We caught the class about Shabbat at the Temple on Thursday. The Rabbi gave us of a list of Do’s and Don’ts on Shabbat.
Possible Things to do on Shabbat:
Light candles
Kiddush over wine
Challah
Bless children
Family dinner
Attend Services
Make love with spouse
We sat at a table with three other couples, all in their 50s and 60s. The Rabbi asked if any of us had observed Shabbat, and if so, what did we do? Marla and Tom at our table (I changed their names) started laughing and in a very stereotypical Jewish accent, Ellen whispered to Marla, “Whaaat? Why aww yoo laaaughingk?” Marla pointed to the list. Ellen looked and her and said, “Yeeah? What?” Marla whispered in her ear and Ellen’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars. Ellen shook her finger at Marla.
Marla looked at her and said, “Whaat? It was ooon the list!”
Ellen said, “Marla, yeeea not gonna tell him thaaat.”
Tom said, “Whaaat? It’s on the list!”
Marla announced, “Rabbi, I have something personal to tell you!”
Ellen shouted, “NO no! No you can’t tell him that, you wouldn’t!” Marla and Tom started cracking up.
This was the possibly the cutest thing I’ve witnessed in a very long time.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I'm Not Pregnant
"Have you made a lot of friends here in Jacksonville?
"Well, we've made a few. It's a hard place to meet people."
"Oh, you'll meet plenty of people when you have kids."
"I'm not pregnant..."
"Have you seen these swaddlers?! You are going to love these."
"I'm not pregnant..."
"What do you think about banking cord blood?"
"I think it's emotional blackmail."
"Really? So you're not going to bank yours?"
"I'm not pregnant..."
"Well, what are you guys going to do with the cars if you have more then 2 kids?"
"I'm not pregnant..."
"Well, we've made a few. It's a hard place to meet people."
"Oh, you'll meet plenty of people when you have kids."
"I'm not pregnant..."
"Have you seen these swaddlers?! You are going to love these."
"I'm not pregnant..."
"What do you think about banking cord blood?"
"I think it's emotional blackmail."
"Really? So you're not going to bank yours?"
"I'm not pregnant..."
"Well, what are you guys going to do with the cars if you have more then 2 kids?"
"I'm not pregnant..."
Monday, August 24, 2009
Drama in the Skies
This morning in the airport I was rushing to my gate. After the Delta/Northwest merger, their systems sometimes cross and don’t assign you a seat. After a mild panic attack following a flashback of all the times a woman in navy blue stood behind an unreasonably tall console staring at a computer saying, “I realize you have a ticket, ma’am, but you don’t have a seat on the flight…”, I was informed by the gate agent that I did have a seat and she could assign it to me 20 minutes prior to boarding. Big sigh of relief there.
While I was waiting, I sat and watched about 18 people hoping, praying to get onto a flight to Los Angeles. They eyed everyone who walked into the gate agent area and panted like the ticket was a drink they’ve been seeking for days. Occasionally, the woman would call out a name in a very southern accent: “Dia? Deeeyuuuh? Ya’ll are clear.” I would watch the mini-celebrations, not to run too long for fear that even a second of lag time and the gate agent just might change her mind and give the seat to someone else. I’ve been in that position so many times and I have to admit, I secretly prayed that everyone standing there got onto the flight.
Finally, with 10 or so people left, she announced the flight was completely full. You could see the disappointment like a rolling wave. As the gate agent shut the door, a tall, slender, well-dressed woman power-walked toward the door.
“Ma’am? Ma’am! I’m on that flight!”
“No you aren’t, I’m sorry. I just shut the door, this flight is full.”
The look of panic began to take over her face.
“But my daughter! My daughter is on that flight!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s 3 minutes until take-off. You have to be here 15 minutes before a flight leaves.”
Her face turns red and she begins shaking the Burger King bags in her hands.
“What? No, please!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry! I’ve closed this flight.”
The woman then begins the cry, but not a like sad cry. A desperate, quivering, moaning cry.
“My daughter is on that fliiiiight. We’re going to a FUNERAL, ma’am. PAHLEASE let me on.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve closed the door and the plane is pulling away.”
“Nooo! Ma’am PAHLEEEASE open the doo-hoo-oor. My daughter is on that flight and we’re going to a fu-hu-ner-aaaaal.”
Her tone and volume made the whole gate stop. From zero to sixty, she was facing the worst tragedy of her life. Everyone was looking at her. We were all thinking the same thing. Move along lady. It happens to everyone. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
“It’s a fuuuuuneral and I (sob, sob) can’t miss the fuuuuuneral. My daughter is on the fliiiiiight.”
The gate agent was so exasperated at this woman, practically on her knees begging to be allowed on board. She picked up her little white phone and starting typing away.
“Ok, ma’am, what is your last name?!”
“Sh-(inhale)Sh-(inhale)Shirk.”
The gate agent speaks into the phone.
“No, I thought it was but this woman says her daughter is already on the flight. I’m trying to find out – ma’am WHAT IS YOUR LAST NAME?”
She shrieks like someone’s poked her with her a hot stick.
“SHIRK!” (sob, sob)
“Shirk? Last name is…”
“Pahleeease ma’am.”
At this point the crying is less like a moose and more desperation, like she’s quietly begging for her life.
“Please, please, pleeease ma’am.”
“She said her daughter is on the flight already.”
“Oh, God, pleeeeease.”
At that moment came the best part of my day.
“Ma’am. You’re last name is Shirk? You’re going to Chicago, not Los Angeles.”
“What?”
“This is flight 1890 to Los Angeles. Your gate it across the way.”
That “ooo” sound you make in 9th grade when a kid gets called out by a teacher? That’s the sound we all made in our heads.
This woman didn’t even bat an eye. She stood up, grabbed her purse, and remarked, “Oh.”
That’s it. No, gosh I sure am sorry I caused an ignorant scene after not reading the blaring red digital sign behind you that cleary says LOS ANGELES. She just stood up, flung her bag over her shoulder, and walked across the walkway like a supermodel.
The entire gate started cracking up, including the gate agent. Such a dramatic display to end so quickly, as if someone suddenly called, “CUT!” and she said, “Oh!” and walked over to catering for mac and cheese.
While I was waiting, I sat and watched about 18 people hoping, praying to get onto a flight to Los Angeles. They eyed everyone who walked into the gate agent area and panted like the ticket was a drink they’ve been seeking for days. Occasionally, the woman would call out a name in a very southern accent: “Dia? Deeeyuuuh? Ya’ll are clear.” I would watch the mini-celebrations, not to run too long for fear that even a second of lag time and the gate agent just might change her mind and give the seat to someone else. I’ve been in that position so many times and I have to admit, I secretly prayed that everyone standing there got onto the flight.
Finally, with 10 or so people left, she announced the flight was completely full. You could see the disappointment like a rolling wave. As the gate agent shut the door, a tall, slender, well-dressed woman power-walked toward the door.
“Ma’am? Ma’am! I’m on that flight!”
“No you aren’t, I’m sorry. I just shut the door, this flight is full.”
The look of panic began to take over her face.
“But my daughter! My daughter is on that flight!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s 3 minutes until take-off. You have to be here 15 minutes before a flight leaves.”
Her face turns red and she begins shaking the Burger King bags in her hands.
“What? No, please!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry! I’ve closed this flight.”
The woman then begins the cry, but not a like sad cry. A desperate, quivering, moaning cry.
“My daughter is on that fliiiiight. We’re going to a FUNERAL, ma’am. PAHLEASE let me on.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve closed the door and the plane is pulling away.”
“Nooo! Ma’am PAHLEEEASE open the doo-hoo-oor. My daughter is on that flight and we’re going to a fu-hu-ner-aaaaal.”
Her tone and volume made the whole gate stop. From zero to sixty, she was facing the worst tragedy of her life. Everyone was looking at her. We were all thinking the same thing. Move along lady. It happens to everyone. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
“It’s a fuuuuuneral and I (sob, sob) can’t miss the fuuuuuneral. My daughter is on the fliiiiiight.”
The gate agent was so exasperated at this woman, practically on her knees begging to be allowed on board. She picked up her little white phone and starting typing away.
“Ok, ma’am, what is your last name?!”
“Sh-(inhale)Sh-(inhale)Shirk.”
The gate agent speaks into the phone.
“No, I thought it was but this woman says her daughter is already on the flight. I’m trying to find out – ma’am WHAT IS YOUR LAST NAME?”
She shrieks like someone’s poked her with her a hot stick.
“SHIRK!” (sob, sob)
“Shirk? Last name is…”
“Pahleeease ma’am.”
At this point the crying is less like a moose and more desperation, like she’s quietly begging for her life.
“Please, please, pleeease ma’am.”
“She said her daughter is on the flight already.”
“Oh, God, pleeeeease.”
At that moment came the best part of my day.
“Ma’am. You’re last name is Shirk? You’re going to Chicago, not Los Angeles.”
“What?”
“This is flight 1890 to Los Angeles. Your gate it across the way.”
That “ooo” sound you make in 9th grade when a kid gets called out by a teacher? That’s the sound we all made in our heads.
This woman didn’t even bat an eye. She stood up, grabbed her purse, and remarked, “Oh.”
That’s it. No, gosh I sure am sorry I caused an ignorant scene after not reading the blaring red digital sign behind you that cleary says LOS ANGELES. She just stood up, flung her bag over her shoulder, and walked across the walkway like a supermodel.
The entire gate started cracking up, including the gate agent. Such a dramatic display to end so quickly, as if someone suddenly called, “CUT!” and she said, “Oh!” and walked over to catering for mac and cheese.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Park and Fly
USAPark.net is the greatest park and fly ever. They give you a newspaper and water when you pull in, they come to your car and pick you up in their happy little van with it’s happy little driver (who makes small talk with you all the way to your gate), and then are right on time to pick you back up when you get home. It’s so much more pleasant than the Flyaway.
So this morning I get there at 4:30am. The happy little driver picks me up right after an older couple. It’s clear that the woman already on the bus has a neurological disorder because she is jerking and shaking every few seconds, and cooing like a pigeon.
Then two more couples get on, probably in their 60s. They are jovial and chatty.
“Great morning for a plane ride, huh young lady?” the woman says to me. I smile because it’s 4:30am and I don’t talk at 4:30am. The older lady coos.
Then another couple, also in their 60, pile in to fill the van. And then, the conversation that followed made me WISH someone else was there with me. Writing it down doesn’t do it justice, but I’ll try. I made up names for my own pleasure. Keep in mind, these people don’t know each other. Oh, it made me so happy.
(Uproarious Laughter)
Henry: GOOD MORNING everyone!
Belinda: Well, you’re in a great mood, sir.
Henry: Oh yeah!
Bob: Me too! I’m always happy. Happy, happy, happy!
Ethel: Coo.
Belinda: It’s true, he’s always happy.
Bob: Happy, happy, happy!
Henry: I bet that’s why you haven’t shot him yet.
(Uproarious Laughter)
Hazel: Oh great, Hen, looks like you’ve got an audience this morning.
Belinda: Where are you two off to?
Henry: Off to Saaaan FraaanCisco!
Everyone: Oooo!
Ethel: Coo.
Hazel: Going to see the kids.
Belinda: Oh my kids are in Connecticut.
Henry: You know, I always say when you move away from your kids, just don’t leave a forwarding address.
(Uproarious Laughter)
Hazel: Oh that’s an old one, Henry.
Bob: Still a good one!
Ethel: Coo.
Belinda: We’re going to my brother’s place in Seattle. My neighbors here have never been.
Martha: Yeah, it’s our first time.
Belinda: We almost didn’t make the flight. My neighbor Arthur here was in the hospital this week.
Hazel: Oh my.
Arthur: Just my heart. Just my heart.
Martha: Oh sure, no big deal dear, just his heart!
Ethel: Coo.
Bob: I was in the hospital last week, too.
Henry: But you’re still so happy, right?!
Bob: Happy, happy, happy!
Arthur: I tell you, getting old is not for the faint of heart.
Everyone: No, no it isn’t.
Henry: I was in the hospital for a rotator cuff last week.
Bob: Golden years, right?
Hazel: Yeah. These are our Golden Years.
Henry: Yeah, golden for our doctors, right?
Belinda: Oooh, yes.
Bob: Isn’t that the truth?
Hazel: That’s right.
Martha: And it’s true…
(Everyone shakes their heads as if to say, "Such a shame.")
Ethel: Coo.
Belinda: These hospitals treat us like we’re all used up.
Martha: It’s a crime.
Henry: Well, as long as we’re all still traveling!
Hazel: That’s right.
Bob: If we’re travelin’ we’re happy! Happy, happy, happy!
So this morning I get there at 4:30am. The happy little driver picks me up right after an older couple. It’s clear that the woman already on the bus has a neurological disorder because she is jerking and shaking every few seconds, and cooing like a pigeon.
Then two more couples get on, probably in their 60s. They are jovial and chatty.
“Great morning for a plane ride, huh young lady?” the woman says to me. I smile because it’s 4:30am and I don’t talk at 4:30am. The older lady coos.
Then another couple, also in their 60, pile in to fill the van. And then, the conversation that followed made me WISH someone else was there with me. Writing it down doesn’t do it justice, but I’ll try. I made up names for my own pleasure. Keep in mind, these people don’t know each other. Oh, it made me so happy.
(Uproarious Laughter)
Henry: GOOD MORNING everyone!
Belinda: Well, you’re in a great mood, sir.
Henry: Oh yeah!
Bob: Me too! I’m always happy. Happy, happy, happy!
Ethel: Coo.
Belinda: It’s true, he’s always happy.
Bob: Happy, happy, happy!
Henry: I bet that’s why you haven’t shot him yet.
(Uproarious Laughter)
Belinda: Where are you two off to?
Henry: Off to Saaaan FraaanCisco!
Everyone: Oooo!
Ethel: Coo.
Hazel: Going to see the kids.
Belinda: Oh my kids are in Connecticut.
Henry: You know, I always say when you move away from your kids, just don’t leave a forwarding address.
Bob: Still a good one!
Ethel: Coo.
Belinda: We’re going to my brother’s place in Seattle. My neighbors here have never been.
Martha: Yeah, it’s our first time.
Belinda: We almost didn’t make the flight. My neighbor Arthur here was in the hospital this week.
Hazel: Oh my.
Arthur: Just my heart. Just my heart.
Martha: Oh sure, no big deal dear, just his heart!
Ethel: Coo.
Bob: I was in the hospital last week, too.
Henry: But you’re still so happy, right?!
Bob: Happy, happy, happy!
Everyone: No, no it isn’t.
Henry: I was in the hospital for a rotator cuff last week.
Bob: Golden years, right?
Hazel: Yeah. These are our Golden Years.
Henry: Yeah, golden for our doctors, right?
Belinda: Oooh, yes.
Bob: Isn’t that the truth?
Hazel: That’s right.
Martha: And it’s true…
Ethel: Coo.
Belinda: These hospitals treat us like we’re all used up.
Martha: It’s a crime.
Henry: Well, as long as we’re all still traveling!
Hazel: That’s right.
Bob: If we’re travelin’ we’re happy! Happy, happy, happy!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Carbohydrates in Florida
It is more difficult than one would think to order a sugar-free meal. Couple that with the fact that I live in Florida, and I'm in trouble.
Doctor's orders are that I eat absolutely, positively no sugar for several months. So I'm eating a lot of cheese and a lot of meat. Sometimes I sneak in a Sugar Free box of Jello (which I'm not supposed to do, but COME ON). All in all, I'm fairly miserable.
I've taken to ordering my favorite foods, minus the sugar. For example, the other night at sushi I asked for a tuna roll with no rice.
"So you want no rice?"
Yes ma'am.
"What about for sushi?"
Nope, no rice.
"But then you only have fish and Nori."
I know. And that's great.
"Ok. And you want salmon bowl?"
Yes. No rice.
"But it comes in the bowl."
I know it. You can keep it. Just the vegetables and the salmon, please.
"Ok, but it's not gonna be good."
Or, when I tried to order one of Publix's famous subs, sans the bread.
Hi, can you make me the Itallian Boar's Head sub, but put everything you would put in the bread in a bowl instead and leave out the bread?
"I don't think so."
Really? I'll pay the same amount. I just don't want to bread.
"You don't want it?"
Well, I can't eat sugar.
"There's no sugar in our bread."
Sugar is made of flour which is a carbohydrate and those are processed in our bodies the same way as sugar so when...you know what? I just can't eat the bread, ok?
(The lady who makes the subs then walks up)
"So do you want me to cut up the meat for your sub?"
It doesn't matter. Whatever's easier.
"In this kind of bowl?"
Yep. Just a regular salad bowl.
(She looks at me like I'm trying to get away with something)
"You want some kind of sauce?"
No, there's probably sugar in it. Just oil and vinegar.
"You think so, huh?" (one eyebrow up)
Yeah, it's nothing personal. I'm sure it's good sauce.
"How about croutons?"
Again...
You get the idea. I really look forward to having the money to hire my own personal chef to cook sugarless, carb-free foods for me all day long.
Doctor's orders are that I eat absolutely, positively no sugar for several months. So I'm eating a lot of cheese and a lot of meat. Sometimes I sneak in a Sugar Free box of Jello (which I'm not supposed to do, but COME ON). All in all, I'm fairly miserable.
I've taken to ordering my favorite foods, minus the sugar. For example, the other night at sushi I asked for a tuna roll with no rice.
"So you want no rice?"
Yes ma'am.
"What about for sushi?"
Nope, no rice.
"But then you only have fish and Nori."
I know. And that's great.
"Ok. And you want salmon bowl?"
Yes. No rice.
"But it comes in the bowl."
I know it. You can keep it. Just the vegetables and the salmon, please.
"Ok, but it's not gonna be good."
Or, when I tried to order one of Publix's famous subs, sans the bread.
Hi, can you make me the Itallian Boar's Head sub, but put everything you would put in the bread in a bowl instead and leave out the bread?
"I don't think so."
Really? I'll pay the same amount. I just don't want to bread.
"You don't want it?"
Well, I can't eat sugar.
"There's no sugar in our bread."
Sugar is made of flour which is a carbohydrate and those are processed in our bodies the same way as sugar so when...you know what? I just can't eat the bread, ok?
"So do you want me to cut up the meat for your sub?"
It doesn't matter. Whatever's easier.
"In this kind of bowl?"
Yep. Just a regular salad bowl.
(She looks at me like I'm trying to get away with something)
No, there's probably sugar in it. Just oil and vinegar.
"You think so, huh?" (one eyebrow up)
Yeah, it's nothing personal. I'm sure it's good sauce.
"How about croutons?"
Again...
You get the idea. I really look forward to having the money to hire my own personal chef to cook sugarless, carb-free foods for me all day long.
Friday, August 14, 2009
From Charlie
Hi. I'm Charlie. The lady who writes this blog is my mom. She feels better after she tells everyone how she feels about stuff, so I decided I should try it.
Over a year ago, my mom and dad came to the shelter and picked me up. It was the best. We went on walks together, went hiking together, and played laser tag together (that's my favorite).
My best friends Cassius and Kipi lived upstairs and we used to run around barking and boxing all day. Sometimes we all slept
on the couch together and we always left room. I loved sharing my toys with them. I ate when I felt like it and relaxed on all my dog beds (I had 3).Then one day my mom and dad asked these guys I didn't like to come take all of our stuff. I only have 3 bones and 2 kongs, so I figured they just wanted to live simpler. That night we slept on the floor together, which was kind of fun. But the next morning we got up much earlier than I'd of liked and took a road trip.
Now, don't get me wrong. The road trip was awesome. I loved hanging my head out the window and meeting new people. But when we finally stopped, things were not the way I wanted.
My mom and dad moved all our stuff into this new house. Cassius and Kipi were not upstairs. In fact, no one was. I just sat around all day. Sometimes we went on walks, but usually I just went outside in the back yard. I just sat and talked to my mom all day (and she would tell me to stop whining, but I wasn't whining, I was trying to tell her I missed home). My dad came home and played with me, but it wasn't the same.
Then the worst thing you could ever imagine happened next. I was already lonely and sad, but at
least I still had my dignity. Mom and Dad brought home Bella. What's a Bella you ask? They told me it's a sister, but it isn't. It's a dog, smaller than you, that never shuts up. It bites your feet and tries to steal your cookies and jumps on your face when you are sleeping.I used to eat my food when I felt like it and now I have to eat it so fast that I get the poots because I don't want her getting any of it.
Whatever bed I'm sleeping on, that's where she wants to sleep. Even if I'm on the big couch, she puts her head way too close to mine. If I want to go outside, she goes outside. If I lay on mom's lap, she lays on mom's lap. Nothing is sacred anymore. And now everytime she has to go to the dog doctor, I have to go because my mom says it makes her feel "safer." Twice the doggie doctor visits is not my idea of a "sister."So that's why I'm writing on here. If anyone out there is interested in a cute, cuddly, not-annoying, very docile sister named Bella, please come to our house. I'll even throw in all the cookies. Just take her.
I'm exhausted.Sincerely,
Charlie
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Jewish Newish
A conversation from the Jewish Newish Meet and Greet.
Mort: I noticed you two are newcomers, welcome to Jacksonville.
Erin and Dave: Oh, thanks so much!
Mort: Do you have a temple yet?
Erin: Oh, no not yet...
Dave: We're not sure we...
Mort: Well, I know you're going to make the rounds. It's only natural. And I'm not one to push.
Dave: Sure.
Mort: So when you do make the rounds, consider my temple BethShalom.
Erin: Great, thank for the invitation.
Mort: I have some literature about it to share with you.
Mimi: Hi, you met Mort.
David: We did.
Mimi: Did he tell you about our temple?
Erin: He did.
Mimi: We're not the pushy type.
David: Mort mentioned that.
Mimi: You want to find a temple that makes you feel comfortable.
Mort: Like you're at home.
Mimi: With family, yeah.
Erin: Sure, sure.
Mimi: We have literature.
Mort: So when you do make the rounds....
Mimi: ...are you conservative?
Erin: I'm not...
Mort: ...just be sure to come by BethShalom. We really keep membership low for young people.
David: That's nice. Thank so mu...
Mimi: Just take it for what it is. No pushing. Just come.
Mort: Yeah, just come.
Erin: Great, thanks so much.
David: We really appreciate it.
Mort: Are you conservative?
David: Um, we're...
Mimi: It's fine. You'll love it. Come.
Mort: I noticed you two are newcomers, welcome to Jacksonville.
Erin and Dave: Oh, thanks so much!
Mort: Do you have a temple yet?
Erin: Oh, no not yet...
Dave: We're not sure we...
Mort: Well, I know you're going to make the rounds. It's only natural. And I'm not one to push.
Dave: Sure.
Mort: So when you do make the rounds, consider my temple BethShalom.
Erin: Great, thank for the invitation.
Mort: I have some literature about it to share with you.
Mimi: Hi, you met Mort.
David: We did.
Mimi: Did he tell you about our temple?
Erin: He did.
Mimi: We're not the pushy type.
David: Mort mentioned that.
Mimi: You want to find a temple that makes you feel comfortable.
Mort: Like you're at home.
Mimi: With family, yeah.
Erin: Sure, sure.
Mimi: We have literature.
Mort: So when you do make the rounds....
Mimi: ...are you conservative?
Erin: I'm not...
Mort: ...just be sure to come by BethShalom. We really keep membership low for young people.
David: That's nice. Thank so mu...
Mimi: Just take it for what it is. No pushing. Just come.
Mort: Yeah, just come.
Erin: Great, thanks so much.
David: We really appreciate it.
Mort: Are you conservative?
David: Um, we're...
Mimi: It's fine. You'll love it. Come.
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