THE PAINFUL TRUTH

My friends' son wanted a cat - very badly.  His parents, especially his mother, did not want him to have the said cat - also pretty badly.  And not because they are not cat people - but because they knew that, despite his solemn wows to take care of his feline, very soon it would be mother's responsibility.

So, they enlisted my help in trying to explain to the precocious teenager all the negatives of being a cat person.  He, however, was adamant; he will feed and water him or her, scoop the litter box, schlep him to the vet, give him medicine - the dude prepared himself for any and all eventuality.

Finally, I asked him the last question - how does he feel about cleaning kitty's puke?  The poor boy was stymied - puke?!! What puke? What do you mean? Well, I explained, they get hairballs (and even meds don't always help) - and they puke.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, what stopped the enthusiastic young man in his desire to have a feline companion.

MORNING UPDATE - MAY 29

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Wednesday! The weather is supposed to go in the direction of triple H pretty rapidly - all of you who kept moaning and asking when the summer is going to come, don't be surprised if strange things would start happening in your house soon, as I invoked some pixies to annoy you.
Both felines are slowly loosing interest in the Amazon box.
A couple of days ago a friend was dropping off some stuff, and he forgot my apartment number - but was able to quickly orient himself as my door is impossible to miss: it has american and israeli flags and a big USA sign on it.
Yesterday ION decided to re-run The First Knight, which once again made me wonder: a - who decided to cast Richard Gere in the role of any knight, and b - all the women who thought or think that he is attractive, or in any way decent actor, should really have their heads examined.
Trending at #5: Kate Upton is "furious" with Victoria's Secret because they used her old photo without her permission after "dissing" her for so long - well, nobody ever accused Victoria's Secret of having too much class.
Trending at #7: Daniel Radcliffe is not against playing Potter's father, if Rowling would write some more - thanks, but no thanks, Daniel. You sucked as Harry and I am sure you would suck as James.
Trending at #1: Kelly Rowland broke down in tears while singing a song about her old "rivalry" with Beyonce - so, I guess the diva pissed off more people in her life than just the other new parents at Lenox Hill hospital.
Trending at #8: Obama had to explain the lipstick on his collar - I don't even want to know.
"There is a reason why 20 million adults visit Disney World each year without a kid in tow" - yes, to forget that you are an adult, you morons!
Coffee this morning in my Disney Dalmatian Spots mug.

A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

Last week I got a message from one of my friends :”Free tickets to the Opera next Tuesday. Do you want to come?” My response was - hell, yes, I am there! I really, really missed going to the opera, shows, and concerts – stuff you have to ditch from your to do list when you are unemployed. I didn't even care about what we would be listening to – that's how exited I was; an opera by Wagner? An opera by Wagner it is!

So, while I was getting ready, Baby Bro wanted to know what precisely I would be looking at, aside from the walls of the Met. I told him that it would be Wagner, but I had no idea which one. He right away reminded me that my German is not as good as it used to be. Then, being of curious Jewish bent, he immediately googled the whole thing and told me that I would be listening to Siegfried, and the whole thing is over 5 hours. The mental picture of that alone amused him to end - well, younger siblings.... I reminded him that we can always leave if we would not enjoy the performance, of just get tired of it; I also promised to brief him after I got home.

After a friendly usher at the Met tried to scan our tickets, he gave us a bit of a strange look and asked if we wanted to see The Valkyrie, as tonight was a different performance. Basically, our tickets were for Monday night, not Tuesday. But the usher told us to check with with the manager and see if he can help us. The manager exchanged our tickets and told us that the left side of the orchestra was the best he could do – apparently, our free tickets were for the orchestra seats, to boot!

A short investigation reveled that neither my friend nor yours truly were responsible for the mix up, but rather the holder of the original reservations. And, as it turned out, he was not alone, as there were a few more lost souls in the entrance line who were holding the tickets to The Valkyrie. All of us ended up seeing Handel's Giulio Cesare – how in blazes did Baby Bro ended up with thinking if would Siegfried, nobody knows.

Now, my music history teacher would probably be ashamed of her former student, but it was the first time that I heard of this opera (at least it felt like it). Curios as to what particular part of Caesar’s life Handel used as the basic story, I was not surprised to find out that it was his (Caesar's) initial meeting with Cleopatra – at least the way it is portrait in the realm of historical fiction.

I was also aware for a while that both the Met and the New York City Opera are gravitating towards minimalism in their productions, but this new production of the classic surpassed even my wildest conjectures.

You see, the “creative producer” of this “new version”, Sir David McVicar, who hales from Glasgow, Scotland, decided to, I guess, try to absolve himself of his white guilt and in the process make some derisive fun of the British "empire builders". I mean, that is the only explanation I can come up with for the outlandish set of this gorgeous opera. In his view, Romans entering Egypt were conquerors invading a different (and probably superior) culture, so in his artistic interpretation of this theme, the Romans in the opera wore the costumes of British soldiers from the turn of the 20^th century, and the Egyptians resembled Hindus from the same era. The fact that by the time Caesar met Cleopatra, the royal palace of Egypt strongly resembled Rome culturally did not really phase the creative juices of Sir David. He went so far as to dress his Cleopatra as Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's – which annoyed me to no end, both as the historical purist and as a Hepburn fan (my dislike of that particular movie non-withstanding). To that travesty he added Bollywood style dancing (because, I guess, it blends seamlessly with a baroque opera), and, as a cherry on top, some obviously homosexual overtures at the beginning of the third act. Also, I guess just because our dear Mayor got everyone's liver by now, shotguns were shown and “gunshot effects” were used.

But guess what? All of this nonsensical stupidity paled next to two things: the indescribable pleasure of listening to a live performance in a place with perfect acoustics (which beats any kind of electronic invention hands down), and, most importantly, the divine beauty of the music itself.

The genius of Handel, "a dead white male", was mocking all the attempts of mocking the "white culture". His music, written so long ago, is so beautiful and filled with so much soul, that it not only triumphs over the current multicultural stupidity, but will also outlive the said stupidity and delight both civilized people and savages alike in many years to come.

It was a first opera that I actually enjoyed almost in its entirety, not just an introduction, and an aria here, and an aria there. For a period of almost four hours I was transported to a different plain; the idiocy of the modern production did not matter. All I needed to do was close my eyes and enjoy the beautiful voices and the divine music. So, hurray for the genius of the dead white males, and huge thanks to my friend and her co-worker with reading comprehension problems!

I GO TO CENTURY 21

A little while ago I went to a place that I usually avoid like the proverbial plague: namely, Century 21. And, to compound the situation, I was dispatched to buy a tie for a person whose taste is diametrically opposed to mine. The problem of the tie selection was easily solved – classical patterns usually work for almost everyone; but the idea of going to Century was still unpalatable. Well, little did I know that I will be entertained during my visit.

First of all, the menswear department, although full of seekers of sartorial excellence on a dime, was not as stuffed as the rest of the store usually is. And then, there were the customers themselves: assorted tourists, the inhabitants of four other than Manhattan boroughs, my Jewish brothers of all different stripes, accompanied by their caring wives, harried downtown employees trying to squeeze a bit of shopping between work and dinner – needless to say, the crowd was pretty varied.

But what really attracted my attention was a guy who was shopping in a slightly different manner from the rest of us: he took about five or six ties, hang them in a row, and was peering at them, trying to figure out what he wanted. But his style of shopping was not what was interesting about him – he himself was, because he and he alone looked like he did not belong at Century 21, but rather at Savile Row. And it weren't his good looks – but rather his manners, his bearing, his whole classy demeanor. I have, for the obvious reasons, gone to more discount shops than I care to remember – but this was the first time I saw somebody who so obviously did not belong there, but still just went ahead with his discount shopping.

Ah, New York, my crazy beloved city! Even after almost twenty five years you still delight and amuse me in the most unexpected places!

HALF A DAY IN NEW YORK

This past Wednesday I ended up traveling to the previously unexplored part of the Lower East Side – I went 3 more blocks east on Grand Street past . Funny vignettes from that day:

Observed a bunch of old dudes speaking Yiddish – they were Americans, and not Chassidim at all (which was kind of refreshing).

Tourists are loosing a lot of money traveling on tour buses when for a bargain price of $2.50 they can board NYC bus and see the exact same things. Plus, they get an opportunity to observe real Nyers in their real and unending craziness.

According to Starbucks my name is Camero – yea, go figure.

If you go to the farmer's market in April, the only fruit available are apples – they look like they were harvested back in October, but still cost 2-3 more than in the store.

Pleasant discovery - drug stores begin to sell flippies in April as "seasonal goods"!

And, last but least, according to the Rite Aid on Grand Street, my blood pressure returned to the pre-Obama levels – set course of self-therapy that includes ignoring morons in general, an liberals morons in particular, as much as possible is working.

MORNING UPDATE - APRIL 11

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Thursday! Happy Rosh Chodesh! Ladies, again - LIGHT housework and presents from your husbands! The weather is still crazy and much colder - no word on Ohio prosecutor filing new charges against Phil. The crazy upstairs is alive and kicking. George still prefers his amazon box to my bed, unless he wants to be petted - in which case it has to be done on my bed. Sniffles dropped Survival Cracker box from the top of the book case, then fluffed his tail 6 times its usual size and ran around the place like crazy. Last night Baby Bro re-arranged the canned goods in the pantry - because my neurotic arrangement of them was irritating his neurosis. Argentina's President will not be invited to Iron Lady's funeral, which "political snub" will further diplomatic antagonism between 2 countries - who needs good diplomatic relations with Argentina anyway? Back in 2010 Taylor Swift claimed that black eyeliner is one "beauty tool" she can't live without - and yet she appeared on the latest issue of Wonderland magazine without it! Kelly Clarkson, on the other hand, appeared with a bunch of black dots on her face - 18th century fashion taken to idiotic extreme. Ellen Pompeo showed up in pants strongly resembling pajamas - and here I thought only guys rolled out of bed and went straight to their destination. Karlie Kloss (some kind of Victoria's Secret supermodel) got an "it" hairdo which VS fans do not appreciate - somehow I never envisioned Victoria's fans concerned with hairdos. Basically, there are so many fashion-related news - stop the presses! Charlie Sheen appeared on Leno and talked about doing an episode of his show with Lindsay Lohan - all I can say is, I can't figure out who has more class, Charlie or Lindsay. PETA is trying to scare kids off milk by claiming on their billboards that drinking milk increases zits - why don't you starve yourselves and leave the kids alone, you jackals?!! In California police arrested 5 men who were rubbing banks "Hollywood style" - big whoop; if they robbed the bank Obama-style, that would have been a height of skill! Kim Kardashian is sticking to all black outfits for the third trimester - I guess her stylist was dispatched to Jewish Brooklyn for style tips. "Justin Bieber is only half as popular as he seems on Twitter" - there is still hope for the younger generation. And last, but not least in the fashion news - "Kate Middleton Helped Make Emerald the Color of 2013". Wow, did not know that the duchess and I have similar taste - at least in colors. Coffee this morning in my Disney Mini Bean Bag Plush with Mickey and Friends mug.

TRIP TO TARGET

Tonight I finally made it to my all time favorite non-food store – Target. Here are some interesting vignettes from my trip:

1. If you start mentally adding the value of items already in your shopping cart, you will end up leaving the store with 5 bags instead of 10.

2. I am totally justified in never, never, ever picking up the item from the top of the pile, as observed and smelled 3 barbarians trying (and not buying) a whole bunch of air fresheners.

3. Was hoping against hope to get some snazzy flippies – and, as always, was disappointed. Not only are all of their flip-flops expensive, but they either are completely flat or too high. Also, they were having a silly sale ridiculously called “ladies love flip-flops”, where they discounted every pair of those by 99 cents – give me a break, Target!

4. And, finally, a sign of old age – you are beating yourself up for not getting a set of kitchen towels you admired for about half a year (and now they are gone). Kitchen towels, for pete's sake!

THE HEIRLOOM SWEATER

UPDATED

At the end of her first pregnancy my sister decided to slowly start getting baby clothes here and there – only exceptionally cute stuff, mind you. But since she decided not to find out whom she was having, all the deliciousness had to be neutral colors – or blue. Her reasoning? Baby girl in blue is cute; baby boy in pink – not so much. And so it happened that one of her purchases was a beautifully knit powder blue sweater from Osh Kosh.

Of course we know that in the end she had Golden Delicious, who, I might add, wore all those neutral and blue outfits (as well as the multitude of the pink ones) with panache. And, yes, the blue Osh Kosh sweater was put on her couple of days after she came home from the hospital for her first visit to the pediatrician – it was January in New York, and it was pretty nippy! The staff decided that Eh was a boy, and then asked if she inherited the blue sweater from her older brother – silly, silly people!

After the blue creation from Osh Kosh warmed Eh enough times, it was pressed into diligent and faithful service to MMM. And then, after she grew out of it, that piece of clothing was adorning the family Mickey Mouse, as well as other assorted dolls. And, finally, about 2 months ago, we put it on the news baby (who is also a girl)! It was still bright blue, beautiful, and warm. The only member of the family not to wear the heirloom piece of clothing? Yep, you guessed it – that would be Neffie Pooh! Even though, as a boy, he was sort of the most entitled to it, he was born in the early summer – and by the time it was cold enough for him to wear any kind of sweater, that particular one was too small for him.

And, that, my friends, is a cute story of the heirloom blue sweater beautifully knitted by Osh Kosh.

Update: Just saw another doll wearing The Sweater! The tradition continues!

SALAD NICOISE A LA MOSCOW

Few years ago my friends served me salad which they officially call Ivanovs' salad (Ivanovs being our mutual friends). Upon gazing at the ingredients I was compelled to ask why they dubbed this particular dish thusly, and they explained that they were never served this salad before they came to Ivanovs for a meal. This little story made me laugh, because everyone in Moscow (from whence both Ivanovs and yours truly originally hail) made this salad (providing, of course, that the ingredients were available); my friends, on the other hand, came from Leningrad and Kiev, where, I guess, this culinary offering was not in vogue.

That, as Sir Percy would say, was just the title. Fast-forward to today; I decided to make myself a salad to break my fast, and for whatever reasons, decided to make “Ivanonvs'” salad – or, as we called it, radish salad, the ingredients for which are radishes, cucumbers, scallions, hard-boiled eggs, and mayo. And that's how fun started.

First, I realized that I was too lazy to go back for scallions when I was in the story, so I had to substitute it with an onion. Second, I saw a beautiful package of mushrooms in my shopping bag – well, it's winter, and we need extra vitamin D, so mushrooms followed. Steps 3 and 4 were uneventful: a bunch of radishes and 4 cucumbers. Then I realized that I was very low on eggs, and only had 3 instead of 5 I usually put. In order to compensate for the lack of protein, I decided to add 3 little cans of tuna which were hanging around since summer and munchkins' visit. And as I was opening tuna, making sure that Sniffles does not get into it (for his own protection), I remembered that a few kosher establishments served something vaguely similar (minus the radishes) and called it nicoise salad. Of course, kosher establishments usually use loose interpretations of the original recipe, but who cares. So, I topped my creation with a jar of black olives, and on top of the generous helping of the mayonnaise added the horse radish sauce.

The results, my friends, were surprisingly good, and I decided to share with you the recipe of this particular cooking experiment.   

MORNING UPDATE - FEBRUARY 20

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Wednesday! The weather is again NY February - at least it's sunny. Sniffles is laying on top of my chair and gently breathing in my ear. Scholastic ordered new illustrations for Harry Potter - the old expression of not gilding the lily comes to mind, and, in my opinion, both old and new illustrations stink. There are 7 bad habits that are good for you! Of course, the idiots only listed 5, but here they are: procrastination, coffee drinking, chocolate eating, napping, and alcohol consumption - yes!!! Going back to bed, then waking up, having another coffee, and chasing it with a nice chardonnay and nice piece of Godiva - oh, heck, procrastinated last month and did not get my freebies! Guess what is trending at # 1 right now? The speculation on whatever or not Victoria Beckham is preggers again - heck, what is it with the water and the air lately?! Celebs expecting right and left - and most of them are due this summer! USPS will launch a new clothing line in 2014 titled "Rain Heat & Snow" - good job, guys! While you are busy designing, could you please make sure to lose a piece of mail only once? Thanks! There is also a case of raising the salary for our dear comrade Hussein, because he is underpaid and maybe needs incentives - and no, this is not a line from The Onion. And the Academy decided not to call the event of the year 85th Academy Awards, but instead just call it the Oscars (to get rid of "musty" alternative title) - this is also not a line from The Onion. "Higgs Boson Particle May Spell Doom For the Universe" - I beg to differ; it's human stupidity that spells doom for the universe. In the fashion news: "ugly" 90's trend of wearing coveralls is coming back - well, at least people are still dressed. And on the hairdo front: parteigenosse Michelle claims that her bangs was her way of dealing with mid-life crisis - where is the spittoon when you need one, I ask you! No peep from either Windsors or Bieber today - bummer! Coffee this morning in my HP mug.

MORNING UPDATE - FEBRUARY 15

First, a little introduction: one of my very dear friends has a great coffee mug collection. So, every morning she posts her mug choice on facebook, together with few sentences about her day plans, family news, or something else to that extant. After being unemployed for a number of months, I decided to enter into a friendly competition with her – because between my own shopping, and my Beloved Sibling never claiming some of her stuff after getting married, and yours truly somehow ending up with family stuff after our parents split up...To make the long story short, I got my own decent mug collection.

It started with my mug choices, to which I decided to add the weather report as seen from my window, to which I decided to add occasional pet news, to which I eventually decided to add some pithy comments about “current events” - because, let's face it – the celebrity obsession is, well, idiotic. Low and behold, I got a little “following” - my friends kept telling me that my silly updates made them smile, made their days, offered them something to look forward to. So, I started doing it almost religiously.

And then I thought “why not post them on my blog?”. Of course, being a neurotic Jewess with OCD, I usually have set rules on what goes where and then. But, heck, it's my blog! And while I am trying to simultaneously write about ten “serious” pieces to post here ( and am not able to finish one), my decision to post my morning updates here solidified. Below is the one I wrote on Friday, February 15:

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Friday! Happy Erev Shabat! The weather, once again, is nice for a February day. Actually tempted to go and check out post-valentine sales. George decided to snack on some napkins yesterday because they came from a burger joint - I guess they smelled like chicken wings and burgers to him. Megyn Kelly is pregnant - which happy occasion is trending at #2. Good luck, Megyn, from the bottom of my heart - because this time it won't just be pictures of baby bumps in cute maternity clothes; it will be a full-blown attack from the self-proclaimed defenders of human rights in general, and female rights in particular. Meteor struck Russia, reportedly injuring more than 500 hundred people - basically, doing only a fraction of the damage that the Russian government does to its citizens on a daily basis. Malia Obama might be dating - I am sure the guy loves his veggies and quinoa; also wondering how much additional security that particular young love would entail. There is also a list of 5 careers to avoid - they forgot to mention any job at the "frum" company, especially if you are a woman. Some celebrities have "strange hobbies": Nicholas Cage collects dinosaur bones, William Shatner likes archery, Mila Kunis is heavy into WarCraft, and Tom Hanks collects old typewriters - I honestly don't give a flying banana on what they spend their money, as long as they keep their (mostly uneducated) traps shot and don't involve themselves in anti-American activities, politics, and envirowacoism. Speaking of which, Jolie and Pitt are about to release their first wine next month - the previous statement applies. "Kris Humphries' lawyer reportedly sacked the star as his client" - because according to the lawyer, there were no legal grounds for the annulment of his marriage to Kim K.; and, in case you were wondering, this is your latest in Kardashain news. Kate, on the other hand, seems to be hiding again from the public - can't say I blame her. Bieber is, once again, absent - is he quietly searching for a new girlfriend? Coffee this morning in my Coffee Bean/Tea Leaf mug.

RANDOM TRAVELS TO DIFFERENT BRACKETS

(Tax Brackets, that is)

Here are few random stories that happened to yours truly at different points of her life and in different places, but prove one interesting, slightly sad, and very much irrefutable point: even in a wonderfully egalitarian society like ours, people from different income levels do not necessary speak the same language.

Back at my wonderfully educational job at OU, there was a girl in our department who was only working because she did not feel like starting grad school right away, but also did want to become completely bored. Anyway, one fine day I forgot my watch (that was before cells phones were widely spread) and politely asked her if I can borrow hers for lunch break. She looked at me with something of incredulity and asked me if I really wanted to be responsible for her watch? As she did not usually exhibit the rich princess snobbery, I was truly surprised and taken aback by this episode; needless to say, I politely declined her watch and did without. Only a few years later did it dawn on me that her watch was a Movado – thank you, Vogue!

Few years after she was gone we had another trust fund baby who was also keeping herself from staring at the ceiling all day long while trying to figure out what to do with her life. One day I half-jokingly complained that after filing my tax return I ended up sending New York State an additional sum of four USD like they did not already rob me enough. She snippily looked down at me (which was an achievement as she was even shorter than I) and very seriously told me that she had absolutely no pity for my situation as she just had to pay so much more, and everybody has to pay their taxes and contribute their share. Come to think of, now I wonder if she voted for Obama?

When I was in the process of looking for my latest apartment, my architects/designers co-workers automatically assumed that I was buying one. On the side note - who in their right mind, unless they are from Odessa, would by an apartment in South Brooklyn?

Few months ago I went to a party hosted in Riverdale. By the time the festivities broke up, it was a pretty advanced evening time, and the buses do not run well even during the day. I have gotten a ride with another acquaintance I knew a this party and shared it with two other people whom I did not know. Benign and pleasant conversation was flitting from topic to topic till somehow we ended up discussing doormen and their averted strike. I, being my usual self, had the humongous foresight to make fun of the fact that doormen can actually threaten with strike – what is the big deal, after all? To which statement I was petulantly informed by a young lady I just met at the party that it is actually a big deal, as those individuals in question provide security and additional convenience of taking your packages and picking up your dry cleaning. As it was pretty late at night, I just politely nodded and confessed that I did not think of it in this light, mentally adding that security in my building consists of G-d’s protection and half-functioning lock on the front door; that if I miss my package, my Dad, bless him, goes to the post office for me, and if I need my dry cleaning picked up, I make sure to be at the store before the closing time and pick it up.

Different languages indeed they are.

VALIDATION OF MY “MADNESS”

There are many things that I do in performance of my everyday boring activities that garner raised eyebrows from the passers-by, good natured jokes from my friends, and snide comments from my so-called well-wishers. One prime example is my choice of footwear.


Anyone who knows me personally can vouch that I wear flip-flops around nine months out of twelve – lately around eight months (due to the results of catastrophic man-made global warming). Surprise of surprises – I actually do that for purely practical reasons, and not to reinforce my nonsensical non-conformism.


Anyway, a few weeks ago I forced myself to go to podiatrist – this time due to my innate klutziness that results in my frequent walking into walls and assorted furniture. While making an appointment, I was asked to make sure and prepare a list of all different kinds of footwear I use for different purposes. “Oh, brother,” – was my mental exclamation – “another lecture by a medical professional coming my way”. To further the irony, it rained cats and dogs on the morning of my appointment, so, instead of wearing my derided flip-flops, I borrowed a pair of sneakers from my baby brother and trotted off.


The doctor was punctual and friendly, and he reassured me that my klutziness produced no lasting damage. He was also duly impressed with the general condition of my feet; and then the conversation turned to the dreaded topic – the footwear. He asked me if I were sneakers as a matter of course; I explained to him the reason for the Nikes and my obsession with the “beach shoes”. “So, you wear flip-flips most of the time?” “Yes; even when it gets cold outside, I keep a pair at work to change into.” “And at home?” “Then I just go barefoot”. Guess what his response was to my dreadful confession? “That’s very impressive! I wish all my patients did this – it’s healthy for the feet to be exposed to sun and air for most of the time.”


The second episode occurred about three weeks later when I went for my infrequent hair-cut. To hair salon which I frequent is pretty friendly and informal, which suits me just fine. So, while my hairdresser began on my head, she continued chatting with her previous client. In the middle of this chat, the other lady complimented my hair, telling me that it looks very healthy. The hairdresser got really excited and confirmed that my tresses were very silky to touch (thanks, ladies, you are making me blush). “You know why?” – She continued – “It’s because Barb does not put anything in her hair. All she does is shampoo, condition, and get them cut; no chemicals, no dies, no blow-drying – zip!” The other client was duly surprised and impressed at the same time.


Now I have a slight dilemma – should I submit this story to Glamour, Vogue, In Style, Lucky, and a few other choice publications offering beauty advice to women? Nah, just kidding.

WHY I CAN NOT BE A RELIABLE WITNESS IN COURT

The following story also took place shortly after MMM made her glorious entrance into this world.

Yours truly was walking back to the office after a satisfying meal when she got a phone call from Beloved Sibling. The Very Important Matter of Shopping for Mini Mini Me was discussed. All of the sudden, in the middle of the conversation, I saw a familiar face attached to a familiar hairdo that was approaching me from the opposite direction. The hand attached to the body with the familiar face waved at me and the mouth on the familiar face cracked a smile.

I got really excited. “Nechama – I thought – so happy to see her since she moved to New Jersey a donkey’s age ago!” :”Uh, uh, uh, guess whom I just met on the street!” – was my happy squeal into the receiver. Of course, my poor sister was at sea, so I just wished her well and hang up. Nechama stopped, but did not hang up on her phone call. I just stood there, smiling like an idiot – I really was that happy to see her. She continued chatting and after a first polite smile did not really pay attention to me.

OK, she did not see me or hear from me in a long while, but she was my sister’s friend, for goodness sake! What happened to her? Finally, she reluctantly finished her call and decided to waste some rudimentary conversation on yours truly. And, boy oh boy, it was way beyond rudimentary; it was stifled and cold. We wished each other Shana Tova, of course, and then I, in very exuberant tones, told her about the MMM’ arrival; very un-exited reception. Then I asked her if she was working in the area; she just looked at me with a slight disdain before confirming the fact. I offered to exchange phone numbers (so we could stay in touch somewhat); again some kind of very cold and put-down compliance.

Finally, after about two minutes of this nonsense (and her offer of meeting for lunch one day, which I knew would never materialize), we wished each other the best for the remainder of Sukkot and the coming year, and I returned to the office. Her behavior continued to baffle me, though; again, granted, I did not see her for a very long time; but such drastic change? What the heck happened to a warm, exuberant, down to earth, wonderful Nechama? Needless to say, I did not say anything to my sister; she, of course, did not ask, being busy with the new baby and all.

I, on the other hand, while relegating this dumb incident to the back of my mind, could not give it a complete and proper rest. Another disappointment, in a long line of disappointments; well, people do change, and usually not for the better. And only after about two or three weeks of those musings the condemned by enviro-wacos invention of Thomas Edison flickered to bright light in my head. OMG (as the modern generation likes to summarize it), it was not Nechama at all! It was Odette, or Violette, or whatever Frenchified nonsense name her parents gave her! The girl who was introduced to me by my friend Ellie; and which friendship left me nonplussed, since Ellie is a very warm and sweet person, and Odette is so clearly not! If my fried brain would have recognized her as Odette, it would have steered my body to the opposite side of the street, and only then commended to one of my hands to wave in a non-committal greeting! At that point I did share the story with my sister – and man, did we laugh!

And that is why, Boys and Girls, Ladies and Things, your humble servant would never make a reliable eye-witness in court!

INTERESTING RESULTS OF ANTI-SEMITISM

I had the supreme privilege of growing up in one of the worst anti-Semitic countries in the world under one of the most anti-Semitic regimes in recorded history: Communist Russia. Most of my childhood memories associated with those privileges are not very pleasant; but some things were so illogical as to border on the bizarrely hilarious. This is one of them.

Like any Jewish parents worth their salt, so to speak, my parents wanted to give their children, especially girls, musical education. In the high hopes of that happening, a piano was purchased when yours truly (an oldest child) reached the age of five. As a side note, a memo to all the parents out there – I am all for broadening your child’s horizons and giving him or her music lessons; but, unless there are prodigies on the scale of Mozart, signing up a five-year old for serious music lessons is a serious waste of your time and money. But hey, according to one of my psych professors, every parent by default experiments on the first child – due to the lack of experience. So, my poor parents learned their lesson after few months, and the piano was relegated to the status of just plain big piece of furniture for the time being.

Fast forward a few years; I think at that time the hopes for my brother to become a musician were dashed, but in my case they were still strong; plus, my younger sister was about to be engaged as well. This time, because there were two of us, hiring a tutor was not feasible, and our parents decided to enroll us in the music school. So, our poor Mom was forced to haul us from one school to another to another to another – only to be told, again and again, that her daughters have very little or no talent what so ever and will not be enrolled.

That statement may be true in my case (my musical talents are rather mediocre); but in the case of my sister it was nothing more than a bold-faced lie. Beloved Sibling is graced by The Heavenly Father with many talents, and being a great musician is one of them. So, what gave? Well, apparently, the latest directive in Moscow at that time was not to enroll “blackies”, especially of the dreaded Jewish variety ones, in the music schools, especially – GASP – in the capital.

Finally, a music school was found outside of the city boundaries (at that point we did live on the outskirts), and they were more than glad to take us (even me with my mediocre abilities). However, due the unfortunate circumstances of us wasting all this time inside the city boundaries, all the piano classes were full. Our Mom was given a choice of enrolling one daughter in the violin group and another one for the cello. My memories are hazy as to why precisely we ended up with what we ended up (I think it was due to size), but in the end, my sis went for the violin lessons and I went for the cello ones.

And so it came to pass that, due to the bizarre idiocies of the Russian comrades, we both ended up learning how to play not just one (because eventually both of us took piano lessons), but two musical instruments.

YOM KIPPUR

Fashion/On The Lighter Side Edition

Everyone who knows our family knows that we are very punctual people and hate being late to anything. Hence, yours truly was the first to arrive on Kol Nidre Night (and even had the dubious honor of entering through the men’s entrance and opening up women’s).

After I finished Mincha, there was not much to do but wait and observe the new arrivals. And it struck me once again, not with a vengeance, but strongly enough: how come ladies in this community look like they have been taking wardrobe tips from Beau Brummell? Inasmuch as I know for a fact that there is very little interest in history amongst them in general and practically none for the English history, especially the Regency Period in particular, who is channeling the late unlamented dandy? Because about ninety seven percent of ladies attending (including the younger generation) were wearing stark, unrelieved black; about two or three of them wore pure white; and yet about seven more were in black and white. Only about six other people (including yours truly) were wearing some other colors (mainly grey, olive, and brown). And, of course, the next morning it continued in the same venue, aside from two very refreshing-looking young ladies, one of which was wearing a leather suit.

In a momentary flight of fancy I got a strong urge to inform the assembled honorable matrons that Brummell was credited by historians with simplifying the male mode of dress, not female; and then I realized something else. Apparently, there is a new rage to wear plumages in one’s hair (mainly made from feathers of small birds, but faux flowers or fruit are also popular). I suppose those fanciful hair ornaments were meant to counteract the black/male simplicity.

On the personal note, a la Cher Horowitz, I am happy to report that I broke in my off-white Vera Wang flip-flops.

I also managed, once again, without fail, to fall asleep during the Rabbi’s speeches, and during the chazzan’s repetitions, so, when Birkat Kohanim came along, the reference to dreams was very fresh.

On a serious note, it was a very uplifting day, and I profoundly hope that The Heavenly Father accepted all our prayers and sealed all of us in the Book of Life.