Out of the Mouths of Babes, and Tossed From Their Arms...

All three of my children are creative, but the difference in their creativity is baffling.

Jesse, a master of information and lists, has begun to compose music.

Keren, an artist at heart, has written songs and designs clothes from scarves.

And, while I could write a blog entry on each of them, then there is Gavi.  

Gavi is my engineer.  He is a comedian.  He is also an artist.  He builds multi-colored sky scrapers cities of Lego.  He once became a piece of "dough chicken," and he also designed the mural on his wall, painted by my mother.  It is a rolling hill, with tree and animals.  A rainbow spreads over the scene.  His favorite color is rainbow.  I cannot find his floor for the myriad of pens, pencils, markers, nuts, bolts, screws, rubber bands, and detritus spread about.  He makes the most amazing figures out of pipe cleaners, and was working to challenge China's terracotta warriors in number and detail.  He is also the one most likely to ask for a hug and a kiss, and I am greeted by this request most days.  He is my enigma, although Sean calls him the stealth child.  He will be rough and tumble with Sean one moment, then come to kiss me gently on the cheek and receive a hug in the next.

Gavi likes a puzzle and a challenge.  My brother refitted an electric experiment box he had as a child for Gavi.  Gavi managed to start a fire.  This year, Russell bought him an electric paper airplane launcher.  Russel, also an engineer, understands Gavi.

There is also an art when it comes to thinking through one of his challenges.  Yesterday was Shabbat.  We do not use electricity on Shabbat.  Lights are on timers.  The oven is on or off.  Gavi wanted to ride his bicycle.  It was inside the garage.  The side door does not work.  The only way in and out is through the electric garage door.  Gavi conspired to get it open without pushing the button himself.  He tried placing the opener where Nora would jump.  It took a long time before she jumped to the spot, and then she was too light to have an effect.  Not to be hampered, Gavi took Gandlaf and the opener into the backyard.  He tried maneuvering Gandalf into walking across the opener.  It did not work.  Finally, in frustration, Gavi threw the opener across the yard.  Thinking it was a game, Gandalf chased the opener; pouncing.  As he pounced and played, he stepped on the correct button, and voila!  Bike ride!

Of course there was the problem of leaving the garage open.  "Should I try to get him to step on it again?"  "No, Gavi, just leave it."

Sleep is for the Weak...

After a night of blogging, I am still lying in bed.  I woke to Gandalf snoring.  He seems to have a squeak.  I wonder if it's not a snore, but instead he is squeaking out "oil can."  Should I go find one?  Maybe he just needs more sleep.  But how do you know with a cat?

Sean, of course was up bright and early.  I am a night owl.  He is an early bird.  It balances, usually.  Unfortunately, when life gets busy, as it has this week, and will likely continue next week, we end up burning the candle at both ends, I even more than Sean.  Sean says, "Sleep is for the weak, and I had mine last week."  But what do I do next week, when I didn't have the sleep last week?

Oh to be a cat-
To startle awake, then not care.
To put one's head upon one's paws and sleep in a moment.
To find comfort in the oddest position, and to be able to curl in the tightest ball.
To sleep, perchance to dream, whenever the opportunity opportunity presents, with purr and with sigh, and naught a care in the world.

Gandalf likes his people.  Nora does too, but on her own terms.  Gandalf likes to be in your space.  Last night, as I tried to lie down, Gandalf lay beside me.  He is coming up on the size of a small beagle, and takes up more space than he should for a cat.  He prevented me from settling in my normal spot.  As I was typing, he began to dream, twitching, his feet clearly chasing something.  Was it the squirrel or the butterfly that got away?  Was he successful in his dream?  Did I mention he has claws, and he was twitching beside my leg?

Current;y both Nora and Gandalf are asleep on the other side of the bed.  Peaceful sleep reigns.  I, even without enough sleep last night, nor restful sleep thanks to the large cat in my life, am awake, with a mind running with the plans of the day.  Oh well, sleep is for the week, I mean weak...

Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Shlomecha

We are building our sukkah tomorrow, no today.  Wow, I really should go to sleep.  But, there's so little time to write.

We are building our sukkah in the morning.  There are just a few halachot about building a sukkah.  The walls must be at least ten t'fachim high.  One tefach is about the width of an adult's hand (across the knuckles, no thumb).  It may not be more than 20 amot.  An ama runs from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger.  It must have 2.5 walls, and a roof made of cut, natural materials.  It must be temporary, and actually be taken down, and put back up.  A possible temporary structure you never take down doesn't count.  The roof must cast more shade than sun, but you must be able to look through to the stars.

Most people build their sukkah between Yom Kippur and Sukkot.  In fact, there's a tradition of putting in the first nail (if your sukkah uses nails, ours doesn't) after break fast.  There's never enough time tough, so we're putting ours up his long weekend.  I plan on putting in a window.

I love Sukkot, and I love sitting in my sukkah.  I want time to decorate and enjoy the sukkah.  The Hag is not enough.  I think about Sukkot and our sukkah regularly.  Whenever we travel we buy a souvenir for the places we go to hang in our sukkah.  We have a scavenger hunt to find the interesting objects among the decorations.  Thank you to Aliza Spiro and family for both those ideas.  This year there will be an iguana from Guantanamo Bay.  Come and see it.

As if the year-round shopping weren't enough to keep Sukkot in my mind, I think about it every night.  When we recite Hashkiveinu at Maariv, I read the words, "ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha..."

Hashkineinu Hashem Ehloheinu l'shalom, v'ha'amideinu Malkeinu l'shalom, ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha.  Lay us down Hashem, our God to peace, and stand us up, our Ruler, to peace, and spread over us sukkat shlomecha, the shelter of Your peace.

Sukkot is z'man simchateinu, the time for rejoicing or happiness.  I love the idea that we have a designated time to be outside.  Yes we have walls and a makeshift roof, but we are exposed.  We cannot forget that nature is around us.  We have some protection, but our true protection is God's peace.

I cannot read the words sukkat shlomecha without thinking of our sukkah.  It is a place of peace.  The house, especially around Yom Tov, gets chaotic.  It is noisy.  It feels full and sometimes crowded.  The sukkah, though small, is an island in the chaos.  Shaded by the skakh dripping with memories, our childrens' hand prints on the wall, it seems cosy rather than crowded, joyous rather than noisy.

Ufros aleinu sukkat shlomecha; I look forward to my time spent with you.

Lech l'shalom, v'laila tov.

So Be Bitter...

Hello everyone.  If you are not a reader of my husband's blog, let me explain.  Sean wrote an entry called, "But I am not Bitter..."  This is my side of the story.

Sean & I have been married just over 19 years.  We have known each other for 21 years, and have been a couple for 20 of those years.  We met in August 1991.  I was in a relationship, which lasted until February of 1992.  Whenever I was having problems in my relationship, Sean made sure he was there to support me, always telling me everything would work out fine.  Little did I know he meant with him.  When my relationship ended, Sean was there for me, and just three months later we were engaged.  When it's right, it's right.

Fast forward 20 years.  It's still right, but no river, however strong, always runs straight.  We have our bumps in the road.  Interestingly our bumps after 20 years as a couple are generally the same a our bumps after 2 years as a couple.  People grow and evolve, but they don't change.

Sean is bitter about two events on our marriage.  Two!  I say, as I did at Shabbat lunch, it's been over 19 years, get over it!

#1- Wedding cake.  Yes, I was wrong.  We had a delicious cake.  We had two bites.  The next morning I did take the cake from my new husband's hands and make him put it back.  It was to be romantically shared on our first anniversary.  Unfortunately, we weren't available to get it for our first anniversary, as we were at Camp Ramah in the Poconos.  They cake was eventually lost to the god of freezer burn.

Anyone who knows me knows I love romance.  Give me a good chick book, movie, or play.  Sappy?  Great!  I love a good cry!  I wanted to relive the great evening that was our wedding day.  It didn't happen, but my heart was in the right place.

By the way, I ordered Sean a special cake for our 15th anniversary, and put our cake topper on top.  It wasn't enough.  He's still bitter.

#2- Turkey.  No, not the food, the country.  We spent most of our first married year in Israel.  For intersession Sean wanted to go to Turkey.  To be affordable, he'd found that we could take a cruise.  An affordable cruise?  Well, sort of.  It was a two day boat ride from Haifa to Izmir.  We could reserve two deck chairs.  On these deck chairs we could sleep in the open air, during the rainy season.  We'd have to bring all our own food, and make sure to sleep ON our belongings since we'd be, as I mentioned, in the open air.  I said no.  I needed a roof, walls, and a door that locked.  Instead of Turkey, we went to Tzfat with friends.  It was lovely.  As a wedding gift, Sean's brother, Jeff, had given us an all-inclusive weekend at a hotel in Jerusalem.  While using it, we wandered into an art gallery with a lot of work by one of my favorite artists at that time, Avraham Ebgi.  Since we had not gone to Turkey, we had a little extra money to spend, and we bought a magnificent Artist's Print by Ebgi of a wedding.  It hangs prominently in our dining room, and reminds Sean to be bitter.

I have learned to laugh over the things that make me bitter.  Of course my issues tend to repeat themselves.  The biggest is Sean's inability to put things back where and how they belong.  While this may not seem to be a big deal, it is if those things are canned goods, pots, or the bread machine, and things fall on your head or toes when you open cabinet doors.  Over 19 years I have learned to duck quickly.  It keeps me agile.  That's much better than being bitter.

Great Companies- Crayola, I love you best of all

Sean and I have just returned from a trip to the US.  We visited family, as we do on most of our vacations.  We also visited the Crayola Experience, one of the coolest companies in the world.

First you must know, I am a crayon snob.  I have tried cheap crayons. I have tried expensive crayons.  Crayola tops all, and at a good price.  They take pride in what they do.  They do it inexpensively.  They also look beyond the product and the profit to the world.

My love of Crayola began early in life.  It has only increased.  Everyone loves crayons; the feel and smell (excepting scented crayons- yuck.  I am a purist.) have not changed in the 100 years of the company.  Little has changed, with the exception of a few name changes.  The most famous of these was the change from "flesh" to peach, but, as Robert Fulghum wrote, this was an improvement.  I bought a set of flesh toned pencils for sketching at the gift shop.  With them, alone or blended, I can draw the world.

In 1996, Crayola made its 100 billionth crayon.  It was called blue ribbon, a periwinkle blue hue.  Periwinkle is my favourite Crayola color.   Mr. Rogers was invited to mold the actual crayon.  It seemed appropriate.  With this Crayola issued 96 count special boxes.  They had gold, silver, and red foil wrappers to be found for prizes.  The actual 100 billionth crayon was included with a special wrapper.  It makes me think of the golden tickets in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl.  Instead of Charlie, Ms. Darlene Martin found the crayon, and "sold" it back to Crayola for a $100,000 bond.  It is now in the Crayola hall of fame.    

Crayola uses solar power.  Their materials come from renewable sources.  For the wood in the coloured pencils, for every tree crayola cuts down, the same breed of tree is planted.  Crayola shops locally, and saves on shipping costs and gasoline.  They recycle.  They are a positive place at which to work, and they care enough to pass their own savings onto their customers.  If it is possible for my love of all things Crayola to have grown, then my love has increased tenfold.  

Before we stopped I told the kids not to expect that we'd buy anything in the gift shop.  All too often, company gift shops are more expensive than stores because everyone wants something from the gift shop.  Not so Crayola.  The prices and selection were excellent.

You can no longer tour the Crayola Factory.  Like Willy Wonka, Crayola had to close its factory to the public due, not to liability, but to corporate espionage.  Everyone wants to be Crayola!  And why not?  The uniform for those working at the Crayola Experience is tie-dye.  They give out free samples to happy, smiling people. The exhibits are fun and interactive.  I love my free crayons, with special box, and my purple marker.  The kids and I made art.  I wrote on walls and floors.  Jesse said he felt like he was five as he walked through the exhibits with a huge smile on his face.  Looking around not a single person had anything but a smile on his/her face.

By the way, I've asked Sean to plan my birthday party there.  Hope you'll come.