I have so many negative things on the tip of my tongue now, but I'm going to practice a little self control and wait until tomorrow to say them ;)

Here's a cute video (for those of us who love naked babies, and for those of us who need a little help staying positive), but it's not entirely honest. Everyone knows that the second a kid gets the tiniest bit hungry, dirty, ignored or tired, world peace as we know it is over! My daughter, who has a very funny habit of asking me what words mean, told me the other day, "Mommy, right SAD and TIRED are the same word?" I had to think about it before answering, because to her, sad and tired really do mean the same thing. To come to think of it, on a day like today, it does for me too...

From death to birth: the true story of my turtle.

Early shabbos morning I awoke to find that one of my two turtles appeared to have died. Anyone who has kept pet turtles will tell you that their languid, lazy reputation is mostly undeserved and that relative to the stereotypes, they are pretty active. My two turtles particularly like to climb on top of each other and peek out of their tank from the perch afforded by the other’s shell. In fact, that’s about the only thing I've recently see them do. But then, who am I to question a turtle’s perception of fun.

As I sat there tapping and prodding the tank, trying to elicit a reaction of any sort from the turtle, a million thoughts ran through my head. First I wondered how had I been such a neglectful pet-keeper to not have noticed how little the turtles had been eating recently. I berated myself for forgetting to add the recommended dechlorinating tablets to the tank, wondering if that's what killed it. Then I tried to plan the next step—getting rid of the animal. Where do city kids bury their deceased pets? In central park? In the subway station? And speaking of kids, how was I going to break the tragic news to the turtle’s rightful owner—my innocent little 3 year old girl?

The panic set in. It occurred to me how completely unequipped I am in dealing with heavy parenting issues, such as teaching a child about the end of life. Luckily though, my daughter’s preschool has done a wonderful job introducing the concepts of death and destruction. Between the parsha and the holidays, my kid has no lack of violence and death in her repertoire. If you were to casually leaf through her weekly coloring sheets, these are the pictures you’d see: (1) little boy Avraham bashing his father’s idols (who, in the cartoonish mess, look eerily similar to the humans in the story) with a baseball bat, (2) Eisav, looking like a beast, biting into his twin brother’s neck, (3) graphic images of the 10 plagues, including Egyptians choking on frogs, crying out in pain because of bloody boils, and being attacked by beasts, and (4) the violent death du jour—Greek soldiers tumbling off elephants with 8 foot long spears sticking through their bodies.

I wasn’t so sure this overexposure to death and violence made my job easier—would she buy into the story of a turtle who went to sleep and simply didn’t wake up, or would I have to make up a more gruesome scenario to suit her toddler fancy? In any event it was shabbos, so I’d deal with the situation later...

...later, the turtle was no longer dead. Over shabbos, it had walked across the tank and repositioned itself comfortably under the side of a large rock (possibly to avoid my annoying prodding). Al ha’nisim! I quickly googled “turtle care”, determined to find out what could be causing the turtle to behave this way. What I found proved to be even more dismal than death. My turtle is probably pregnant. Mating turtles eat poorly, spend a lot of time climbing on each other’s backs, after which the female hides herself until she lays the eggs. That explains everything!

The truth is, the last thing I need now is a half dozen more reptile hatchlings! But even worse is the inevitable question that follows… “Mommy, how are babies made?” Once again I am reminded of how completely unequipped I am in dealing with heavy parenting issues, such as teaching a child about the beginning of life. No thanks to the schools, who do a great job of steering very clear of this topic, my job will be much harder this time around.

Sporting a Mohawk and Mini in the spirit of Chanukah

A freilichin'

funny video + joke

The young Hilly Gross being "honest" about how FFB's feel about BT's. This has been going around the email circuit, so some of you may have seen it-- for those who haven't, it's worth every hilarious second (beginning at 1:09).



Sorry, JOKE DELETED.

Too bad.

Maybee leettle peench?

This is too funny. Or maybe it isn't unless you know someone exactly like the crab. I do! It's too funny.

Yeshiva graduate challenge

Here's a quiz I found at blogthings. It's called, "Could you pass 8th grade science?" I have a feeling that the average chassidish yeshiva high school graduate would get at least half the questions wrong. Am I an interminable pessimist? Probably... but let's just say that listening to most bochurim discuss issues in Torah & science makes it obvious that they haven't the first clue about the fundamentals of physical science. But take the quiz and prove me wrong. Answers in the first comment. No cheating!

1. Mike starts from the top of a hill and skies down. He has converted:
• A. Potential energy to kinetic energy
• B. Biological energy to kinetic energy
• C. Solar energy to nuclear energy
• D. Potential energy to mechanical energy
2. The hereditary information of an individual is mostly in:
• A. The cell wall
• B. The nucleus
• C. The chromosomes
• D. The lysosomes
3. Which of the following is composed of only one type of atom?
• A. Water
• B. Helium
• C. Salt
• D. Chocolate
4. What does the nucleus of a cell do?
• A. Digest waste
• B. Direct the activity of the cell
• C. Break down food and release energy to the tell
• D. Move material around in the cell
5. Which of the following environments is the most likely to be ecologically productive?
• A. Low rainfall, hot temperatures
• B. Low rainfall, cold temperatures
• C. High rainfall, cold temperatures
• D. High rainfall, stable temperatures
6. What's the electric charge of a neutron?
• A. -1
• B. 1
• C. 0
• D. e−
7. If you took measurements of a bowling ball both on earth and the moon, which measurement would be different in each place?
• A. Weight
• B. Volume
• C. Mass
• D. Diameter
8. What causes the tides on Earth?
• A. The wind currents
• B. The gravitational pull of the moon
• C. The tilt of the Earth's axis
• D. The speed at which the Earth rotates

What's better than coffee? Beer, duh...

In response to the creepiest, strangest, most nerve-grating commercial ever, I propose we stop drinking coffee in the morning and drink beer instead. The world would be a better place.

Watch Folger's Happy Mornings, aka, Makes You Want to Kill Yourself (via C.Rubin). Or save yourself the painful experience and go straight for Carlton Draught's big ad, called The Big Ad, aka The Big Funny.

Label of Love

This comes straight from Hirhurhim's comments:

• learn kiruv from lubavitch
• learn derech eretz from YU/RYDS
• learn ahavas yisroel from Maran RAYK
• learn to serve Hashem with joy from the chasidim
• learn to learn torah from the litvish
• learn to love eretz yisroel from the religous zionists
• learn how to conduct yourself among the goyim from the modern orthodox
• learn tenacity in serving Hashem in the face of all odds from the misnachalim
• learn tznius from UO
• learn bikur cholim from satmar
• learn how to publish a dignified religous periodical from mishpacha magazine and jewish action
• learn torah im derech eretz from the modern orthodox and from the breurs community
• learn jewish history from Rabbi Berel Wein

Eizehoo Chacham Halomeid mikol adam
Avigdor

Where does this obsession with compartmentalizing Judaism come from? I think part of it is a will to separate yourself from those you disagree with, since general labels are almost always less flattering, i.e. "I can't just say I'm chassidic because someone might Gd forbid mistake me for a Belzer". Also, since disassociation implies disapproval, other group monikers have become code names from insults, i.e. it's so much easier to dismiss somebody's comment by saying, "well, he's a snag," than actually providing an arguement.

Along comes Avigdor who, for a change, has something positive to say about everyone. I don't care how corny it sounds--I think it's worth repeating (and adding to, if you dare).

.







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Holy Foliage... there's a bug in my lettuce!

Bugs in lettuce are nothing new. One of the pillars of orthodox Jewish belief is that bugs are everywhere---in food, in water, in sheitels*. Since I was a little girl, I've spent hours of my life inspecting vegetables and sifting through grains to find those insidious little creatures. I don't ever buy raspberries, and I only buy triple washed frozen broccoli with a hechsher. I even bought a water filter when the copipods in tap water were a question. But just like I almost never find blood spots in raw eggs, bug sightings are rare and far in between, despite all my vigilance.

This weekend everything changed--I hit gold. It began this Friday night during my typical salad routine, which involves first rinsing the lettuce leaves, scrubbing the stems under water, and putting them aside to dry... then cutting all the veggies into the bowl-- tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, peppers, avocados, you name it-- and finally holding each lettuce leaf up to the light and checking it on both sides for bugs. I'll often find a few unidentifiable black spots which I rub out with my fingers, but the leaf usually passes my scrutiny and gets cut or torn into the salad. End of story. But this week my efforts were finally rewarded. My two heads of lettuce were infested with microscopic black dots, many of which had legs. For a minute I considered trashing the whole bowl to avoid the unsavory job of nit picking the greens, but I was expecting a full table of hungry guests, so I had no choice but to persevere. It's then that I discovered that these tiny little things do not wash off under a normal stream of water--their legs are clawed into the flesh of the leaf. In other words, the only way to take off the bug would be to cut it out with the surrounding leaf--something which can't be done on shabbos. Luckily I had a few endives in the fridge, so I pulled a quick substitute. But the saga was not yet over.

Today my daughter decided to be extra difficult and refuse any offer of dinner that wasn't chocolate. She rejected everything and anything I put in front of her and insisted I give her chocolate, not for desert but for dinner. I bribed, I cajoled, and I finally gave in, because I couldn't send her to bed hungry. In my infinite wisdom as a mother, I set out to prepare a semi-healthy bowl of oat bran with a few chocolate sprinkles to make it attractive. I opened a brand new box of HO steel cut oat-bran only to find a box of HO steel cut oat-bran with bugs. What first looked like extra toasted pieces of grain were crawling, that's right crawling, around my daughter's polka-dotted cereal bowl. Again using my infinite wisdom as a mother, I jumped back and shouted "Oh crap! Bugs!" at the top of my lungs in front of my very alert, apt to repeat, sponge of a toddler. Oh great!

I bit my tongue and braved the pantry again, choosing a sealed box of snowy white farina (which I put through a sieve just to be sure). After preparing it, I sprinkled the obligatory chocolate sprinkles on top so that my daughter would consider eating it. When I finally sat her down in front of what would be any kid's ideal dinner, she took one look at the brown sprinkles floating in her farina and hollered, "Oh Crap! Bugs!"

“Blogging is for losers” or so they say

I caught up with an old friend (who I’ll call Aye) over pesach. We had so much catching up to do, so many stories to tell, and of course, so many people to talk about! Once we covered the requisite who’s-dating-whom and filled each other in on marriages, kids, moves and jobs, Aye piped up with an insidious grin, “So… did you see so and so (who I’ll call Beeh)’s blog?”

I did, actually, and I’m a regular reader who very much enjoys Beeh’s output, but I didn’t say as much because I don’t want her or Beeh to uncover my blog identity. Aye continued, “Somebody should clue Beeh in—blogging is for losers.”

Hmmm, “You don’t say.”

Now, Bee blogs with her real name, so it’s only fair that people will take her to task about it, but this was the worst kind of an attack. I’m used to arguing about whether bloggers have the right, so to speak, to bring up internal issues that border on lashon hora and/or chilul hashem, or whether online discussion of important issues is in any way productive or just an excuse to waste time. But this was the first time I had to defend the very act of blogging.

According to Aye, while I was out the cool kids decided that people who blog think themselves brilliant and self-important, so much that everybody out there wants to hear their opinions on everything. The old argument that ‘many a writer is part narcissist” might apply, but that ‘every blogger is all narcissist’ most certianly does not. The occasional self-aggrandizing bloggers who shove their uninformed opinionated drivel down everyone’s throats are for the most part weeded out from the blogging community—worse than being killed off, they are ignored. For everyone else, blogging and reading blogs provides interesting information and discussion, humor, stories, a sense of community, etc.

I used the traditional defenses to try and convince Aye that blogging could in fact be very cool and fulfilling and entertaining. It didn’t work—mostly because the only blogger she knew personally (besides for me, he he) was particular obsessive about her blog. If anyone bumps into Beeh, her ‘hi how are you’ is always immediately followed by, ‘do you read my blog,’ and then, ‘why don’t you comment’. Beeh has also become a person who started going through life as a venue for blogging ideas. She lost touch with many friends (as in, real humans) because her need for companionship has been effectively replaced with co-bloggers and commenters. I conceded that Beeh’s blogging behavior is less than exemplary, so Aye got her way in this particular argument; but when I pressed her to agree that blogging as a hobby could be cool, she said, “Who the hell has hobbies, anyway?”. With that she put a dagger through this uncool blogger’s heart. Lucky for me, I insist on anonymity, so I walked off superficially unscathed. But deep down I know the truth, “Who the hell wants to be cool, anyway?”

I totally caved... shame on me!

You asked for it, so here goes...

Accent: Snobby. Ok not really, but I'm on the quiet side so people sometimes think I'm aloof, and I'm also a stickler for grammar. Terrible combination!

Booze: Red Bull--although my regulars will know I'm trying to wean myself off soft drinks, so replacement suggestions are welcome.

Chore I Hate: Laundry! The ultimate burden, the feminine curse--having to wash and fold clothing. ARRRGGGHHHH!!!! Here's a theory: I think people are mistaken when interpreting the eitz hadaas story in Bireishis. A basic timeline says Chava ate the forbidden fruit, shared with her husband, they suddenly felt naked and G-d made them clothes. Because of this sin, women bear the curse of childbirth pains and more until Moshiach, but I don't see the connection. My interpretation makes so much more sense: after the sin, G-d created the need to wear, and subsequently wash and fold, clothing. When they were banished from gan eden, Adam probably said "I'll pack, you wash the fig leaves," and women have been stuck doing laundry ever since. I couldn't think of a worse punishment.

Dogs/Cats: Do kids count?

Essential Electronics: Puma sneakers--well, they're really high tech and I can't live without them.

Favorite Perfume/Cologne: Aveeno baby wash--on a baby obviously.

Gold/Silver: I prefer straight up green, if you know what I mean.

Hometown: Sure, sure... like I'd fall for that.

Insomnia: I wish... can I train myself to sleep less?

Job Title: Busy.

Kids: Pure joy.

Living Arrangements: Bed, fridge, computer... check.

Most Admired Trait: Who's asking?

Number of people I will tag with this meme: 0

Overnight Hospital Stays: Being born and giving birth.

Phobia: Dental work- think Marathon Man level phobia.

Quote: "I never knew you could be funny." That's what my family told me after they found and read my blog. Lovely, aint it?

Religion: Lubavitch... oops, I meant Jewish. He he, I'm gonna hang for this one.

Siblings: aka last minute babysitters :)

Time I Usually Wake Up: How about a few times a night accompanies by the classic words, "I need to M.A.K.E.".

Unusual Talent: Being able to imagine myself with an unusual talent... in other words, none.

Vegetable I Refuse To Eat: Cooked fruit--the sight of mushy fruit makes my skin crawl. I'd eat brussel sprouts and okra over apple sauce any day.

Worst Habit: Blogging.

X-Rays: see phobia above.

Yummy Foods I Make: Lots.

Zodiac Sign: Lucky... I hope.

meme shmeme

I've been tagged with the A-Z meme twice now, first by Daled Amos and then by Jameel at the Muqata. Read their funny responses and you'll see that the point of this meme is for readers to get to know the writer better; but really now, who wants to hear about me? Especially since I'm anonymous. I mean, like duh! So instead of giving up prized personal information, I'll just let you in on one secret... I do not have a Ph.D. Okay, so you all knew that, but it doesn't hurt repeating, lest any confusion arise and one of you actually take anything I write seriously.

PTSD as I know it

It's time for the post-pesach exodus, back to the real world. I'm still straddling the hecticity of a two week yom tov and the normal life that should follow. There are many reasons why I'm still traumatized from this year's holiday, but here are just a few that will take a lot more than a good night's sleep to get over:

• First a confession: I ate Quinoa this pesach and let me tell you, it was good. Why all the guilt you ask? Pesach on my side of town is an all out neurosis-fest, with everyone outdoing the other on what they won't eat or do. Unpeeled foods are out of the question, so that excludes everything that is not peel-able, or just about everything besides for firm, preferably large vegetables. You think tomatoes are a job to peel... try black pepper. Uh huh, I didn't think so… Most people here also don't use any processed or prepared foods except wine, matza and pure olive oil. I take that back, many people actually don't use oil, only schmaltz (melted chicken fat), and some even press their own wine. Until I make Pesach in my own home, I'm at the mercy of my host's chumras. So when I was served a steaming dish of quinoa with sautéed vegetables that included taboo varieties like celery (gasp) and leek (double gasp), believe me I wasn't complaining. I'm just waiting for the rabbanim to unanimously outlaw quinoa before next year's pesach. It'll be chashash kitniyos I bet... anything so long as nice law abiding yiddelach have even less edible options on pesach.

• Since my heresy is in the open, I may as well continue. This pesach I finally uncovered the mystery of the fish bumper stickers that I've begun noticing on so many cars. Most have either a cross for an eye or some Christian name for god inscribed inside the body space, but I've come across a few that said gefilteh, so go figure. Anyway, I was reading the da Vinci Code (standard fare for pesach reading, lol) and though the literary quality is really poor, it's full of fascinating information on the history and legend of Christianity--things that I'd probably never otherwise encounter. Of practical importance was the explanation that the two millennia A.D. are the age of Pisces who's sign is a fish, which explains the fishy Christian car accessories that adorn my neighborhood parking lots. Apparently somebody thinks it's hilarious to parody that with gefilteh... whatever, but this brings me to the next point:

• Going to shul and hanging out with the young'uns this pesach, I've discovered that the new choice cuss among hip young frummies is Geezus. Yes, as in Jesus. Believe me, I'm no prude, and I don't carry a list of words that I can't say, such as yena machla or yushki, but I consider this pretty darn scandalous. Invoking any name in times of distress is no less than the informal equivilant of prayer, be it crying mommy or Hashem yisborach or, lehavdil, Jesus. Who are you kidding? You may as well say three hail Mary’s and then insert complaint/request. A close second, in terms of phrases I've heard that should not be repeated, would be 'holy mother of G-d'. Enough said.

• Speaking of strange use of names over Pesach, scientologist Tom Cruise and macrobiyogalogist Gwenyth Paltrow named their newborn daughters straight out of a Sholom Aliechem novel (although different translations). If baby Moses and baby Suri can be gentiles then maybe I'm wrong and Jesus can be heimish. Considering his history, it isn't far fetched at all, but I'll leave that for the next overrated Dan Brown novel. In the same vein, I'd like to publicly thank Brooke Shields for naming her baby the very neutral Grier (oy, nebach).

• Another eye opening experience I had this chol hamoed was watching the very effective propaganda film, Supersize Me. You all know the premise--a guy eats three meals at McDonalds for a month and documents how his liver starts to fail, his heart becomes weak and blood pressure soars, his mood goes nuts, he becomes addicted, overweight and generally McIll. If he had tried the same experiment in Kosher Delight, he would probably have gotten the same results in a week. The eye opener was this: soft drinks are the greatest evil of all when it comes to eating healthy. It reminded me of a really old post over at Aidel Maidel's where she said she never gave her kids apple juice because all the sugar made them nuts. Kiddie crack, she called it; what a perfect description. Second confession of the night, Coke is this mommy's crack (to think how much damage has already been done), but since watching Supersize Me I vow, beli neder, to give up all soda completely. Who would guess that I'd be such a great candidate for mind control? I'm totally convinced! This movie was on cable and I stumbled on it accidentally. Just imagine what would have happened if they'd been showing something by Michael Moore instead? I shudder to think.

• Speaking of addiction, when pesach was over I had a the hugest craving not for chametz but for french fries! What is wrong with me?!?

• And finally, the great disillusionment that has been tormenting me in the last few weeks and has only been exacerbated by the travel and lack of routine that comes with yom tov: (In small font for non-parents) Diaper training does not in any way signal parental freedom. I honestly thought that training my daughter to use the toilet young would free me from the tiresome and smelly diaper changing routine that I'd been enduring and transfer that responsibility to the culprit—my daughter. What was I thinking? It turns out that keeping a kid in diapers is far easier to manage, considering that the caretaker can choose when to change the dirty diaper and if it's possible to wait a short while for a more convenient moment to arise. With toilet use comes the inevitable moment of truth, "mommy, I need to make," which translates as drop everything and run for the nearest toilet or deal with a much nastier mess than any diaper could present. The complicating factor is that kids have a hard time pacing their bodily functions so they need to go very often!!! The fact that they "need to make" at the most inoppertune times, i.e. while driving down a highway or during birchat cohanim, really doesn't inhibit them at all. And unlike the diaper wearing child, you can't postpone the changing for even a minute... or else. Ironically, diaper training has been harder on me than on my toddler; I'm ready to stick her back in diapers in a second.

And now y'all know why I’ve been so reluctant to resurface—I still have a bit of recuperating to do. While I work out my issues, feel free to share your pesach traumas. Misery loves company, you know ;)

Proposing U.S. disengagement from California and Texas

The Israeli elections have pretty much taken over all of j-blogsphere this week, but there has been an interesting development that deserves serious attention even though it has no connection whatsoever to Israel or the Jews.

First let me begin by saying that my historical education has been a great big lie. Everything I ever learned about the birth of the United States has been inaccurately portrayed. It turns out that the early Americans were brutal occupiers, the 13 colonies were illegal settlements, the pioneer movement was government sanctioned land-theft, etc... Particularly areas in the southwest such as Texas or Southern California, which were only 'recently' incorporated into the mainland, are disputed territories.

This past weekend half a million rightful owners of the land took to the streets of Los Angeles and marched in protest of proposed legislature that would impose stricter penalties on illegal immigrants and their employers.

Students peacefully protesting:



Establishing the facts:






(Pictures from Gran Marcha via Michelle Malkin)

These protesters should not be called radical, racist seperatists or ethnic supremacists; oh no!- they're rightful owners of the land and victims of American aggression, occupation, and militant imperialism. Some, believe it or not, have proposed building a wall (see) to prevent further entry of so called 'illegal immigrants', not realizing this would constitute apartheid (see). If only the government would realize that they are the rightful citizens who pledge complete loyalty to this land of Atzlan. President Bush and Mexican President Fox are currently meeting in Cancun for talks to discuss... a two-state solution, perhaps?



There may even be discussion of a possible disengagement of U.S. forces from illegaly occupied Mexican territory. Oh, you this is outrageous? Well, think again!

/sarcasm>

Erev shabbos rant- dedicated to the weak stomached

Could I call myself a female Jewish blogger if I didn't let off a good rant every once in a while? So here I go:

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First let's deal with why I'm blogging at 5 a.m.! Actually, I'll answer that later... a little suspense thrown in :)

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Next up: I saw this comment on Musing's discussion about the yeshiva tuition crisis:

"I know people who aren't established in their professions or are still in school taking their chasunah money and going to Israel spending at least $1,500 in the process. In my opinion that is fiscally irresponsible."

Sure, I agree, it's fiscally irresponsible. Wait, who am I kidding?--it's the best thing a young couple could do! I haven't been to Israel since before I got married. It's been too long and I MUST go back... but now there are a million other considerations, i.e. kids, work, etc... All I could think of is, "I should have been irresponsible and done it while my time and money were still my own!" Now, at 5 a.m. I notice the Israeli bloggers are up and doing their thing and I can only think, *sigh* I wish I were there! Ahh, if only moshiach would come and take us all back. The other option is I could renew my vows and use that gift money to run off on a fiscally irresponsible trip to Israel.

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Another (rather unrelated) epiphany I had this very early Friday morning is an exception to the rule of emotional contagiousness through written language that I went on and on about earlier this week. Whether or not you've read the other post, you'll agree that writing carries a lot of hidden meaning that isn't written out point blank in letters. Emotion especially gets communicated through subtext (or tone) rather than words. Well, I've discovered the tricky exception: sarcasm. When someone reads a statement without seeing (or hearing) the writer or experiencing the emotional context where it was written, it can be very difficult to decipher whether the words were intended as satire or as humor, in light mockery or bitter irony... these subtle distinctions often require more cues. A good writer will choose their words to precisely reflect the message; for the rest of us there are emoticons or repeated LOL's.

You must be wondering, why in heaven's name am I having such esoteric internal dialogue at dawn? Well, there's an answer coming. This week BloginDm- a great j-music expertise blog, in the minute chance you haven't seen it-posted a question from a reader, RL. This guy asked, in too many words, if the in-house expert could name the Carlebach tune that goes, 'na na na na na uh uh na na...' I thought it was hilarious because if you wrote out any Carlebach it would actually look like that, and also because I'm corny sometimes. So I sent Blogindm this email (he doesn't take comments...) with a link to a cool 'query by humming' website called Musipedia that can name any tune. Sof sof, he thought it was funny and posted my email, but in retrospect I'm afraid it looks like I was giving a serious response to what was obviously meant as a joke. In short, I look like a moron. Yay. That's what I get for claiming that language can delivery the most nuanced emotion.

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And finally, as promised, we return to the segment called: "why mommies never get a good night's sleep." This edition involves a surprise wake-up at 4:30 a.m. by a toddler screaming "I fwoo up, I fwoo up" as though it were the most exciting thing to hurl three meals (plus snacks) all over the room. So the saga begins. I had to bathe my daughter, change her linens, wash the mattress, air out the room, get her to drink so she doesn't dehydrate, wait till she uses the potty again, calm her down to get her sleepy, and finally after she fell asleep, I started doing the laundry because you can't throw vomit soiled things into the hamper for later! Even my husband got a special treat--he dressed her while I cleaned her room, and she goes and vomits some more on him. Fun for the whole family! (Should I add a smiley face to denote sarcasm?)

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This concludes my first official rant. And now to start my day (and my third load of laundry)...

Shabbus Shuloym!

I dare you not to yawn... then I dare you not to take what you read to heart.

Yawning is a surprisingly powerful act. Just because you read the word “yawning” in the previous two sentences—and the two additional “yawns” in this sentence—a good number of you will probably yawn within the next few minutes. Even as I’m writing this, I’ve yawned twice. If you’re reading this in a public space, and you’ve just yawned, chances are that a good proportion of everyone who saw you yawn is now yawing too, and a good proportion of the people watching the people who watched you yawn are now yawning as well, and on and on, in an ever-widening yawning circle… And finally, if you yawned as you read this, did the thought cross your mind—however unconsciously and fleetingly—that you might be tired? I suspect that for some of you it did, and which means that yawns can also be emotionally contagious. Simply by writing the word, I can plant a feeling in your mind.

(Malcom Gladwell: The Tipping Point, p.10)

Gladwell above addresses what he calls the stickiness factor of features of a social epidemic, i.e. why some ideas or things catch on and become trends and others just don’t stick. Yawning is clearly a ‘sticky’ concept. The reason I quote this paragraph is not just to pull a prank on anyone who loads this page. (I’ll admit the image of everyone yawning at the computer is making me laugh, only I can’t really laugh because I’m still yawning… but back to my point.) Consider this statement:

Simply by writing the word [yawn], I can plant a feeling [of tiredness] in your mind.

The fact that just reading a word can immediately trigger an unconscious and involuntary response tells you that the “emotional contagiousness” of written material is unbelievably powerful. Information processing isn’t about the text that you mindfully read; it isn’t even about the infamous subtext anymore. Understanding comes as a result of a knee-jerk emotional response to the very base meaning of the transmitted information. Every input translates into a cascade of automatic psychological reactors which we hardly control.

The reason this bothers me is because it greatly undercuts the positive effects of free speech. In an open exchange of ideas, every party has equal opportunity to state their case and refute their opponent’s. But emotional contagiousness makes any refutation a moot point, because the initial processing of the offending opinion has profound effects regardless of its validity.

So when one critic after another tear apart anti-Semitic or anti-Israeli positions, they try to make it impossible to rationally uphold the hateful argument. However, the layman who is exposed to the argument is not taken by either side of the debate as it doesn’t concern them. The casual observer’s response is an unsophisticated emotional reaction to the implicit triggers-- a result that is most insidious because it doesn't warrant reevaluation.

I keep thinking about the average newspaper reading Joe who reads an article on the Israel Lobby paper and then keeps reading to learn how academics spin the facts. This uninvolved but sincere citizen will come away from the article having caught two emotional bugs: (1) don’t trust Jews, and (2) don’t trust the academic elite. Even if the second argument is ultimately more convincing, the impression of the first remains. The worst part is that because the hateful feelings are barely persceptible, Joe will never even have to feel guilty about having those thoughts--and they'll always be there.

My point is: if I make you yawn and then convince you that you’re not actually tired--you’ll believe me that you’re not tired, but you still will have yawned!

Congealed chicken soup for the soul

&

Chuck's hilarious comment to dovbear's list of favorites in mishloach manot, one of which is chocolate covered jelly rings:

Jelly rings are plain old gross, sort of like chocolate covered p'tcha.

Ha! Tell that to me after I've just eaten an entire friggin box full! Yum, but I probably should have shared.

COCA COLA BLAK is why I'm happy to be cholov yisroel

Coca-Cola Blak, a combination of Coke Classic and coffee extracts, will be launching in the United States. I love my coffee and I love my coke, but the thought of mixing the two makes me want to coca-cola-blech. No thanks.

Not only is this newest flavor super caffienated, it's also dairy. It's certified kosher, but dairy--and I highly doubt it will ever be cholov yisroel. Which brings me to why I'm grateful that I won't be able to drink this concoction... According to the death-by-caffeine calculator, it would take a mere 124 bottles of Coke-Blak to do me bad. Compare that with the 248 bottles of Coke Classic that I can afford before overdosing on caffeine, and I'm glad to have a little more time on my hands :)

Megilla reading for dummies... oops, I meant mommies

Yesterday my daughter came home from school with an arts-n-craft that would make any normal parent proud… leave it to me to cringe at the site of a gragger. It was the noisiest contraption I’d ever heard; taking it out of the knapsack alone sent out a good 80 decibels of unbearable noise into my otherwise peaceful apartment. The engineering was straightforward—two (heavily decorated) paper cups fastened together and filled with noisy junk. I finally found where my school money goes—they don’t fill these cups with popcorn kernels or rice; I’m proud to say that my daughter’s school fills her gragger with quality material--the biggest dried lima beans you ever saw and, I bet steel marbles as well. What were they thinking, the noisier the better? Being the patient mother that I am, I immediately hid this monstrous contraption away until Purim. I thought, “I won’t have to hear it until Megilla reading when I take it out in its right time.” It then dawned on me that I’d have to install a silencer on the gragger before letting my daughter walk into shul lest I wish to be stoned by my fellow congregants with those very lima beans.

So that’s how the dilemma began. Consider the following:

1. Women are halakhicly required to hear the Megilla twice on Purim (with equal stringency as men).
2. Women are traditionally the ones toting the little (read: noisy) ones along to the Megilla reading.

These two conditions are mutually exclusive and virtually impossible to fulfill at the same time. Anyone who has sat through a Megilla reading in a non-yeker shul (how do they do it, btw?) knows that of the usual 95% of the service that makes it over the mechitza, another 15% of the words are skimmed right off the top during Megilla reading (comstumes rustling, graggers graggling (?), babies crying, mother’s pleading for some silence, etc…) Clearly, not a good combination.

In Israel they deal with this situation brilliantly. The megilla is simply read twice so the kids can be shifted between parties. Why American’s don’t adopt this practice stumps me. Maybe some feminist groups protested saying that this equates motherhood with womanhood and further assumes the caretaking role to the female, etc… I think this is as fair a deal as it gets, as in, 'I go deaf for 45 minutes, okay, now your turn'. But somehow it hasn't caught on in orthodox circles. I have gone to private home readings in the past but I still ended up toting along the blasted gragger, accompanied by its eager owner. How could anyone expect me—with my kid who's highly prone to noisy debacles and my embarrassingly short attention span—to be able to hear the entire Megilla intact?

Now, what if women could read their own Megilla? Imagine we could claim the same immunity to noisy accessories or interuption as our male counterparts, i.e. “can’t you see I’m part of a minyan here, isn’t it a little sacrilege to ask me to---insert child-related activity here--?” I’ve often heard, in hushed tones though, that in certain instances woman are fully allowed—even encouraged—to make a minyan and lead their own services. Mikras Megilla, it turns out, may be one of them. [Full disclosure: my pseudonym is Am Haaretz for good reason, so bear with my very imprecise overview of the halakha.]

What are the issues and what’s holding us back?

There are two aspects of reading Megilla: (1) pirsum hanes, publicizing the miracle, which is satisfied by hearing the Megilla read aloud, and (2) mechiyas amalek, wiping out amalek (Haman’s) name, which is satisfied through reading aloud. Women are clearly obligated in the first because they took part in the miracle, but they don’t have any obligation to erase Amalek. In addition, Megilla takes the place of reading Hallel on Purim and women, unlike men, are not obligated in reading Hallel. For one person to include another person in a mitzvah, they must share equal obligations; in this case, the woman cannot satisfy mechiyas Amalek or Hallel for a man and therefore cannot read Megilla for him. (Sources: bahag & machreshes). This still does not explain why women can’t read Megilla for themselves or each other.

I did some quick, superficial research, and unbelievably I found that most rabanim consider ten women a proper minyan for reading the Megilla and even blessing harav eth riveinu! (I didn't even know you need a minyan for Megilla.) There appears to be no specific halakhic problem with women reading Megilla amongst other women. (Please don’t generalize and/or extend these opinions to women’s prayer groups, because the issues there are completely different.) If you follow this link and scroll down to "Women Reading Megillah", you'll see quotes of many interesting people's opinions, most of which seem to support the notion. Even this dissenting opinion of R'A. Soloveitchik is unconvincing, as no actual prohibition is cited:

“…in those communities, such as in Israel, where there is already an established custom to have a second Megillah reading for women, it is irrelevant whether the reader is male or female. Elsewhere, where such a minhag is not so common, a special women's Megillah reading should not be permitted (for hashkafic and public policy reasons).”

So I ask you, is public policy more binding than a more meaningful, halakhicly proper, fulfillment of a mitzvah? Might it be time for a hashkafa shift to better acommodate a mother's needs? Or is it wishful thinkingon my part to expect a better Megilla reading/listening experience if women were in charge?