My college friends are pretty much scattered around the country. Some cities, like St Louis, New York and DC, have a higher concentration of people I’m fond of than others, but very few are here with me in Chicago. I also, like many other Jews, have friends in Israel. This means that there are many people out there with whom I try to “keep in touch”. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking a great deal about long distance friendships.
How do you know if you’re growing apart, or if the other person just isn’t a great correspondent? If you were once good friends, does that mean you will always be good friends, even if you never really know what’s going on with the other person? What if communication used to be fairly consistent, but has lately died off? Is this just a temporary lull, caused by random events and unexpected busyness, which will vanish as soon as the sources of busyness vanish? Or is it a sign that something is wrong?
I suppose the easiest things to do are to pick up the phone, or send an email, and make sure that everything is still fine between you. If the other person isn’t the greatest correspondent, however, this doesn’t fix anything. You can send an email or leave a message, and not get a response for several days, if at all. In the meantime, you’re just anxious that something really is wrong. You don’t want to stalk your own friend, or start going psycho. You certainly don’t want to send a juvenile “Are you mad at me?” message. If you’re me, at a certain point you tell yourself, “Well, if any of my friends want to talk to me, they know where and how to find me,” and you tell yourself that you won’t pick up the phone or send an email. Because if you’re always the person to call or write, there isn’t much balance in the friendship to begin with. But, if you’re me, you miss your far away friends, and want to talk with them. Then you have the disturbing thought that your far away friends haven’t even realized that you haven’t called or written in a while. Do they notice? Do they care? If yes, then why haven’t they contacted me? If no, why the hell not?
How do you know if your far away friends are still thinking of you fondly…or if they’re still thinking of you at all?
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
Happy Happy! Joy Joy! #17
Mazel tov to Joe, Gila and Adin on the birth of their new son and baby brother!
The baby is 8 lbs 14 oz and 20.5 inches of perfection, with a head of frizzy dark blond hair. He's the sweetest, cutetst baby in the world. And yes, I am incredibly biased.
UPDATE: The bris will be next Sunday, 1pm, at KINS.
The baby is 8 lbs 14 oz and 20.5 inches of perfection, with a head of frizzy dark blond hair. He's the sweetest, cutetst baby in the world. And yes, I am incredibly biased.
UPDATE: The bris will be next Sunday, 1pm, at KINS.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Sketchy Guy Award
Tonight was the celebration of Big Brother's 27th birthday. Since I adore my Big Brother, I joined him, his lovely girlfriend, and a rather large group of his friends at a nearby bar. At one point in the evening, when I was conversing with Big Brother's Girlfriend (BBG), an unknown drunken male approached us, and began talking with BBG. After a brief moment, the following conversation took place (slightly cleaned up for family audiences):
Unknown Drunk: So, where are you from?"
BBG: I'm from here...and I'm here with my boyfriend.
(BBG soon walks off to talk to one of Big Brother's college buddies. Unknown Drunk continues to ogle.)
Unknown Drunk: Man, she's got a great tuchas.
Blog: Yes, and she's dating my brother.
Unknown Drunk: Well, your brother's girlfriend has a great tuchas.
At this point, despite having already made his sketchiness clear to the unaided eye, Unknown Drunk continues to ogle my brother's girlfriend, right in front of me. He finally seems to realize that he is being quite rude to me, and asks me my name, despite having asked only moments before. I suppose I should be insulted that he obviously didn't consider me cute enough to flirt with, but my world has met its Player quota for the foreseeable future.
Still, for his rather blatant efforts, Cara's World bestows upon him the Sketchy Guy of the Weekend Award. He definately earned it.
Unknown Drunk: So, where are you from?"
BBG: I'm from here...and I'm here with my boyfriend.
(BBG soon walks off to talk to one of Big Brother's college buddies. Unknown Drunk continues to ogle.)
Unknown Drunk: Man, she's got a great tuchas.
Blog: Yes, and she's dating my brother.
Unknown Drunk: Well, your brother's girlfriend has a great tuchas.
At this point, despite having already made his sketchiness clear to the unaided eye, Unknown Drunk continues to ogle my brother's girlfriend, right in front of me. He finally seems to realize that he is being quite rude to me, and asks me my name, despite having asked only moments before. I suppose I should be insulted that he obviously didn't consider me cute enough to flirt with, but my world has met its Player quota for the foreseeable future.
Still, for his rather blatant efforts, Cara's World bestows upon him the Sketchy Guy of the Weekend Award. He definately earned it.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Coping...Or Trying To
"How are you doing?"
This is the question most asked during my day. While I greatly appreciate my friends and family calling and offering love and support, I don’t know how to answer this question. Or, rather, I don’t know how to answer it in a way that they want to hear. I’m not going to pretend that I’m fine. I’m not fine. I’m struggling to come to terms with all of this, and not doing a very good job. Yet, I don’t know if anyone really wants to hear the honest answer. So I’ll blog it.
How am I doing? Sometimes I can focus on work and other things going on in my life and in the lives around me. I can enjoy the beginning of baseball and appreciate the budding of the trees. But then there are moments when my throat burns with tears that I’m trying not to cry. There are times when I cry so hard that I can’t breathe. Time, like now, when I close my office door, put my head in my hands, and weep until my whole body aches. I cry because I can send letters every day, but won’t get a letter in response. I can hear her parents’ voices on the phone, but chances are I will never heard her voice again. So I cry until I can’t cry anymore. For the time being.
Other times, I am angry. Usually this is when I lie in bed at night, or when I’m riding on the bus, and I am lost in my own little world. I don’t want to wake or worry my parents, and I don’t want to seem crazy on the bus, so I remain silent. But inside I am screaming and yelling and tearing at my hair. And the only word that runs through my mind is, “Why?” Why, why, why, why, why, why? I don’t understand why this is happening, and why it is happening to Liz, my beautiful, wonderful Liz. I don’t understand why life is being snatched away from someone so good, while drug dealers, wife beaters and murderers roam the earth. I don’t understand why a mass murderer like Yassir Arafat, y”s, lived to old age and, barring a miracle, Liz will not. I don’t understand why I should merit such good health and a bright future, and Liz does not. I don’t understand and I can’t understand. Since I can’t scream out loud, I cry and scream on the inside, where only I can hear it.
I hate this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And I’m powerless to stop it, and I hate that, too.
So how am I doing? Not so well. But I’m working on it.
This is the question most asked during my day. While I greatly appreciate my friends and family calling and offering love and support, I don’t know how to answer this question. Or, rather, I don’t know how to answer it in a way that they want to hear. I’m not going to pretend that I’m fine. I’m not fine. I’m struggling to come to terms with all of this, and not doing a very good job. Yet, I don’t know if anyone really wants to hear the honest answer. So I’ll blog it.
How am I doing? Sometimes I can focus on work and other things going on in my life and in the lives around me. I can enjoy the beginning of baseball and appreciate the budding of the trees. But then there are moments when my throat burns with tears that I’m trying not to cry. There are times when I cry so hard that I can’t breathe. Time, like now, when I close my office door, put my head in my hands, and weep until my whole body aches. I cry because I can send letters every day, but won’t get a letter in response. I can hear her parents’ voices on the phone, but chances are I will never heard her voice again. So I cry until I can’t cry anymore. For the time being.
Other times, I am angry. Usually this is when I lie in bed at night, or when I’m riding on the bus, and I am lost in my own little world. I don’t want to wake or worry my parents, and I don’t want to seem crazy on the bus, so I remain silent. But inside I am screaming and yelling and tearing at my hair. And the only word that runs through my mind is, “Why?” Why, why, why, why, why, why? I don’t understand why this is happening, and why it is happening to Liz, my beautiful, wonderful Liz. I don’t understand why life is being snatched away from someone so good, while drug dealers, wife beaters and murderers roam the earth. I don’t understand why a mass murderer like Yassir Arafat, y”s, lived to old age and, barring a miracle, Liz will not. I don’t understand why I should merit such good health and a bright future, and Liz does not. I don’t understand and I can’t understand. Since I can’t scream out loud, I cry and scream on the inside, where only I can hear it.
I hate this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And I’m powerless to stop it, and I hate that, too.
So how am I doing? Not so well. But I’m working on it.
A River in Egypt
For the past three nights, I’ve been making phone calls and sending emails to anyone I can think of who would want to know about Liz’s condition. Or talking with friends who already know about who else should know and how to track them down. Every time I hang up the phone or hit the ‘Send’ button, the same thought goes through my head:
“Did that conversation with her father really take place? What if I dreamt it…and now I’m going around calling or writing to people and telling them this horrible, sad story that isn’t true? I’m telling people that there isn’t much time, but Liz is going to get better and live a long life, and everyone will be mad at me for scaring them.”
Being a relatively logical creature, I see this for what it is. I don’t want to believe that this is real, that this is actually happening. So part of my brain, which cannot accept this, is telling me that it isn’t true. How can it be true? 23-year-olds do not get incurable brain tumors. My friends do not get incurable brain tumors. It doesn’t make sense. It’s preposterous. Obviously, I dreamt it.
If only.
“Did that conversation with her father really take place? What if I dreamt it…and now I’m going around calling or writing to people and telling them this horrible, sad story that isn’t true? I’m telling people that there isn’t much time, but Liz is going to get better and live a long life, and everyone will be mad at me for scaring them.”
Being a relatively logical creature, I see this for what it is. I don’t want to believe that this is real, that this is actually happening. So part of my brain, which cannot accept this, is telling me that it isn’t true. How can it be true? 23-year-olds do not get incurable brain tumors. My friends do not get incurable brain tumors. It doesn’t make sense. It’s preposterous. Obviously, I dreamt it.
If only.
Monday, April 04, 2005
The Journey Begins
16-6.
The opening day of the 2005 World Champion Chicago Cubs. Let the skeptics laugh now. I'm the one who will be laughing in October.
The opening day of the 2005 World Champion Chicago Cubs. Let the skeptics laugh now. I'm the one who will be laughing in October.
Liz and Me
I've mentioned Liz several times by now. At the moment, she is all that I really think about. So I decided to write down just a little bit of what I've been thinking.
I don’t remember meeting Liz. I know that it was sometime during my first year of college, but I don’t know if it was first semester or second, or who introduced us, or in what kind of setting. When I think back, it simply seems like she was always there. Since we were both friends with a lot of the AEPi boys, particularly the sophomores, it makes the most sense that we met at AEPi. But we also lived in the same dorm, so we could have met there, too. Either way, we met, and became friendly, and it was pretty common for us to walk to or from AEPi together, particularly on the weekends.
It wasn’t until sophomore year that Liz and I became close. By that time, there was a whole group of girls who could often be found at AEPi – mostly because we were all dating one of the brothers, and friends with many of the others – and we became gal pals and drinking buddies. When they had a guys’ night, we would convene for a girls’ night. Of course, we developed individual friendships as well. For Liz and me, we bonded first because we were the most Jewish and because we both loved to read. Everything just took off from there. In some ways, we were nothing alike, and in others, we were exactly the same. We both liked historical fiction, particularly about England, and classical music, and held similar views on the importance of family. We were both romantics. She was graceful and poised and had a magical ability to always look perfect and perfectly natural at the same time. I was still very much a tomboy, awkward and pretty much fashion-impaired. Liz taught me to overcome my distrust of strange substances like nail polish. Somehow, Liz made it possible for me to feel girly and feminine, while still being ‘one of the guys’.
That’s pretty much the beauty of Liz. Liz not only sees the best in everyone around her, but she makes them see themselves through her eyes. She does it naturally and effortlessly. It’s simply part of who she is.
We grew even closer during the second half of sophomore year, as we were both trying to get over very painful break-ups. Being the romantics that we are, being dumped was excruciating for both of us, even though we’d both been dumped for different reasons. We would meet for coffee in the campus bakery, commiserate, console each other, and make the other one laugh. When one was blue, the other would remind them how fabulous she was, and how someone even better will come along, who can appreciate such a fabulous woman. Someone smart enough not to throw such a woman away. (No offense, Moose) The time would come for us to go to class, and we would look at our watches, look at each other, and decide to stay exactly where we were. We could sit in that bakery and talk for hours.
Liz was in the School of Architecture, which was located directly across the street from Hillel. Since I worked at Hillel (Yeah, I know. Big shock.), it was very normal for me to grab a coffee to go, and stop by Liz’s studio on my way. She would stop whatever she was doing, and we’d just talk, until it became obvious that I was very, very late for work. She would show me whatever her current project was, and explain the concept behind it. Sometimes she would show me how she was making the incredible model that she was working on. Liz’s projects were always incredible. Everything about Liz is incredible.
When I think about Liz, my mind becomes overwhelmed with memories of just spending time together, enjoying each other’s company. Or of the many, many times Liz would help me out of a fashion crisis, either by coming over to sift through my wardrobe, or letting me raid hers. Or by doing my hair and make-up when I had a formal or semi-formal or date party. When I think of my college years, Liz is there, in any given memory. Silly, serious, happy, sad, thoughtful…she’s simply a part of my life now, and a part of me.
I can’t really describe her better than Tabitha did. Liz is everything that is generous and good. She’s gentle, but no pushover. Cultured and sophisticated, but never pretentious or snobby. Incredibly smart, but never intimidating. Beautiful, but never in a false, ostentatious kind of way. Funny, but never obnoxious. Romantic and idealistic, but not naive. She’s genuinely sweet and caring. The kind of person who makes chocolate chip cookies, simply because she knows that you’re going to stop by, who drops everything because you need a hug. She’s never too busy for a friend. She’s one of the most amazing people that I’ve ever known, and I mean that whole-heartedly. She’s beautiful, inside and out.
And I thank Hashem for bringing her into my life. I don’t want to imagine what life would be, or will be, like without her.
I don’t remember meeting Liz. I know that it was sometime during my first year of college, but I don’t know if it was first semester or second, or who introduced us, or in what kind of setting. When I think back, it simply seems like she was always there. Since we were both friends with a lot of the AEPi boys, particularly the sophomores, it makes the most sense that we met at AEPi. But we also lived in the same dorm, so we could have met there, too. Either way, we met, and became friendly, and it was pretty common for us to walk to or from AEPi together, particularly on the weekends.
It wasn’t until sophomore year that Liz and I became close. By that time, there was a whole group of girls who could often be found at AEPi – mostly because we were all dating one of the brothers, and friends with many of the others – and we became gal pals and drinking buddies. When they had a guys’ night, we would convene for a girls’ night. Of course, we developed individual friendships as well. For Liz and me, we bonded first because we were the most Jewish and because we both loved to read. Everything just took off from there. In some ways, we were nothing alike, and in others, we were exactly the same. We both liked historical fiction, particularly about England, and classical music, and held similar views on the importance of family. We were both romantics. She was graceful and poised and had a magical ability to always look perfect and perfectly natural at the same time. I was still very much a tomboy, awkward and pretty much fashion-impaired. Liz taught me to overcome my distrust of strange substances like nail polish. Somehow, Liz made it possible for me to feel girly and feminine, while still being ‘one of the guys’.
That’s pretty much the beauty of Liz. Liz not only sees the best in everyone around her, but she makes them see themselves through her eyes. She does it naturally and effortlessly. It’s simply part of who she is.
We grew even closer during the second half of sophomore year, as we were both trying to get over very painful break-ups. Being the romantics that we are, being dumped was excruciating for both of us, even though we’d both been dumped for different reasons. We would meet for coffee in the campus bakery, commiserate, console each other, and make the other one laugh. When one was blue, the other would remind them how fabulous she was, and how someone even better will come along, who can appreciate such a fabulous woman. Someone smart enough not to throw such a woman away. (No offense, Moose) The time would come for us to go to class, and we would look at our watches, look at each other, and decide to stay exactly where we were. We could sit in that bakery and talk for hours.
Liz was in the School of Architecture, which was located directly across the street from Hillel. Since I worked at Hillel (Yeah, I know. Big shock.), it was very normal for me to grab a coffee to go, and stop by Liz’s studio on my way. She would stop whatever she was doing, and we’d just talk, until it became obvious that I was very, very late for work. She would show me whatever her current project was, and explain the concept behind it. Sometimes she would show me how she was making the incredible model that she was working on. Liz’s projects were always incredible. Everything about Liz is incredible.
When I think about Liz, my mind becomes overwhelmed with memories of just spending time together, enjoying each other’s company. Or of the many, many times Liz would help me out of a fashion crisis, either by coming over to sift through my wardrobe, or letting me raid hers. Or by doing my hair and make-up when I had a formal or semi-formal or date party. When I think of my college years, Liz is there, in any given memory. Silly, serious, happy, sad, thoughtful…she’s simply a part of my life now, and a part of me.
I can’t really describe her better than Tabitha did. Liz is everything that is generous and good. She’s gentle, but no pushover. Cultured and sophisticated, but never pretentious or snobby. Incredibly smart, but never intimidating. Beautiful, but never in a false, ostentatious kind of way. Funny, but never obnoxious. Romantic and idealistic, but not naive. She’s genuinely sweet and caring. The kind of person who makes chocolate chip cookies, simply because she knows that you’re going to stop by, who drops everything because you need a hug. She’s never too busy for a friend. She’s one of the most amazing people that I’ve ever known, and I mean that whole-heartedly. She’s beautiful, inside and out.
And I thank Hashem for bringing her into my life. I don’t want to imagine what life would be, or will be, like without her.
Weekend Update
If you had asked me yesterday morning how my weekend was going, I would probably have answered "bittersweet." I spent my shabbos with Eli and Miryam, and their families and friends, for the last time in this country. Motzei shabbos (or Saturday night, if you're DovBear), we had the send-off party. Today they're off to the HL, where they will find a home that includes a guest bedroom, which I plan to take full advantage of in 4 months or so. It's always hard to say goodbye, but it makes it easier when 1) they're going to Israel and 2) you're going to join them soon.
Sunday morning, or afternoon by the time I woke up, was sunny and beautiful. I met up with Elizabeth and wandered around the neighborhood. Then we went back to her place, and I saw The Incedibles for the first time. Fantastic movie, btw.
Then the phone rang. Liz's father called, and my trip to Pittsburgh has been canceled. Liz can no longer speak much, and sleeps 18 hours a day. She isn't up to seeing people, and doesn't want to see people this way. Since she cannot speak on the phone, signs indicate that I will never hear her voice again. I may never see her again. I was prepared to face that next weekend, and I've realized just how much I was clinging to the idea of being able to say goodbye in person. I'd fooled myself into thinking that it couldn't deteriorate this much in three short weeks.
So after the movie, I went back home, and canceled my flight reservation. Then I went out for dinner, deciding that it was better to keep my evening plans and get out of the house than sit at home and cry. Two hours later, I was back home. Dinner was fine, but I was drained. I watched a movie with my father, and then went to bed.
Now it's Monday. I'm still drained. I can't say anymore that the weekend was bittersweet. I don't even know what word would fit.
Sunday morning, or afternoon by the time I woke up, was sunny and beautiful. I met up with Elizabeth and wandered around the neighborhood. Then we went back to her place, and I saw The Incedibles for the first time. Fantastic movie, btw.
Then the phone rang. Liz's father called, and my trip to Pittsburgh has been canceled. Liz can no longer speak much, and sleeps 18 hours a day. She isn't up to seeing people, and doesn't want to see people this way. Since she cannot speak on the phone, signs indicate that I will never hear her voice again. I may never see her again. I was prepared to face that next weekend, and I've realized just how much I was clinging to the idea of being able to say goodbye in person. I'd fooled myself into thinking that it couldn't deteriorate this much in three short weeks.
So after the movie, I went back home, and canceled my flight reservation. Then I went out for dinner, deciding that it was better to keep my evening plans and get out of the house than sit at home and cry. Two hours later, I was back home. Dinner was fine, but I was drained. I watched a movie with my father, and then went to bed.
Now it's Monday. I'm still drained. I can't say anymore that the weekend was bittersweet. I don't even know what word would fit.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Who Fed Me Happy Pills?
I have no real reason to be in such a good mood. At one point, I even caught myself singing "I Feel Pretty" in the office bathroom.
Normally such euphoria is guy-induced, yet there is no guy to produce said euphoria. In fact, my love life is entirely without prospect at the moment. Last night, my darling friend Susan tried to come up with people to set me up with. The answer: dead silence. So I'm not feeling pretty because someone else is making me feel pretty (not even going to try thinking about the last time a guy made me feel pretty...). This is self-induced euphoria.
Life rocks. And no, I'm not on drugs. I don't think.
Normally such euphoria is guy-induced, yet there is no guy to produce said euphoria. In fact, my love life is entirely without prospect at the moment. Last night, my darling friend Susan tried to come up with people to set me up with. The answer: dead silence. So I'm not feeling pretty because someone else is making me feel pretty (not even going to try thinking about the last time a guy made me feel pretty...). This is self-induced euphoria.
Life rocks. And no, I'm not on drugs. I don't think.
Spring Cleaning
It's absolutely gorgeous outside today. I carried my coat with me this morning, and I only brought it because the forecast is predicting thunderstorms, and I'm wearing a white shirt.
It's definately time for spring cleaning. This weekend, I'm going to go through my closet and weed out clothes that I either don't wear now, or won't bring to Israel. And while I'm at it, I'm going to jettison some baggage.
I'm in such a good mood, even stupid people can't bother me.
It's definately time for spring cleaning. This weekend, I'm going to go through my closet and weed out clothes that I either don't wear now, or won't bring to Israel. And while I'm at it, I'm going to jettison some baggage.
I'm in such a good mood, even stupid people can't bother me.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Wisdom of the Cookie
"Love truth, but pardon error." -- the fortune inside the cookie I ate after lunch.
I actually had already arrived at this pearl of wisdom on my own. What I need right now is a nice little phrase to help me pardon my own errors and, more frequently, my own stupidity. I guess I should go eat more cookies. The cookie doesn't lie.
I actually had already arrived at this pearl of wisdom on my own. What I need right now is a nice little phrase to help me pardon my own errors and, more frequently, my own stupidity. I guess I should go eat more cookies. The cookie doesn't lie.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Oh boy, Purim!
That's when I'm a Viking!!
(Turns out I don't look half bad as a blonde...)
UPDATE: So far, the highlight of the Great Blonde Experiment has to be walking into the all-staff meeting at 9:00am dressed in full Viking costume. The Associate V.P. of my department helped take pictures, with orders that they are to be put up in the staff kitchen.
Surprisingly enough, more than one person asked me last night if the golden blonde curls were natural. One person was probably hitting on me. Another was probably drunk. I mean, the synthetic wig looks good, but not that good. Of the people who know me, and know that I'm naturally as far from blonde as can be, several did not recognize me. This, of course, was the entire point. I also got some very earnest feedback from relatively sober people that I should consider dyeing my hair blonde. This idea will be sent to the Ministry of Regrettable Decisions for further deliberation.
(Turns out I don't look half bad as a blonde...)
UPDATE: So far, the highlight of the Great Blonde Experiment has to be walking into the all-staff meeting at 9:00am dressed in full Viking costume. The Associate V.P. of my department helped take pictures, with orders that they are to be put up in the staff kitchen.
Surprisingly enough, more than one person asked me last night if the golden blonde curls were natural. One person was probably hitting on me. Another was probably drunk. I mean, the synthetic wig looks good, but not that good. Of the people who know me, and know that I'm naturally as far from blonde as can be, several did not recognize me. This, of course, was the entire point. I also got some very earnest feedback from relatively sober people that I should consider dyeing my hair blonde. This idea will be sent to the Ministry of Regrettable Decisions for further deliberation.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Purim: The Shul E-Bulletin
From my inbox, slightly modified to maintain some pretense of anonymity...
Welcome to Purim Bulletin (Version 2.1) at ASBI
Candle Lighting: 5:47 P.M. Exactly.
And we mean precisely, thusly 18 minutes before shkiah, according to the cresting of the sun's arc at horizon, times pi, divided by the speed of light and distance to the sun, minus the atmospheric interference ratio and quantum ray interaction, divided by the square root of the Longitudinal Separation Analysis Theorem Postulate. Unless of course, you add 13.3 minutes if you follow the School of Moishy ibn Mooshu of Zechuan and are of Cantonese descent, or 26.2 minutes if you adhere to Gittel the Scion of Marathon and are of Ethiopian descent. Please confer with your Halachic authority and lineal custom. You know what? Better jump on the 156 bus right after you finish that memo; you might as well just forget about getting that report from Cliff in accounting until Monday.
_________________________________________________________
1. Schedule for Shabbat
It's every week.
2. Daily Services
Yes, we have those too. What, you need an invitation? They're at rather inconvenient times and nobody wants to trudge through the snow, but sometimes the Minyanaires take vacations or get sick or want to sleep in, so come on over!
3. Readings for Shabbat
Stop looking for engagements of people you might know in the Skokie/ West Rogers Park bulletins and follow along in the Stone, Kaplan, and/or Hertz Chumash. Yes, I know those Zionist/settler and kosher/vegan rantings and apartment listings from the Free Speech Table are "readings," but you know what we mean here.
4. Announcements
I found a great tailor who makes me look ten pounds thinner. Just thought I 'd announce that, if anybody's interested. Oh, and I expect a promotion at work, but I guess I shouldn't announce that yet. (Unless you can throw in a good word for me to cinch it. Thanks.)
5. Members of ASBI: Do you know your Bar Mitzvah parsha, or part of it?
Do you know if Aunt Sadie made it in time for the whole ceremony or just in time for the "grape juice" that she loves so much? Do you remember what you wore? Did you beg your parents to wear a plaid flannel shirt and Tevas- "grunge style?" Did Grampa Izzy come through with an Israeli Bond or just the usual $5? ("Don't spend it all in one place," he would always kibbitz- ha, ha).
6. Kiddush (Club) News
In recent Kiddush Club elections, Scotch beat Bourbon 17 to 12. It seems that the aged single malt Highlands swayed the electorate, despite the long-standing popularity of Kentucky and Tennessee delegates to the convention. In other Kiddush Club news, well, actually, that's about it. Stay tuned for Kiddush Club weather and traffic.
7. Dates to Remember
That one time, when we went down to the beach with Shlivovitz to celebrate the end of finals. Whoo weee! And we should remember Flag Day- nobody takes that one seriously anymore, dang it! Where's the patriotism?
8. Shul Do's and Don'ts
Do arrive early and hold the door for the next person. Don't wipe your nose on your sleeve. Don't slouch. Do pay your shul dues. Don't forget to pay your shul dues. Do try to increase your shul dues. Don't try parasailing after a creamed herring and gefilte fish brunch. (I know that's not a Shul instruction, but just trust me on this one). Do pretend that you're not checking out the action on the other side of the mechitza. Do not look like you're pretending to look like you're not checking out the action on the other side of the mechitza.
9. ASBI for Kids
Doesn't sound like a fair trade to me.
10 Tot Shabbat
I can't help but think about taters, but man, those little guys can really bop!
11. ASBI for teenagers
I think we need to collect some serious dues from them before we just start letting in those baggy-drawer-wearing, hippity-hoppity, scruffy, ne-er do wells. And have you seen the crazy way they wear their hair? Why, when I was their age, I had to walk uphill both ways for everything! And don't get me started on that crazy stuff they call music! I tell you Martha, these whippersnappers can't appreciate anything. In my day, we had real bands you could listen to like, um, Pearl Jam. And I had to drive a DOMESTIC car to school without one of them fancy-pants remote openers; nope, just plain old fashioned electric windows without rain sensors or anything.
12. Please Remember: ASBI is a free peanut zone.
Well, not exactly free, but highly discounted! How do we do it? Volume!
13. Kosher alert
The Laredo, Texas "CIRCLE K" RANCH's bacon-wrapped, ham kabob pork cutlets are NOT kosher. Also, Bangor, Maine's famous "OU" FISHERIES' scallop-encrusted, obster patties (in extra heavy snail sauce) are NOT kosher. We regret any confusion in the community.
14. Eruv announcement
The Eruv is STILL up. Yasher koach to the Trainer who trains people to train people to train people to train people to inspect the eruv. If you'd like to be part of this elite crew, or the elite crew that trains the elite crew to train people to inspect, then please contact someone.
15. Nut-free zone
The new nut-free policy means Shmuel Sackett will not be invited back.
16. Building update
This is not a joke: if you check out the side door, you will see that the board of directors has seen fit to install a urinal in what used to be the coat closet. (Please insert your own joke here.) Also, due to budget constraints, the shul has attached a pushka to the defibrilator.
17. Movie night
Please join the rabbi and rebbetzin for Movie Night next Tuesday at 7:00 p.m. as they screen the following videos (EDITED FOR OUR COMMUNITY): G-dzilla; Oh G-d!; Bruce A-mighty; and of course, Tora! Tora! Tora!
18. No joke: "The Jews had light and gladness, joy and Honor" -Megillah (8:15).
Welcome to Purim Bulletin (Version 2.1) at ASBI
Candle Lighting: 5:47 P.M. Exactly.
And we mean precisely, thusly 18 minutes before shkiah, according to the cresting of the sun's arc at horizon, times pi, divided by the speed of light and distance to the sun, minus the atmospheric interference ratio and quantum ray interaction, divided by the square root of the Longitudinal Separation Analysis Theorem Postulate. Unless of course, you add 13.3 minutes if you follow the School of Moishy ibn Mooshu of Zechuan and are of Cantonese descent, or 26.2 minutes if you adhere to Gittel the Scion of Marathon and are of Ethiopian descent. Please confer with your Halachic authority and lineal custom. You know what? Better jump on the 156 bus right after you finish that memo; you might as well just forget about getting that report from Cliff in accounting until Monday.
_________________________________________________________
1. Schedule for Shabbat
It's every week.
2. Daily Services
Yes, we have those too. What, you need an invitation? They're at rather inconvenient times and nobody wants to trudge through the snow, but sometimes the Minyanaires take vacations or get sick or want to sleep in, so come on over!
3. Readings for Shabbat
Stop looking for engagements of people you might know in the Skokie/ West Rogers Park bulletins and follow along in the Stone, Kaplan, and/or Hertz Chumash. Yes, I know those Zionist/settler and kosher/vegan rantings and apartment listings from the Free Speech Table are "readings," but you know what we mean here.
4. Announcements
I found a great tailor who makes me look ten pounds thinner. Just thought I 'd announce that, if anybody's interested. Oh, and I expect a promotion at work, but I guess I shouldn't announce that yet. (Unless you can throw in a good word for me to cinch it. Thanks.)
5. Members of ASBI: Do you know your Bar Mitzvah parsha, or part of it?
Do you know if Aunt Sadie made it in time for the whole ceremony or just in time for the "grape juice" that she loves so much? Do you remember what you wore? Did you beg your parents to wear a plaid flannel shirt and Tevas- "grunge style?" Did Grampa Izzy come through with an Israeli Bond or just the usual $5? ("Don't spend it all in one place," he would always kibbitz- ha, ha).
6. Kiddush (Club) News
In recent Kiddush Club elections, Scotch beat Bourbon 17 to 12. It seems that the aged single malt Highlands swayed the electorate, despite the long-standing popularity of Kentucky and Tennessee delegates to the convention. In other Kiddush Club news, well, actually, that's about it. Stay tuned for Kiddush Club weather and traffic.
7. Dates to Remember
That one time, when we went down to the beach with Shlivovitz to celebrate the end of finals. Whoo weee! And we should remember Flag Day- nobody takes that one seriously anymore, dang it! Where's the patriotism?
8. Shul Do's and Don'ts
Do arrive early and hold the door for the next person. Don't wipe your nose on your sleeve. Don't slouch. Do pay your shul dues. Don't forget to pay your shul dues. Do try to increase your shul dues. Don't try parasailing after a creamed herring and gefilte fish brunch. (I know that's not a Shul instruction, but just trust me on this one). Do pretend that you're not checking out the action on the other side of the mechitza. Do not look like you're pretending to look like you're not checking out the action on the other side of the mechitza.
9. ASBI for Kids
Doesn't sound like a fair trade to me.
10 Tot Shabbat
I can't help but think about taters, but man, those little guys can really bop!
11. ASBI for teenagers
I think we need to collect some serious dues from them before we just start letting in those baggy-drawer-wearing, hippity-hoppity, scruffy, ne-er do wells. And have you seen the crazy way they wear their hair? Why, when I was their age, I had to walk uphill both ways for everything! And don't get me started on that crazy stuff they call music! I tell you Martha, these whippersnappers can't appreciate anything. In my day, we had real bands you could listen to like, um, Pearl Jam. And I had to drive a DOMESTIC car to school without one of them fancy-pants remote openers; nope, just plain old fashioned electric windows without rain sensors or anything.
12. Please Remember: ASBI is a free peanut zone.
Well, not exactly free, but highly discounted! How do we do it? Volume!
13. Kosher alert
The Laredo, Texas "CIRCLE K" RANCH's bacon-wrapped, ham kabob pork cutlets are NOT kosher. Also, Bangor, Maine's famous "OU" FISHERIES' scallop-encrusted, obster patties (in extra heavy snail sauce) are NOT kosher. We regret any confusion in the community.
14. Eruv announcement
The Eruv is STILL up. Yasher koach to the Trainer who trains people to train people to train people to train people to inspect the eruv. If you'd like to be part of this elite crew, or the elite crew that trains the elite crew to train people to inspect, then please contact someone.
15. Nut-free zone
The new nut-free policy means Shmuel Sackett will not be invited back.
16. Building update
This is not a joke: if you check out the side door, you will see that the board of directors has seen fit to install a urinal in what used to be the coat closet. (Please insert your own joke here.) Also, due to budget constraints, the shul has attached a pushka to the defibrilator.
17. Movie night
Please join the rabbi and rebbetzin for Movie Night next Tuesday at 7:00 p.m. as they screen the following videos (EDITED FOR OUR COMMUNITY): G-dzilla; Oh G-d!; Bruce A-mighty; and of course, Tora! Tora! Tora!
18. No joke: "The Jews had light and gladness, joy and Honor" -Megillah (8:15).
Purim: The Cure for Meh
As much as I was enjoying the past few days of meh, the meh could not hold up against the riding tide of festive cheer. Who can be meh when there are hamentashen to bake and shalach manos to pack? Not I, said the blog.
It's also hard to stay angry for several days running. It eventually just subsides into resignation, slightly tinged with bitterness. Purim temporarily cures this as well. Who can be resigned and bitter when putting the finishing touches on all things Purim? Not I, said the blog.
A chag Purim sameach to you all. May your hamentashen be tasty, your graggers noisy, and your glasses never empty. Veitur!
It's also hard to stay angry for several days running. It eventually just subsides into resignation, slightly tinged with bitterness. Purim temporarily cures this as well. Who can be resigned and bitter when putting the finishing touches on all things Purim? Not I, said the blog.
A chag Purim sameach to you all. May your hamentashen be tasty, your graggers noisy, and your glasses never empty. Veitur!
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