Top Ten Things I Learned On Sukkos

10) It is very comical when your niece goes to a Lakewood playgroup and learns to sing songs such as "Toiras Hashem temimah" or "toiv li, toiv li, toiras picha."

9) The aforementioned niece has a future career in politics. She spent the better part of hakafos worrying about when her tatty is going to "get a toirah" and why her zaidy "already got a toirah." She was also very concerned about why her tatty got "a red toirah" and why her zaidy got "a white toirah" and of course why the shul doesn't have "a pink toirah." ;-)

8) An impending rainstorm is the world's best way to hurry up a shleppy sukkos meal. "Ok, lets move on. There was a forecast for rain tonight!"

7) Kids are supremely tricky. One three year old managed to have "messes of dresses" read constantly all afternoon, simply by alternating between her aunts and her ever indulgent bubby.

6) Too many aunts/uncles/bubbies and zaidies spoil the child. One very clever 18 month old kid managed to outsmart a ton of adults by approaching them to open nosh bags....alternating between all adults. It's hard to give an exact total, but said 18 month old kid managed to get upwards of 8 nosh bags in the course of an afternoon.

5) Following the above logic, never, I mean never keep the nash bags in the bottom drawer of the pantry.

4) Chol hamoed trips will never be exciting enough for the teenagers who need to go back to school and win the you-won't-believe-what-I-did contest.

3) Regardless of the number of trips to the hardware store, the amount of hours spent designing, redesigning, planning, re-planning, building and rebuilding, men will nonetheless spend the majority of sukkos contemplating improvements to next year's sukkah plans.

2) Don't ever allow men to cook. Ever. Especially not on erev yom tov. And really not on yom tov.

1) The sukkah will never be big enough when there is a bee in it.

The Beste Zach

Shopping in the mall today, I discovered the true meaning of simchas Torah.

My sister was in a fitting room, trying on a skirt. She stepped out, asked if I thought it was four inches below her knee. We had a discussion on the length of the skirt, and then my sister went back into the fitting room to take it off.
I stood outside the fitting room, when the saleslady asked if she can ask a question. I replied with a friendly "Sure!" The girl turned and said "what is the deal with four inches? Is that a rule?" I explained that it's a religious thing, and as orthodox Jews we wear long skirts. But she already knew that.
"I know, I've heard people discussing it before, but I don't understand what it's all about." And so I launched into an explanation of the requirements for skirt lengths, as well as some insights into the various customs followed by various factions of Jews. As I finished, she gave me a rather sad smile and thanked me. "I am jewish too, but I don't know about this stuff. Thanks for explaining."

I walked out of that store feeling a mixture of happiness and sadness. This girl is jewish, just like I am. She deserves to see the beauty of Torah and avodas Hashem, just as I deserve to see it.

Today is sukkos and I am off from work, spending the day with my family, cooking for shemini atzeres and simchas Torah. And her? She is folding sweaters, helping customers and monitoring the fitting room. She probably isn't even aware that there is a holiday, a holiday that she can and should participate in. She is like the princess, kidnapped as a baby from her father's palace, and brought up by peasants. She might be happy and content, but there is much more she could have, if only she would know where she truly belongs.

And so, as I think back to previous years, to the joyous nights spent in shul, gazing from behind the table-mechitza at the men dancing enthusiastically around the sifrei Torah. And then I realize the truth and beauty of their words. "Lernen toirah is de beste zach...." It really is our treasure, our best thing.


Just as a side note, I did not forget about this week's top ten Tuesday. I wanted to post top ten ways you know it's sukkos, but one way had already seen it's own blog post (the bedding in the dining room). The only other one that really struck me was when I was baking a cake. I took the beaters out of the mixer dripping with cake batter. My father was standing in the kitchen, and under normal circumstances he would have stuck his finger in and tasted it before I put the beaters in the sink. Being sukkos, he instead grabbed the whole assembly from my hands and took off (in a run) to the sukkah. My brother followed close behind. The funniest part was, that the beaters came back clean.... ;-)

Have a good yom tov!

The Saddest Sight Ever

Introducing....a side of me my blog readers never see! See, I'm considered to be a rather empathetic person. I'm not sure why, but lots of people find themselves telling me things, confiding in me, turning to me when they need a listening ear.

In that case, I'm sure you aren't shocked to hear that I often feel a twinge of pity in my heart, as people tell me about situations or events that I find sad. I also feel bad for people when I see them in an unfortunate situation. Like the heimishe lady I saw pulled over at the side of the highway. Perhaps it was my imagination running away with me, but the cop looked mean. And I felt bad.

There are lots of things I feel bad about. I just notice things, I look into situations, I imagine the feelings behind what meets the eye. Yet, of all the pity I ever felt for people, there is one situation I've seen that just makes my heart twist. Every time I see it, I feel so bad. I want to run right in and grab the person out of the situation before try embarass themselves further.

Picture it:
Concert hall. Thousands of excited fans, (SD included, but only at gunpoint. She likes to adjust the volume). Lights out. Music stops. Spotlight focused on one lady who is stepping onto the stage. As she talks, I realize that this is the "hilarious comedy" that is supposed to take place tonight. The audience was very generous. They wanted to be nice, to laugh. But they didn't. They couldn't. There wasn't even anything to chuckle at.

It was so sad.
I felt so bad for her.

Honestly, I was entertaining thoughts of running up onto the stage, grabbing her from behind, and whispering "mamalah, comedians make it look easier than it is. Plus, you're not even funny!!"

She stood there, joke after joke, or should I say - "joke" after "joke", trying to get the audience to laugh. Finally, after a poor retelling of an old joke, the audience gave a polite chuckle, and she bowed off the stage. And I wanted to cry. I'm not all that funny, definitely not comedian material, but yet I am a hundred times funnier than she is. Why can't she see that?

Oy, the sad things I bear witness to...

The Great Bedding Debate

This issue is one that takes center-stage in our house every year, come sukkos. The men sleep in the sukkah, the women sleep in their warm and comfortable beds. Obviously, the men can't sleep on the floor, so they shlep mattresses into the sukkah.

Problems crop up over the weeklong storage of the aforementioned mattresses. Here's why:

Men logic - store them as close to the sukkah as possible, so the nightly shlepping is less. The dining room doesn't get used any way, so it seems like the best possible place.

Women logic - it's not fair to make the men shlep the mattresses back up the stairs, but the dining room is in the center of the house, and it's a little much to stuff it full of bedding.


And so, with two opposing philosophies, the arguments commence. The first morning of sukkah, we women wake up to find the dining room stuffed to the gills with mattresses, pillows, blankets, sheets and other random bits of sleeping supplies. We place our hands on our hips an tell them men that there will be no food served until the bedding is removed from the dining room.

Not to be defeated, the men take advantage of the loophole and plug up the living room instead. Finally, one peace-seeker shleps all the bedding into the study, or back hallway, muttering about the house taking on the appearance of a homeless shelter.

And, on that happy note, the meal begins. The men muttering about uptight females, the women muttering about slobs called men. For days we argue, untill sukkos is over. At that point, the mattresses are carried back to their respective places, and everyone forgets about the whole issue. Until sukkos comes again, and we start the fight from scratch.

Someone, please tell me we aren't the only ones who have this fight?

Henpecked Husbands

I can only imagine the scene that acted as a precursor to the scene I just saw in the grocery store....

----

Henya the housewife is in the middle of making her regal, seven layer ice cream, chocolate, truffle cake for yom tov, when suddenly she realizes that she is out of eggs, and there are four layers left to go!
Panic overtakes her as she looks down at her housecoat, covered in an odd mixture of flour, chicken grease, and some odd orange thing that might just be the remnants of yesterday's supper that baby shmuly hid under the carpet. Her snood is also coated in food residue, not to mention hanging low, near her eyes, and perched at a funny angle. She knows she can't possibly go to the store in her current state, not to mention shmuly and his sister Rivky having a fight to the finish in the corner of the room.
And so, Henya executes a strategy reserved for only the most desperate housewives. She emitted a shrill shriek: "Hershel!! Hershel! Where are youuuu?"
Shmuly and Rivky cease fighting momentarily, long enough to watch their tatty come in from the sukkah building operation on the porch, yarmulka lopsided, calling "yes Henya, I'm here. No need to worry!"
Henya directs Hershel to a store to get some eggs. As Hershel is leaving the house, Henya calls out, "you know what? I have a list of a few other things I need you to get." And so, Hershel finally escapes the house with a grocery list long enough to wall paper the living room, complete with detailed istrictions such as "gefen, not leibers. Creamy, not crunchy. Don't get the biggest size jar, make sure to get the medium jar."

Hershel quickly leaves the house, but not before Henya runs after him with the last two pages of the list. Two minutes after Hershel's car disappears around the corner, Henya thinks of some more things she needs. A call to Hershel's phone ends in that horrible lady telling her that she has reached the sprint PCS voicemail box of.....

Meanwhile, Hershel gets to te grocery store and sees the huddled masses of men converging over the vegetable bins. He runs over to join them, eager for support. As he aproaches, he hears his friend Gedalya, who's wife Golda prepared a longer and more detailed list than Henya's, raising his voice above the others. "Is this a turnip? How am I supposed to know what a turnip is?"

Wiping persperation off their brows, the men come together to help eachother. It is a secret pact that no man will refuse to help another man escape the wrath of his crazed wife.

-------

Obviously, I made that story up, but I've seen those men in action. Yesterday, in the grocery store, a man was seen feverishly crossing items off his list, asking his buddy if this is "the same zach as that?"

Anyhow, I wish I had energy to write a meaningful post, or time to write something other than my crazed mind's ramblings at 3 am waiting for a cake to come out of the oven, but as I previously mentioned, I've been busy. So have a good yom tov y'all!

(Btw, anyone else think that the adventures of Henya and Hershel Huffenmeyer would make an exciting serial for my fiction blog? Or is this just the result of my overtired mind?)

Top Ten Reasons I Have Been Too Busy To Post

Perhaps, if this week's Top Ten (Tuesday) was on any other topic, I would be accused of not knowing the days of the week. But, seeing as today is Wednesday, yet my whole post is a presentation of reasons I haven't posted much recently, I hope my readers will excuse me.

10)

This doesn't really look much like the kokash cake I made on erev yom kippur, but under the circumstances it will have to do. (In case anyone is wondering, it's the honey cake I made for Rosh Hashana.)

9)

This might look like apple-cherry kugel, but don't let yourself be fooled. It is known, rather affectionately, in my family as simchas yom tov kugel. My father walked into the kitchen and saw this with a label that read "apple cherry kugel" and he got all upset. He wanted

to know why I labeled it wrong. I told him it was just to confuse the satan...

8)

Don't ask me why, but this cake is a real family favorite. I suggested making other things this yom tov, and saving the coffee cake for another time, and I was practically boo-ed out of the kitchen.

7)

My father is one of those people that sticks strongly to minhagim. And so I sat there making enough kreplach for erev yom kippur and Hoshana Rabba. I think my father was a little disappointed that I broke from tradition and made them half moon shaped, rather than

triangular, but I convinced him that a krepel is a krepel.

6)

My broccoli kugel has been called "delicious" by all women who taste it. Most men won't taste it, though my father once opened the oven while it was cooking and said "ew, whats that green stuff?" In an attempt at reconciliation, he tasted it and loved it. So there!

5)

One of life's greatest mysteries is how a package of 36 puff pastry squares made 34 potato bourekas. In my attempt at solving the mystery I came up with a simple formula:

A + B = C-2

(Let A = hungry sister B = delicious smell C = the number of bourekas originally made).

4)

When I mentioned previously that my family has a ton of allergies and crazy food restrictions, I wasn't kidding. Behold - whole-spelt challah. I gotta say, it's better than it sounds...

3)

And then of course, there are those who wouldn't touch whole-spelt challah if there was nothing else to eat on planet earth. For them, behold regular challah. It's a shame my mother insists on taking it out of the oven while still a little dough-y to freeze it, so you can't see the gorgeous color it gets when fully cooked, but you can get the idea...

2)

These cookies really deserve a post of their own, as I have a lot to say about them, but gosh are they good.

1)

Finally, to quote the guy outside Yankee Stadium: why lie I needa....shop!

I know that sounds seriously MPish, but when a girl has nothing to not wear when she doesn't go on dates, it kinda gets problematic.

If anyone wants any of the recipes feel free to email me!

Stellaluna and the Yomim Noraim

Children's books can teach many fabulous lessons. While watching some kids last night, I read them a bedtime story.

It was a story about Stellaluna, a bat who got separated from her mother as a little baby. All alone in the big forest, Stellaluna discovered a nice family of birds living in a cozy nest on a tall tree.

At first, Stellaluna found the birds weird, and they couldn't get over her odd habits. Yet, slowly, as time went by, Stellaluna learned to behave a good little bird. She learned to stay up all day, eat bugs, and hang from her hands instead of her feet.

For a long time, Stellaluna lived as one of the birds, forgetting that she was different from them. Then, one day, the birds were all grown up and it was time for them to learn how to fly. The mother bird took them out of the nest and taught them the basics of flight.

The birds took off, Stellaluna close behind, and they went off and explored. It was then that Stellaluna found her real family, the Bats. The first time she glimpsed a bat hanging by his feet, she thought he was making a mistake. But then, as she grew used to the bat ways, she started to see something strange. Living as a bat was so much easier, so much more natural for her than life as a bird.

As a bird, Stellaluna had to choke down her bugs and struggle not to make faces. As a bat, Stellaluna had a grand time eating lots of fruit, plus, she found that he actually enjoyed it! As a bat, Stellaluna noticed how much easier it was for her to stay up all night and sleep all day. All of these traits that she had suppressed as a bird, were coming out and blossoming in her new existence as a bat.

In conclusion, Stellaluna and her old bird friends came to the mutual agreement that while they look and feel so similar, in reality, they are totally different. Reading this book, I got the chills from the obvious lesson I learned from it.

We are yidden.

Our lives may seem similar to those of the non-Jews. On the surface, we both have "wings", we both eat, we both live in the wondrous forest called "earth" yet, when we attempt to live as birds, rather than bats, we find ourselves struggling. We might be able to mold ourselves to fit in with the "rest of the world" but what is the point? We are created differently, for a different purpose.

Now, during the aseres yemei teshuvah, as we contemplate our lives, our mortality, and our very existence, as we think about our life styles, about the areas that need change, we must ask ourselves, are we living as birds, or as bats? Are we twisting ourselves around, trying to make ourselves fit the mold of the umos ha'olam, or are we satisfied with our lives as bats, and living the way we are meant to live?

Sometimes, we don't even give ourselves a chance. We act as we always have. We do what we see the world doing. Yet, if we'd sit amongst the bats, and learn their ways, OUR ways, we would discover that our lives would become richer, more satisfying.

Don't be a bird, be a bat!

Top Ten Manifestations of Murphy's Law

This week's Top Ten Tuesday is a continuation of my post about Big Chamor's wedding last week. It's interesting to note that, not only did Big Chamor help me write this post, but she actually told me to include Murphy's Law of Important Dates, which states that you will get a cold or some other illness whenever there is an important event, such as a wedding. It is further interesting to note, that she mentioned that before her wedding...

10) Murphy's Law of Brothers: Items in the house will start to break about fifteen minutes after your most handy brother leaves for a month in yeshivah.

9) Murphy's Law of Cell Phone Batteries: Your cell phone battery will die just when you get lost in a strange and dangerous neighborhood after sunset.

8) Murphy's Law of Coming On Time To Work: Your father will receive a super important phone call which can not be disturbed...exactly at the minute you need him to drive you to work.

7) Murphy's Law of The Great Outdoors: The sky will be beautiful the entire time you are setting up an elaborate picnic in the great outdoors. It will only start to rain as the guests arrive and start to eat. Alternatively, the sky will open up as you reach the halfway point in a four mile hike.

6) Murphy's Law of Cooking For Shabbos: The food will burn on the week that you are having important guests.

5) Murphy's Law of Babysitting: The baby will always start to cry inconsolably a minute before the parents get home, leaving them to think that the baby was wailing the entire time and you are an awful babysitter.

4) Murphy's Law of Tollbooths: You will always pick the toll lane where the guy will have a problem with his EZ-Pass and take forever. Or the lane with the guy who looks suspicious and needs to wait for a police to come and check his car put.

3) Murphy's Law of Yom Tov: The shabbos lamp will die on the first night of yom tov. It will never, ever, die on a regular week night.

2) Murphy's Law of Clean spaces: The kid will only throw up on a freshly washed floor. Alternatively, the kid will throw up on a brand new carpet or in a car on its way home from the showroom.

1) Murphy's Law of Wedding Outfits: The first time you wear your new, expensive, and (in your opinion) young, stylish outfit to a wedding there will be a lady that's your grandmother's age wearing the same outfit. Alternatively, the same outfit will be worn by the biggest nerd you've ever met.

Building For The King

Once upon a time, there was a man who wanted to show gratitude towards his beloved king. He spent many days thinking of a gift that would be appropriate for royalty. At long last, he settled on a grand and majestic idea. He would build the king a new palace.

He approached the king, and humbly requested that he be granted permission to build a new palace. The king told him to prepare plans, and then, if he would like them, he would give the man the go-ahead for the palace.

And so, the man got to work. He sat down and drew up the most elaborate, most gorgeous, most majestic palace a king could ever want. He spent hours and hours, days and days, drawing and redrawing, planning and re-planning. Finally, at long last, the plans were complete.

And so, the man went back to the king, and presented him with his fabulous drawings. The king looked them over with pleasure. He happily agreed to allow the construction to begin.

"Where shall I build the palace?" the man asked. The king selected one of the best pieces of real estate in the kingdom, and told the man that the palace should be built on it.

"What materials shall I use to build the palace?" the man inquired. The king then pointed the man toward the capital, where they had the building supply center for the city. The king wrote a note, and sealed it with his royal seal, telling the suppliers to give the man all the materials he needed. The king also instructed them to treat him well, and charge it to the royal account.

So the man set off. He arrived at the suppliers, presented them with the note, and proceeded to take the finest, most expensive building materials to the construction site. Day after day, when the man would arrive, the suppliers would lead him past all of the builders in line, and present him with excellent materials. Then, the man would turn and leave, and he wouldn't pay a penny.

After a few days, the builders on line started to get angry. They started to protest. "Who is this guy that you let him skip the line like that?" "Yeah, and why do you always give him the best materials?!" "Oh, and don't forget this man never pays a blessed penny!"

The suppliers pulled out the note, by way of explanation. "Don't you get it? This man is working to build a palace for the king! When a person is working for the king, he provides them with all of the finest materials to work with!"


We are now approaching Rosh Hashanah, the day of judgement. It is a day when we have to ask Hashem for everything that we might want over the course of the year. It would seem, on such a day, that it would be best to daven the regular weekday shemoneh esrei, which covers pretty much all the bakashos we might have, right?

But no, on Rosh Hashanah we don't say that shemoneh esrei. In fact, we don't make bakashos during shemoneh esrei. Instead, we spend our time on the avoda of the day, being mamlich Hashem as our king. But we feel a little tinge, we want to ask Hashem for our bakashos too!

Just as the man in this mashul, we first have to show the King that we are doing it for Him. We have to prepare a plan of the "palace" that we will build for the "King" this year. Once we establish that we are living our lives for Him, and that we are doing everything for our King, then, and only then, are we able to request the all of the things that we may need to build our palace for Hashem. Because, indeed, when a person is working for the King, He provides them with all of the finest materials to work with!

Wishing all of you a kesivah vechasima tova, and a year full of good things!

(I heard this mashal in the name of R' Matisyahu Salomon)

Super-Power Meme: SD is a Disappointment

When a person is tagged once to do a meme, they can sort of pretend that they are too busy or that they didn't notice and skip it. But I was tagged five times to do the super-power meme. I mean, why is it that people are so curious about what super-power I would like to have?

I must say, I think I will disappoint you. I don't really think there is a super-power that I would want. Well, no, there are loads that I would want, but I am too technical and practical to spend my time wishing for them. (I know I am boring. I can't help it. I just...am.) Aside from that, I am afraid that there is another, even larger disappointment in the making. You see, at least two of the five people that tagged me did so because they think I am funny. And, if pressed to give an answer, I am afraid it would be decidedly un-funny.

Yeah, sure I would like some kind of super zapping power, that would get rid of annoying coworkers, NS, or MWMF. (For those of you who have never bothered to check my blog on the original site, but read it only from the feed, don't bother asking what that stands for. I have a glossary up for a reason.) I would also like a power that would allow me to shoot people that argue with me, and it would take their voice away. Imagine how awesome that would be? There I am, talking to someone, and suddenly their mouth is moving but no sound comes out. Ahhh, they look dumb. I would also be happy to have the power to give some pounds to people, especially those who complain about being fat when they are way skinnier than I am. Wouldn't that be nice.

"I lost some weight this week."

"Oh, that's funny, I found it."

"Hahaha, is that a coincidence?"

But in reality, the only thing I have ever wished for that would be classified as a super-power, is the ability to get a glimpse into the minds of other people. Sometimes I have these moments in a conversation when I suddenly see the person differently, when I see them from a completely new angle, and suddenly, I wonder what they are thinking, what they are seeing, what life experience they have had that is giving them this unique perspective into our discussion. I like to think of the ramifications of a super-power like that. I would become the most sensitive person in the world, I would never hurt a person, I would never insult anyone, I would never press someone to say something they are uncomfortable saying.... Sorry folks, like I said, that wasn't funny, but I elected to be honest instead....

And by the way, in case anyone is finding this idea familiar, I think it came from a book I read as a kid. The Trouble With Jenny's Ear. Funny how an idea can stick with you all the way into adulthood, huh?

As far as all those other rules...just ask my teachers. I don't follow any. Ever.