Okay, I know it's January 6, but Christmas lights haven't come down yet. Christmas tree collection isn't until next week. I get one last hurrah in my annual I love Christmas phase.
Did you know that every year hundreds of singers participate in Sing on Sixth. They traditionally start with Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus," and go on with "seasonal favorites." If Sean and I regret anything in our marriage, it's that we never did go and sing with them. Choral groups from across the tri-state and hundreds of passers-by just stop and sing. Perhaps someday, when we are no longer controlled by the school schedule, we will go.
At this time of year I miss roasted chestnuts bought from a street vendor. I've made them at home, but they lack that wonderful smokey taste. They're not he same without warming my hands, through my gloves, on the newspaper wrapper. I want to burn my fingers or tongue while trying to peel the hot shell from the nut.
I want just a little longer to walk in the city and have everyone smile at each other. I want to recapture the joy with which people say, "Happy, Holidays," "Merry Christmas," or "Happy New Year." It's only January 6th. Tomorrow is Christmas (on the Eastern Orthodox calendar). We still have time. Smile. Drink egg nog and warm holiday drinks. Buy up those cheap Christmas themed chocolates and eat up! Sing seasonal songs. Greet people warmly. And keep that feeling in your heart for the rest of the year.
May we all have a happy, healthy, and peaceful 2015, and merry Christmas.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
It's Not a Competition
Here I am planning a blog entry. Oddly, Sean is at another computer going over his blog. He likes to check the stats on his blog. I am amused that certain blogs get huge numbers of hits, while others, fewer. Sean's actually going to add an entry to his blog about my Weird Things Couples Fight About entry. He's annoyed that there aren't enough people reading his side of the story. Really? It's not a competition. No one is keeping score, at least I'm not.
Jesse is chalking this up to a gender issue. He said, "Everything's a competition to a testosterone filled man. That's called sticking up for the gender." I guess he has a point.
I'm going to drink my cup of tea, made by Sean while he was cleaning the kitchen.
Nighty night. Pleasant dreams to all.
Jesse is chalking this up to a gender issue. He said, "Everything's a competition to a testosterone filled man. That's called sticking up for the gender." I guess he has a point.
I'm going to drink my cup of tea, made by Sean while he was cleaning the kitchen.
Nighty night. Pleasant dreams to all.
Kitty Blog # 23, by Gandalf the Grey- I'm Back, a Lean, Green Fighting Machine
It's been a year since I've been able to get access and blog, a busy, busy, terrible year.
First my people were planning a bar mitzvah. Then they were planning for a bat mitzvah and a trip to Israel. My question- What's Israel. They talk about it a lot. They seem excited about it, but if it was really great, why wouldn't they take me? Don't they want to share all the best things in life with me?
The trip to Israel was followed by my people going to a place called Ramah. They go every year. It must be a terrible place, because they aren't allowed to take me. I know. Gavi asked if I could come. At least I know he misses me.
Then, when I thought they were finally home, they left again. This time was really bad because Jennifer came back broken. Seriously. She couldn't move. She couldn't pick me up. She couldn't bend over to pet me or feed me. She couldn't change the water in my bowl. It was terrible. She also had trouble with the computer, so it was rarely available for me to jump on. But, finally, she's better, and I can share my saga.
What a year it's been! You'll all remember the terrible restriction of food I was suffering. It continues, although there has been some easing up. Still, every two weeks they shove me into a box to take me in the moving box to a place called the vet. There I stand on a table, my poor paws sweating like mad from the trip. My people talk to the vet people about my weight for, like, two minutes, and back into the box, happily this time because I know we're headed home. It hasn't been all bad though. They've stopped feeding me with that infernal humiliation ball. My food is delivered by a magical device. Every evening Sean gives me some treats, then sets the magic device. I've tried to figure out its working, but to no avail. Jennifer gives me treats and chicken more.
I have also discovered that I can run and jump again. No longer do I have to jump from the floor to a chair to reach the kitchen counter. Straight up I can go. My people yell and cheer me on every time I do it. I also caught a giant bug that ticked. Jennifer said it was a cicada. I think I prefer tuna, but it was yummy. The squirrels and butterflies no longer make fun of me. I haven't caught one yet, but I came close with a butterfly. Those colours must make them yummy. Squirrels watch out. I believe there will come a day.
Meanwhile, with my people's trips, I am racking up a fan club of very nice people who come to stay at the house all for me. (Okay, maybe for Nora too.)
First my people were planning a bar mitzvah. Then they were planning for a bat mitzvah and a trip to Israel. My question- What's Israel. They talk about it a lot. They seem excited about it, but if it was really great, why wouldn't they take me? Don't they want to share all the best things in life with me?
The trip to Israel was followed by my people going to a place called Ramah. They go every year. It must be a terrible place, because they aren't allowed to take me. I know. Gavi asked if I could come. At least I know he misses me.
Then, when I thought they were finally home, they left again. This time was really bad because Jennifer came back broken. Seriously. She couldn't move. She couldn't pick me up. She couldn't bend over to pet me or feed me. She couldn't change the water in my bowl. It was terrible. She also had trouble with the computer, so it was rarely available for me to jump on. But, finally, she's better, and I can share my saga.
What a year it's been! You'll all remember the terrible restriction of food I was suffering. It continues, although there has been some easing up. Still, every two weeks they shove me into a box to take me in the moving box to a place called the vet. There I stand on a table, my poor paws sweating like mad from the trip. My people talk to the vet people about my weight for, like, two minutes, and back into the box, happily this time because I know we're headed home. It hasn't been all bad though. They've stopped feeding me with that infernal humiliation ball. My food is delivered by a magical device. Every evening Sean gives me some treats, then sets the magic device. I've tried to figure out its working, but to no avail. Jennifer gives me treats and chicken more.
I have also discovered that I can run and jump again. No longer do I have to jump from the floor to a chair to reach the kitchen counter. Straight up I can go. My people yell and cheer me on every time I do it. I also caught a giant bug that ticked. Jennifer said it was a cicada. I think I prefer tuna, but it was yummy. The squirrels and butterflies no longer make fun of me. I haven't caught one yet, but I came close with a butterfly. Those colours must make them yummy. Squirrels watch out. I believe there will come a day.
Meanwhile, with my people's trips, I am racking up a fan club of very nice people who come to stay at the house all for me. (Okay, maybe for Nora too.)
I know there will come a day, soon, when my food will once again be there for the taking. It will come. I will wait for it; pray for it. It will come. Soon. I hope.
Shemot- Our Drama Continues
Vayomer Adonai
el-Moshe, ‘Atah tireh asher e’eseh l’Faroh ki b’yad chazakah y’shalcheim
uv’yad chazakah y’garsheim mei’artzo.’
And Adonai said to Moshe, ‘Now you will see what I will do to
Pharaoh, for by a strong hand he shall let them go, and by a strong hand he
will drive them out of his hand.’ (Shemot 6:1)
Recently, the
newest instalment in biblical epic films opened. Exodus: Gods and Kings opened to bad reviews and controversy.
Forbes magazine reviewer, Scott Mendelson wrote, “Ridley Scott’s Exodus: Gods and Kings is a terrible film. It is a badly acted and badly
written melodrama that takes what should be a passionate and emotionally
wrenching story and drains it of all life and all dramatic interest.” It’s a
shame. The trailer looks spectacular. The special effects seem to contain all
the drama of the text itself.
The book of Shemot is an amazing drama. The
number of films made of this story attest to its drama. Beginning with a
reminder of all those who went down to Egypt, we know the Israelites are about
to be enslaved. Revelation at Sinai is our defining moment. But, even more so
than Sinai, 400 years of slavery is an essential feature of the Jewish
narrative. Throughout the Torah we are reminded to act and react because of our
experience as slaves in Egypt.
Following on the drama of Breishit, from
creation to Noah, from Avraham to Joseph, the drama has moved from family
politics to the story of a nation. It is a story of our nation. Our nation’s
story does not exist in a vacuum. We act upon, and are acted upon by others.
Our story in Egypt is an emotional one. We all
know the story from the Hagaddah. God brought us out of Egypt with a strong
hand and an outstretched are. We speak of that arm, that hand, being the arm
and hand of God. God tells us He brought us out with a strong hand and an
outstretched arm. Our parasha shows that it is actually Pharaoh’s strong hand
that first enslaved us and then drove us out. So, whence comes the outstretched
arm? Rav Avraham Kook suggested the outstretched arm implies hope, “and
unrealized potential” or “a work in progress.” The strong arm gave us the
start, but after we advanced. We advanced to Sinai, to the mitzvot, and to our
destiny. And for this reason, said Rav Kook, our mitzvot are all connected to
our time in and redemption from Egypt.
Our drama has not yet ended. There is still so
much more work to do.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
OMG- He's Gotten to Me
Picture this:
Sean & I are watching a movie. Maybe it's a military flick, maybe not. An actor, dressed in military garb, is on the screen. Suddenly, Sean sits up, and comments about how the person is wearing his cover (That's a hat) wrong. Maybe it's not his cover. Maybe it's the wrong uniform for the time of year or place. Maybe a woman is wearing something from a man's uniform. Maybe it's the salute, or lack of one. The list goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on.
Now: picture this:
I am at my parents' home. My parents, brother, and I are watching "The Sand Pebbles." It's a Steve McQueen military movie from 1966. It has a great cast. It also makes a some mistakes. At the start of the film, Steve McQueen, who received an Oscar nod for his role as Jake Holman in this movie, gets off a small boat in China. He picks up his seabag in his right hand and walks up to three other sailors, senior officers. There is no salute. His right hand is occupied. He speaks with them; then goes on, his seabag now on his right shoulder. From the very beginning my mind was focused on that damn seabag. "IT'S IN HIS RIGHT HAND!!!" is all that occupied my mind. A sailor would never carry anything in his or her right hand. No military member would. The right hand, and right shoulder, must be free for saluting. Sean points these things out all the time. I kept my mouth shut, rather than burdening my family with this insanity. But in my mind, this has made me crazy. It lingers, refusing to leave. Why? Why do I care. This is the role that got Steve McQueen his only Oscar nod. The director, Robert Wise, held annual parties to celebrate the film. It's a great film, but the thing stuck in my head is that stupid seabag.
I blame Sean. After 23+ years of knowing Sean, he's gotten to me.
Sean & I are watching a movie. Maybe it's a military flick, maybe not. An actor, dressed in military garb, is on the screen. Suddenly, Sean sits up, and comments about how the person is wearing his cover (That's a hat) wrong. Maybe it's not his cover. Maybe it's the wrong uniform for the time of year or place. Maybe a woman is wearing something from a man's uniform. Maybe it's the salute, or lack of one. The list goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on.
Now: picture this:
I am at my parents' home. My parents, brother, and I are watching "The Sand Pebbles." It's a Steve McQueen military movie from 1966. It has a great cast. It also makes a some mistakes. At the start of the film, Steve McQueen, who received an Oscar nod for his role as Jake Holman in this movie, gets off a small boat in China. He picks up his seabag in his right hand and walks up to three other sailors, senior officers. There is no salute. His right hand is occupied. He speaks with them; then goes on, his seabag now on his right shoulder. From the very beginning my mind was focused on that damn seabag. "IT'S IN HIS RIGHT HAND!!!" is all that occupied my mind. A sailor would never carry anything in his or her right hand. No military member would. The right hand, and right shoulder, must be free for saluting. Sean points these things out all the time. I kept my mouth shut, rather than burdening my family with this insanity. But in my mind, this has made me crazy. It lingers, refusing to leave. Why? Why do I care. This is the role that got Steve McQueen his only Oscar nod. The director, Robert Wise, held annual parties to celebrate the film. It's a great film, but the thing stuck in my head is that stupid seabag.
I blame Sean. After 23+ years of knowing Sean, he's gotten to me.
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