MORNING UPDATE - FEBRUARY 21

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Thursday! It's effin cold again - hate it, but still prefer that to the triple H we will have in a few months. Crazy upstairs is surprisingly quite - vacuum broke down again? Sniffles is sleeping in the cat house - at least this time his back is not hanging off like yesterday. Got wine for Purim - and for the fridge as well! Britain would not return Koh-i-Noor diamond to India - which pressing problem is a major concern for both British and (especially) Indian citizens, I am sure. Kim K. is back! She will show her baby bump in a very tasteful picture spread in a magazine - considering how much class she and her boyfriend Kanye have together, I envision great things for this kid. Michelle O.'s official 2013 portrait is out - it shows her much-talked-about-bangs, but hides her "trademark" arms - it also hides her trademark hatred for USA and her trademark love of food. Speaking of royals - the House of Windsor is really not exiting for the past few months - nobody runs around naked, nobody cheats on their spouse, and that envirowaco mutton-head Prince Charles did not advise anyone to abandon modern technology in some time as well - Bess, did you finally manage to control your family and make them boring? Of course, now Kate's sister is in the news due to a new boyfriend - I guess because it's so rare for an attractive young woman to date and to have a boyfriend. And speaking of boyfriends - Rihanna is celebrating her 25th birthday with her bf Chris Brown in Hawaii; I assume that psychiatric help is available in resort areas. And Bieber is seriously beginning to worry me (and, I am sure, millions of giddy teens) with his continued absence. No coffee today due to fast.

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.

המן הרשע | קינדרלעך haman harasha kinderlach

MORNING UPDATE - FEBRUARY 19

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Tuesday! It's overcast outside of my window, but much warmer than yesterday. Just saw somewhere that, according to some big shot's opinion people can't achieve anything after 46 - but history proofs him wrong. Interesting, that. Sniffles is running around with his tile 5 times the usual size. The crazy upstairs did not disappoint for the past few mornings - her vacuum was heard loud and clear. J.K. Rowling is trending at #6 right now - because she beat both the Queen and her granddaughter-in-law as the most inspiring woman. I understand how she is way more inspiring than Kate, but Bess - people's lack of historical knowledge is glaring. Kardashians are back in the news with a vengeance: Khloe was fired from the X-factor, and Kourtney had a "violent outburst" during their show - classy and profound, I know; but all I can think of - still prefer to hear about them as opposed to parteigenosse Michelle. And this is trending at #2: some kind of award-winning author (of whom, frankly, I never heard before) criticized Kate as "machine-made doll with plastic smile" who lacks Diana's personality and "human frailty" - wow, being mentally stable is a crime? Woman, honestly, get a life! And guess what is trending at #9? Never mind, you can't! It's - drum roll please - Britney Spears' grocery list! Yea, it looks like she goes to the supermarket in her sweats and buys stuff that ordinary moms buy too - WOW! Jeez Louise, speechless!!!! And yet another celebrity announced her pregnancy - this time it's Fergie; can't find her due date - but it it's this summer, people, we will have bigger problems than global warming. Michael Phelps is dating another model - apparently, he is a quick operator: just broke up and already has "another squeeze" - again, why is young philandering male such big news? And in the world of fashion: peekaboo dresses are very much in, and Ashley Olsen was accused of stealing a coat from Chewbacca - in her defense, I have seen the pictures, and the accusation is over the top. Surprisingly, no one's hairdo got in the news - and bloody Bieber is still in hiding. Coffee this morning in my Do a Kahlua mug.

MORNING UPDATE - FEBRUARY 18

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Monday! The weather continues to be NY February. In honor of President's day, our dear Hussein is golfing in Florida with Tiger Woods, and his lady fair is skiing in Aspen - well, they work so hard on destroying our country; poor dears deserve a little break from all their hard work (on taxpayer's dime, of course). Rihanna's bloody knee is now trending at #1 - I kid you not! It turns out that an angry fan in London threw a bottle at her because she seemed to have reunited with Kris Brown - the question, of course, begs as to who needs therapy most in this particular case. And Katy Perry's ring is trending at #6 - well, she got this heart-shaped ruby ring from her boyfriend, and now "the rumor mill is crazy" wondering if they are engaged; I am sure the majority of the country has other things to be crazy about, but what do I know. Jenny McCarthy and Carmen Electra are "faced off" by wearing the same mini dress - I will leave the discussion on their "hotness" to the guys, because to me they both look slightly plastic. Then there is a long advice on how to deal with "shrunken 2013 paycheck" - well, I think it was Doug Powers who outlined the solution a while back. He said that if the Founding Fathers came to DC today, they would hang the President, his Cabinet, some of the Supreme Court judges, and most of the Congress for treason right there on the National Mall. Maker's Mark "drew a storm of complains" when the company announced the plan to dilute their whiskey - no joke, that! Of course, the complains stopped that evil plan - if only the evil plans of our elected official would be that easily stopped. All the famous preggos are absent again - hiding from the cold? Ditto Bieber - same thing? Coffee this morning in my FL mug.

MORNING UPDATE - FEBRUARY 17

Good Morning, peeps! Happy Sunday! The weather is, once again, NY February, darn it! Also have to come to grips with the fact that until the weather improves, I will be hit with a different strain of rhinovirus every other week. Memo to professional chefs: it's easy to cook when you have a bunch of expensive dishes; but to fry 3 onions in an omelette pan designed for 2 eggs - that's cooking, baby! This is the beginning of an article that's trending at #2 right now: " Beyoncé's new documentary about Beyoncé co-directed by Beyoncé..." - well, at least she is not visiting Hussein in the situation room. Kevin Federline owns IRS 57Gs - big effin deal! Every other member of the Congress, and most of Obama's cabinet owe way more than that! Why is IRS even bothering with small potatoes? "More than 75 percent of sponges and dishrags may carry disease-causing bacteria" - memo to you, envirowacos! What's why we, disgusting humans, like to clean with paper towels! Chimps have better short term memory than humans - well, judging by the last elections, they have better long term memory as well. And Rihanna debuted a new clothing line that was dubbed "Sassy chic or Friday Night at K-Mart?" - the clothes are not to my taste either, but I am sure the critics did not really visit K-Mart at Friday night or any other time. And earthquake "rattled Rome" - also over the Pope's resignation? No new celebrity pregnancies announced - whew? Coffee this morning in my musical notes 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.

VETERAN'S DAY

In a strange fit of galactic irony, this year we had 2 Veterans' Days – one calendar one, which fell on Sunday, necessitating the second one on Monday – so that government employees were not deprived of one of their days off, and the good people of the United States of America were not deprived of their proper shopping experience.

Of course, if you cared to take a look at the general situation in the country, Veterans had absolutely nothing to celebrate: the re-election of Comrade Barack Hussein Obama, or Barry Soetoro, or whatever the hell his real name is, almost certainly guaranteed the complete gutting and demoralization of our current military; continued senseless slaughter of our troops in Afghanistan; and, last, but not least, the severe cuts in benefits to all the vets.

So, all I could say in my head on those two days was : I am sorry.

I am sorry for the election results.

I am sorry for the deplorable state of the country you risk your life and limb to defend.

I am sorry for the unending assault on you from the general media.

I am sorry I can't even send you care packages for Thanksgiving because I am unemployed and broke.

But please know this: there are a lot of us for whom your dedication to the United States and the Constitution is beyond appreciated. You are in our thoughts and prayers constantly – and that is never said as a tired cliché.

This grateful American, who survived communist hell, salutes you!

HALF-BORING EVENING

One fine June Sunday yours truly was suffering from the typical New York June humidity and psyching herself (unsuccessfully) to do something more productive than suffer from humidity, drink cold tea, or play Farmville. So, while my computer was traveling from one farm to another, my eyes wandered to a pile of papers on my desk that I had a vague recollection I had to do something about. I quickly skimmed through them to make sure my gas would not be turned off for being a dodo bird and forgetting to pay the bill, and here it was: the Bar Mitzva invitation I had specifically stuck in this pile in order not to forget my promised attendance.

And hence I was presented with the usual dilemma: should I keep my word and attend (once I promised I would), or forget about the whole thing, make sure all my crops were harvested, and catch the latest episode of The Glades. After about five minutes of serious deliberations I remembered why I promised to attend to begin with: aside from the fact that the mother of the Bar Mitzva boy was a nice person (even if for whatever reason she annoyed me in high school), and I was supposed to represent the clan as Beloved Sibling is currently residing in The Holy Land; the main pro argument, though, was the proximity of the celebration hall (which is within walking distance from my humble abode). So, I reasoned, if somebody would royally annoy me, I could just slip away and walk home.

Thus decided, I duly applied the war paint to my face (with the end result resembling a fat and curly Morticia Adams), put on my Shabat clothes ( they were light, 100% cotton, and NOT black) – I don't care what the current fashion dictates – the need to breath outweighs almost everything else; and finished the ensemble with my 3 buck shiny flip-flops (which matched the flowers on my skirt perfectly). After that I dug out my Vera Bradley evening bag, which, while being cute, does not really match any outfit I have – but is roomy enough to pack a paperback; the said paperback was duly packed, and I trotted off the celebration hall.

Due to years coming on time to various celebrations and then feeling like an idiot for doing so, I ended up timing my arrival perfectly – it was pretty late, and everyone was taking their places by the tables. As expected, I was seated with a bunch of former classmates – but this particular bunch was not from “oh, joy” category, so, it was not so bad. Of course, aside from somewhat flamboyant mother of the Bar Mitzvah boy, I was the only one not in black. The general conversation went over my head, as usual, but, to be fair, “girls” tried to occasionally include me in it – and I did end up catching up on a lot of mundane news and even managed to have a half-decent conversation with the “girl” seated next to me. The food was also pretty edible, plus I was saved the necessity of standing in front of the stove during such wonderful day. Dancing I decided to skip, because a) it was pretty boring, and b) I value the health of my feet too much for that. Of course, to cap off a pretty normal, if somewhat mundane, evening, in the end I had to run into a friend's husband who wanted to know, in the best “Flatbush” tradition, “what I was doing there” - the said question always reminding me that not really belonging to this glorious community is not a figment of my loner's imagination – I really don't belong.

So, basically, the evening was not as painful as those things usually are for me, the paperback was not really needed, I got fed, and even caught up with all schoolmates without too much effort on my part. But it also made me realize, once again, that people lost (or never had) the art of truly celebrating, because something is always missing in those events – something that makes it not worth my while to get dressed and put the war paint on. Ah, well, maybe it's just me.

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.

Александр Городницкий - Галилей - profound and timeless

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.

LAST SEASON (CONTINUATION)

Previously, on Barb's World the following took place:

(Part 2)

Aside from becoming a part of the unemployment statistics, a few other things happened to me in that time gap of non-blogging, the most notable of which was my 2010 Birthday.

Drum roll please! Here comes a huge confession! OK, enough with the drum roll – I turned 40 in 2010.

Here is a little known fact about me: I was, of course, named in the Jewish tradition – after a relative; only usually the relatives we are named after are at least one generation removed – unless that name is a “special” case. Well, my name was. I was named after my father's younger sister - who died from hunger in infancy during WWII.

Now, when I was young(er), “old people”, especially women, always claimed that at a certain point birthdays cease being fun or something to look forward to – or to celebrate. I can definitely attest to this fact...Not that I don't enjoy birthdays once they come, but I definitely stopped looking forward to them. And on this one I kept thinking about a particular novel by Lisa Kleypas. Amanda from Suddenly You had a bit in common with your humble servant; not only this, but I was tempted to do something on the par with the crazy thing she did for her thirtieth birthday (which, in Victorian times, equaled 40 in ours, I guess)...alas, things that happen in novels we read to escape the real life rarely, if ever, happen in real life; that is why we read those books.

Not only was I not especially looking forward to that Birthday, but by the time it came, I was slightly approaching comatose state – due mostly to the happenings described in the previous chapter. I did not even get myself a customary “Happy Birthday To Me” present. Never the less, my family, as always, tried to make it as special as possible. My mom sort of took care of it on Shabat, and my sister and brother-in-law took me out for a fantastic meal at La Marais (which happens to be a smashing stake house). We were later joined by a dear friend of the family and his wife; my mom graciously baby set the munchkins (as traveling to Manhattan is not a lot of fun for her), and I got to break out my new evening bag from Vera Bradley (purchased, of course, on e-bay). My dad and Baby Bro, being stoic men, offered me heart-felt congratulations, and gave sweet, from the heart, gifts. All in all, it was a good birthday, even if without much bang (which, frankly, I did not want at all).

Now, when you reach a certain age, you are (hopefully), at that level of maturity when you feel you learned something from life – and where (sometimes) you feel the need to start dispensing unsolicited advice to young whipper-snappers.

I don't feel like dispensing any kind of advise – solicited or otherwise – but here are some things (in no particular order), which I think I realized with approaching years.

Your parents are always right. You still feel the need to make your own mistakes and listen only to your experiences and your gut, but something in them – love, intuition, prophetic knowledge, greater wisdom (who the heck knows) – will always see the best path for you.

Loving family is paramount to happiness – plain and simple.

Energy level does decrease; it creeps up pretty stealthily, and you don't notice it right away - but all of a sudden you feel more like staying at home in your pjs then getting dressed and doing something fun outside. On top of that comes realization that you can't sustain yourself on 4 hours of sleep anymore, the way you did in college and long after.

Body very slowly, but very surely, also begins to go south. The more you look in the mirror, the more lines you see on your face (and somehow breakouts still happen!). Every time you get a haircut, you notice more gray hairs. Joints begin to creak. All the small injuries that you forgot about in your twenties and thirties all of the sudden start reminding about themselves oh so quietly. And one day you realize that your vision may not be 20/20 anymore.

You begin to realize that when “old people” were talking about good health as a greatest of blessings, they weren't talking nonsense.

Friends are really important. Good acquaintances are nice and needed as well, but real friends – people who would be there for you no matter what – you really, really need them. And once you get one true, fantastic friend – fight tooth and nail in order to preserve that friendship.

I don't think anyone reached my age and did not experience at least one major disaster in their lives; for me those were my parents' break up, my mother's cancer, and 9/11 – and some less major, but not less painful things. Also, through no fault of my own, I lost some important components in my life – and even though I never loose hope of regaining those intangible components, in my darker moments I become afraid that I never will.

Men are not the enemy. They are annoying, exasperating, selfish, obtuse...believe me, the list of adjectives is long. But Mr. Darcy does exist – even today; you just have to wade through a lot of Whickams, Collinses, and even Bingleys before you find him. The results are not guaranteed – but without mutual love and respect there is no happy marriage.

Being a woman is a blessing and a curse. It is (and probably always will be) a man's world – despite the suffragettes, feminists, and the natural progression of the Western Civilization. We feel more – and much deeper; care more; take on way more responsibilities; and are way more vulnerable – both emotionally and physically. But we do have the ability and the power to bring love, kindness, and caring into the world – under any circumstances.

Children are the biggest blessing in life there is. Long time ago, in my salad days, I attended a lecture about different levels of happiness that a human being can attain in this world. Being able to imitate The Almighty – creating something – is one of the highest levels; but no other attempt at creation even begins to approach the creation of a child! And nothing on this Earth equals a moment when a child smiles at you, looks at you with an unreserved love, and hugs you with his or her tiny, pudgy arms. And every time you listen to them, you get to remember and partially re-experience the exuberance only they have for exploring the world – and the innocence with which they see it.

I am sure there are many more things I have learned – just can't remember them now. The important thing in life is to take whatever you have learned so far and build up on it towards the general fulfillment and happiness. But, in the best Jewish tradition, I can't just look forward – I have to constantly look behind and analyze everything again and again.

Everyone who knows me personally can vouch for the fact that I am a confirmed non-conformist – pun not intended. But very few, if any, know that that does not steam from my need to defy authority – I just want to lead my life according to my own logic, and not the norm accepted by the mediocrity at large. All the seemingly crazy things I do come from that – and sometimes from the desire to observe Burke's famous uttering.

Long time ago, in college, at one of the psych classes taught by the prof that I hated and everyone else loved, we had a discussion about compromises as opposed to staying true to one's conscience. My naive self claimed that by not compromising your principles you get to sleep at night – to which the esteemed educator responded that at that particular course a person usually ends up sleeping on the bench. And everyone in that particular group agreed!

Irony of ironies – I tried to lead my life opposite to that cynical remarks; but sometimes I think that if not for my family, Gd bless them, few times in my life I would have ended sleeping on the park bench. So, the introspection and the soul searching go on.

Back to the origin of my name. A few years ago, couple of well-meaning relatives who enjoy dabbling in Kabalah, told my mom that I should change my name or add to it – because my poor aunt, who never really had a chance at life, is jealous of me – and that explains the present (not completely satisfactory) state of my life.

Now, being a stubborn mule (see above), I categorically refused to play with my name – and not only because I personally believe that our parents don't just name us – it does come to them in a certain prophetic way. You see, knowing my father's family, I am firmly convinced that she is not jealous; but sometimes I am afraid that I don't really give that much luster to the name.

So, here I am – armed with my Jewish stiff neck and (hopefully) some acquired knowledge and wisdom, I am hopefull that I will yet make her proud of me. Happy UnBirthday!

Emma Shapplin - Spente le Stelle

TO MY BELOVED NIECE, ON HER BIRTHDAY

My Dearest Eh,

Because of the circumstances beyond my control, this is the first of your birthdays (and hopefully last) that we are spending apart. But being apart from you only made me think once again of all the things that make me love you so much.

We met when you were about fifteen minutes old. The delivery room only allows so many extras inside, so, while you were born, I ended up in a little visitors lounge trying to calm down your grandfather - who was making valiant attempts at making huge holes in the cheep floors of that lounge.

Your mommy didn't want to know in advance if she was having a little boy or a little girl, so, while you were swimming inside of her, you were just “Baby” - that is, till the first sonogram; at which point my dear sister declared that “Baby” looked like a little alien – and the moniker stuck. So, you were “Alien”, and then, being a real American, your mommy shortened it to “Alie”; she also claimed that the sound of your heartbeat was her favorite techno music. Meanwhile, your aunt (I), who always enjoyed escaping into her daydreams, for some reason kept imagining that Alie would be a little girl, and that both of us would become wonderful friends.

So, after that tiny scare that you gave us upon your arrival, your Aba came into that room and told us “It's a girl”; you can't begin to imagine the joy and relief those simple words brought to us. We all crowded into your mommy's room to meet the newest member of our family. My sister looked exhausted – and transformed by happiness. In her arms she cradled a tiny bundle; my first words were “ Oh, my Gd! That's Alie?” You looked red and wrinkled – in the best traditions of all newborn. You were sucking your whole fist, and your smart, beautiful eyes kept looking at all the people around you. And all the people in the room were forever transformed.

We ended up spending a lot of time together. I was your first official babysitter – the most neurotic one you ever had (so far). I made sure you were always very clean – and did your laundry with almost fanatical precision. I made sure to circulate all your outfits – and took at least one picture in each one. I had the precise inventory of all your toys in my head. I cleaned and emptied your stroller after every excursion outside. Sometimes I took you to Dr. Sima – and believe me, all those shots hurt me as much as they did you. You officially became a New Yorker when you took your first subway ride – and your dear aunt discovered the exact percentage of jerks riding that subway. Also thanks to me, you had your first brush with jury duty (but that is a separate story).

Even after I got an “official” job, I made sure to spend as much time with your as possible. You were an ideal baby – good tempered and extremely friendly; you used to smile at anything remotely resembling a human shape. You were not an exceptionally fussy eater (although you refused to drink formula under any circumstances).

It was you who first called me “Papi”.

After you got a bit bigger, we began to explore the city. Your MacLaren Techno saw more subway cars than any tourist. We went everywhere – The Met, Central Park, FAO Schwartz, Times Square, Toys R Us in Times Square, Upper West Side, Upper East Side, Central Park Zoo, Prospect Park Zoo, Columbus Circle, Borders, Banes and Noble - needless to say, the list is pretty extensive. Most notable among them was Dylan's Candy Shoppe – in whose subbasement you took your first unaided steps!! Those steps were duly witnessed by your mommy, your Papi, largish number of tourists, and half the floor of Dylan's overpriced, but fantastic merchandise.

It was on those trips when your presence literally saved me. You see, after surviving 9/11 and the year following it, Lower Manhattan was something that brought tears and an overwhelming desire to avoid it as much as possible. But when I started roaming with you, all of the sudden it was OK to go to Battery Park City. That park became our favorite destination. Your company in WFC, by the Famous Bull statue, in Whitehall – it just leached away pain. I saw you running in Winter Garden, dressed in your snappy pink outfit from Gymboree and waiving a piece of pastry – and the horrific picture of that place lying in ruins...it did not bother me as much. Gd willing, when you get older, I hope you will understand just how incredibly special that was; how incredibly special you are, my Eh.

Because, you see, that is not all. When you were born, we didn't just get a beloved daughter, granddaughter, and niece – you were the first member of your mommy's family to be born on American soil; to be born free. Your ancestors survived it all – virulent anti-Semitism, Muslim and Christian persecutions, Communists, Nazis, Holocaust...When you started attending Jewish school – it was beyond triumph for our family. And when you excelled in your studies, especially Judaic Studies – we were beyond happy tears. That is how special you and your younger siblings are, Eh, – we triumphed over all that hatred and repeated attempts to wipe us out – and we were blessed by the Almighty with you!

You are beautiful inside and out. You clearly inherited your mommy's musical and artistic talents – with Gd help, you will grow to nurture these talents. You are smart and kind – and you clearly inherited our family's “love” for homework. You are a great older sister – although you don't always appreciate your siblings:).

May The Heavenly Father continue to protect you, your siblings, and your parents; and may He always bestow His blessings on us all!

Happy Birthday!

I love your curly, fluffy head,

Your Papi.

LAST SEASON

Previously, on Barb's World the following took place:

(Part 1)

I lost my job. I would love to say that my old company was a victim of current economic climate, and that would not be a lie – just not a complete truth. Our Upper Management, in the best traditions of Idiot Bosses, basically drove the company into the ground.

True, the work for architects was not lying on the ground (no pun intended), but we were an old, established firm with good reputation for doing what we were doing. Unfortunately, as it turned out, the majority of Upper Echelon were not architects, and as such did not, according to my Big Boss, understand the unique financial pitfalls facing architects. So, they were spending money hand over fist, claiming that the turbulence on Wall Street will not touch them in Columbus, Ohio – and I am not joking or making this one up. After embarking on this particularly brilliant course, they lost a huge project with a major client – namely, Ohio State University. Now, the prudent course would have been to cut your losses, collect whatever money you could, and try to move on, mentally cursing the cantankerous client (I was not privy to the details, and as such can not really offer an opinion on who was the real wronged party in this situation – not that it really matters). Apparently, prudence (never mind logic) were not in the vocabulary of our Big Cheeses. So, they decided to sue the above-mentioned major client, and, in the course of pretty lengthy law suit, they also managed to stage periodic coup d'etats, during one of which our corporation lost a CEO (and ended up without one for about nine months).

Now, imagine for a minute that you are a hospital, or a major laboratory. You need to do serious renovations on one or more of your buildings, or build a brand new building. You put out official advertisements and are going through a bunch of colorful proposals submitted by major firms specializing in this kind of thing. A particular proposal catches your interest, and you decide to further investigate the company and determine if they are as good as they look on paper. Low and behold, simple Google search will produce a multiple hits, the first of which will state that the firm is currently in the middle of the law suit with a former major client, and the second hit will tell you the they currently have no CEO, and did not have one for quite a while (the order might be reversed, and you see the CEO business first, and the law suit thing second). After imagining this particular scenario, would you honestly tell me that you would hire this company (despite their long history of solid work)? Yea, it was clear for simple folks like you and me, and my co-workers, but not clear for the Upper Echelons of Stupidity, who kept excitedly announcing that we were short-listed for a project, and then dejectedly add a week or so later that the other firm got the job.

Obviously, such state of affairs could not go on indefinitely, as much fun as it was to observe. So, one fine morning yours truly was called into a meeting with Big Boss and his Right Hand. During this memorable powwow I was informed that I would be getting a pink slip in a few weeks – on Erev Rosh Hashana, of all days. Understandably, these tidings did not cheer me up; but, as this job was beginning to get to me, and I could not find anything else (this time thanks to the current regime), I pacified myself with the idea of couple of months' worth of stay-cation. Ha, if only that would be the case!

To make a very long and pretty painful story shorter – I ended up working a few months beyond the original plan at the reduced hours; in the process, we had to deal for a month without the internet connection; move to the smaller office for a month and a half; clean our office out of 30+years worth of accumulated garbage (thank the Good Lord I was not an architect, so I did not have to do much); put up with short tempers and temper tantrums of our remaining bosses, share desks, a phone (singular), and computers, etc, etc, etc. Towards the end, our most popular refrain was “when are getting fired already?” On top of all other delights, on the last week of December we were hit with a respectable-sized snow storm, so we were closed on Monday and Tuesday.

Thursday morning started slow ( as usual); in the afternoon, the three remaining architects departed to job sites (and holiday parties), so the marketing coordinator and yours truly were left to guard our pathetic domain (with no clear plan of workday in site). We were in the middle of schmoozing and exchanging opinions on the burning topics of pop culture when I noticed a new e-mail popping up. It was from our Chief Council (who at that point was almost officially running the firm) with ccs to everyone of importance still left in the company. In it I was informed that my last day of employment, as anticipated, would be December 31; I was further commanded to co-ordinate the transfer of all projects and files I was responsible for, and was threatened with denial of severance payment in the event of non-cooperation.

Now, try to visualize this tableau for a second: it is 3:30 pm on December 30^th; office is deserted aside from the two of us; and on December 31 we are officially closed; everyone knew that we would eventually get our pink slips, but nobody was aware of the time table...and now this luminary of jurisprudence was threatening me with the loss of severance payment that was promised to me only by the grace and persistence of our Big Boss and consisted of (are you ready?) of exactly one weekly paycheck. Of course I was tempted to use coarse language and tell her to go boil her head – and cc to everyone of importance still left in the company. But, as I lamented many times before, it is hard to live with my parents' upbringing; plus, “Miss Dickinson is a conscientious nurse”, and she likes to leave her desk tidy. Never the less, I got a bit of bile out of my system by pointing out to her (and to everyone of importance still left in the company) that I am a literal person and not a mind-reader, and would have appreciated at least a day, and not 2 hours of warning, especially in the face of snowstorm and the end of the year – with which I deliberately congratulated her (because she decided not to overburden her correspondence with such niceties).

Next week, I came into office for 4 more hours due to the above-mentioned reasons. The Right Hand, who, all in all, was a pretty decent dude, profusely apologized for the stupidity of the higher ups in Ohio and tried to get some kind of monetary compensation for those dratted 4 hours. I accepted his apology simply because it was not his fault; the compensation never materialized (which I am sure was not his fault either). I brought them donuts (because a cake would have been silly for 4 people); we hugged and promised to try and keep in touch (the usual promise that nobody usually intends to keep); and thusly that four-and-a half-year chapter of my life was closed; and I officially became a part of statistic.  

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!

More memories - two different movies, one theme

YES, I AM THAT KNOWLEGEBLE

Recently, MBS started a very serious discussion with her Grandmother about her shoes – well, she is a girl, after all. The said conversation concluded, of course, with a request to acquire a very specific kind of footwear for Golden Delicious – but that is just the title.

After painstakingly describing the necessary shoes in all the glorious details, MBS suggested to her Yummy to inquire of Papi as to where the said shoes could be acquired!

Now, yours truly has a basic map of city’s libraries and bookstores committed to memory; I can give you subway directions better than half of the MTA employees; I know where to acquire a great cup of coffee or a kosher meal (or at least a snack) in your wanderings around Manhattan; but fashion plate I am empathically not! Nobody who knows me well would ever ask me about the best place for any kind of fashion acquisition – nobody who is an adult, that is.

In the unshakable logical perception of my niece, if Papi knows where the huge, three story candy shop is, or how to get to a shiny chocolate store, or how to visit Mickey by going on choo choo train, then Papi is the best go to person when you need a specific pair of shoes (at least I think so). I love you, my big Curly Gnome!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, USA!

Happy Birthday to my magnificent country! I love you with all of my slightly battered soul, your warts and all!

Today, you are in peril more than ever, and I pray with all my heart for continued Divine Protection against all of your enemies, foreign and domestic.

Here is to your wonderful people; to Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of Happiness; to unalienable rights from our Creator; and, most importantly, to the train that will go over the bridge even if there is only 50% chance of the bridge not collapsing! Here is to hope!

Part 2 of American humor

In honor of Independence Day - some american humor

ONCE AGAIN, ON THE WRONG UPBRINGING

Today, a minor rudeness of a fellow human being got yours truly on a slightly philosophical bend (after the initial cool off period), and I remembered something I told one of my close friends a little while ago.

I told her that with each passing year (and hopefully, the maturing maturity), I appreciate my parents more and more, with all their human frailties. Here are the people with true Jewish hearts and souls and the real Ba’aley Chesed. They helped everyone they could (with time and money); have been constantly taken advantage of by more people I care to remember (in countless ways); continued to help everyone they could; always had an open house and a table full of guests (regardless of the financial situation at any given moment); and always remained polite to everyone – with the exceptions of: attacks on their children, Jews, the Holy Land, and USA (or the defense of Mother Russia and its unique culture).

And now, when I am quickly approaching a certain age, I understand, both consciously and subconsciously, that the greater world and humanity at large do not operate the way my parents do. But, the saddest part of all, it is still very hard to accept.

TRACES OF IRONY

Since I work for a private company, my employers were hit pretty hard recently (just like the rest of the private sector). So, as a result of some implemented economizing techniques (some sensible, some not), we are now subleasing part of our office to some kind of small outfit that looks like it is involved in real estate investment (more I do not know and do not really care). One interesting feature about these people is impressive noise level they seem to generate (mainly, of course, due to the owner and his peculiar way of communicating).

Anyway, that, as Sir Percy would say, was just the title. At a certain point a new guy joined their ranks and increased the noise level by about 300%. Aside from the volume, the contents of this gentleman’s s speeches (and the multiply repetitions) were, forgive the cliché, the good equivalent of nails on blackboard. One day I was chatting with a co-worker about this interesting development. He told me that it was the amount of sheer bull s--- in the dude’s soliloquies that annoyed him the most. “Who buys this BS?” – He wondered. At this point I had to keep myself very hard from displaying my own incredulity. You bought the idea of Barak Hussein Obama as American President, sir! That was probably the biggest load of BS unloaded on American populace in the entire history of this country; and yet you are wondering as to who would buy the bovine fecal matter produced by that poor schmuck?

I belong to I pretty large circle of friends and close acquaintances who are all presently observant Jews and all had their childhoods enriched by the tender love or Russian communists. By my calculations, I am the oldest member who also spent the longest time in the loving embrace of those benevolent individuals. But this too is just the title.

Recently, some members of our circle seem to have felt the echo of the old regime right here, in the United States. Interestingly enough, they did not feel it coming from the left of the political aisle, which is famous for crashing any and all dissent, be it political or scientific. Who is furthermore famous for depraving everyone else of the freedom of speech while screeching about protecting it; who lately displayed disgusting misogyny in viciously attacking prominent conservative women, and, the irony of ironies, that movement is comprised of basically atheists and agnostics who preach that religion is “opium for the masses” and a root of all evil. Nope, the feeling of step-mama regime did not come from there; it came from “rigid political right” with Governor Brewer putting a nice (please forgive another cliché) acing on the cake of bitter memories. To quote one of my favorite movies: “Funny? Very not funny!”

FAN CLUB SPEAKETH

Few weeks ago, due to slight scheduling conflict, I ended up spending the night at Beloved Sibling’s. So, in the morning, munchkins were asked to guess who slept over. Golden Delicious, after hearing certain tell tale signs, sagely pronounced “Papi”. What were the signs?, you ask; well, Papi snores. So, to every single person who ever had a misfortune of sharing sleeping quarters with me, it was a source of, um, major annoyance; to MBS it is a sign of her cool aunt’s presence.

Then, one fine Sunday, after a fun-filled expedition to the Bronx Zoo, moppets were paying a social call on George and Gracie. Here is what Beloved Nephew had to say: “Papi, I love your ducky bathroom! I love everything about your home!”

One of the biggest blessings in life is the innocent and unconditional love of a little child.

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.

MORE OF IRREFUTABLE LOGIC

As mentioned before, this author is not extremely observant in mundane situations, and definitely would not be able to tell the color of the metal polls in the kiddy playground. That changed after Curly and Blondie kept talking about red park as opposed to blue park or green park. What??? Well, Papi, it’s elemental, really: the name of the park is defined by the color of the polls that make up slides and other things usually found there; such naming, according to their grandfather, could only be done using pure logic of little children.


Recently, Beloved Sibling unearthed a couple of gorgeous shots of MBS taken at the approximate current age of MMM. “So, do you think these are the pictures of MMM?” “No, Mommy, it’s me!” “How do you know?” “I had more hair then MMM.” - Very logical, never mind a brilliant observation.


Recently, yours truly decided to re-introduce the gnomes to the beauties and enjoinment of local library (fantastic customer service and liberal control not withstanding). All went well till they realized that the borrowed materials, especially the very enjoyable cartoons, had to be returned. The explanations of the necessity of these actions took few tries and are still not entirely completed. And, few days ago, in the entirely natural progression, Blondie enquired as to whether or not I returned the “wedding” (video of his parents’ wedding which him and Older Sister looooove to watch) to the library. Pure, flawless logic!

ANOTHER HEART-FELT CONGRATULATION

This time my sentiments are addressed to the esteemed 14th Dalai Lama. The following speaks for itself.

"Q: You have often stated that you would like to achieve a synthesis between Buddhism and Marxism. What is the appeal of Marxism for you?
A: Of all the modern economic theories, the economic system of Marxism is founded on moral principles, while capitalism is concerned only with gain and profitability. Marxism is concerned with the distribution of wealth on an equal basis and the equitable utilization of the means of production. It is also concerned with the fate of the working classes--that is, the majority--as well as with the fate of those who are underprivileged and in need, and Marxism cares about the victims of minority-imposed exploitation. For those reasons the system appeals to me, and it seems fair. I just recently read an article in a paper where His Holiness the Pope also pointed out some positive aspects of Marxism.
As for the failure of the Marxist regimes, first of all I do not consider the former USSR, or China, or even Vietnam, to have been true Marxist regimes, for they were far more concerned with their narrow national interests than with the Workers' International; this is why there were conflicts, for example, between China and the USSR, or between China and Vietnam. If those three regimes had truly been based upon Marxist principles, those conflicts would never have occurred.
I think the major flaw of the Marxist regimes is that they have placed too much emphasis on the need to destroy the ruling class, on class struggle, and this causes them to encourage hatred and to neglect compassion. Although their initial aim might have been to serve the cause of the majority, when they try to implement it all their energy is deflected into destructive activities. Once the revolution is over and the ruling class is destroyed, there is nor much left to offer the people; at this point the entire country is impoverished and unfortunately it is almost as if the initial aim were to become poor. I think that this is due to the lack of human solidarity and compassion. The principal disadvantage of such a regime is the insistence placed on hatred to the detriment of compassion.
The failure of the regime in the former Soviet Union was, for me, not the failure of Marxism but the failure of totalitarianism. For this reason I still think of myself as half-Marxist, half-Buddhist."

I do not feel like wasting my time (and that of my four esteemed readers) by refuting this dodo sentence by sentence; just like to add two things.

One: if you are still (forgive me) idiot enough to believe that we have to respect all other religions and cultures and they are just as good as ours, this is a clear con argument.

Two: is his tiny brain so mashed up with tofu and vegetables that he conveniently forgot that millions of his devout followers in Tibet at this very moment are being persecuted, tortured, and killed by the Marxist regime?

EVEN THE CYBERSPACE IS AGAINST ME!

It is not enough that my family and friends are forever trying to rectify my single state, or that I constantly get condescending stares and pitying glances to the tune of “what is wrong with this girl” from the pillars and half-pillars of our community – now cyberspace it going into all frontal assault!


I get e-mails suggesting Jewish singles, Christian singles, Black singles, White singles, Conservative singles, free-thinking singles, professional singles, hip singles, and, for whatever reason, disappointed housewives. My blog gets ads for romantic getaways for two, romantic wedding gowns, professing your love with flowers, professing your love with chocolates, professing your love with diamonds, professing your love with love. And just now I got Mormon wedding gowns! Oh, for goodness sakes! I get the point!!


So, here is my counter-ad: “A nice Jewish girl, on the wan side of 30s, bestowed by the Creator with many riches (but not the monetary ones); never been married before; kind; loves children; a fairly decent cook, non-smoker and practically non-drinker, very family oriented; brown hair, brown eyes, short, fat, prefers comfortable clothes and shoes, loves travel, reading, classical music, works of art created by dead white males (and females); loves cats, but does not like dogs; likes perfume, but does not like diamonds; stubborn and opinionated; NRA member; classified as “right wing angry bitch”; does not suffer fools easily (especially the ones of the male persuasion); loves the Holy Land (but has no tolerance for the stupidity and anti-Semitism of its rules and does not consider aliyah); committed to Judaism (but abhors the foolishness, misogyny, snobbery, and ignorance that passes for it); loves USA ( and is not willing to compromise on it as well); currently residing in New York (and not really willing to re-locate).”


Do you hear or see the male stampede?  Yea, somehow neither do I.

TALIBAN Light

Or We Are in Great Company

One of my wittier friends periodically calls our religion “Taliban Light” – referring, among many things, to the deep misogyny pervasive in our circles. He does it mainly to irritate the logically challenged who are, alas, also pervasive in our circles. Unfortunately, it does not stop there.

I can not begin to tell you how many times I encountered a recurring theme of “if Jewish women were more serious about Tzniut, Mashiach will come tomorrow”, inevitably followed by a long discourses on hair coverings, importance of wigs, skirt lengths, stockings, necklines, nail polish, make up, gossip, loud laughter, career choices, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. As if, as my other friend pointed out with a nice snort, men are complete and total angels and do not need to change anything about them. I would just like to add to that a short memo to the distinguished male members of our community: “ If you are engaged in what is laughingly known as “chinuch”, please refrain from mental, physical, and sexual abuse of your students; if you would like to do something deemed inappropriate (like going to a peep show), please remove all signs identifying you as Jews; and please, for the love of all that’s holy, observe the basic rules of grooming and personal hygiene!”

The second memo is addressed to all the members of our community, male and female alike: please refresh your memories as to why, precisely, we are in this, the longest and the bloodiest, exile – it is not because of the modesty issues, my dear brothers and sisters. It is because of the baseless hatred of one another – a practice that is not only very much accepted, but encouraged by many of the “ultra” religious communities both in Israel and US. But, as usual, I digress.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago all the major internet sites were splashed with a headline quoting some “prominent” Iranian cleric. What got the poor guy’s turban in a knot? Apparently, Teheran is as prone to seismic activities as our great City of Angels. So, this religious luminary blamed women’s immodesty! It seems that it (immodesty) takes all men, especially the young ones, off the straight and narrow to the point of the earth literally trembling!

There is a great Russian word to describe these people - “mrakobesie”; the English equivalent of which I can not think of mainly because it is impossible to insult somebody in English the way you can do it in Russian; my learned friends are welcome to submit their suggestions.

I, however, rest my case.

DEFINITIONS

Here are few compliments and utterings by my family and friends that define me the best:


Around the tender age of eight, my anti-Commie proclivities surfaced and defined themselves never to be buried again under any circumstances; combined with my big yup that sometimes presented tiny problems. At any rate, one of my uncles, flabbergasted by such displays, politely informed my Dad that this kid might just land him in prison. My Daddy, confirmed anti-Commie since the age of eighteen, threw his chest forward and proudly proclaimed: “My Daughter!”


Two months before my twelfth birthday, I got the supreme pleasure of being enrolled in a class with about twenty five other kids, with about 80% of the parent body being in “diplomatic service” – Commie speak for KGB agents. Unfortunately, my big yup got the better of me yet again, and shortly thereafter I was confronted by an angry mob of kiddies around and slightly above my age cornering me outside of our classroom and yelling the Russian equivalents of “dirty kike” at me. I responded by calling them “Nazis”. Shortly after my twelfth birthday, my dad went to this illustrious learning institution to collect my transcripts in order to enroll me in a different school. The principle, also flabbergasted by yours truly, snippily informed my parent that in her forty years of educational experience that was the first case of a student calling the entire body of young pioneers in the school “HitlerJugend”. My Daddy, G-d bless him, informed her that his daughter did not tell lies, and if she called the students little Nazis, maybe they were, in fact, little Nazis.


When I was about seventeen, a certain family member who kept popping in and out of friendship with us re-surfaced again. In a fit of generosity, she offered to take me for a ride in her car – quite a treat in Moscow in the eighties. Yours truly, however, declined due to the fear of succumbing to the car sickness. The blessed relative took it as an offense and confronted my Dad, accusing my poor Mom of some nefarious deeds. My Dad squelched the stupidity, in the process explaining that it is very hard to force Barbara to do something she really does not want to do, despite her seemingly obliging nature. “You could never do it – just try”.


One of my many former friends (at least I think it was him), who liked to pretend the deep knowledge of Judaism and assume the pose of erudite philosopher, once politely told me that for a religious fanatic I looked and acted quite normally. Thanks, dude!


In the not so olden days, when yours truly was not the only singleton in her circle of friends, one of those friends decided to go to some kind of singles weekend function, and invited Beloved Sibling and your humble servant to come along. This author, already fed up with all kinds of organized singles events, politely declined. The friend persisted, trying to engage the help of my sister. “You do not know my sister?” - Was Beloved Sibling’s reply – “if she sticks her two hooves into the ground, it is impossible to budge her”. Friend was genuinely surprised, but the weekend went swimmingly without my attendance.


Just this morning, I ran into my other good friend on the subway station. As he, for reasons that flabbergasted me, continues to be an Obama supporter, I half-jokingly call him “class enemy”. He, in turn, is always trying to come up with suitable responses. So, this morning he greeted me with “Hello, the enemy of the proletariat”! As I was, as my friend E. puts it, pre-coffee, I did not respond in the satisfactory (for me) manner. Only later, after my customary 24 oz. of Hazelnut with half and half, did the good rejoinder pop into my brain. “Proud and confirmed enemy of the proletariat since the age of seven”!


In summary, I am a “stiff-necked” Jew, mouthy, and set in her ways – and very proud of it.

MY “STIMULUS”LIST

Practically Unchanged Since The Last Time

Our esteemed so-called President, in the best traditions of his lefty buddies, bastardised another innocent English word; which by now became fodder for idiotic commercials and the butt of bad jokes. I will use his term to specify my vision – not only for economic recovery, but the general health of this country. By now the situation became dire enough for all of the below mentioned to be number one; so, I’ll just list them in random order and use numbers for the ease of reading alone.

1. You either love and appreciate this country, or get the hell out of here – there is no iron curtain holding you here against your will!
2. A while ago Burt Prelutsky offered a brilliant plan of dealing with liberals and their cabal – you pay them a certain amount of money (I think two million per bastard/bastardess was mentioned), and they leave the country and never darken our doors again. The price might seem a bit steep – but when you figure out the amount of damage they inflict on the rest of us daily – hell, hourly, - the price becomes very nominal. This group should include everyone not happy with either the letter or the spirit of our Constitution; everyone who thinks they belong to one of the many persecuted minorities, and is, therefor, entitled to unending amount of extra rights; almost every high-ranking politician with a letter D attached to his or her name; almost all of our Muslim population; about 75% percent of federal employees; about 90% of public educators (beginning with kindergarten lever all the way up to PhD and beyond); 99% of people considering themselves pacifists; 99% of entertainment industry; 98% of so-called journalists, about 97% of environmentalists; every person who says “my home country” and means any other country aside from USA; everyone who does not like the absence of universal health care; and 100% of people claiming that food here has no taste.
3. Every American citizen has full right under the constitution to redress grievances; that includes protesting the war he or she disagrees with. That DOES NOT include the right to physically attack our war veterans, disturb military funerals; vandalize recruitment offices; and any other garbage the likes of Medea Benjamin come up with.
4. The most important responsibility of the federal government (which the present one abdicated completely) is our safety. War means war, be it a direct reaction to the enemy attack or preemptive strike – that means letting our soldiers do their jobs without later harassment and false accusations a la late Rep. Murtha. That also means, unfortunately, civilian casualties. And before you assault my ears with your lily-livered tirades, please remember that this particular enemy will not spare your children, even if you try with all your might to spare theirs. In this vein, I honestly do not care about the civilian population of Iraq, Afghanistan, or any other Muslim-controlled country. Let our boys and girls neutralize these two – by any means necessary! Next step – blanket bombing anything remotely capable of giving Iran nuclear weapons. And on the side note and with all due respect to the esteemed individual in question – could somebody please, please enlighten General Petraeus regarding our so-called allies in the Muslim world? And could someone please arrange a meeting between him and Colonel Richard Camp?
5. Immediate repeal of federal income tax (that includes disbanding IRS); enough blood-sucking and legalized stealing!
6. NO MORE federal bailouts of anybody – nobody is too big to fail! That especially includes Democrat pet dog Goldman Sachs; they can gamble all they want – just not with money confiscated from us by federal government.
7. Our medical system, by far not perfect, is still the best in the world. As such it requires immediate repeal of monstrosity foisted on us by those two ugly mugs from Little Shop of Democratic Horrors – Obama and Pelosi. Contrary to what my centrist friends claim, Republicans have plenty to offer in terms of health care reform – and their offers actually make sense and do not convert the Constitution into toilet paper.
8. USA should immediately sever any and all relationships with UN (especially the monetary one). UN, in turn, can re-locate anywhere that strikes the fancy of Secretary General: Riyadh, Moscow, or Burkina-Faso; as long as it is not in my fair city of my beautiful country.
9. NO FOREIGN AID TO UNGRATEFUL SWINE!!!!! I said it many times, and I will repeat it again and again – ENOUGH!! Any and all celebrity airheads are more than welcome to spend their own ill-gotten gains on any other nation they want – just leave the beleaguered US taxpayers out of it.
10. There are way too many people occupying government jobs on all three levels – especially the federal one; reduction of staff seems a good course. In the same venue, let our elected officials forgo their payments and perks (real and imaginative) for about a year – if we are in serious recession, they should justify their ironic label of public servants.
11. All labor unions should be disbanded and proclaimed illegal; if anyone does not like it, please refer to number one.
12. Education is a privilege and not a right specified in the constitution; moreover, nowhere in this document is it specified that overseeing education is within purview of the federal government; as such, it is the right and responsibility of states. Department of Education should be abolished as well. And, on the personal note, anyone who sends their child to public schools in their present condition, especially the ones in big cities should be investigated on suspicions of child abuse.
13. This country was settled, created, expanded and build mainly by Protestant Christians. Founding Fathers belonged to the same “religious sect”; so did the people who wrote and ratified American Constitution. Nowhere in this document is the separation of church and state mentioned in any shape of form, or under any sauce or jelly. Religious freedom and religious toleration – yes; separation of church and state – no. So, atheists, Satanists, worshipers of Gaea, Wicca, or Obama – this is a country build by Christians – please live them alone and allow them to practice their faith in peace– or see number one!
14. Enough with thought police, political correctness, affirmative action, and other garbage! And black citizens – first of all, please learn some none-revised history: white slavers, as disgusting and reprehensible as they were, did not run around African Continent enslaving your ancestors – your illustrious ancestors were “do it yourself” kind of folks. So not one “white” in the present day America (including David Duke) owes you diddly-squat! Not happy? Zimbabwe looks fantastic, especially this time of the year. All other persecuted minorities – enjoy life here without moaning, groaning, or extra demands, or refer to number 1!
15. In no other country on earth do you have people immigrating and then having the unmitigated gall of claiming persecution and demanding respect of their language and culture! You came to us – respect us, our language, and our culture! No multi-lingual voting information, no “1 for English”, and “hell no” for any other language but English! Do not like it? Refer to numbe1 1.
16. Immediate deportation of illegals and serious security for both Southern and Northern borders! On the side note, La Raza and any other crap shoot in the same venue should also be declared illegal.
17. Environmentalists, green lobby, and all other members of this pirate ship can do anything they want with their own lives (and on their own dime) – sleep naked in trees, cart their ugly re-usable bags around, commune with endangered Siberian tigers, walk twenty miles to work every day, or eat only the fruit of the tree that have fallen on its own – they may not force anyone else to follow their lunacy! And about 6 billion in government lettuce that are allotted to fund their moronic research into controlling the uncontrollable – please return it back to the cookie jar and do not give it to them again. EPA should be disbanded as well, and people like Al Gore indicted on criminal charges. On the same topic – “energy independence”? We have enough natural resources to achieve that and drown all the OPEC nations in their own oil, which goal would be achieved as soon as the red/brown shirts masquerading in green are no longer in charge of anything remotely connected to economic matters.
18. In case of Barak Hussein Obama, or whatever his name is – either he proofs beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is indeed a natural–born citizen of this country – in which case Congress starts immediate impeachment process, and we hold special elections; or – he is constitutionally unfit for the office of the President, in which case Congress starts immediate criminal process, and we hold special elections – either way, we win.

In short, we defeat our enemies (especially the domestic ones), get rid of all the foreign “friends” we do not need, curtail out of control government, de-regulate business, stop paying chocking and unnecessary taxes, get rid of all the home-grown and imported haters, and, most importantly, rediscover our pride as Americans – recovery would not be painless; but it would be achievable and achieved.

MEMBERSHIP GOING STRONG

This past weekend we were blessed with fantastic spring weather. So, off to the pak in double stroller on choo choo train we went.

Unfortunately, around half the city had the same bright idea (not necessarily involving choo choos, but still), and the playground was overcrowded. Both munchkins, not being of retiring nature when in familiar crowds, usually grow painfully shy in the unfamiliar once. So, after a little while of playing monkey bars, sliding, and swinging – all accompanied by holding Papi’s hand as a reassurance – Blondie politely requested to be taken home: his cue that he is not very happy with the present situation. Big Sister concurred. Papi, feeling bad that her favorite Munchkins did not enjoy themselves on such gorgeous day offered to go to the big place with palm trees (Winter Garden to the tourists), and visit chocolate shop. The said idea was approved, and the course taken.

In the chocolate shop (Godiva boutique to the tourists) we got a lot of enjoyment just by looking around with mouths slightly open. Then we proceeded to the counter for the truffle selection. So, the appropriate pieces were picked up for Mommy, for Abba, and, of course, for Curly and Blondie. After this ritual, Papi went to the cashier to pay, and that was when MBS looked at me and pointedly reminded her aunt that we seem to have forgotten MMM. “But, honey, MMM is still a baby; she is not allowed to have chocolates yet; she only drinks milk.” MBS just looked at me and pronounced with exasperation reserved for thick-sculled adults: “For when she grows up, Papi! Then she could eat it!”

I love you, my beautiful gnome!

Before you boycott Israel!

No commentary required..