Two Peas In a Pod

While I'm generally opposed to the idea of laughing at people for no good reason, I can't help but laugh at this pair of twins I met last shabbos.
They are twelve years old. A little too old, if you ask me, to be wearing matching outfits with matching coats and boots. And matching shabbos robes. And matching nightgowns. When I was looking for some way to tell them apart, I also noticed their matching earrings. And glasses. And watches. Oh, and did I mention their first names rhyme? (lol)
Of course they looked at me with the same huge eyes, with identical stares that wondered why I'm so different.
So, being that they are absolutely impossible to tell apart, I asked them how they take advantage of it. They looked back at me blankly (matching blank stares of course). "What do you mean?" So I told them: well, if I had an identical twin I'd really confuse people and use it to our advantage. (identical horrified grins. Perfect. I continue) for example, if you have two tests on the same day, you can each study for one and switch classes as needed so that you'll only have to take one of the tests (albeit twice...but the second time is always easier anyway...). Needless to say, both twins emitted identical horrified shrieks.
So we finished up our little conversation, and went back to our own lives.
Bit I can't help wonder. Will they wear matching wedding gowns? What about their kids? Will they have to match? When do you get to consider it embarrassing to match your twin? And what the heck is their mother thinking?

Driving (Me) Crazy!

You know what really irks me? I hate it when you are driving, and someone cuts you off.

 

Um......duh? You're probably thinking.

 

Well, you you know what makes me so angry? Like, really really really angry? I absolutely can not stand it when a car cuts you off and then hhhhhheeeeee ggggoooooeeeeesssssss rrrrreeeeeaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyy ssssssslllllllooooooooowwwwwwlllllllllyyyyyyyyyyy.

 

I mean, here I am, merrily cruising down the road at a steady 40 miles an hour. And this wise guy decides that it would be smart to turn, when I am real close. I slam on my brakes, and wait for him to speed up. But it doesn't happen. He stays at that 25 mile an hour mark. I try tailgating him, brighting him, trying to get him move a little. Nothing doing.

 

But sir, MAKE UP YOUR MIND! If you are in such a lack of a rush (sorry, I know that made absolutely NO sense, but I think you get it.) why did you feel that pressing need to cut me off? Are you some kind of crazy sadist who enjoys watching people suffer? Do you even hear the nasty things I am muttering at you from my car? Don't you realize that I am in a RUSH? Ok, even if I am not, do you realize how stressful it is to have to tailgate you all the way to my destination?

 

*Sigh*

 

And yet, somehow, life moves on. Uh oh, I better watch out cause that might be a lesson applicable elsewhere in life...

 

Would You Compromise?

I am going to finish up my train of thought of my previous posts with this final theory. I don't know if I am making sense with all these theories, in fact, I kinda doubt I am. But maybe this will help clarify things for you, regarding the previous posts also.

"Would you compromise in shiduchim?"
It's a common question, which I face often. And my answer is, always, "Absolutely NOT!" Are you surprised? Why? Would I be expected to compromise? Why? ;) Ok, I know why you may think so, but listen to me first.

Yes, I would be willing to marry a boy with a "BUT", even a boy with TBB. But it's not a compromise. Here's why.

All day, every day, Hashem is busy making shiduchim. Forty days before I was born, he decided who I am going to marry and when I'm going to marry him. Now the issue is getting us together. He's there. I'm here. But we need to match. Imagine each couple is a two piece puzzle. Whatever ridges and grooves there are in me (my piece of the puzzle), have to correspond to whatever ridges and grooves he has. Think about it! It's a massive job, one that would only be able to be done properly by the Master Planner himself.
How can we get SD and DPC to be compatible? Well, if SD has been and changed in xyz way, then she needs a boy who has been through ----- and has changed similarly. Not as a result of diabetes, but some other things I've been through, I don't think I would be able to marry a boy who hasn't matured (in my way). We simply wouldn't be very compatible. I have bumps on my puzzle piece. Don't get me wrong. These are bumps that have made me into a better person. But, I have them, and they ain't going away. I need someone who has them too.
It's as simple as that. I don't call it a compromise. It's a matter of fitting together.
Would I compromise? No, I wouldn't marry a lesser boy. Yes, I would marry a BETTER boy.
It's as simple as that.

So, back to our discussion:
~Have I changed?
~Is change even good?
~How do you define maturity?
Here is my answer(s):
~Yes I have changed.
~Change can be good or bad depending on what kind of change.
~ Change is good if it leads to maturity.
~ I wouldn't compromise, but I WOULD marry a more mature boy.

Did that make any sense? Probably not, but it's as much sense as I can make, as this is my view of things, take it or leave it.... :-)

Sometimes You Gotta Wait!

Shabbos Chanukah arrived,
My siblings-in they flew,
Brothers from Yeshivah,
And married siblings too.
My usually empty room,
Got a roommate for the night.
It was my quietest niece,
So I thought I'd be alright.
It was really really late,
2:30 to be precise,
When my niece woke me up screaming,
'Twas hard to be so nice!
But I knew she was hungry,
And needed to be fed,
So before her cries woke up the house,
I jumped up outta bed.
I tried to make a bottle,
But I'm really not the best,
I'd never made one in my life,
So I got put to the test,
I tried to find a bottle,
And I needed formula too!
But meanwhile my niece screamed,
Quite a tantrum she threw!
I wanted to take her into my arms,
And cuddle her real tight,
And say to her "shush little one
Everything will be alright!"
"I know you want that bottle,
I'm making it for you!
But it takes some time to make it
Taste just right for you!
I'm working as fast as I possibly can,
To put your troubles to an end
But please calm down meanwhile,
And to your cries I'll tend!"
And then I realized, as I finish,
That I do the very same thing,
I want health, happiness, a good job,
And of course, I want a ring!
I scream and cry, I beg and plead,
That Hashem should hurry and give,
All that I ask for, and then,
Happily ever after I'll live!
So Hashem takes me in his arms,
And hugs me really tight,
And he says "shush little one,
Everything will be alright"
"I know you want some of this,
And some of that sounds nice,
I'll give it all to you,
You don't have to ask twice!
But please exhibit patience,
Rome wasn't built in a day,
As soon as the time is right,
I'll send yeshuos your way.
So please calm down right now,
There's no need to scream and cry,
I can't give it to you today,
Soon you'll see the reason why,"
So for now, I must stay calm,
And recognize my place,
While this wait is something not so fun,
It's something I must face.
The good is there, it might just take,
A bit of time to prepare,
So I'll have to stop my crying,
I won't shed another tear!
My niece's bottle I prepare,
At the quickest possible pace,
So too, I feel content to know,
I'm in Hashem's embrace!

The Meaning of Chanukah-and Life

I need a few days to compose my thoughts regarding maturity, change, and it's impact on my shiduchim prospects and put it together in words. So, I am taking a little break to post this thought regarding chanukah and life. It's a little spiritual and serious, so try not to be too shocked! ;)

There was a young couple, not too long after their wedding, who received excellent news. They were soon going to be parents! For nine exciting months, they planned and dreamed. One bright day, her contractions started. A quick ride to the hospital, a few grueling hours of labor, and the first cries were heard. Their little miracle was born. A little baby boy. It wasn't too much later that the doctor came into her room, grim faced. In a solemn tone, the doctor told them that he has some bad news. The parents were shocked. THEIR baby? How could it be? Their baby is surely perfect! Nothing could be wrong, could it? With trembling hands and terror in their voices, the parents asked the doctor for further information. So the doctor explained. "Your baby has been born with a life threatening condition. We don't know when it will kill him. It might be an hour, a day, a week, a month. Maybe it will be after a year, or several years, but surely it will kill him. It might kill him suddenly, with absolutely no warning. It might kill him after a prolonged illness which might cause him untold suffering and pain. He may have to be hospitalized a number of times to treat complications of his condition. He may have trouble in school as a result of his condition. It might cause him difficulty making and keeping friends. Other children might taunt him as a result of his condition. It's even possible your son will suffer from mental >or emotional issues stemming from his condition." The parents are stunned. Speechless. They can't believe the way their dreams and hopes just blew away in an instant. When he finally finds his voice, the father ventures to ask "What about research? Are they working on a cure, or at least a treatment, for my son's condition?" Sadly, the doctor shook his head. He explained that due to the nature of the condition, there simply is nothing that modern science can do about it. The brand-new mother manages to stammer out, in a tear-choked voice, "what is this horrible condition from which my son suffers? What is it called?"To that the doctor replied very simply: "it's called life."

Yes. Life. Life will cause all of this bad things to happen to a person. And everyone eventually does die from "life". So what is it that makes a new baby's birth a joyous occasion, rather than a cause for mourning? The answer lies in Chanukah. On chanukah, we celebrate our triumph over the Greeks. They didn't want to kill us. They wanted to kill our purpose in life. They wanted to take away our ability to learn Torah, to do Mitzvos, to do Hashem's will. On Chanukah, we celebrate our freedom to do all of these things. We celebrate that our lives are not a means of getting to our deaths, but rather, getting to something much greater than anything we can experience in this world. And so, at Chanukah parties all over the world, as people celebrate the festival of lights with donuts and latkes, try to remember: Chanukah is about living an enlightened existence. It's about raising ourselves up from the depressing existence called "life". It's about getting from here to Olam Habah, not from here to death. That being said, enjoy your latkes and your donuts. Oh, AND your life. Happy Chanukah!

Some Laughs, Compliments of BOSD's NEW One Liners Blog!

I was feeling a bit of an overload from the seriousness of the latest posts. I mean, maturity is only good up to a certain point.....so-together with Little Sheep, I started a one liners blog. It's over at http://bosdoneliners.blogspot.com/. Check it out, and email me any funny one liners you have!

How do you define maturity?

I think maturity is an extremely misunderstood topic. How do you define maturity? Which of the following would you consider more mature?

Girl 1: She is a model student. Her teachers love her because she always behaves in class, does her work, and does well on tests. She takes notes in all her classes. Her loose leaf is always perfectly neat, with all her papers exactly in place. Her behavior in school is impeccable. She is quiet and refined, and keeps to herself.

Girl 2: She is a less than perfect student. Her teachers find themselves gritting their teeth when they think of her. She often falls asleep in class. Her teachers can't figure out why, despite being quite smart, she is always flunking tests-due to lack of effort. Instead of taking notes, during class she is drawing nasty pictures of the teachers. She will always be the one laughing in the hallways over the latest joke. (And it's very likely she is laughing very loudly.)

You are probably shaking your head, saying to yourself, man is that second girl a BABY! She should learn a little from that first girl. So let me add on the following scenario:

Girl 1: Her father is very sick and needs to be rushed to the emergency room by ambulance. She panics and runs to her bedroom in tears, and she won't come out.

Girl 2: Her father is very sick and needs to be rushed to the emergency room by ambulance. She helps her father get together whatever he might need in the hospital, sends her little brother out to wait for the ambulance (to make sure they know where to go). When hatzolah arrives, she brings them into the room, answers their questions, and helps them with whatever they need to take care of. After sending the little siblings to their friends, she drives to the hospital to sit in the emergency room with her mother. When her father finally gets admitted, despite being 4 am, she drives her mother and herself home, so that they can catch a few hours sleep before she drives back the next morning...

Ok, are you getting the picture? Girl 1 is MP, and Girl 2 is yours truly, SD.

Am I saying that I am the height of maturity? As all of my high school teachers would surely agree, I am FAR from the most mature person you'll ever meet. But, MP, who conveys such a perfectly mature image, is a whole lot less mature. According to MY definition of mature.

Does it really matter how loud or quiet someone acts? Who cares if I make a lot of jokes? Ok, maybe I laugh a little loud, but does that really matter? Wouldn't you say, that the thing that matters most is how a person reacts in the face of adversity? In a crisis situation, who would you prefer to have around? MP or SD? Is maturity measured by the amount of laughter included in a person's day? Or is it measured by things that matter a little more. Here is another example:

MP and SD go to a shiur together. MP brings along her shiurim loose leaf. Inside are pages and pages of neatly written notes on all previous shiurim she had attended. SD comes to the shiur and takes off her bracelet. She spends the entire shiur fiddling with it. MP wonders why SD bothers to come to the shiur, if she is not even listening or taking notes. But, while MP has a beautiful loose leaf filled with all the speeches she's been to in the last couple of years, SD has internalized the lessons. No, she can't repeat back all of the lessons she's heard. She can't even remember who said what. But when she is going through a rough time, she uses the various lessons she has internalized to pull her through.

Does MP seem more mature? Maybe to the uneducated, unthinking eye. Maybe to someone who doesn't know her very well. But, who do you really think is the more mature one?

Here is my definition of mature. A mature person is someone who has been through things in their life and has used those things to grow and develop as a person, and will use prior life experience to overcome and withstand hardships.

So this brings me back to changing as a result of having diabetes. What you have to realize is, change could be good, and it could be really bad. It depends on the nature of the change. I'll explain what I mean in my next post... Right now I am headed to the gym so I can try and outgrow my "juvenile diabetes" ;) (LOL)

Have I changed? Is change even good?

Have I changed since I was diagnosed? Well, considering I was diagnosed at the age of 12, I would really hope I did. I mean, when I was diagnosed I still played with dolls for heavens sake! (Now I just wish I could play with dolls. They're so fun!!) Also, when I was diagnosed with diabetes I was the kind of kid that screamed at the mere sight of a needle. I mean, my father had to take me to get shots whenever I needed them cuz my mother couldn't bare to hear her daughter scream so loud. The day I was diagnosed, the first time they checked my blood sugar, that tiny little poke that has become the most normal thing in my life, made me scream so loud I think they had to call down every staff member in the entire ER (including janitors;) to hold me down so they could poke me. Now....well, occasionally I put in a pump set and it hits a nerve and the resulting pain is so severe that you can probably hear my yelps from across the country. But on a normal basis though, you won't find me being restrained 6 to 10 times a day so that I can test my blood sugar. And I'm pretty sure the nurse at the lab found it strange when a 13 year old kid asked her if she can stick the needle in herself. So I guess I have changed.
But in all seriousness, all maybe not ALL but I'll try...lol...have I changed? And how can you tell if someone had changed as a result if diabetes, or anything else that happens to them in their lives?
And of course, we have to remember the most important question, which is: is changing as a result of hardships in life really a good thing??
Think about this. I dunno if any parents are reading this, but at least try to imagine you had a little child. Now try to imagine that that little child was diagnosed with type one diabetes. Picture this: the hospital staff is giving you a crash course in becoming a full time caregiver. You are learning about things you never thought normal people do. You are injecting your own child a couple of times a day, weighing every bite of food that goes into your 6 year old's mouth, poking his finger and learning to squeeze out a drop of blood, and of course, you are learning what a pancreas is, which is the best pharmacy in the neighborhood, and how long it takes to drive to the area's best pediatric endocrinology clinic.
There is probably one thought that stands out the loudest from the mess of thoughts flying through your brain. I mean, yes, you are probably wondering how you are supposed to be sleeping when you need to do 2 am blood sugar checks. And you probably get this sinking feeling in your heart when it occurs to you that frum private schools usually don't have full time school nurses. But one thought stands out most. Trust me. (Well, you probably shouldn't. I have never been through it from this point of view B"H.) you are thinking of your child. You are thinking: "I hope my child will still me able to live a normal life. I hope my child will still be able to do anything every other child does."
If someone would say to you at that point: "your child will develop a heightened sense of maturity as a result if all the suffering he'll endure" you'd probably get very upset. It would probably be the last thing your want to here at that point.
So I ask you again: is changing as a result if diabetes, or something else life throws at you such a good thing?
The answer is of course it is!
But in a different way than you think.
To understand my theory on this, you have to understand my view of maturity. So, before I write what I think maturity means, please tell me, what do you think maturity is?

The Big BUT

I have learned not to be jealous of anyone. That family that looks so content and happy has a sick family member, and that gorgeous girl in struggling though a rough family time. Nobody has a perfect life. Nobody lives struggle free. So it doesn't make sense to be jealous.

Someone gave this an analogy:

"Everyone in the world has their pekelach to shlep. Some people shlep it around in thick black garbage bags. Some people shlep it around in clear garbage bags which leaves no room for doubt as to what is inside."

I add:

"And sometimes the garbage bag splits open and the entire world sees what is inside..."

Either way, jealousy is just plain dumb.

So here is what I am jealous of. It's not a person, because that is stupid. I get jealous of ASPECTS of people's life. (Note, that many of these feeling are transient. I am jealous of it one day and don't really care the next...but here is a list of examples.)

-I am jealous of girls who don't have to pretend they understand when everyone is discussing dating stories.

-I am jealous of anyone who can eat a delicious looking piece of chocolate cake without thinking twice.

-I am jealous of anyone who does not have to work their kishkes out at the gym to keep healthy and not-too overweight.

-I am jealous of anyone who is super skinny and looks gorgeous in a slinky skirt and a tee shirt.

-I am jealous of anyone who is able to be terrified of needles.

-I am jealous of anyone who is happily married already... (!)

-I am jealous of anyone who....ok, enough on here. I am not trying to complain. (Unless maybe I should be...;)

But the number one thing I am jealous of, and this is not something I think of only when I walk into a bakery, or watch my sister do something clumsy. It is something I think about constantly. I think about this with every "MAZEL TOV ______ is engaged!!!!!!" text. I think about this when I go to vorts. showers, and weddings. I think about this when I see my friends parading around in their fancy shmancy sheitels. I think about this as as I shell out money for (yet another) kallah's present.

Here goes: Basically, I am jealous of girls who get redt shiduchim without going through this:

NS (Nosey shadchan): Hi Mrs. ______! I have a wonderful boy for your daughter SD!

Mom: Ok...?

NS: Well, he is a wonderful boy. Really wonderful!

Mom: Can you tell me about him?

NS: He is learning in lakewood, he is considered to be a really top boy.

Mom: ??

NS: So are you interested?

Mom: Well I need to hear a little about him first, please?

NS: I tell you this boy is such a catch you would have to be crazy to turn him down! He is mamish a top top bachur! He is such a masmid, you could chalish! I am telling you! Even being blind doesn't stop him from from learning so beautifully!

Mom: Blind?

NS: And he gets around so well on his wheelchair people almost forget he is in one! It's mamish a neis how independant he is! (Loud sniffle.)

Mom: Wheelchair?

NS: And I am telling you, when his father ran out on his family leaving his mother to cope with ten kids by herself, it just increased his bitachon. He is a MUCH better boy because of it!

Mom: um?

NS: And don't worry that he has 4 siblings who are off the derech. He is totally not like them. He is such an amazing boy with such special midos!

Mom: um...I don't think that...

NS: You don't think that what??

Mom: I mean, he sounds like a very special boy but my daughter was looking for someone more-

NS: If you are worried about him having the burden of parnassah for his large mishpacha (kineh hora) don't worry! He makes a lovely parnassah doing-

Mom: I thought you said he was a big masmid?

NS: Sure I did! He is koveah itim and during those two hours a day he mamish learns so well!

Mom: I don't think my daughter is looki-

NS: (angry) Now look here Mrs. ________! Your daughter is not well herself! {my note: oh YEAH?} She can't afford to be so choosy! Do you think she is getting younger?

Mom: Yes I know but-

NS: But nothing Mrs. ______. Your daughter will have to compromise, and you better face that. No regular boy would go out with her and you know it! Are you really going to let a few little issues get in your way?

Mom: Ok, I will talk to my daughter and my husband and get back to you.

NS: Ok, let me give you my number...

Mom: No, it's ok, I...um...I have caller ID.

NS: Ok Mrs. ______, I look forward to hearing from you!

Mom: Likewise. {snort}

NS: And you better act quick! You don't want to let such a good offer slip through your fingers!

Mom: Goodbye.

But those are kind of better, in a way, than these conversations:

WMS (well meaning shadchan. This is very different than a NS. A well meaning shadchan is usually a friend or family member.): Hi Mrs. _________, how are you? How is the family?

Mom: Good Baruch Hashem! And you?

WMS: Great! Baruch Hashem.....I am actually calling to redt a shiduch for your daughter, SD.

Mom: Ok, let me hear.....

WMS: Well he is a very fine boy, from an excellent family.

Mom: Ok, tell me about him.

WMS: Ok, he learned in [insert name of chashuv yeshiva in Eretz Yisroel here].

Mom: ok, sounds good, what else?

WMS: His father is a [select one: chashuve talmid chacham; Beloved rebbe; well known Ba'al Tzedakah.

Mom: Ok? What else?

WMS: He is very close to [insert name of rosh yeshivah here]. In fact you can call him for a reference.

Mom: Ok, I will take the number. What else can you tell me about this boy?

WMS: He has excellent midos. He comes from a really chashuv family. They have money and yichus and they are so warm and loving....

SD: (anxiously mouthing at Mom) Ask what the BUT is!

Mom: (to WMS) hold on a minute. (Cups hand over reciever, to me) I can't! It's a funny for me to ask!

SD: Ok! So I will. (Takes phone) Hi Mrs. WMS! I just wanted to ask you....

WMS: Oh, SD, did you hear all about this amazing boy I have for you?

SD: Yes, I did, and I have one question.

WMS: Yes?

SD: What's the BUT?

WMS: What?

SD: He's a great boy BUT....

WMS: (uncomfortable pause) Um...it's not a big deal, it's just that......

You can leave the rest up to your imagination. He has this issue and he has that issue, and the "regular" boys don't date ME.

So here is the latest addition to the BOSD glossary: TBB is The Big But. I have a different way of looking at this, but that's another whole post. Realize though, that TBB is ALWAYS there. In my case anyway.

There. I did it. I got out a shidduch rant without having ever been on a date, or even being in shidduchim. Wow. Now I deserve ice cream! :-D

The Legacy of Lot's Wife

Rubbernecking is not a new phenomenon.

Of all the wicked things the world may have learned from Lot and his wife, this has gotta be the most wicked. I mean, think about it; a man is on his way home from work. His boss yelled at him. His pen leaked on his brand new designer shirt. The coffee machine was broken and he had to drink instant coffee.

Basically, his day played out in true spirit of our old friend Murphy. Yet he didn't expect it to get this bad. He's driving down the garden state parkway, eager to get home so he can vent his frustrations on his poor unsuspecting wife. His mind is on the clever retort he should have said to the VP of sales, when the car in front of him slowed way down. He noticed it. But not in time.

Suddenly, he finds himself and his fancy new lexus SUV in the midst of a four car pileup. The embarrassment he feels as he waits for the police to come down and assess the damage he caused with his daydreaming, is painful. It is not made any better by the fact that the other three cars involved in the crash contained drivers who were in just slightly worse moods than he was.

But you know what is worst of all? The entire commuters force of north jersey has to slow down for a look at his dumb mistake. They need to try and figure out exactly who was responsible, and how badly damaged the lexus is. They each have to slow down to a point that they are able to pat themselves on the back and say "I witnessed a terrible accident today". Yet, what those same people need to realize is that they should also smack themselves across the face and say "I caused a traffic jam today."

While no, I don't know this guy personally, and in fact, I made the entire story up (as I am likely to do when I am stuck in traffic-make up very detailed stories about the other drivers). Also, I wouldn't know if it was a shiny new lexus SUV involved or an old banger of an oldsmobile.

Because I don't look. I mean, yes, perhaps if Lot's wife had managed to resist her urge to look back at the misfortunes of others, the world would be rather devoid of salt. But you must also realize that rubbernecking is wrong. Both for the parties involved in the accident, and for the millions of people who are forced to slow down because you needed a front row view of the action. So as I speed by the scene of an accident, for more reasons than one, I think of Lot's wife, and the awful misdeed she committed, which has carried on for generations.

(Next time I'm in traffic, think I should avoid philosophy?;)