everywhere. It's the only place in Israel that I've been to that feels and looks like a war zone. The atmosphere is one of death and destruction, focused on a bloody history of being oppressed by the surrounding Arabs. Yes, I said oppressed.
What else would you call it when, in 1929, the Grand Mufti gave a call for the Jews of Chevron to be slaughtered for the sole reason that they were Jews? 66 were killed and 67 were wounded in the massacre. The rest were forced to leave Chevron by the British Mandate. There's a tiny museum in Chevron devoted to the 1929 massacre. There are pictures of some of the survivors: a 7-year-old girl with her skull bashed in, a young man whose hand had been chopped off with an axe, a toddler who was the sole survivor of his family. And who were these Jews who lived in Chevron back then? They were yeshiva students and their families. Scholars. Rabbis. Dedicated Jews who wished to live close to their ancestors.
There are also pictures of how the Arabs treated the Jewish area after the Jews were kicked out. They put cows in synagogues. They burned books and Torahs. They destroyed anything and everything that held value to the Jews who had lived there. It wasn't enough to slaughter us. It wasn't enough to kick us out. They also had figuratively and literally shit on anything that had been ours.
The Jews who have returned to Chevron still live in danger. Perhaps you remember reading about Shalhevet Techiya Pass back in 2001. She was the 10-month-old infant who was murdered when an Arab sniper took careful aim and shot her in the head. What crime had she committed? Breathing? Did she cry too loudly at night? Or was her only crime being born Jewish? There's a memorial to her in Chevron. I wish every idiot out there who claims that the Jews are oppressing the Palestinians would go stand before that wall. Oppression is not being able to take your baby for a walk in her stroller without having to worry that she'll be killed by a sniper. Oppression is being mutilated with an axe for learning in a yeshiva. Oppression is being raped simply because you're a Jewish female. The army had to maintain such a high presence in Chevron in order to make sure that the Jews who live there aren't treated the way that the previous generation had been treated.
I've always believed that Chevron must remain a part of the State of Israel. After being in Chevron, that conviction is even stronger. If Israel "disengages" from Chevron, I'm willing to bet that soon cows will once again be shitting in synagogues, that Torahs will be burned and destroyed, and that any Jews who wishes to be close to Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Sarah, Rivka or Leah will find themselves staring at the shiny edge of an axe. Or maybe they don't use axes anymore. Maybe sniper bullets are the new "in".
Thursday, April 20, 2006
A Word From Our Sponsors
Dear readers,
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While Cara's World and it's affiliates are always willing to engage in intelligent, rational dialogue about Jews, Judaism and Israel, this blog does not tolerate deliberately antagonostic comments, particularly ones that have no actual relevance to the post under discussion.
If you wish to make anti-Semitic or anti-Israel comments, you are kindly asked to take them elsewhere. They will be deleted from this blog every time.
Thank you,
The Management
This blog is written by a friendly Jewish girl who loves her people and her homeland. This is a blog about her life and her perspective on said life.
While Cara's World and it's affiliates are always willing to engage in intelligent, rational dialogue about Jews, Judaism and Israel, this blog does not tolerate deliberately antagonostic comments, particularly ones that have no actual relevance to the post under discussion.
If you wish to make anti-Semitic or anti-Israel comments, you are kindly asked to take them elsewhere. They will be deleted from this blog every time.
Thank you,
The Management
Post-Pesach Thoughts
I can't believe that Pesach is already over. It really just sped by. I felt almost guilty eating bread today, as though my brain hadn't yet caught up with the idea that Pesach was over and that I wasn't doing something naughty.
Last year, at seder in Chicago, saying 'L'Shana Haba B'Yerushalayim" gave me a special thrill, because I already knew at that point that I was going to be spending Pesach the next year in Israel, and most likely in Yerushalayim. This year, I was here, in Israel (ok, Bet Shemesh instead of Uerushalayim, but it's close), and my thoughts were completely different.
Last year, I was focused on the idea of physically being in Israel. I, Cara, was going to be in the Holy Land next year. How cool is that? How exciting, how amazing, how thrilling...and so on and so forth. That special thrill that I felt was completely and 100% selfish. It was solely about me being in Israel the following year.
This year, on the other hand, it finally dawned on me why we say this one line on Pesach and at the end of the Yomim Noraim. Yes, I should have realized this long ago, but even I can be dense sometimes.
It's not about physically being here, as wonderful as it is. We're not asking that every Jew comes to spend Pesach here, in the kosher hotels in a 2 week vacation. We're not even asking that every Jew pick up and move to Israel. We're asking for Moshiach (whatever that word might mean to you). We're asking that next year finally be the time when we, as a nation, are where we're supposed to be, on the spiritual level. Maybe that's why we say it out loud, usually in unison. It's not about me. It's not about any one of us. It's about all of us, truly being free in the land promised to us.
L'Shana Haba B'Yerushalayim! Next Year in Jerusalem!
Last year, at seder in Chicago, saying 'L'Shana Haba B'Yerushalayim" gave me a special thrill, because I already knew at that point that I was going to be spending Pesach the next year in Israel, and most likely in Yerushalayim. This year, I was here, in Israel (ok, Bet Shemesh instead of Uerushalayim, but it's close), and my thoughts were completely different.
Last year, I was focused on the idea of physically being in Israel. I, Cara, was going to be in the Holy Land next year. How cool is that? How exciting, how amazing, how thrilling...and so on and so forth. That special thrill that I felt was completely and 100% selfish. It was solely about me being in Israel the following year.
This year, on the other hand, it finally dawned on me why we say this one line on Pesach and at the end of the Yomim Noraim. Yes, I should have realized this long ago, but even I can be dense sometimes.
It's not about physically being here, as wonderful as it is. We're not asking that every Jew comes to spend Pesach here, in the kosher hotels in a 2 week vacation. We're not even asking that every Jew pick up and move to Israel. We're asking for Moshiach (whatever that word might mean to you). We're asking that next year finally be the time when we, as a nation, are where we're supposed to be, on the spiritual level. Maybe that's why we say it out loud, usually in unison. It's not about me. It's not about any one of us. It's about all of us, truly being free in the land promised to us.
L'Shana Haba B'Yerushalayim! Next Year in Jerusalem!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Travel Plans
The last couple of weeks have felt like a flurry of travel planning.
* I booked my return to the States for May 4th. I'm not happy about the idea of leaving Israel, though I am, of course, looking forward to seeing my family and friends.
* I booked a trip to Pittsburgh for May 7th-9th for the unveiling of Liz's headstone. Tonight I lit a yahrzeit candle for her. I'm having a very difficult time coming to terms with the fact that it's now been a whole year. So difficult that I don't even know if I can blog about it just yet.
* I need to book a trip to NYC for the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, for Moose's wedding. This is turning oout to be surprisingly complicated, as my best friend in NY will actually be living in DC for the summer and therefore will not have a place for me to stay. I also have to book a hotel room for the night of the wedding, and will probably have to get my own room, since I have no idea who else will be going. I don't want to go to NY for shabbat, because airline tickets cost much less if I fly Sunday-Wednesday instead of Thursday/Friday-Sunday.
So help me think: Who do I know in NYC that wouldn't mind letting me crash at their place Monday night and possibly Tuesday night? I know that I know tons of people in NY, especially WashU people, so why can't I think of who they are night now?
And those of you going to Moose's wedding, would you mind shooting me an email and telling me what hotel you're staying at on Sunday night?
* I booked my return to the States for May 4th. I'm not happy about the idea of leaving Israel, though I am, of course, looking forward to seeing my family and friends.
* I booked a trip to Pittsburgh for May 7th-9th for the unveiling of Liz's headstone. Tonight I lit a yahrzeit candle for her. I'm having a very difficult time coming to terms with the fact that it's now been a whole year. So difficult that I don't even know if I can blog about it just yet.
* I need to book a trip to NYC for the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, for Moose's wedding. This is turning oout to be surprisingly complicated, as my best friend in NY will actually be living in DC for the summer and therefore will not have a place for me to stay. I also have to book a hotel room for the night of the wedding, and will probably have to get my own room, since I have no idea who else will be going. I don't want to go to NY for shabbat, because airline tickets cost much less if I fly Sunday-Wednesday instead of Thursday/Friday-Sunday.
So help me think: Who do I know in NYC that wouldn't mind letting me crash at their place Monday night and possibly Tuesday night? I know that I know tons of people in NY, especially WashU people, so why can't I think of who they are night now?
And those of you going to Moose's wedding, would you mind shooting me an email and telling me what hotel you're staying at on Sunday night?
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Super Happy Happy! Joy Joy!
While there is much going on here in my world, my blogging time ghas been somewhat limited. Updates will be coming soon. But first, an important (albeit slightly belated) announcement:
Mazel tov to the world's greatest, most splendiferous Big Brother on his engagement to the world's greatest, most splendiferous future Big Sister (hereby dubbed "Big Sister")!
I can honestly say that I could not possibly be happier or more excited. I must also add that Big Brother pulled off what may have been the slickest proposal in the history of proposals. He also had the good sense to propose to a girl with a great wardrobe who happens to be the same clothing and shoe size as me. Her great taste also reassures me that I do not need to worry about the bridesmaid's dress that I'll be wearing.
Mazel tov to the world's greatest, most splendiferous Big Brother on his engagement to the world's greatest, most splendiferous future Big Sister (hereby dubbed "Big Sister")!
I can honestly say that I could not possibly be happier or more excited. I must also add that Big Brother pulled off what may have been the slickest proposal in the history of proposals. He also had the good sense to propose to a girl with a great wardrobe who happens to be the same clothing and shoe size as me. Her great taste also reassures me that I do not need to worry about the bridesmaid's dress that I'll be wearing.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
The Cruelty of the Calendar
Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh Nissan, the month of Pesach. For my entire life, it has also meant birthday. Both Big Brother and I were born in April, so Pesach and Nissan were inextricably linked with birthday presents and pesadik birthday cake (usually sponge cake with strawberries). Pesach has always been my favorite chag.
Last year changed all of that. My darling Liz died last Pesach. And no matter which calendar I use, the anniversary of my birth and her death are only days apart. She died the 17th of Nissan, and I was born on the 20th. My secular birthdate is April 24th, and she died on the 26th. It's something that I just can't escape.
The closer those dates come, the more aware I am just how raw my grief still is. I can't think of her without my throat closing up and burning with tears that I often have to keep inside. A month ago, I dreamt of her and woke up crying, feeling like someone had rammed their fist directly into my heart.
I hate my birthday now. I don't know how to celebrate being another year older when it also means that another year has passed since I lost someone I loved so much. How can I go out and pretend to be happy about the fact that I was given another year in this world and that someone so much more deserving than me was taken out of it? The thought of celebrating literally makes me nauseous. On the other hand, how can I not celebrate my life, when the alternative has been so starkly laid before me? Of course I am grateful to Hashem that I'm still here. But I'm also still resentful and bewildered because Liz is not.
So I've made a very simple, easy decision. For those of you in the habit of getting me birthday presents- Don't. I don't want them. Unless you can find the cure to cancer and also own a working time machine, there's no birthday wish that you can fulfill. Instead, take whatever you would have spent on me, whether it would have been dinner or drinks or books or DVDs or a pony, and donate it to Liz's memorial fund. Send it to Washington University, Elizabeth S. Schmerling Endowed Scholarship Fund, Campus Box 1082, One Brookings Drive, St. Louis, MO 63130.
I don't need to know that people remember my birthday and are thinking of me even a miniscule fraction of how much I need to know that they remember and are thinking about Liz.
Last year changed all of that. My darling Liz died last Pesach. And no matter which calendar I use, the anniversary of my birth and her death are only days apart. She died the 17th of Nissan, and I was born on the 20th. My secular birthdate is April 24th, and she died on the 26th. It's something that I just can't escape.
The closer those dates come, the more aware I am just how raw my grief still is. I can't think of her without my throat closing up and burning with tears that I often have to keep inside. A month ago, I dreamt of her and woke up crying, feeling like someone had rammed their fist directly into my heart.
I hate my birthday now. I don't know how to celebrate being another year older when it also means that another year has passed since I lost someone I loved so much. How can I go out and pretend to be happy about the fact that I was given another year in this world and that someone so much more deserving than me was taken out of it? The thought of celebrating literally makes me nauseous. On the other hand, how can I not celebrate my life, when the alternative has been so starkly laid before me? Of course I am grateful to Hashem that I'm still here. But I'm also still resentful and bewildered because Liz is not.
So I've made a very simple, easy decision. For those of you in the habit of getting me birthday presents- Don't. I don't want them. Unless you can find the cure to cancer and also own a working time machine, there's no birthday wish that you can fulfill. Instead, take whatever you would have spent on me, whether it would have been dinner or drinks or books or DVDs or a pony, and donate it to Liz's memorial fund. Send it to Washington University, Elizabeth S. Schmerling Endowed Scholarship Fund, Campus Box 1082, One Brookings Drive, St. Louis, MO 63130.
I don't need to know that people remember my birthday and are thinking of me even a miniscule fraction of how much I need to know that they remember and are thinking about Liz.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Ein Od Makom
It's Friday evening at the Kotel. The sky is clear, and there's a little bit of a bite to the air. It's enough after shkiya that you can hear some of the men davening maariv, but still early enough that others are singing and dancing during kabbalat shabbat. The Kotel is completely packed, on both the men's side and the women's.
I'm standing right behind the women's section, waiting to meet my dinner hosts. I've already davened, but I stand and quietly hum along with the large group of girls singing Lecha Dodi. I'm really just watching the other women daven, something I don't often have a chance to do.
In the middle of the women's section, a small group of five girls begins to sing and dance. A few more girls join in. Then a few more. I also join in. Now there are two circles, one inside the other. Soon there are three circles.
Someone reaches out to take my hand. It's a soldier, her gun strapped to her back. She smiles at me. I smile back.
Some girls are wearing blue jeans and sweatshirts. Some are dressed like me. Some are solders in uniforms. Some are married women in snoods or sheitels. Some are young. Some are young at heart. All are singing and all are dancing, holding hands.
Ein od makom...
I'm standing right behind the women's section, waiting to meet my dinner hosts. I've already davened, but I stand and quietly hum along with the large group of girls singing Lecha Dodi. I'm really just watching the other women daven, something I don't often have a chance to do.
In the middle of the women's section, a small group of five girls begins to sing and dance. A few more girls join in. Then a few more. I also join in. Now there are two circles, one inside the other. Soon there are three circles.
Someone reaches out to take my hand. It's a soldier, her gun strapped to her back. She smiles at me. I smile back.
Some girls are wearing blue jeans and sweatshirts. Some are dressed like me. Some are solders in uniforms. Some are married women in snoods or sheitels. Some are young. Some are young at heart. All are singing and all are dancing, holding hands.
Ein od makom...
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Week In Review
* I moved out of the Happiness Hotel. Yay!!!
* I was accepted to UW-Seattle. Not going to go there, but it's still worth a Yay!!
* I met new people. I may even see some of them again. Yay!!
* I spent shabbos in my own apartment for the first time in my life. Yay!!
* I've been moved back up to the Arigah (embroidery) workshop for at least two days a week. Yay!!
Life is good.
There're only two thoughts that get me down:
1) I can't vote here. I'm only a psuedo-Israeli, and nothing hammers that point home like the upcoming elections.
2) It's almost April. I don't like April because a)it means that it's almost May and that my time here is over and, b) it means that Liz's first yahrzeit is almost here and I'm not ready to deal with that yet.
* I was accepted to UW-Seattle. Not going to go there, but it's still worth a Yay!!
* I met new people. I may even see some of them again. Yay!!
* I spent shabbos in my own apartment for the first time in my life. Yay!!
* I've been moved back up to the Arigah (embroidery) workshop for at least two days a week. Yay!!
Life is good.
There're only two thoughts that get me down:
1) I can't vote here. I'm only a psuedo-Israeli, and nothing hammers that point home like the upcoming elections.
2) It's almost April. I don't like April because a)it means that it's almost May and that my time here is over and, b) it means that Liz's first yahrzeit is almost here and I'm not ready to deal with that yet.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Should I Be Worried?
The move is over, and I have taken everything I own out of the Happiness Hotel...including my balsamic vinegar. Back when I'd first moved in, we'd all agreed to share common, household staples (sugar, milk, coffee, paper towels, etc) but anything else we bought would be for our consumption alone. So I was more than a little taken aback when I would see Frenchie reach into the cabinet and pull out my balsamic vinegar. Especially when she once scolded me for taking some popcorn that her boyfriend told me I could have.
But, those days are behind me. The vinegar, my other edible items, and all of the kitchen items that no one paid me back for are now out. And so am I.
So, last night, I bought new groceries and put them into our brand-new refridgerator. Among those groceries was a celebrational 'First Meal In My Apartment" beer. I put it in the fridge to chill, and made myself that first meal.
When everything was just about done, I opened the fridge door and BAM! The celebrational beer fell out and shattered on the floor. So instead of drinking it, I got to mop it up instead. Now I'm wondering if maybe that was a bad omen. Or maybe the beer gods are just upset that I bought Goldstar instead of something imported.
I have a replacement beer. This one will have to be a celebrational 'The Bottle Didn't Break' beer.
But, those days are behind me. The vinegar, my other edible items, and all of the kitchen items that no one paid me back for are now out. And so am I.
So, last night, I bought new groceries and put them into our brand-new refridgerator. Among those groceries was a celebrational 'First Meal In My Apartment" beer. I put it in the fridge to chill, and made myself that first meal.
When everything was just about done, I opened the fridge door and BAM! The celebrational beer fell out and shattered on the floor. So instead of drinking it, I got to mop it up instead. Now I'm wondering if maybe that was a bad omen. Or maybe the beer gods are just upset that I bought Goldstar instead of something imported.
I have a replacement beer. This one will have to be a celebrational 'The Bottle Didn't Break' beer.
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