PESACH 5773

So, another Pesach come and gone. My mom always feels a bit cheated – because we (especially ladies) put sow much effort in it, and then, poof, 7-8 days, and it's gone!

This time around it also came to me again (and stronger): how much time and physical effort we waste on spring cleaning and other assorted (and, might I add, unnecessary) nonsense before the holiday, resulting in the first (and sometimes even second) Seder spent in almost total stupefaction. I mean, come on – do the kitchen, buy food, and then annul chometz – that's all! Of course, we feel like we have to greet Pesach in a totally organized house, scrubbed from top to bottom – but it's usually a loosing proposition, even if you don't have kids running around and hiding snacks in places no professional spy would ever dream of. On the side note – it always amuses me to think about gentiles approaching spring cleaning with such serious intent and having no idea of the origins of this quaint little custom.

Over all, my Pesach was nice and enjoyable, and I thank all my friends who fed me. But this time I also realized that, as much as I love the company, I am a bit old for this racket. I really, really would love to have someone at home to cook for and have a seuda with.

Of course I did not make it to services once, but can still produce a decent fashion report. In a nutshell: despite Pesach being a spring holiday, when everyone is breaking out their summer wardrobe, and some color does appear (even in New York), this year the weather was a bit blah-y and yuck-y, resulting in almost complete proliferation of black ensembles among the good womenfolk of South Brooklyn.

And what holiday can escape the occasional genius statements at the festive table? This year was no exception, and included, among others, discussions pro gun control, superiority of Israeli medicine as opposed to ours, and my cute devotion to this country.

Pesach corresponds to the time we were chosen for our special mission. As long as we remember that, re-experience our freedom from slavery, and remind ourselves once again about the tremendous responsibility and great blessing of being Jews, the frantic spring cleaning and drunken stupor during and after Seder were not in vain.   

HAPPY PURIM!

For a number of years now I have been guilty of not getting into proper Purim spirit. Sure, there were reasons aplenty: our family is not together anymore, no money, no job, munchkins are not here, friends turned out to be radishes (non-translatable Russian jargon), Hussein is the President, our community is rotting and stinking from the head, our people are not using their gray matter and behaving like water buffaloes (especially during the Holidays) – well, the list is long, painful, and emotionally exhausting.

Add to this the fact that our enemies like to keep our wounds fresh; they love to make sure that each day of celebration is market by somebody's sorrow – and a very recent one, at that. I would never forget the Seder where one of the guests remarked right before the Shvach Hamatcho “remember the parents of Shalhevet Pass who are just getting up from Shiva”. And when it comes to Purim, we have the massacre at Merkaz Harav, which occurred on Rosh Chodesh Adar, and the murders of the Fogel family, may Hashem avenge their blood, which happened shortly before Purim. Yes, all this definitely adds to a lovely celebration and merriment.

But this year, about a week before Purim, it suddenly dawned on me: we celebrate despite all that! Because in every generation, heck, almost every decade, we have a new Haman who rises and thinks it would be a great idea to get rid of this one “people scattered and separate among the peoples throughout all the” nations. Safety is only a temporary illusion; we are constantly in danger (sometimes more, sometimes less) because we are still in galut – mainly due to our ignorance and sinat chinam. On Purim we remember that an evil bastard wanted to exterminate us all, with the full cooperation of the governing body (who did not even care about the loss of revenue to the treasury); only through the hidden miracles from the Almighty were we saved, and the wheels of fortune turned in our favor. We celebrate the simple fact of remaining alive despite the unbelievable odds! And we also remember once more that “united we stand, divided we fall” - a simple phrase, repeated so many times by so many different people in so many different circumstances – but not loosing its validity none-the-less. We eat, drink, enjoy life, and give gifts to each other; it really is the most joyous day of the year.

And so, this Purim, that's what I did – tried to celebrate it in the proper spirit. I am still jobless, money-less, and lonely; our community is still, well, by far not perfect; our people still behave like water buffaloes and still propagate idiocy and sinat chinam; our enemies are more powerful than ever and are coming at us from all sides; and the wounds from loosing our brothers and sisters to unending hatred are very fresh – but I smiled, sang, and danced regardless. Granted, I was costume-less (due to poor planning last fall), but as half of my wardrobe and accessories are “strange” and “funny” anyway (or the results of manic shopping choices), they did it instead of a real costume.

Also, went to my by now usual Purim meal in Riverdale. The food was great (I even ate and enjoyed turkey!!!), the company pretty good, and I had a great excuse to escape Brooklyn. Finally tally on the emptied bottles – 8!!! Americans can't drink properly, man!

I hope your Purim also rocked, peeps – because, hey, we are still alive and kicking! Am Yisrael Chai! Le'Chaim!

SHANA TOVAH!

As is traditional on this blog for the past couple of years, I would like to wish all my brothers and sisters a Shana Tova somewhere around Rosh Chodesh Kislev – well, definitely before we celebrate Chanukah.

So, to all the members of our tribes, regardless of your religious affiliation, or the acknowledgment of belonging to our tribes, or even the realization that you actually do belong – I wish all of you a good, sweet, healthy, happy, prosperous, and blessed year.

I don't know if all of us prayed well enough these past High Holidays, or, if, using a non-kosher reference, we have been “very naughty” these past couple of years, but so far this year is shaping to be, well, challenging. To be truthful, we are in grave peril. Every single anti-Semitic force on Earth that ever existed is rearing its ugly head once again, but, most horrifying of all, our own so-caller leaders, both religious and secular, are, to paraphrase Caroline Glick, are like dogs. They are petty, cowardly, concerned with idiocy, and completely unable to lead. Aside from incompetent and ignorant leaders, we have way too many non-leaders in our midst that either forgot what being a Jew truly means – or, worse, are simply not happy to be one. I know that by this time it sounds like a well-worn platitude, but we really need to try our best to be the best Jews we could be – and pray; pray hard and from the heart.

On the light note: yours truly did her usual by making sure to come to services early on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, but slept through the ones on Succot.

And – drum roll please – here comes the fashion report:

Beau Brummel can rest peacefully – the good matrons of South Brooklyn and their daughters continue to favor black in all its ugly, ehr, elegant permutations. And, sadly, this year, neither the flowers nor the feathers of small birds were in vogue as hair ornaments – so, goth couture all around. Yours truly, being her usual stubborn Jewish self, broke the mold with green, yellow, and pink (not all at the same time, though). There were other iconoclasts in the congregation (about half a minyan worth), who showed up dressed in violet, peach, blue, and – gasp – light gray/lavender leather. What can I tell you – it was an interesting fashion show.

And last, but not least, as always, my friends shared their delicious holiday meals. And, sadly, but not unexpectedly, I got to listen to a ton of idiocy coming out of the mouths of other guests. Here, in no particular order, is a partial list of the more salient points.

The reason the eat fish on Rosh Hashona is because fish is the only one member of animal world who procreates completely without touching – since when did we acquire such Muslim or Catholic aversion to sex?

The judgment on Rosh Hashona happens before Musaf, so, a special Chassidish Rav takes 4 hours to say the morning Shemona Esre – how?

I am Russian,my roots are there, and I should be proud of this heritage – with all due respect and admiration, go to the warm basement.

Another time a guest gave the host exact instructions as how to make kiddish for his (guest's) progeny and how to serve them grape juicy – no comment.

Of course, the best was when another guest at my friend's house pointed at me and asked our hostess “who is this?”; then proceeded to discuss and debate diets and healthy foods with another couple present at the meal. And if that was not fun enough, the discussion proceeded with the visiting husband extolling the virtues of Moscow, mocking my beloved country, deriding me for my patriotism, and reacting with snide bewilderment to my profound hate for the step-mama country.

Basically, Holidays were great, but tainted with the ignorance that, unfortunately, is very prevalent in our circles, and is, in my humble opinion, one of the root causes of most of our problems.

So, here is to a, hopefully, good and sweet year filled with true Achavat Chinam and working Jewish brains.

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

Once again, I did not get a chance to acknowledge all the recent Holidays, so, here are my belated “Happy Holidays” and some random remarks.

As long as I celebrated Purim, I always loved that day – precisely for what it represents and what we are celebrating. Of course, in our illustrious neighbourhood, people usually tend to forget the forest for the trees – and the rush to outperform each other in the Misheloach Manot department usually overshadows everything else. Plus, this was the first Purim without munchkins – so, the celebratory spirit was slightly on the thin side. Also, due to slight monetary constrains, I decided to honour the spirit of the holiday by spending whatever money I could on the gifts for the poor and giving only one Misheloach Manot – to my mom. This year, I sort of wanted to get a costume, but by the time I figured out whom I wanted to be (a witch, of course), it was a bit late in the game. On the plus side, a good acquaintance from Riverdale invited me for the festive meal, and, as The Bronx community is much more chilled than ours, I ended up having a smashing time – even surrounded by liberals. Of course, Americans can not drink properly – as was demonstrated again by that particular feast. By the time I was ready to leave, the hostess observed that only 6 bottles of wine were consumed! Later that evening, while summarizing the whole thing on facebook, she came to the realization that the whole 10 bottles were empty – after 30 guests (at which point she thought that that was a sufficient alcohol consumption)! My American born and raised Jewish brothers and sisters – you have absolutely no knowledge of what true drinking entails!

Which brings me to Pesach, during which the absence of munchkins was present as well, but, all in all, I had a nice Holiday and enjoyed the overpriced poor bread – otherwise known as matza. Also remembered why and what we celebrate.

Which brings me to Shavuot, during which the absence of munchkins was felt too. Also, that is usually the time we start turning on the air conditioning – and this time there was no exceptions (sigh). I love Shavuot, but the three H weather is not usually conducive to deep thoughts and introspections. None the less, it was a time of great celebration.

On Purim I made the requisite visits to schul – and this time did not manage to avoid The Head Yenta. On Pesach and Shavuot the will was there – but the body was not willing, so, ended up missing Birkat Cohanim, for a change.

On the side note: people always claim that they get cold just by looking at my flip flops in October (and beyond); by the same token, I get hot just by looking at our esteemed matrons and maidens, dressed all (or mostly) in black garments, usually constructed from non-breathable materials.

And now – a little note from my grouchy side. I love my friends; I enjoy their company and I am always very grateful to all of them for their hospitality and delicious meals. But (a tiny fly in the ointment) there is usually at least one guest at every meal whose extreme intellectual abilities, wide and varied educational background, and solid political views give me indigestion and make my head pound and my blood boil. Having attained certain maturity, I came to the conclusion that arguing with idiots is a total waste of breath, time, and energy – but sometimes I simply can't listen to all the nonsense uttered and not roll my eyes.

This particular Holiday season was, unfortunately, not an exception. Below is a short list of brilliant things I have heard this time around (hopefully, I will write rebuttals to at least some of those):

As I learned American history in Russia, I am not qualified to offer my opinion on that particular subject.

We need affirmative actions today because we used to have slavery.

The high rate of anti-Semitism amongst the blacks is very surprising.

99.9% of Americans believe that Obama is a great orator.

Israel needs to be soft on Arabs since it is fighting the war of public opinion.

Obama is willing to give federal support to the Jewish schools; Romney would only give it to the Protestant ones.

Christians taught Muslims blood libels; our esteemed cousins could not possible arrive at those on their own.

England had no right to exist as a country.

Secular anti-Semites are baffled by our community: here is a collection of smart, educated, worldly people, so the presence of religious believes in not clear.

We (the current wave or Russian Jewish immigrants) are here due to the tireless efforts of Mikhail Gorbachev.

We needed the internet asifa.

There is no American exceptionalism.

I am sure there was much more, but my brain blessedly blocked it from my memory.

Aside from that (and the absence of munchkins), I had a wonderful and pretty meaningful Holiday season.

HAPPY (ALMOST) EVERYTHING

Hello, Dear Readers!

Yes, I know, it has been quite a while since a new post graced those pages (or whatever phrase you want to use). I got a rather lengthy explanation for a very lengthy absence which, hopefully, will follow shortly, but for now I would like to continue the not such a great tradition of this blog and wish everyone a very, very belated, but most definitely sincere Shana Tova (hey, the year is only half over). I also hope that everyone had a fantastic and meaningful Yom Kipur, and that He was merciful and inscribed and sealed all of us in the Book of Life. Furthermore, I hope that Succot rocked for everyone, and that Tu'BeShevat was more than fruit munching (and I really hope nobody tried to eat boxer this year).

Jokes aside, it is my fervent hope and wish that all my Jewish brothers and sisters have a fantastic year filled with health, happiness, wonderful livelihood, protection from our enemies, and, most importantly, the realization that our petty, idiotic differences do not matter, that we are strong and prosperous only when we are united in love for each other.

SHANA TOVA!

As it was self-evidenced by the lack of entries, my blogging was lagging behind again for the last couple of months. So, I would like to take this opportunity of blessed five seconds of peace and quiet to wish everyone Shana Tova (hey, it is only Kislev).

To all my brothers and sisters, regardless of their self-proclaimed affiliation (or the lack of thereof) and to all righteous people in this world I wish, from the bottom of my heart, a year of goodness, happiness, health, prosperity, love, friendship, and the continued protection and blessings from our Heavenly Father! And as always my biggest wish is that the meaning of Arba Minim would be a guiding light for all the Jews.

On the lighter note, here are my holiday highlights:

As always, managed to visit a record number of friends neglected throughout the year; if the memory serves me right, had only one verbal altercation.

The requisite naps in schul – check.

Over-stuffing on good food – check.

Over-imbibing of alcoholic beverages – on the slim side.

Short fashion report: Beau Brummell reigns almost supreme, with the few pathetic attempts to undermine him with flowery patterns, light blues, browns, and peach. The hair ornaments made out of the feathers of small birds apparently went out of fashion this year with nothing to substitute for (at least in our congregation).

Our family’s “off the boat” anniversary, which falls on Mostzei Yom Kippur in Hebrew calendar and on September 22 in Gregorian, this year corresponded with Erev Succot; we did not really celebrate much, but yours truly got one of the best complements from her host of the night: “I think you love this country more than a lot of Americans”.

The first night of Succot was, of course, marked by torrential rains and everyone’s amusing stories of horror; I just had fun in the company of varying medical professionals complete with “Shabbos Goy” – a very nice Italian cardiologist who loves Jews and Jewish holidays.

And finally, on this Succot, there was a market absence of discussions by my guy friends as to what kind of serial killer would I represent.

Shana Tova U’Metuka!

HAPPY DOUGHNUT DAY!

Today is National Doughnut Day!

Happy Holiday to our brave police forces and all the doughnut lovers across the country!

HOLIDAY HIGHLIGHTS

Part 2

Anyway, aside from that remarkable conversation with a newly minted barrister, my Passover included the following:

Was good-naturally accused of loving Mini Me sooo much more than Mini Not Me; accusation based on the amount of corresponding pictures I have posted in FaceBook. In defense, had to inform my friend that I love them both to pieces; the disparity in the quantity of pictures comes from the simple fact of Mini Me enjoying Sunday outings with her Papi, as opposed to her brother, who would have social services on my head way before we would reach Manhattan with his pitiful demands of "Mommy." My brother had to add his two cents to the story by pointing out that it would probably be FBI, and not social services, since Mini Not Me is, well, mini not me, so I would probably be accused of kidnapping, and not just child abuse. Just imagine the announcements on the Subway!

It also became apparent that I am not alone in my desire to deal a crushing, but well deserved blow to our thoroughly corrupt school system by starting to home school our kids. One of my friends even had a very practical plan of how to do it (unfortunately, it usually stops at our necessity to work for a living).

At both Sedarim, I was treated to different, but equally gory and imaginative descriptions of what was going on in the Temple when people were bringing their Passover sacrifices en mass. What is it with men and blood and gore?

Contained myself in the face of extreme provocation offered by one of my very good friends, who, due to a probable early mid-life crisis, became a fervent Obama supported and honorary black dude.

Was further entertained in a different household by a tale offered by one of their daughters. She (the daughter) is working in some kind of administrative capacity in a nursing home. Apparently, she had an immigrant co-worker, who, being a very good seamstress, was offered a much better paying position in one of the couture houses. However, the poor woman would rather go back to being an underpaid administrative worker, since dealing with mercurial moods of the people who are able to afford that couture is very wearing on the nerves. One example given was some kind of famous lady named Jennifer Lopez (you got to love the immigrants ignorant of our idiotic fascination with celebrities) who insisted on having a gown cut (despite the gently offered advise), and then wanted to lengthen it again.

Got into a discussion with a young father, who thought that it's a hoot to suggest that it would be better for his daughter to have a permanent diaper rush, because, according to his calculations, Desitin is cheaper than Huggies. Not the first time did I observe that fatherhood does not necessarily mature the male of the species.

Tried to explain to a nice Ashkenazi girl my reasoning for my family not belonging to either Ashkenazim or Sephardim (which, by the way, requires a rudimentary knowledge of Jewish history). "So, how would you classify yourself?" was her slightly annoyed question (I guess my accent was grading on her nerves). "Well, we just call ourselves Jews." "What?" Sheesh! You know those strange people who annoy everyone? Yes, those!

Brought a bottle of wine to my other friend, which resulted in his corkscrew breaking. In situation like this I would just make a joke and put the bottle away till I can lay my hands on another corkscrew. Well, I am a girl, so that do I know. To him it became a test of manhood, and he spent more than an hour (although he insisted on it being only twenty six minutes) trying to open a blessed bottle while using a variety of very inventive techniques. Eventually, the bottle surrendered! At least everyone liked the wine:)

I was also accused by him in liking Earl Grey tea only because I am a Trekki.