Nominate Meeeeeeeee!
The good man at IsraellyCool has announced that nominations are now open for his new Jewish/Israeli Blog Awards.
I myself will be nominating several excellent other blogs, if they haven't been nominated already when I get there (see my list of links for my personal favorites). I will not stoop to nominating myself. I will, however, stoop to pointing out that you are free to nominate me, if you happen to think I deserve it.
A friendly reminder that Chayyei Sarah is -- hint, hint-- a new blog in 2004, a personal blog, a life-in-Israel blog, and that I worked very hard on the Shabbaton series. And if there are any specific posts here that particularly strike your fancy, those are fair game, too.
Too bad they don't have a category for "Best Life-In-Israel Blog Named After a Parsha by a Single American Olah in Her Thirties Who Is Obsessed With Star Wars and Harry Potter." I love prizes. :-)
***UPDATE***
Many thanks to the nice people (or person?) who nominated me for "Best Life-In-Israel Blog," "Best Personal Blog," and "Best Series in a Blog." That was fast! Thank you, thank you! ::Blowing kisses::
:-)
***ANOTHER UPDATE***
And yet more thanks to "Q" for nominating me for "Best Overall Blog" (though, that's a little over-the-top, don't you think?) and "Best New Blog."
But why the nomination for "Best Jewish Culture Blog"? I mean, I'm flattered, but I don't think I write very much as an observer of the Jewish culture scene.
But hey, I'm now in 6 categories! Thanks to you all for making that happen. ::blowing more kisses:: ::Queen of England wrist wave::
;-)
Sunday, January 02, 2005
Regarding a post about the relentless deaths of several of our peers . . .
I told you she could do a better job than I could.
I told you she could do a better job than I could.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Over 200 new Anglo-Israeli future bloggers!
Welcome home to the more than 200 people, including (yay!) over 70 singles, who made aliyah today on a specially chartered Nefesh B'Nefesh/ Jewish Agency flight. May your absorptions into Israeli society be swift, painless, and complete.
This flight brings the number of American and Canadian olim to almost 3,000 for the year 2004. This is the highest number since 1983, folks! Of course, given that America alone has more than 5.5 million Jews, it's still pretty sad. But the good news is that of those who have made aliyah from North America in the last three years, almost all are still living here (yes, there are records for this). In fact, of the olim who came with Nefesh B'Nefesh just in 2002, almost two-thirds have already bought homes, and almost all are employed.
So if you are thinking about joining the club, now's the time to open that aliyah file and start making plans! We'll keep a spot warm for you!
Pictures from the airport here.
Arutz Sheva coverage of the flight here (includes radio coverage; links are after the article).
Articles about North American aliyah in general here.
Only Simchas page which should announce today's flight here.
Welcome home to the more than 200 people, including (yay!) over 70 singles, who made aliyah today on a specially chartered Nefesh B'Nefesh/ Jewish Agency flight. May your absorptions into Israeli society be swift, painless, and complete.
This flight brings the number of American and Canadian olim to almost 3,000 for the year 2004. This is the highest number since 1983, folks! Of course, given that America alone has more than 5.5 million Jews, it's still pretty sad. But the good news is that of those who have made aliyah from North America in the last three years, almost all are still living here (yes, there are records for this). In fact, of the olim who came with Nefesh B'Nefesh just in 2002, almost two-thirds have already bought homes, and almost all are employed.
So if you are thinking about joining the club, now's the time to open that aliyah file and start making plans! We'll keep a spot warm for you!
Pictures from the airport here.
Arutz Sheva coverage of the flight here (includes radio coverage; links are after the article).
Articles about North American aliyah in general here.
Only Simchas page which should announce today's flight here.
"To forget all the tormented present"
Last night I was talking with a friend - who will remain anonymous at least for now, since I didn't ask for her permission to mention this conversation- about our mutual depression over death and mortality. I don't want to write about this at length because she'd do a better job than I would. But I'll summarize, because I've been thinking about it a lot and because it leads me to a link I want to share. For both of us it isn't just about the tsunami victims, it's about the incredibly high number of people our own age, our own friends, acquaintances, peers, who have died over the last few years. I wondered: is it a natural phenomenon that as we age, of course more of those in our circles will get diseases and die? Is it because we know a lot of people, and so we're statistically more likely to know those who suffer at tragically early ages?
And I answered myself: It's all one piece with the tsunami and the intifada and 9/11. It's even one piece with the singles crisis. I suspect now that God is turning His face from us, that there is no such thing anymore as "bashert," that we are on our own. There is something wrong with the world. It's as if . . . .
She: . . . something is broken.
Yes, that is the word I was looking for. The world is broken. And we are helpless to do anything about it other than our best to rebuild, to fix.
Tikkun Olam.
Today I checked the blog of my friend Sara, who reflects on the death of her daughter Timmi "Five Years Later," and she has posted about Timmi's yahrzeit and about her poems, the writings that have been lost and those that have been set to song. And Timmi's song expresses exactly what I'm feeling.
Last night I was talking with a friend - who will remain anonymous at least for now, since I didn't ask for her permission to mention this conversation- about our mutual depression over death and mortality. I don't want to write about this at length because she'd do a better job than I would. But I'll summarize, because I've been thinking about it a lot and because it leads me to a link I want to share. For both of us it isn't just about the tsunami victims, it's about the incredibly high number of people our own age, our own friends, acquaintances, peers, who have died over the last few years. I wondered: is it a natural phenomenon that as we age, of course more of those in our circles will get diseases and die? Is it because we know a lot of people, and so we're statistically more likely to know those who suffer at tragically early ages?
And I answered myself: It's all one piece with the tsunami and the intifada and 9/11. It's even one piece with the singles crisis. I suspect now that God is turning His face from us, that there is no such thing anymore as "bashert," that we are on our own. There is something wrong with the world. It's as if . . . .
She: . . . something is broken.
Yes, that is the word I was looking for. The world is broken. And we are helpless to do anything about it other than our best to rebuild, to fix.
Tikkun Olam.
Today I checked the blog of my friend Sara, who reflects on the death of her daughter Timmi "Five Years Later," and she has posted about Timmi's yahrzeit and about her poems, the writings that have been lost and those that have been set to song. And Timmi's song expresses exactly what I'm feeling.
To live this moment
To breathe this time
Not to think what the future will bring, if anything
Not to remember what hurt, what was missed, what was lost
To enjoy the here and now.
Or
To move away from what is
To glide out of time
Toward a dream that was, that will be, that can be
And to forget all the tormented present
Because the truth is unthinkable.
Allison, of An Unsealed Room, vouches for my “maternal talents.”
Yes, I had the privilege of visiting with her for a little bit. Allison is a very intelligent and classy lady and it was nice to get to know her better in person. Amazing, the variety of people who have come into my life through this blogging adventure.
Potential suitors, take note: Allison’s baby was crying until I picked her up, at which point she relaxed immediately and smiled contentedly while I kissed her and blew gently into her adorable little face. Tamar is so cute!
Allison’s older children are cute too, despite what she wrote in her post. Of course, they are normal children, and they had cabin fever – so I don’t think I saw them at their best. But Allison’s post reminds me of a phenomenon I’ve been experiencing lately in my life. A nice Michlalah girl like me is not supposed to say this out loud, but here goes:
It used to be that when I visited my friends for Shabbat, I’d come home feeling sad and envious. I’d think “Sigh. She’s so lucky. Her husband is so good to her. She has people in her house to love. And the baby is so precious. When will I have a life like that?”
But now, many of my friends have multiple children. The kids are often too young to take care of themselves, but old enough to whine, manipulate, and bicker. My girlfriends cannot have an adult conversation without a toddler attempting to put his hand down her chest or pull off her hat, or two older kids interrupting with “Tell her to stop touching me!” My close friends, God bless them, say things like “Stop that right now” and “Get out of there this instant” or “if you don’t quit it by the time I count to three you’ll have a time-out.” They are constantly surrounded by noise. Their floors are sticky, their furniture is full of crumbling cheerios and molding raisins, and their clothes all have spit-up on them.
So now I come from those weekends to my clean, blissfully quiet home and think “Thank God.”
No, a nice frum girl is not supposed to think this way. And so I say: let he who enjoys screeching and whining cast the first stone.
Sarah Smile tells me that “it’s different when it’s your own kids.” Most of me hopes that I’ll have a chance to confirm that myself someday. Most of the time I would rather be a tugged-at Eema than noise-free and child-free. But a lot of me is grateful that I can, for example, blog away whenever I want, without another person whining or crying or pulling at me. No one is going to wake me up at 6 am. Or 3 am. I can hear myself think. I can go out whenever I want, wherever I want. I’m living the life that many of my married-with-children friends have confided that they often wish they could have, and that they sometimes regret giving up.
Note to God: I appreciate everything you have given me, and I appreciate what you have not given me. And whenever you choose to give me more people to love who happen to live in my house and perhaps even share my genes, I’ll welcome and appreciate that, too. But don’t think I won’t remember this post when they spit up on my Shabbos clothes.
***UPDATE***
Note to potential suitors: What, would you rather have a woman who knows how noisy and messy kids can be and is willing to have them and raise them anyhow, or a naive Pollyanna who says "oooo, I want to be just like my Rebbetzin and have eight of them!" and then turns out to not be able to handle it and is a shrew with your progeny? You decide.
***UPDATE 2***
Guess I'm still not in the best of spirits right now. :-(
Bah, humbug.
Yes, I had the privilege of visiting with her for a little bit. Allison is a very intelligent and classy lady and it was nice to get to know her better in person. Amazing, the variety of people who have come into my life through this blogging adventure.
Potential suitors, take note: Allison’s baby was crying until I picked her up, at which point she relaxed immediately and smiled contentedly while I kissed her and blew gently into her adorable little face. Tamar is so cute!
Allison’s older children are cute too, despite what she wrote in her post. Of course, they are normal children, and they had cabin fever – so I don’t think I saw them at their best. But Allison’s post reminds me of a phenomenon I’ve been experiencing lately in my life. A nice Michlalah girl like me is not supposed to say this out loud, but here goes:
It used to be that when I visited my friends for Shabbat, I’d come home feeling sad and envious. I’d think “Sigh. She’s so lucky. Her husband is so good to her. She has people in her house to love. And the baby is so precious. When will I have a life like that?”
But now, many of my friends have multiple children. The kids are often too young to take care of themselves, but old enough to whine, manipulate, and bicker. My girlfriends cannot have an adult conversation without a toddler attempting to put his hand down her chest or pull off her hat, or two older kids interrupting with “Tell her to stop touching me!” My close friends, God bless them, say things like “Stop that right now” and “Get out of there this instant” or “if you don’t quit it by the time I count to three you’ll have a time-out.” They are constantly surrounded by noise. Their floors are sticky, their furniture is full of crumbling cheerios and molding raisins, and their clothes all have spit-up on them.
So now I come from those weekends to my clean, blissfully quiet home and think “Thank God.”
No, a nice frum girl is not supposed to think this way. And so I say: let he who enjoys screeching and whining cast the first stone.
Sarah Smile tells me that “it’s different when it’s your own kids.” Most of me hopes that I’ll have a chance to confirm that myself someday. Most of the time I would rather be a tugged-at Eema than noise-free and child-free. But a lot of me is grateful that I can, for example, blog away whenever I want, without another person whining or crying or pulling at me. No one is going to wake me up at 6 am. Or 3 am. I can hear myself think. I can go out whenever I want, wherever I want. I’m living the life that many of my married-with-children friends have confided that they often wish they could have, and that they sometimes regret giving up.
Note to God: I appreciate everything you have given me, and I appreciate what you have not given me. And whenever you choose to give me more people to love who happen to live in my house and perhaps even share my genes, I’ll welcome and appreciate that, too. But don’t think I won’t remember this post when they spit up on my Shabbos clothes.
***UPDATE***
Note to potential suitors: What, would you rather have a woman who knows how noisy and messy kids can be and is willing to have them and raise them anyhow, or a naive Pollyanna who says "oooo, I want to be just like my Rebbetzin and have eight of them!" and then turns out to not be able to handle it and is a shrew with your progeny? You decide.
***UPDATE 2***
Guess I'm still not in the best of spirits right now. :-(
Bah, humbug.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Monday, December 27, 2004
From the Things My Shaliach Never Told Me file
As many of you know, many Israeli cities and towns have a cat-control problem. Jerusalem, for example, often feels overrun by streetcats. They live in dumpsters, duck under cars in the dead of night, scaring the bejeezus out of you, and have a particular penchant for mating just underneath my window while I'm trying to sleep.
I personally have a non-intervention policy regarding the cats, at least those in my neighborhood. I'm told that they eat the scorpions and whatever mice or rats would otherwise be sharing living quarters with us, and I'd rather have a cat-control problem than a rat-control problem. I also happen to think the ones who live in front of my building are cute, and have mentally named my favorite one Mikki. On the other hand, it bothers me when people leave food out for them. The food gets messy and just adds to the number of cats making noise under my window.
Sometimes Mikki and the others get bold, and I'll come home to discover one of them sitting directly in front of the building entrance, as if he's waiting. When I approach, he'll meow, and suddenly another cat will come leaping down from the second floor. They actually know to place a lookout! Unbelievable!
Anyhow, most streetcats around here not afraid of humans, but rather range from a "stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours" attitude to outright mean, nasty, hissing catness.
But every once in a while, there is some mutant kitty who is born with a love-the-humans gene. At my ulpan in Baka, one of the kittens- a completely gray little guy with one white paw- would stand in front of the gate every morning, like a sentry, so that no student could enter campus without passing him. During recess he'd walk among the students, meowing. Eventually someone started bringing him tuna fish, and by the end of the term one of the students had adopted him. He's probably living in Tel Aviv right now, snacking on kippers every day and thinking smugly about the home-boys he left behind in the Ulpan Etzion parking lot.
Anyhow, a few days ago I was heading toward the Bank Leumi on Chananya Street, just off of Emek Refaim, and this young black-and-white kitty leaps from behind a dumpster and starts following me and trying to paw at me. From my position at the bank's ATM, I could see her (him? I didn't check) doing the same to a group of soldiers, who stopped to stare at this over-friendly streetcat. She nuzzled her head against their shins and even tried to crawl up one of their legs. Later, she did the same to the guard in front of the Ne'eman Bakery, who said aloud "this cat is begging to be taken to a nice home."
When I left the bank, the cat was sitting on a low wall in front of the bakery, purring, while an older man was carefully patting and stroking her head. The man was disheveled; in New York I would have assumed that he's homeless. Perhaps he wasn't "all there," or perhaps he was very poor; in any case he clearly is living on the fringes of society. But he picked up this kitty and rocked her and talked to her, and the cat rolled around in his arms, loving the attention. Two lone souls in Jerusalem who just needed a little TLC, and got it from each other.
As many of you know, many Israeli cities and towns have a cat-control problem. Jerusalem, for example, often feels overrun by streetcats. They live in dumpsters, duck under cars in the dead of night, scaring the bejeezus out of you, and have a particular penchant for mating just underneath my window while I'm trying to sleep.
I personally have a non-intervention policy regarding the cats, at least those in my neighborhood. I'm told that they eat the scorpions and whatever mice or rats would otherwise be sharing living quarters with us, and I'd rather have a cat-control problem than a rat-control problem. I also happen to think the ones who live in front of my building are cute, and have mentally named my favorite one Mikki. On the other hand, it bothers me when people leave food out for them. The food gets messy and just adds to the number of cats making noise under my window.
Sometimes Mikki and the others get bold, and I'll come home to discover one of them sitting directly in front of the building entrance, as if he's waiting. When I approach, he'll meow, and suddenly another cat will come leaping down from the second floor. They actually know to place a lookout! Unbelievable!
Anyhow, most streetcats around here not afraid of humans, but rather range from a "stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours" attitude to outright mean, nasty, hissing catness.
But every once in a while, there is some mutant kitty who is born with a love-the-humans gene. At my ulpan in Baka, one of the kittens- a completely gray little guy with one white paw- would stand in front of the gate every morning, like a sentry, so that no student could enter campus without passing him. During recess he'd walk among the students, meowing. Eventually someone started bringing him tuna fish, and by the end of the term one of the students had adopted him. He's probably living in Tel Aviv right now, snacking on kippers every day and thinking smugly about the home-boys he left behind in the Ulpan Etzion parking lot.
Anyhow, a few days ago I was heading toward the Bank Leumi on Chananya Street, just off of Emek Refaim, and this young black-and-white kitty leaps from behind a dumpster and starts following me and trying to paw at me. From my position at the bank's ATM, I could see her (him? I didn't check) doing the same to a group of soldiers, who stopped to stare at this over-friendly streetcat. She nuzzled her head against their shins and even tried to crawl up one of their legs. Later, she did the same to the guard in front of the Ne'eman Bakery, who said aloud "this cat is begging to be taken to a nice home."
When I left the bank, the cat was sitting on a low wall in front of the bakery, purring, while an older man was carefully patting and stroking her head. The man was disheveled; in New York I would have assumed that he's homeless. Perhaps he wasn't "all there," or perhaps he was very poor; in any case he clearly is living on the fringes of society. But he picked up this kitty and rocked her and talked to her, and the cat rolled around in his arms, loving the attention. Two lone souls in Jerusalem who just needed a little TLC, and got it from each other.
Depressed
So, one might ask: How can Chayyei Sarah be blogging about her much-anticipated financial windfall on a day that over 20 thousand people have died in a horrible natural disaster?
We are whistling in the dark, dear friends. Just whistling in the dark.
A young married woman I know here invited me to attend a concert with her last night. Yesterday morning she called; someone in her family with whom she'd been very close had died, a woman in her 40's with several small and teenage children. But she still wanted to go to the concert, to take her mind off it. So we went, but not before having an emotional conversation in which she told me all about this wonderful woman who had died. She was crying a little and I didn't really have much to do but listen, you know? I mean, I'm happy to do that, but it's not easy.
Then, we went to the concert, where her husband met up with us, but the concert wasn't really "happening," and we were hungry, so we went to get something to eat. The three of us are in the restaurant, and the husband, who, it turns out, is clinically depressed but won't admit it, starts telling me all about his issues. His wife is sitting there as if it's perfectly normal for her husband to be unloading his emotional concerns on a woman he hardly knows. I had this deep feeling once again of having gone down a rabbit hole. And once again, there was nothing I could do but listen, particularly since the husband admitted, when I questioned him, that he doesn't really want to feel better and doesn't really want any help. So, I just listened. Again, I'm happy to do it -- that's what friends are for-- but it's hard.
Meanwhile, I found out that an old NCSY friend of mine, who has breast cancer, is having a mastectomy today. As I right this, actually. She's just 32 years old. ::sigh:: She has to survive the cancer, she just has to, because I'm tired of my friends dying on me.
Not to mention that Saturday was the second anniversary of the death of my friend Jenny. Who, yes, was a Truly Popular Girl.
Oh, and I'm worried about Getupgrrl's twins. Amazing how invested one can become in the story of a woman one has never met.
And then I check JewishWhistleBlower (whose site I check occasionally but never believe unless he's got a reliable source listed to back up his claim), and we find out that Adam Wexler, the bassist for one of my favorite musical groups, Reva L'Sheva, has been indicted for sexually abusing a little girl in his community - and apparently has confessed to at least some of the charges. (Translation of the article in the comments here.) Time to throw away 2 of my favorite CDs, which I'd never be able to enjoy the same way again.
:-(
The only thing that cheers me up is Telma's white chocolate "Click" bar with chocolate nougat, which I would be nibbling at morosely if I had one right now (so it's a good thing I don't), and Manolo's Shoe Blog, where I can gaze enviously at these and these.
Whistling in the dark . . .
So, one might ask: How can Chayyei Sarah be blogging about her much-anticipated financial windfall on a day that over 20 thousand people have died in a horrible natural disaster?
We are whistling in the dark, dear friends. Just whistling in the dark.
A young married woman I know here invited me to attend a concert with her last night. Yesterday morning she called; someone in her family with whom she'd been very close had died, a woman in her 40's with several small and teenage children. But she still wanted to go to the concert, to take her mind off it. So we went, but not before having an emotional conversation in which she told me all about this wonderful woman who had died. She was crying a little and I didn't really have much to do but listen, you know? I mean, I'm happy to do that, but it's not easy.
Then, we went to the concert, where her husband met up with us, but the concert wasn't really "happening," and we were hungry, so we went to get something to eat. The three of us are in the restaurant, and the husband, who, it turns out, is clinically depressed but won't admit it, starts telling me all about his issues. His wife is sitting there as if it's perfectly normal for her husband to be unloading his emotional concerns on a woman he hardly knows. I had this deep feeling once again of having gone down a rabbit hole. And once again, there was nothing I could do but listen, particularly since the husband admitted, when I questioned him, that he doesn't really want to feel better and doesn't really want any help. So, I just listened. Again, I'm happy to do it -- that's what friends are for-- but it's hard.
Meanwhile, I found out that an old NCSY friend of mine, who has breast cancer, is having a mastectomy today. As I right this, actually. She's just 32 years old. ::sigh:: She has to survive the cancer, she just has to, because I'm tired of my friends dying on me.
Not to mention that Saturday was the second anniversary of the death of my friend Jenny. Who, yes, was a Truly Popular Girl.
Oh, and I'm worried about Getupgrrl's twins. Amazing how invested one can become in the story of a woman one has never met.
And then I check JewishWhistleBlower (whose site I check occasionally but never believe unless he's got a reliable source listed to back up his claim), and we find out that Adam Wexler, the bassist for one of my favorite musical groups, Reva L'Sheva, has been indicted for sexually abusing a little girl in his community - and apparently has confessed to at least some of the charges. (Translation of the article in the comments here.) Time to throw away 2 of my favorite CDs, which I'd never be able to enjoy the same way again.
:-(
The only thing that cheers me up is Telma's white chocolate "Click" bar with chocolate nougat, which I would be nibbling at morosely if I had one right now (so it's a good thing I don't), and Manolo's Shoe Blog, where I can gaze enviously at these and these.
Whistling in the dark . . .
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