Chill Out

In recent years, as tu b'shvat came closer, a flurry of excitement passed through my friends and classmates.

"Tu b'shvat higiah, chag labachurot!"

Or, more direct:

"The freezer (clap)
Is open (clap)
The freezer (clap)
Is open (clap)
Go out (clap clap)
Don't get cold feet!"

Some were decidedly less cheesy. A simple "Its tu b'shvat, where will you be tonight?" And of course, people made some heavy assumptions. I'm sure every female reading this has gotten both the text and the email of the poorly photoshopped yeshivah guys popping out of the freezer. The wedding music that always accompanied this text/email made the expectations pretty clear.

And people always rushed to provide.

The first year post seminary, a huge number of girls got engaged within the first month after tu b'shvat. The second year, too, saw a bunch of engagements littering the front page of only simchas. But then the numbers start to dwindle. After a while, a girl gets older. She looks at the newly defrosted yingelach as cute little boys. And when I say cute, I mean it purely in the little kid sense.

If the folks at NASI will just excuse me for saying this, I am pretty sure I'm a little too old to get excited by the freezer door opening.

I won't deny it. My father asked me to pass the fruit plate on shabbos. I told him it was too heavy. "Just tell me what you want me to pass you."
My father looked at the plate. "I want some dates."
My answer was so obvious, everyone looked at me expectantly, waiting to hear it. "Me too."

But somehow, I just don't see him as still being partially frozen...

Respect Please?

I haven't been this annoyed in a while. I walked out of the wedding, exausted. It's late and I came straight from work. I just want to get home. My car is in a parking lot which is insanely crowded. I reach my car and want to scream. I suffice with an "Oh man! What an idiot."

The lady walking to the next car gives me a look. I guess I said it out loud. Well he is an idiot. There is about three inches of space between my car and the idiot who parked to my left. I squeeze by on my side, but when I open the door there isn't even enough room for me to stick my wristlet in.

I certainly can't get in.

It's late. I'm tired. It's the last thing I want to do now, but I go to the other side of my car. I open the passenger door and climb over. My wedding gear is not made for climbing. This is hard. I am mad.

I understand that the parking lot is crowded, but I just can't get over that lack of kavod habrios. Assuming they're right about Barbie's dimensions being physically impossible for an actual person, NOBODY could have gotten through. And that just seems wrong to me. If you can't leave enough space for the other car's driver to get in, don't park there. Oh, and did I mention how hard it was to get out of the spot?


[/rant]

Top Ten People Who Should Be Banned From Computer Use

Today's Top Ten Tuesday is neither funny nor creative. It is merely an expression of my frustration at the numerous idiots in my life. Feel free to join me on the bandwagon and tell us who you don't think should be allowed to operate a computer.


10) Mr. Obsessive-Compulsive-Email-Forwarder

9) Ms. This-This-Is-Unbelievable-Can-I-Really-Get-Pictures-Of-My-Grandkids-On-Here?

8) Miss You-Dont-Need-To-Tell-Me-What-To-Do-I-Took-Computers-In-High-School-So-I-Know-What-I'm-Doing

7) Mr. I-Can-Read-The-Manual-And-Figure-It-Out-It-Might-Just-Take-A-While

6) Mr. DIY-from-every-geeky-website-on-the-world-wide-web.

5) Mr. I-found-the-coolest-thing-on-the-Internet-and-what-do-you-mean-you-found-it-three-or-four-years-ago-it's-totally-cool!

4) Mr. My-computer-has-a-more-sophisticated-processor-than-yours-does-and-it-also-has-a-bigger-hard-drive-than-your-computer-does.

3) Dr. Wow-These-newfangled-inventions!-this-is-so-much-faster-than-my-first-PC-it-had-a-64k-harddrive-and-I-thought-THAT-was-a-lot!-And-it-was-so-much-bigger-than-this-is!

2) Mr. Wait-show-me-how-you-just-did-that!


1) Miss OMG-LOL-I-must-update-my-facebook-status-and-tweet-it-so-everyone-can see!


Do you know these people too?

Fear of the Unknown

I hate to post this, as most of the things that go up on this blog aren't quite so personal, nor are they quite so depressing. But I can't help feeling a little blah about being single.

I was recently at the wedding of a friend and classmate, Chaya. Chaya and I had this little shtick throughout highschool where we called the row we sat in "Row-1." It was basically just a gimmick, something to take the monotony out of eleventh grade peirush tefilla class and tenth grade pirkei avos class. We had some Row-1 games (all masterminded by SD, of course), some Row-1 study sessions (read: SD cramming from Chaya's notes, which somehow got written despite SD's games), and a general feeling of camaraderie as we argued over the electronic Uno game for the boring classes.

Back to Chaya's wedding. I was sitting at the table next to Shana, another member of Row-1. We discussed her impending wedding; I admired her ring; she gushed about her chosson; all was good. Until I mentally began to take stock. Sarala from Row-1 has a one year old baby; Fraidy from Row-1 has a seven month old baby; Esty from Row-1 is expecting; Chaya from Row-1 just tied the knot; and Shana from Row-1 is rapidly transforming into a brido-sapien. Then there is me. Still single.

Don't get me wrong. I love being single. I mean, sure I want to get married, but life now is good. There are multitudes of benefits to being unattached, and I enjoy all of them. But somewhere in the back of my mind lies the gnawing uncertainty; the deep blackness of the unknown; the moments of "when will my turn come?" It's moments like I had on shabbos, while reminiscing about a story when my friends and I said shir hashirim for an "older single" we knew. I found it both sad and amusing that my 15 year old self had found this girl so old. I am older than she was then. Are there high school girls saying shir hashirim for me?

It's moments like phone calls to friends that make me remember how left behind I feel. I look at my watch, then check the time against the nightly learning seder in Lakewood, then think about my guy, and how he must be lonely too. It's moments like I have when I plan an expedition and find it easier to invite friends that are married long enough to leave their husbands behind than try to think of a single friend.

It's moments when I collect money for the next shower, and wonder who will collect money for mine if everyone is too busy changing diapers. It's moments when my married siblings come breezing into the clean, fragrant house an hour before shabbos and compliment me on how delicious the kugel is. I compliment them on their adorable kids, but inside I wonder when I will be the one coming back home as a guest, sporting a troop of adorable little toddlers waiting to be spoiled.

I know my guy is out there. I know my time will come. I don't need chizuk. I don't want reminders of how Hashem is running of the world. I just wanted to share my feelings with you, wondering if anyone else gets these nagging moments of doubt. And I feel better already, so three cheers for blogging-therapy!

Close To Home

"When one man dies it's a tragedy. When a million men die, it's a statistic." -Joseph Stalin

I mentioned this quote in a previous post, but I feel it needs to be repeated here. You see, I am sitting here, thinking about last week's tragic earthquake in Haiti. My first reaction is that it's so far from home, I don't even have the emotional capacity to worry about it. If I want to worry about people in tragic circumstances, there's the family friend who's father is in a coma after being in a car accident last week. There is the neighbor who's wife passed away recently. There is the cousin with a brain tumor. There is plenty of tragedy for me to worry about right here, I don't need to look for depressing things to think about thousands of miles away in a country I have no connection to.

All of that changed on Sunday night. A friend of mine from work called up, frantic. "Did you hear about Yolesha?"
Yolesha is the cleaning woman that works for my company. She's a sweet black woman who always has a smile to share. Just about a week ago she had gone to visit her family in... Oh my gosh. In Haiti.
My voice quivered as I answered my friend. "No...?" I was scared to hear her answer.
"They haven't heard from her since the earthquake. Nobody knows if she's even alive."

I was stunned. Speechless. It hits me. This is what the death toll means. The raw feelings of terror. The nagging feeling of uncertainty. The pit in your stomach. Not once. Hundreds of thousands of times over. Each individual that is missing, that perished, that is injured...this is what it's like. All over the world, people cling to the phones with nervous anticipation. Worrying, waiting, hoping for a phone call that will end the terrifying uncertainty. Hour after hour, day after agonizing day, and the wait continues. Where is Yolesha? Is she ok? Will we ever see her bright smile again? Will we ever hear her call out a cheerful good morning as she gathers her cleaning supplies? Will families ever be reunited? Will people ever see their friends again?

Haiti doesn't see so far away anymore.

(Update: since I wrote this a few days ago, someone heard from Yolesha. She is ok, but most of her family isn't...)

A Postscript

(Pardon me if this post makes no sense. I've just completed writing it and it's forty minutes past my bedtime and I don't think my eyes will stay up long enough to reread it. Which is just as well, cuz I probably wouldn't post this if I reread it.)

I think yesterday's post gave the mistaken impression that I only have ten things in my bag. I don't. I've mentioned before that I am ultra organized, so it's all arranged in cases and things. But I still carry more with me than I should admit to. But I will. So here goes, for the ultimate humiliation, the full contents of my bag:


16 oz hot cup and lid, (unused, I'm proud to say.) a packet of sugar-free hot-cocoa mix, an audio input cable, an orange pepper (I was WONDERING what happened to that!),

A wristlet, containing: seven bobby pins, the piece that fell of of my glasses (can someone please remind me to get it put back on?), a picture of two adorable little girls, a twenty dollar gift certificate to the local seforim store, a check for 14 dollars, a stick of yellow orbit gum, thirty nine dollars and fifty one cents (I suddenly feel very rich. Who wants to go shopping?), a folding pen with my name on it, a package of pink fruit-choice gum.

Back to the bag: a mini package of CVS tissues (unopened. Carrying them is an insurance policy against colds.), a pair of headphones.

A makeup bag containing: a mini tube of advil, a mini tube of Tylenol PM, two mini boxes of raisins, a traveling hair brush, a mini spray bottle of Lysol, a plastic CPR mask, a mini tube of curel hand cream, two sudafed tablets (in case the tissues insurance thing doesn't work, this is a total guarantee), a tube of blistex, a medicated chapstick, an insulin pen needle, four bic pens, two sharpie pens, one ultra fine point point sharpie marker (be impressed. I've graduated from carrying my entire marker collection with me. Why do you look surprised? Doesn't EVERYONE have marker collection?), one purple LePen felt tip pen, One prefilled novolog insulin pen, nine q-tips (again, all unused, you'll be proud to hear), five bandaids, one check (See, I didn't want to shlep around my whole checkbook, that would be totally unnecessary;-), a memory stick pro duo adapter, a package of yellow orbit gum, a folding mirror, nine dollars cash. Whew.

Onto the second makeup bag. (Gosh, if you wouldn't open them you would think I am a total MP!) A Bluetooth headset, a Bluetooth charger, two iPod cables (no, one wouldn't be enough. Duh.), a USB wall/car charger, a wall to car charger, an insulin pump clip (why that's there I don't know. I don't clip my insulin pump to anything, generally.), another memory stick pro duo adapter, cell phone charger, a spare iPod for emergencies (what do you mean you don't know what kind of emergency requires a spare iPod? You don't have them??).

Now back to the bag: A Practical Guide to Writing Fiction, an organizer which I have yet to update for today, a camera in a case, a pair of 100% cashmere gloves-14.99-awesomely warm, a handful of sunflower seeds (no, I will NOT count them. Sorry, I have some dignity.),

A THIRD makeup case, containing: my one touch ultra link (that's a blood sugar-or blood glucose, it abbreviates better- meter, for those uneducated folks.), two half empty vials of test strips, one lancing device (that's the nifty little tool that shoots a needle into your finger to extract a drop of blood. And if my doctor or mother is reading this, please do not note the absence of extra lancets in my meter case. I er, I um, changed it last year!).

Back to the bag, there is a stray quarter in the bottom, also a mostly-empty water bottle, and a couple of splenda packets (perhaps they were to go with the drink I never made in that cup?), a mini package of highlighters (trust me, this is better than it used to be. Think a fourth makeup bag filled with sharpies.), a roll of double sided tape, a jar of hemp foot protector (if you don't get it, you must not have diabetes either. Except I only put it on right before bed, so I don't really get it either.), my glasses, my wallet (it's tiny too. Really, it's tiny. More like a card carrier. I never carry more than I must, obviously.), a CD of the theme song for a tzedaka organization I volunteer for, two more sticks of orbit gum, another bic pen, and a handful of assorted gas, grocery store and drug store receipts.

That's it. Not too much, right?

Go on gals, do it! What's in YOUR bag? Don't be embarrassed, it can't be worse than mine!

Top Ten Reasons I Needed To Buy a Bigger Bag

People can't figure out why I need to shlep so much stuff around with me all the time. They think my enormous bag must be filled with junk, but I protest that. My bag is simply filled with lots and lots of important stuff. I like to be prepared, that's all. For this week's Top Ten Tuesday, I suffered the ultimate humiliation, I cleaned out my bag and took pictures for all to comment on.

10)

If this makes you scratch your head, you obviously never treated a high blood sugar. Or a low one.

9)

This is the world's niftiest gadget. Wall to car adapter. Never go anywhere without it. Trust me.

8)

Yes, my iTouch has a built in speaker. But hey, ya never know!

7)

I am the kinda gal who likes to be prepared.

6)

Er, very prepared.

6)

I'm kinda surprised that I don't have more books in there right now. But I am glad my organizer was in there so I could show it off. I am not the organizer type. I am the I-will-store-this-in-my-head-somewhere type, which is why this makes me proud. :-D

5)

Dead electronics are probably my biggest fear in life. I don't know why I only have my phone charger, my ipod charger and my bluetooth charger. Where in the world is my camera charger?

4)

I know I am not the only one who carries to different memory card adapters. I just know it.

3)

No, one pen wouldn't be enough.

2)

MP points out that carrying blistex around is great, because it can double as lipgloss, in a pinch. [sniggers]

1)

This, my friends, is why I haven't posted enough lately. Scraps of paper littering the bottom of my bag, mostly-written blog posts scrawled across them, never to be typed up. Sigh. Anyone wanna contribute towards the new (more portable) laptop fund? ;-)

(EDIT: Yes, I know there are two sixes. It's just cuz I am a show off.)

The Beginnings of a Rumor

(A true story.)

Hadassah relates:
I am so nervous for my first year of teaching. I am sure all of my seminary lessons have prepared me, but still, it's scary. I just got my class list. I barely recognize any names, which is a good thing. I am very nervous to have Leah Gold, she knows me from the neighborhood. I hope she is not going to act up to prove it. And I wonder if Suri Weiderman is the sister of my old classmate- Esti Weiderman. That would be strange. And embarrassing. I hope she isn't.

Esti relates:
This is so cute. I heard that my classmate Hadassah Abramson is teaching in Bais Rivka. Now my third grade sister has Morah Abramson. It's for sure Hadassa!

Hadassah relates:
Suri is definitely Esti's sister. She looks like a little clone of Esti. I hope she doesn't say anything embarrassing about the class to her sister.

Esti relates:
I hope third graders don't say anything embarrassing about their families to their Morahs. All I need is for a former classmate to hear all sorts of family secrets. Yikes.

Hadassah relates:
Suri seems to like me, which is a good thing. I feel such a pressure to make a good impression on Esti. I feel like the whole world is going to hear about my performance as a teacher through Esti, via Suri.

Esti relates:
Ouch! Oh my gosh what did I just do?? Ouch!! My hand!
"Ma!! Ow, my hand...help!"
"I don't know. Maybe you should call... Ow. It kills..."
"Thanks... I hope hatzalah gets here soon."
"Ouch, this hurts so much..."
"Ma... Ow... Maybe you should send the kids down to the- ouch- basement so they aren't in the way of the -ouch- hatzalah men."
"Thanks Ma. Yeah, it still kills."
They're here. I hate this. Why do they have to get my whole biography?? I AM IN SERIOUS PAIN!

Hadassah relates:
What a pain. Suri didn't do her homework. It's so strange, she has always been so good about homework. I hope she has a good reason for not having her homework done.
"Why don't you have your homework done Suri?"
"It wasn't my fault Morah!"
"What happened?"
"I left my book upstairs in the living room and I couldn't get it!"
"Why couldn't you get it?"
"Cuz a man came for my sister and my mother said we had to stay downstairs in the basement."
Oh, wow! Such exciting news!
"Ok Suri, you are excused for today. Make sure to make up the work."
I am so excited about this! As soon as I get home I better start spreading the news!

Esti relates:
It's bad enough having a broken hand, I hope Suri didn't go telling her Morah that Hatzalah came.

Right Way To Write

"Writing with a pen and paper is so much harder than it is on a computer. I'm so glad I didin't live in the olden days."

That was my facebook status the other night. (What? I didn't mention that SD did the unthinkable, she succumbed to temptation and joined facebook? Well I did. I'm not addicted yet, but give me some time. Oh, and once I'm there, befriend me, I feel seriously unpopular- Somethin Diff.)

Anyhow, back to my status, I was at someone's house when a story idea hit. My laptop wasn't with me, shockingly enough. I scratched my head in dismay, then finally asked for a pen and paper, and began to write. And by write, I mean the old fashion way. Actually forming letters on a paper- with ink. It was an interesting experience, something I haven't tried since high school.

And, it must be said, I didn't enjoy it. I mean, it wasn't too bad, but computers are so much easier, what with the backspace, spell check and the ability to save and backup files. And so, i figured I would share my frustration with the world. That became my first ever facebook status.

I would have forgotten all about it had I not gone to see the silk road exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History. The good news about the ultra steep admition price that I would have enjoyed the exhibit regardless of the contents. I'm the kind of gal who always gets my money's worth. I'm also the kind of gal who loves anything to do with history, so it worked out well.

I walked through the exhibit with my friend, reading and enjoying the information displayed. Suddenly, I stopped short in front of a particular showcase. My friend tried to pull me to move on, but I wouldn't move. I was awestruck. They described, in detail, the importance of paper to the silk road trade, and to civilization. In ancient times, the formula to paper making was so important, those who developed it guarded their secret to prevent its theft. Paper, folks, paper! The very same substance about which I had complained of using, was a rare and valuable commodity in the ancient times.

Never again will I complain about writing on just PAPER.

Do You Know Her Too?

Idiot: id-ee-uht; an utterly foolish or senseless person.

I think that is the best way to describe the lady I spoke to at the wedding last week. In the world of Nosey Shadchanim and Well Meaning Individuals, she probably ranks highest on the stupidity scale. We have all encountered her at some point or another. Her actions are similar to those of the Well Meaning Friend who said, in a voice dripping with empathy and sympathy, upon discovering my new status as a person with type one diabetes, "Oh, I know how awful diabetes is. My grandmother died from it." I truly felt comforted by her kind words. Finally, I was able to sleep at night without tossing and turning, worrying that nobody has died yet from my condition. What if I will be the first? I may become a medical anomaly!

In plain English, she is called The Chizuk Lady. The very same woman who pulled you into the dance circle, clucking because it's so hard for you to dance at the wedding of a girl two years younger than yourself. She is the woman that seeks you out when you step into the restroom, happy to provide a tragedy of the shidduch crisis with some important and uncommon company. And of course, she is the woman that gives you those beautiful little pearls of chizuk. No, not "Im yirtzeh Hashem by you!" That is so cliche already. She has new bits of chizuk to share. Gems like "I am telling you, as hard as it is for you to feel, always remember, Yeshuas Hashem k'heref ayin!" She then reminds you not to get down, after all, your time will come too, and everything is bashert.

G-d has granted me with the gift of patience. The gift of being able to smile and nod as the woman continued to shower me with heaps of unwanted chizuk. The gift of holding my tongue, of not telling her "Oh, you know, I hadn't even thought of getting depressed about this! But now that you mention it, it is kinda depressing that the kallah tonight is two years younger than me, isn't it?" But I don't know if it was such a good idea to stay silent. This woman clearly needs a talking to. She needs to have someone explain to her that a young girl in her early twenties is not necessarily depressed, just because she is single. And she needs someone to explain to her that if she doesn't shut up and stop reminding the single girls how much younger the kallah is, someone might just get depressed. She needs someone to explain to her that most chizuk in the matter of being single is unwanted and unnecessary, but such chizuk is particularly undesirable when it comes from a fat grandmother in her fifties. Maybe I should have done it...damage control, y'know?

Can someone please tell me that I am not the only one who's met The Chizuk Lady? What did she tell you?

Reconnecting With an Old Friend

I am not really sure why I never published this, cuz I wrote it months ago, and I am not sure how applicable it is now, but in any case, here you go:

It wasn't long after the wedding of one of my closest friends, that I found myself on the phone with an old friend, someone I hadn't spoken with much in the couple of months prior to that.

We had an interesting dialogue:

Friend: I was expecting you to call one of these days!
SD: you were?
Friend: yes. Now that [insert name of close friend here] got married, I figures you'd be bored...ya know.
SD: well, erm, I guess I am but... [feels uneasy]
Friend: but what?
SD: but I guess it's a little cheesy. I mean, the minute my friend gets married I should go and remember about all the friends I've lost contact with over the years?
Friend: sure, why not? Isn't that the way everyone does it?
SD: but that's so see-through!

We went on to discuss the pros and cons of this, and came to the conclusion that faking it is not a good idea either. Face it, your friend has gotten married, that's not quite a secret. And unless your friendship was a secret, people are going to realize that the person who you spent a lot of your free time with, the person with whom you used to speak multiple times each day, is now spending her time with some guy that she barely knows. No matter what brilliant excuse you might drum up to reconnect with old friends, she will see through the whole thing.

And so, we came to the joint conclusion that it's best to be upfront about the whole thing. "Hi Devorah! We haven't spoken in ages, but I was wondering if you wanted to get together one of these days?"

It might sound ridiculous, but remember, your friend, assuming she is your age, is also watching many of her friends and acquaintances tie the knot, and needs your company now too.

So I've been reconnecting with some old friends, reconnecting with those that are married long enough, (Humph, that's for you!) and getting to know some new people. But I wonder what other people's take on this is. If you've been through this phase, how did you deal with it? Did you think it was a little transparent when your old friends reconnected with you after close friend's weddings? Did you do it to others? Do you find it insulting? Or more of a relief?

Top Ten Made Up Thoughts

I'm sitting here in Starbucks, trying to think of a Top Ten Tuesday idea. I'm looking around at the people around me, and I realize that their thoughts would make a great top ten list. I kinda feel bad for the people I stared at, because their thoughts written below are completely made up:


10) "This line is taking forever, which is a good thing because I have nothing better to do."

9) "My parents are boring me. When can I go back to school? And why do they pay for this bitter drink?"

8) "All that money I spent on this fancy new orange bag and nobody even seems to like it!"

7) "I just spent half an hour reading the paper and I have no idea what it said becaus I've been watching that cute guy at the next table the whole time."

6) "I don't find my friends pictures very interesting, but I better fake it cuz she paid for breakfast."

5) "I wonder if my girlfriend thinks my new sunglasses are as cool as I think they are."

4) "I only got this iced coffee so that my friend will ask why I got a cold drink on a freezing morning. He didn't even ask."

3) "I don't have money for a cup of overpriced coffee, but I can sit down and get out of the cold and hope that nobody notices."

2) "Sitting here with a cup of coffee, a blackberry, and a laptop, I look like I actually have a job. Nobody has to know that I'm unemployed, and just sitting here on facebook."

1) "Look at her, so self absorbed, just typing on her itouch. I bet she hasn't even noticed that anyone else is in this store."

My Scoop: Last Night's Meet-Up

It's hard to believe that I slept in this morning, took a shower, had breakfast, cleaned my room, did laundry, and still managed to get my scoop on last night's get-together before anyone. Particularly, bad4 seems to get particular satisfaction from invoking fear in the hearts of her companions via threats about the posts she is going to put up. In fact, she spent the entire car ride texting (from my phone. Apparently I am not trustworthy enough to hold a phone and drive at the same time.) everyone about everyone else. Nobody was spared. Halfshared ironed her hair for the occasion. SD is driving like a maniac. Scraps got all dressed up. Bas~Melech has visiting hours, and Corner Point chose hubby over game and ice cream. Corner Point suitably named her "Gossip-Girl," which is a large part of the reason I can not get over her silence regarding the events.

In fact, neither of our married members, or Alumni, as bad4 calls them, were too keen on my suggestion; let Rabbi Corner Point and Rabbi Bas~Melech spend some time together, leaving their wives to eat ice cream. Don't anybody say I didn't try!

Midway through our journey, an emergency was uncovered. My memory card was found to be stuck in Bad4's computer, remnant of our early morning blobby-photo-shoot-uploading-session. Scraps and Little Sheep had a hard time understanding why bad4 and myself had a sudden tweezing emergency. (Do either of us look like the sort of gal that would freak out and shrilly announce that "there is no way I can be seen in an ice cream store without fixing up my eyebrows! I must have a tweezers!!"?) Halfshared had an ingenious solution of her own. "I don't have tweezers, but I have lip-gloss!"

At some point during our game, Scraps had the hiccups. Everyone knows that the best cure form the hiccups is to shock the patient. So I said, "Hey, Scraps, did you hear about the seventy year old lady that had a baby?"

She looked up, surprised. "No?"

I nodded. "She called Kupat Hair and she pressed the wrong number."

Alas, her hiccups did not cease, but it was good for a laugh.

Some interesting answers from our loaded questions game:

What nickname would you like to be called by?

Bad4 secretly wishes to be called Honey, Dearest (You know, if I didn't know better, I would think she is obsessed...;)

What compliment do you get most often?

Scraps is apparently more well liked than yours truly. She is a good caring friend. I am simply nuts.

Why does SD insist on being so________?

Halfshared thinks I am evil. I must not be, cuz I gave her a ride home after she wrote that. Hmph. And Lil sheep thinks I am attached to wifi. I am so not!

It might also be noted, that bad4 was a very good guest over shabbos. Most of the time. There were a few blogging slip-ups (which I will forgive, as they may have been a result of her 3am bedtime two nights in a row. Or the force-fed sugar), such as when she informed me, in front of MP, that she is planning to post pictures. I kicked her, and she amended her statement. "I am going to post them onto photobucket and email them to everyone I know." Riiight.

Then there was the time where she said, and I quote "I wouldn't know what to do with a website." Uh huh.

Meet Blobby Jr.

2:00 am is an awesome time for building snowmen. The only drawback is the lack of bystanders, which means no bad4shidduchim points were distributed for bad4 and myself, the proud architects (gods?) of Blobby Jr. 'Tis a shame though, because Blobby Jr. is holding a beer bottle, and associating with drunken men late on New Year's Eve is definitely bad for shidduchim.

"Hello, Mom? Yeah, of course! No, I am not drinking! What makes you think so?"

Smeared ketchup mouth: about 15 cents

Baby carrot nose: about 10 cents

Leftover chanukah chocolate coin eyes: free

A snowman that's drunk from partying all night on New Year's eve: priceless.

There are some things money can't buy. That's why we have blogging.

For a full report of the night's adventures, which included a daring crusade into a male-inhabited take out store for midnight chulent, read what bad4 has to say here. I haven't read it yet, but if she makes excessive fun of me in the post, she isn't having any potato kugel on shabbos, so it shouldn't be too bad.