Israel at 60

I was contacted yesterday -- no doubt a general email sent out -- by the publisher/editor of a U.S.-based literary publication that had featured one of my poems a couple years back--Poeticamag. The essence of the email message was: We are looking for poetry and short stories celebrating Israel 60th birthday. Please submit in the body of the email - no attachments.

I assume the publisher is seeking pieces for the journal's website not a print edition. I quickly answered the call-out, writing the following poem in about 3 minutes.


AT SIXTY

At sixty, one is not quite old, neither young...but somewhere in the middle.

With life lines to show,
fine wrinkles here and there,
graying hair or balding patches,
hinting age spots
and a book of photographs depicting a life.

At sixty, Israel is not quite old, neither young...but somewhere in the middle.

But in truth she is ancient -- Israel is a "she," you know -- and was reborn in May 1948.

Not everyone has the chance to be reborn. But Israel...she fought to be reborn.
She fought hard. Her supporters fought harder.

From desert sands and barren fields, she brought forth life.

From stark grayness, she brought forth greens and blues.

From a handful of devotees, she yielded multitudes of lovers.
Lovers of her country.
Lovers of her language.
Lovers of her culture.
Lovers of the blue and white of her draping flag.

Lovers of "Hatikvah."
Hope. Forever sustaining Israel.
Forever sustaining...

Published for Passover

Last week my mother called me up on Wednesday and said she'd seen my poem in the Jewish news and that it was very nice.

I knew I'd submitted a poem to be considered for the annual Passover literary supplement to the Canadian Jewish News, but couldn't remember which one I'd submitted!

And when I saw it, I remembered; I'd actually written the poem sometime last year and posted it on my blog, then this past February submitted it to the CJN.

The poem is based on an incident that happened to me; it is truth patterned in a poetic style is all.

Oftentimes that's what poetry is. At least my poetry.

It is nice to get published once again. To have my words published in a venue that means something to me, in a venue that is accessible to so many people in Canada, the States and abroad.

Here is the link: http://www.cjnews.com/images/stories/Supplements/2008_Passover_Lit.pdf

Find your way to page 22 of the supplement and you will find my poem. (The Montreal edition of the literary supplement has my poem appear on a different page with a slightly different layout, because of the advertising.)

Food A-Plenty

Many times I've told you what kind of special husband I have. I'm telling you again: he took 3 days off of work to help prepare for Pesach -- shopping and cooking and cleaning. We work pretty well as a team or sometimes he's the master chef and I'm the sous chef or main dishwasher, but together we get things done.

My husband enjoys working in the kitchen and attempting new recipes; I look to take shortcuts oftentimes.

For the seders and Yom Tov day meals we had some wonderful dishes:

chicken soup with knaidlach (matzah balls) and pupiklech (chicken stomachs)
vegetable soup (leek, sweet potato, potato, squash, carrots, broccoli)
gefilte fish
salmon trout
grilled vegetables
green salad
broccoli and potato kugel
pickled beef brisket
veal brisket
turkey roll with mushroom sauce
pastilles (ground beef stuffed in potato balls)
banana sorbet
matzah cake
lemon pie

For the charoset, we had 2 types: Ashkenazi and Sephardi. I made the Ashkenazi one: apples, cinnamon, walnuts (I tossed in ground almonds too), sweet wine. My husband made his family's Sephardi one: dates, sweet wine and walnuts. (with one small apple thrown in for good measure)
Certainly would've been a tasty mortar for those bricks those Israelites were busy assembling for Pharoah!

We have lots of leftovers and will cook fresh for next Shabbos and the end of the chag. And hopefully the diet starts AFTER that!

Passover Is A-Comin'

With Shabbos just around the corner and Pesach not too far behind, I wanted to take a moment to wish my Jewish readers a good Shabbos, as well as a chag kasher v'sameach.

May you enjoy your family and friends at your table or the company at others' tables.

And as my dear father has always said, "May we be able to wish each other a Happy Pesach next year again."

Amen.

A Fish Tale

I just found this article from a few years ago.

Some people have crying Madonnas; other people have talking fish!


Word is made flesh as God reveals himself... as a fish
Edward Helmore New York

The Observer,

Sunday March 16 2003


This article appeared in the Observer on Sunday March 16 2003 . It was last updated at 02:22 on March 16 2003.

An obscure Jewish sect in New York has been gripped in awe by what it believes to be a mystical visitation by a 20lb carp that was heard shouting in Hebrew, in what many Jews worldwide are hailing as a modern miracle.

Many of the 7,000-member Skver sect of Hasidim in New Square, 30 miles north of Manhattan, believe God has revealed himself in fish form.

According to two fish-cutters at the New Square Fish Market, the carp was about to be slaughtered and made into gefilte fish for Sabbath dinner when it suddenly began shouting apocalyptic warnings in Hebrew.

Many believe the carp was channelling the troubled soul of a revered community elder who recently died; others say it was God. The only witnesses to the mystical show were Zalmen Rosen, a 57-year-old Hasid with 11 children, and his co-worker, Luis Nivelo. They say that on 28 January at 4pm they were about to club the carp on the head when it began yelling.

Nivelo, a Gentile who does not understand Hebrew, was so shocked at the sight of a fish talking in any language that he fell over. He ran into the front of the store screaming: 'It's the Devil! The Devil is here!' Then the shop owner heard it shouting warnings and commands too.

'It said "Tzaruch shemirah" and "Hasof bah",' he told the New York Times, 'which essentially means that everyone needs to account for themselves because the end is near.'

The animated carp commanded Rosen to pray and study the Torah. Rosen tried to kill the fish but injured himself. It was finally butchered by Nivelo and sold.

However, word spread far and wide and Nivelo complains he has been plagued by phone calls from as far away as London and Israel. The story has since been amplified by repetition and some now believe the fish's outburst was a warning about the dangers of the impending war in Iraq.

Some say they fear the born-again President Bush believes he is preparing the world for the Second Coming of Christ, and war in Iraq is just the opening salvo in the battle of Armageddon.
Local resident Abraham Spitz said: 'Two men do not dream the same dream. It is very rare that God reminds people he exists in this modern world. But when he does, you cannot ignore it.'
Others in New Square discount the apocalyptic reading altogether and suggest the notion of a talking fish is as fictional as Tony Soprano's talking-fish dream in an episode of The Sopranos .
Stand-up comedians have already incorporated the carp into their comedy routines at weddings. One gefilte company has considered changing its slogan to: 'Our fish speaks for itself.'

Still, the shouting carp corresponds with the belief of some Hasidic sects that righteous people can be reincarnated as fish. They say that Nivelo may have been selected because he is not Jewish, but a weary Nivelo told the New York Times : 'I wish I never said anything about it. I'm getting so many calls every day, I've stopped answering. Israel, London, Miami, Brooklyn. They all want to hear about the talking fish.'

A devout Christian, he still thinks the carp was the Devil. 'I don't believe any of this Jewish stuff. But I heard that fish talk.'

He's grown tired of the whole thing. 'It's just a big headache for me,' he added. 'I pull my phone out of the wall at night. I don't sleep and I've lost weight.'

Richard Lewis Confirmed You As a Friend on Facebook...

Yup, it's true.

THE Richard Lewis and I are THIS CLOSE.

Okay, so what if I'm one of his 266 Facebook friends...we're still friends. He confirmed it -- just as in the title of this post. Just as in the subject line of the email I received.

And would you believe that out of all those friends he's got, we only have one Facebook friend in common?! A former classmate of mine in Jewish day school and high school is also a friend of Richard's -- talk about coincidences.

So how does one become Richard's friend? Well, in checking out my classmate's Facebook friends, I noticed Richard was on that list.

Richard? The Richard Lewis? The Richard Lewis of "Anything but Love" Marty Gold fame? The Richard Lewis who has attained new viewing audiences with his "Curb Your Enthusiasm" appearances? The Richard Lewis who has made black shirts, black sports jackets and black pants all the rage? The Richard Lewis with those big, baby-doe-caught-in-headlights eyes? The Richard Lewis who made "Jewish neurotic comedian" a familiar term? The Richard Lewis who, in every stage appearance, runs his fingers through his hair countless times to do what no mousse or hair gel could ever do?

Yup...that Richard Lewis.

So silly me just dropped him a message, reminding him of a show he'd played in Toronto close to 20 years ago, which I attended and where I'd managed to get his autograph in a comedy book of mine, with the help of an usher. And after the show I ran into him at a Toronto popular cafe and approached him then to say hello.

Must've hit a nostalgic soft spot 'cause the very next day I got confirmation that I'm his friend.

Okay, friend, I'm making a bar mitzvah in June for my son. Would you like to MC the luncheon? Or, okay, friend, would you like to be a special guest speaker in my other son's grade 2 class on Career Day? Or, okay, friend, I have another friend -- a blogging friend -- I want you to connect with. He's funny, he's neurotic like you, he's apparently a chick magnet, and he writes well. Maybe you can introduce him to your other friend, Larry David.

Here's to a long and -- if your monologues prove anything -- a long-winded (Facebook) friendship!

This Has Yiddisher Ta'am...

http://www.davidseastsidedeli.com/1.html

Play the music button when you open this link.

Anyone Can Make A Difference

http://shmais.com/news.cfm?ID=44538

A Beautiful Song...

I just discovered this song/singer on http://www.jewishtvnetwork.com/ -- it is such a beautiful and simple piece of music, and no doubt will leave you teary-eyed.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cac5iXNREJg

This Kid's Always Thinking...

I was preparing school lunches this morning and asked my youngest son if he wanted baby carrots or a cucumber for snack. He preferred the cucumber and I asked if he wanted a mini cucumber. He said yes but asked me to peel the skin first.

As I was washing and peeling the skin, he asked with a smile, "Do you have any dill to put on that?"

I said no, and he replied, "That way, I could have had a pickle!"

PPS*...

*Pre-Passover Syndrome...

Oy, this is something I'm already suffering from.

Symptoms:

-- clenched stomach muscles

-- new stray gray hairs

--an aversion to brown shelf paper

--continually consulting a calendar

--mental listing

--bingeing on nosh food

--anxiety... I want to eat all the food in the freezer

Like in most cities, Pesach is in the air. It's not even Purim yet, but I sure got a whiff of Pesach last week already when the supermarkets' Kosher aisles were half empty, the dry goods temporarily shelved elsewhere in the stores, and brown paper was lining the shelves.

It used to be the moment Purim was over that Pesach took over, but now Pesach seems to want to have even more of a head start!

And you know how it is with those Mishloach Manot packages -- before we buy goodies to package for others, we hit our own stocks of cookies and cakes and candies and other nosherai and think , "Good, if I give this to ______, it'll be a few less items in my cupboards that I have to get rid of before Pesach."

I had to smile the other night when I was shopping. The kosher aisles in this particular store had mainly been emptied with some shelves already housing paper goods and candy and cookies kosher l'Pesach. A very frum husband and wife were slowly walking down the aisle, presumably looking for where the Purim items were hiding. The husband aimlessly ran his hand along the brown paper lining an empty shelf, and his wife exclaimed in Yiddish: "What? You're touching the Pesachdik paper with 'treife' hands!!?"

I spoke today to a cashier in one of the predominantly Kosher supermarkets nearby and she told me that some years ago, the shelves would only get stocked two weeks before Pesach, so there'd be a mad flurry of purchases. These days, four and five weeks in advance is when the "matzah" ball starts rolling...

I'm sure I'm not the only Jewish female suffering from PPS. Maybe together with others like me, we should form a support group for this time of year. But then, come to think of it, who'd be available? The others will be busy assessing their cupboards and pantries, their cleaning supplies, their paper goods supply...and will then go on to recipes.

I'll still be eating my way through my Mishloach Manot packages...and then tackling the contents of my freezers!

We have some time to worry about Pesach.

In the meantime, I wish you a Freiliche Purim. And to those who celebrate Easter, Happy Easter.

Bye-Bye, Guy

One of today's headlines is Madonna and husband Guy, after 8 years of marriage, are preparing to go their separate ways...in Fall '09.

What?! Their fans need some 18 months to mentally prepare themselves for this celeb couple's split? Or perhaps this couple came to this offbeat decision by checking their Blackberries...

"No, Guy. Next month isn't good -- the kids are off with me to visit my dad. I don't want to upset them."

"Madonna, summer isn't a good time. You know that. I play a lot of rugby and do horse wrangling -- I don't have time to make appts. with legal counsel."

"Guy, this fall isn't good. I'm hanging in Hollywood with my Kabbalah pals for the High Holidays. If we try to tackle divorce then, my soul won't be pure for the New Year."

"Madonna, I'm shooting a film from December '08 through June '09 on Malta. I'll be unavailable for legal consults."

"Guy, I think we're both clear for Fall 2009. That should give our fans enough time to mentally prepare themselves for our split..."

___

And on a similar note...

I was on the Yeshiva World website, which I find interesting. I'm not up on all the Yeshivish lingo that can be found in the comments, but I'm learning.

Once in a while they feature letters from the YW mailbag -- and these make for countless comments.

I've read open forum letters about THE SHIDDUCH CRISIS.

Last night there was an open forum letter about THE DIVORCE CRISIS.

What?! First there are not enough guys to match up with girls and girls to match up with guys because of all the predetermined wants/needs/have-to-haves. And now there are too many has-beens floating out there?

The theories readers offer as to why there is a divorce crisis in the yeshivish world is interesting. The theories readers offer as to why there is a shidduch crisis in the yeshivish world is interesting.

Mazel. Mazel. Mazel. Hard work. Hard work. Hard work.

That's what it takes to find a partner...hopefully a life partner.

Guess Guy and Madonna will be adding to the "crisis."

Gettin' in the Spirit of Purim

For the month of Adar, my children's school celebrates even before Purim officially arrives. The halls are bedecked with magnificent thematic decorations, put together by our wonderful b'not sherut girls who come from Israel for the year to help out in the school.

Last week, the students from nursery through grade 8, were invited to dress up like their favorite teacher or administration staff member. My youngest son and at least 3 of his friends chose to dress like the same person, so seeing their interpretations of that person was interesting.

Today was "crazy hair day"... and my three children had me spray their hair this a.m. with silver, blue, and sparkles.

Wednesday is their Purim carnival.

Thursday, my oldest son has a half day because of the fast, and G-d willing, at night, we will go downtown to one of the remaining Orthodox shuls, and hear megillah there.

And G-d willing, my father is being released tomorrow from hospital and able to go home.

(I realized when I went to drop off and pick up my kids from school today that it wasn't a "crazy hair day" for me; it was a BAD HAIR DAY!!!)

Cleaning Up One's Act

I said to my husband yesterday that if I were a playwright, I'd write a one-act play -- a black humor piece -- about the following... How people need to settle things by cleaning: they clean and tidy up for the cleaning lady -- G-d forbid she should be faced with such a clutter; and they clean and tidy up in anticipation of having to soon hold a shiva in their home -- G-d forbid that those who come to comfort the mourners should see the clutter and whirlwind state of a family's belongings.

It hasn't been a good week: my father was rushed to hospital after midnight on Tuesday. He developed a sudden flu and fever, and with his already delicate medical history, it threw things off balance so that he was so weak and unable to walk, and suffered from a couple of seizures, confusion. He has finally been moved to a room from Emergency where he was in isolation -- Influenza A was the diagnosis -- until yesterday. I had to gown up, mask up and glove up in order to see him each time.

Thank G-d he's much better than he was and we hope he will continue to improve so that after a few days he can return home...usually a better place to recover.

My husband's mom isn't well and is deteriorating quickly. A vibrant and vital woman suddenly felled by an ugly disease...

It isn't easy to watch her nor see my husband in his worry and pain.

I said to him the other day: "I've never been so close to death before."

May we only share simchas and welcome Purim later this week with freiliche spirits.

Excuses, Excuses

I have found as an adult that people make a LOT of excuses. You think that stops with children and teens, but nuh-uh...excuses come out in a different way with adults.

"We [a family of six] are going to Israel...BUT it's for a family simcha...AND it's all on points."

"We're going to Florida over the school break, BUT it's ONLY for a week."

"...I'm going to Mexico JUST for a week." (I often tell people when they've given me their vacation travels and have thrown JUST FOR into the same sentence that they should never say JUST...simply because some people NEVER travel.)

I once had a conversation with someone who'd moved from a reasonable-sized, modest home into a large, well-to-do home on a posh street. When I mentioned she had a nice house, she said, "I'm glad the house looks small from the outside and not so ostentatious, so people won't talk."

Honey, you think people don't talk?! Of course they talk when you move from the equivalent of a 3-star roadside motel into a penthouse suite at Trump Tower. Your excuses don't change anything.

I know people who are bankrupt and owe tons of people tons of money yet they take mini vacations with their family. "We're under a lot of stress. We NEED a vacation."

People are continually apologizing for what they have or belittling what they have. It surprises me simply because I think that they're trying to protect themselves and what they have in some way. That's how it appears.

Money seems to set the tone for many conversations in this community in which I live; even if not overtly, dollars and cents seem to hover silently overhead.

I wish that people would simply enjoy what they have, make no excuses about it and at the same time not brag.

After all, cents don't often give a person SENSE.

8 Years Old

As I was told eight years ago:

"To No-am is to love 'im."

So true.

Happy 8th Birthday. Yom Huledet Sameach.

Help Sam

Winnipeg, Canada - An 84-year-old Orthodox Jewish man is in danger of being euthanized by Grace Hospital in Winnipeg, despite protests from his family that the hospital’s decision violates their religion (as was reported on YWN).
Samuel Golubchuk, whose family has been waging a court battle to keep him alive since late last November, was hospitalized for pneumonia in October of 2007. Doctors have attempted to hasten his death by starvation and dehydration, tactics that have been barred by a temporary court order keeping Samuel alive.
Golubchuk’s family claims that he is recovering due to medical treatment, and although Golubchuk is awake and responsive, doctors refuse to acknowledge the fact to the courts. Goluchuk suffered some brain damage in a fall in 2003, but is still responsive and capable of communication.

Please go to http://www.samuelgolubchuk.com/ and sign the petition.

With your help, this man might have a continued chance to live by his own means.

(my husband knows this man and his family from his years of growing up in Winnipeg; when it becomes national news, and with this petition, international news, it truly is a sad situation, and we must help)

Not Open To Discussion

Over the years -- especially the blogging years -- I've made an observation. I don't know if it's merely coincidence or something personal and directed to me, but...

As some -- or many of you know, or have come to realize -- I like to talk. I am very detail-oriented, so that "colors" my conversations or my writings.

I also like to break down barriers.

I can be formal, if the situation calls for it, but more often than not, I'm very casual. When I'm referred to as Mrs. Saban, I say, "That's my mother-in-law. Call me Pearl."

I like to get beyond "Hi, how are ya" and often get to the guts of things.

Lately, I'm of the belief that most people aren't in to that.

While I'm busy writing from the heart and just "letting loose", some other people seem to put up an invisible wall. Am I overstepping boundaries in any way? Am I touching a personal nerve of any kind?

I've corresponded with several bloggers over the years and sometimes the emails are about my blog or theirs; other times it's about our lives.

But I've found that once the lines of communication are opened, they get shut down rather quickly. I write a note, the person writes back; or a person initiates it and I write back, thinking the lines are open, but the person doesn't respond...or is so very brief that it's clear my message wasn't read entirely.

It's like the concept of a "one hit wonder", but in this case it's a "one message, no more" phenomenon.

I guess it's simply the little girl in this grown woman's body who feels rejected. When it's not silence that I'm seeking from others, but it's silence that I receive, it hurts.

Of course, everyone has time limitations, so a back and forth rapport is perhaps not always possible, but if it's the other person who's started the ball rolling, and then doesn't catch it again,
it simply makes me wonder...

That's it. There ain't no more to say. Just as the title says, "Not open to discussion."

All in the Family

Last night we went to see my brother-in-law's new 10-week-old Labradoodle puppy, "Couscous".

When we got home, my youngest ran to greet Max, and in an exuberant voice said to the pooch, "YOU HAVE A NEW COUSIN. We met your new cousin!"

That's My Boy!

My little guy made a couple of sweet comments in the last couple of days, and I wanted to share them. Of course they might not have the same impact on you as they did on me...simply because he's not YOUR little guy.

1. Noam was trying to describe a snack his friend had brought to school.
"It has chocolate and -- you know cigars? yeah, this was like cigars. (he proceeded to demonstrate how you smoke an imaginary cigar) Yeah, they're called SMOKERS, and they're like cigars but smaller."

Me: "You mean cigarettes?"

Noam: "Yeah, i didn't know the name for them. I thought they're called smokers."

[I love that name; I think it's great that he knew the word cigars but not cigarettes!]

2. We have a fairly large kitchen with a freezer-fridge and a stand-up freezer that are side by side. Now one of my weaknesses is that I put everything on these unit doors with magnets. Usually there's no longer white space on the appliances and the papers that are posted began to fall down in spite of the magnets.
Yesterday, Noam posted a birthday party invitation on the freezer door. This morning he couldn't remember where he'd put it on the door and tried to spot it among the posted papers and invitations.

"There's the party invitation! I see it. And I saw a spider on the fridge this morning."

Me: "A spider?"

Noam: "Yeah, a common house one."

[to me a spider is a spider and I don't differentiate between them...unless it's a tarantula! the fact that Noam elaborated -- correctly and knowingly -- on the type of spider made me grin]

The Marvels of Monopoly

(I received this message in an email from...Jerusalem)


If you think Jerusalem should be one of the cities on the proposed new Monopoly board, read on …

The makers of Monopoly are inviting fans worldwide to vote in an on-line contest that will determine which 22 cities will be etched in the collective memory for a new global edition of the 75-year-old board game.

The contest, which got under way this week and will continue through February 28, will allow Monopoly fans the world over to cast their ballots for the 10 best cities out of a pre-selected list of 68, including Jerusalem. The 20 cities with the highest number of votes will make it onto the new global Monopoly board.



Please ONLY vote for Jerusalem - by voting for other cities as well you bump up their numbers and make it harder for Jerusalem to get into the top 20. Jerusalem is at #27 and could easily be put in the list but only if we send this out to everyone we know and note that you can vote EVERY DAY up to Feb. 28.



VOTE NOW - It's Easy!
http://www.hasbro.com/games/kid-games/monopoly/

Waste Not, Want Not

My parents used to always tell me when I became a mother that I shouldn't eat off my kids' plate if they didn't finish a meal. Did I listen? Nah...!

It kills me to throw food out and I've always been that way. I can't even say it's survivor mentality because I didn't go through a war of any kind, thank G-d. My parents never instilled a real guilt in me if I didn't finish my food; I was just a slow and somewhat picky eater when I was young and my mother would keep reminding me of that.

I think I just "knew", as a daughter of a survivor, just how precious food was and still is.

But it occurred to me last night, after I'd eaten a FEW pieces (small, or not) of homemade pizza, that I'd finished the last two pieces on the tray because "I didn't want them to go to waste."

So the pieces might not have gone "to waste" but they certainly go "TO WAIST" -- MINE!!

Lice Ain't Nice

They're in the lice-removing business
BY RACHEL MONAHAN
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER
Tuesday, January 29th 2008, 4:00 AM

They're the lice ladies of Brooklyn.

A network of a dozen Orthodox Jewish businesswomen has developed a specialty in nitpicking — a profession rooted in Jewish tradition, the women say.

"They say Jewish men make good husbands," laughed Abigail Rosenfeld, who charges about $100 a head and works solo out of her Kensington home. "Jewish women are known to be nitpickers."

These days, the best technique involves less picking and more of a combination of combing and the use of various potions.

The women — who live in Borough Park, Kensington, Flatbush and Marine Park — have known each other for years and have worked together on lice outbreaks across the borough.

Lice are tiny parasitic insects — adults are about the size of a sesame seed — that live among hairs, most commonly on the head, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Nits are their eggs.

"Everybody here has a lot of kids, so [the louse infestation] spreads faster," said Susan Sherman of Borough Park, who's been nitpicking for years and is Rosenfeld's best friend from high school.
Sherman recently started LiceBGoners, employing 16 people and charging $75 an hour for a treatment that lasts an hour or two.

Rosenfeld also offered a more serious explanation of her community's specialty. The women have experience checking food for bugs, which aren't kosher.

"Do you know how many bugs you can find in dates and figs, lettuce, celery?" she said.

Because lice are not particular to the Jewish community, the lice ladies' fame has spread far and wide. Sherman tended recently to a family in Connecticut who hailed her as a lifesaver.

Adie Horowitz, of Marine Park, who runs Manhattan-based Licenders, recalled another reason Orthodox women got into the delousing profession about 10 years ago. "There was a tough strain coming in from Israel," said Horowitz. "Now all the lice are resistant to the poisons."
The Lady Bug, a good friend of Rosenfeld's, credited her as a master nitpicking teacher.
"Abby was the first one to develop the method," she said. "She should have patented it, but she didn't."

Rosenfeld's method, developed about 10 years ago, involves repeated combings, first with hair coated in conditioner and then with baking soda. The lice ladies use various versions of a stainless-steel comb with closely spaced teeth to do their work.

"We're social workers and psychologists for panicked mothers," said Dalya Harel, of Lice Busters NYC, who's been nitpicking for more than 20 years and employs eight people.

Kidspeak

My youngest has unintentionally, unwittingly coined a new word: "Shan"

Some weeks ago, I thought I was hearing things.

"Eema, shan I finish my homework now?" "Abba, shan I give Max his supper?"

When I first asked, "What did you say, Noam?" he repeated it again. And again. And again.

It began to grow on us, even though it's absolutely wrong. I don't correct him too much on it anymore simply because I like to hear him use the word.

"Shan": another word for "should"; derived from "shall" and "can".

Out of the Mouths of Babes

The fads that interest my children these days are rather different than what was interesting to me in the late sixties and early seventies in my pre-pubescent years.

My youngest, who will turn 8, G-d willing in a couple of months, went through his POKEMON cards phase. "Abba, can we buy a pack after school?" "Eema, I promise this will be the last time I ask you for a pack." How many times did we hear that refrain?

Yes, we bought him cards...to a limit. We bought him a collector tin and special cards that went with it.

These cards were traded back and forth between friends, but my kid (not always so wise) would even trade some of his new, crisp cards for dog-eared, weathered-looking other cards. We tried to teach him how to do a wise trade, but he's his own man.

Perhaps shul isn't the place for the POKEMON cards, so what did the kid do? He put his cards in a Torah Cards collectors portfolio. We would tell people at shul, "Do you want to see Noam's Torah Cards?" And he'd reveal what was really between the covers, beaming wholeheartedly.

Yesterday, I realized that he hasn't touched his cards in a LONG, LONG time. His collectors portfolio sits on our front hallway bench from the last time he took it to shul to show his friends.

I made a remark: "Noam, you haven't played with your POKEMON cards in a long time."

Noam: "I know.... I can sell them on eBay."

Me: "Who told you that?!" (hiding the laughter)

Noam: "Nobody."

So maybe Noam isn't the best at trading cards, but eBay you'd better look out for this 7-year-old. I'm really curious as to what he'll want to price these cards! The sky's the limit...

I'm Still Here...

...just rather busy and preoccupied these days with a number of things.

Among those things, my mother-in-law had some serious surgery and a prognosis one doesn't generally care to hear. She's currently recovering in hospital...

I have a bar mitzvah to plan for late June and have done nothing yet. Yes, I know the date, I know the venue, I know the type of meal I want, but I've not done anything aside from formulate some random names for guest lists. Planning a long-awaited simcha is never easy, but when illness is hovering in the background, it's really not easy.

I am on a contract till the end of February supposedly, but am crazy busy currently meeting deadlines and making sure that the 7 textbooks (university/college level) I'm responsible for as a production editor will make their printer dates with all the necessary information pertaining to the text appearing in the text as it should. I've been doing a fair bit of weekend or late-night, at-home overtime work to meet these deadlines and I'm simply wasted!

I'm busy with my kids and their homework and carpooling and...

To sum up, I'm here, but I'm not here. I tune in to some of your posts, but not all. I tune in to your posts some days, not others.

I want to write something witty, something creative for you, but it's not there -- at least not at the moment.

What is pretty consistent in my life right now is a sense of anxiety -- there's so much going on, coming at me/us from all different directions, it's tough just to keep up.

I can't wait for my Shabbos nap; in a way, I can't wait for my contract to end. I want to reclaim a sense of self, some true "me" time...and my husband and I have to be able to find some true "we" time, as well.

And hopefully I'll soon be able to reclaim a sense of "blogger", as well.

In the meantime, you can catch all my reruns in the right-hand margin. The archives take you back to December 2004. Why not start there and reread my words from the beginning? See if I wrote differently back in the early days of my blog, if my tone was different, if my humor was funnier?

Perhaps if you reread my early stuff, you'll realize you're sorry that you only began to tune in to me and my blog in May 2007 or -- GASP! -- even later than that; you'll realize you were missing a good thing from the start.

One can always wish, can't they...?

I've Got a Name

Since mid-December 2004, I've been better known as "Pearlies of Wisdom" or "TorontoPearl" or simply as "Pearl" to you readers.

When I decided to start a blog and told my husband as such, he said, "Just don't use our last name or full names" and for the most part I've honored that. Sometimes I did use my kids' names but rarely, and perhaps once or twice I might've let my husband's name slip out...almost as if I was testing the waters of truth.

But I've decided that there really is no reason to not reveal my full name. It isn't as if I've name-dropped to bad-mouth friends, family or community members. And if you happen to read this and have figured out it's me writing this blog, then you get 10 bonus points.

My husband is nearly asleep at a little after 11:30 p.m., but I just asked him if he doesn't mind if I remove this cloak of secrecy after three years, and he said no. "Just don't give our address." Okay, I think I can do that.

So, for all of you out there who've never corresponded with me personally and might never have found out who "Pearl" is...

Drumroll please....

Will the real Pearl Saban, nee Adler, please stand?

Will her husband, Ron, please stand?

Will her eldest son, Avi, please stand?

Will her middle child, daughter Adina, please stand?

Will her youngest son, Noam, please stand?

Will her dog, Max, please...sit!?

And if you behave yourselves, perhaps I might even post a family photo in time.

In the meantime, it's very nice to meet you.

In Need of Serious Davening/Praying...

Someone very dear and close to our family is in need of your prayers...and everyone else who can put in a good word with Hashem/G-d.

She wasn't feeling well for a couple of weeks, was taken to emergency on Sunday, was diagnosed on Monday, and underwent serious surgery on Tuesday.

The prognosis is not very positive...

Please daven for Liora bat Leah.

Billy Preston Sings the Real Version

Link to Billy Preston doing the song, "Nothing from Nothing" -- that song title AND FOOD were the inspiration for my last post.

Billy Preston Sings "Noshin' from Noshin' Leaves Noshin' "

Good morning, blogging world. Wake up!! It's January 1, 2008!

Happy New Year, whether or not you actually go out and celebrate the changing of the calendar page. Yes, many of us follow the Jewish calendar, but we live in a secular world, and we incorporate the two worlds. Rosh Hashanah in the fall season and New Year in the winter season.

There was a time -- long, long ago -- when I'd go out and mark the date with friends/family and a party, but I'm an old married lady. I work 9-5, I'm tired, I have 3 kids, I'm an old lady...I don't always hear the striking of the clock at midnight. Last night, I was exhausted, and went to bed at 11:45.

What kind of holiday spirit is that? Not even wanting to peek around the corner to the New Year. I'd rather peek at what's behind my eyelids in the land of Nod.

But even without official celebrating, I celebrate...just like countless others do.

HOW?

By buying lots of nosh food to mark the last few hours of the year.

An aside: Huh, what's up with that? People make
resolutions to lose weight with the start of the New Year, but they're stuffing
their faces in the final hours of the old year?!

They shouldn't be eating, they should parked on
treadmills and rowing machines and body balls doing the right thing, and getting
a head start on their resolution.

But back to my story -- like Seinfeld's famous episode,
with a slight twist -- "It's a story about NOSHIN'..."

I got to the supermarket at about 4:00 p.m. (having gotten out of work early) and it was a madhouse. Of course, people need to stock up their rations for New Year's Day, when the supermarkets are closed. But first and foremost, they are stocking up for New Year's Eve!

I looked into shopping carts (you can tell a lot about people that way) and saw: dips, and crackers, and fruits, and vegetables, and frozen foods -- perfect for appetizers -- and multiple baked goods, and chips and other snack food, and pop, and bottled water, and ice cream, and....

I looked into my shopping cart and saw: a sushi tray, a large (just-stick-it-in-the-oven-and bake) pizza, a bag of cheese curls, a bag of barbecued tortilla chips, a tray of six rainbow-sprinkle doughnuts, a couple bags of nacho chips...oh, and two packages of cold cuts (a ration for New Year's Day).

No, no...these nosh items were not meant for me (okay, maybe a few nibbles here and there), but foremost for my children...who like treats and nosh food just as much as the next kid (and their mother!).

So laden down with nosh and a couple of rented DVDs, we prepared to greet the strike of midnight. Only, it was solely the kids who did that while watching "Hairspray"; their elders were snoring like chainsaws...

I guess the moral of this post is that this coming December 31st, when you look at what you're serving or eating that evening, and you realize that a lot of it is junk food, you'll....

...remember Pearl and her story about "NOSHIN' "! And then you'll say, "Okay, the diet starts tomorrow!"

With a Nod to Carol Burnett

"I'm so glad we had this time together

Just to have a laugh or sing a song

Seems we just get started and before you know it

Comes the time we have to say 'So long.' "

So long, 2007.

Here's lookin' at you, 2008.

I'll be good to you; will you be good to me?

Fellow bloggers: may your 365 days of 2008 be filled with sunshine and sparkles, blessings and good fortune, good health and good friends.

...And Now a Word From Quinn Cummings

Being in the publishing arena for so many years, I know all about copyright laws, but I was faulty in acquiring any publishing permission from Quinn Cummings to repeat her words of wisdom about blogs in general. Forgive me, Quinn, but I found some reality in your words and want to share those words with my few readers. In fact, her post moved me to tears, and apparently it did so for some of her other readers, too. So at least, I'm not the only softie...

(What I'd really like to say -- but can't -- is that this brilliant writer "took the words out of my mouth"!)

...There is something about the
nature of a journal which makes it ideal for measuring and noting the time while
you wait for something to happen, and so many of you are writing about, and
living with, such challenging situations. My blog readers are living with
cancer, infertility, sick parents and sick children. It’s not all bad. You are
also living with new babies, new grandbabies, new marriages and new kitchens,
all of which are also carefully recorded. Some days, things are good. Some days,
they’re not. On the bad days, my readers of faith pray and write about their
comfort from that. On the bad days, my readers of less-than-faith find their
friends and their snack food of choice and write about their comfort from that.
But you blog-writers keep writing.

You write in frustration on
the days your teenage bipolar son has a bad reaction to his medication. You
write on the days they put your mother into a nursing home. You write on the
days they euthanize your beloved pet. You write in bad times, I suspect, for the
same reasons I do: because it helps you think, and while you don’t want to slip
completely under the warm water of self-pity, a few sympathetic words would feel
awfully nice. And every time I see how many people are out there, sitting in
their houses, reading the blogs of complete strangers and cheering them on, I
realize again what a strangely disconnected and oddly intimate thing a blog
is.

So, here’s my wish for my
readers in this last blog of the year. Whatever good thing you are waiting for,
I hope you get. I hope whatever thing you have struggled with this year
improves. I hope you get your one-year chip, your remission, your baby, your
house. If your wish is for a book deal, I hope you get that, along with a few
copper-bottomed pots to scrub while you think.

Happy 2008 and peace to all
people on earth.

New Traditions

It is almost Christmas Eve. Almost Christmas Day.

The city is festooned with decorations and lights. The stores are filled with bustling crowds doing last-minute shopping. The liquor stores and supermarkets are overflowing with harried customers who consult their lists in hand.

The holiday music has been "adorning" the airwaves for close to one month. Normally I don't mind the music and have my own "favorites"...but this year I just seemed to be more aware of it...and actually tired of the music, and of those normally middle-of-the-road, adult contemporary stations who have now been playing Xmas music, 24/7 for several weeks. How many versions of "Ava Maria" are there? How many Jewish composers and singers have been making a mint off these holiday songs?

What is the stereotype activity for Jews to do on Xmas Eve or Xmas Day?

I think that going out for Chinese food has always seemed to top the list. Where and when did that originate, I wonder?

Then, for Jewish singles, there are always singles dances and parties held on those famous dates. Or open house parties for which the whispered address spreads like wildfire.

There are movies to be seen...but don't make the mistake of trying to see a late show, because there usually aren't any on those two dates.

There is the "Let's rent a movie and order in pizza" option.

There is the "Let's go ice skating" (lucky if a public rink is open) option.

Of course, there are the MIAMI BEACH/CARIBBEAN CRUISE/MEXICO/ISRAEL/NEW YORK CITY options for those who can afford to take the time and money to do those things.

But for people like us, there is a new option; the replacement for the Chinese food/movie/singles dance/house party/video/skating/big travel plans ( "I think not!") is.......

....travelling to Niagara Falls to go for a night or two to the hotels that offer a waterpark package for families. It's rather reasonable, certainly fun, less than a 2-hour drive from Toronto, bordering the U.S. border (just in case we want to head to Buffalo and vicinity to do some power shopping. We have a pretty good and strong dollar these days).

We took this trip a couple years ago, thought it to be great fun. Apparently, many others have discovered this quick getaway too, because we know several families (10 young families from one neighborhood congregation booked off 10 rooms at one resort hotel) who are marking Niagara Falls on the GPS and are heading there tomorrow and on Monday.

If we're driving on the highway tomorrow, I'm pretty sure that I'll look over at a couple other vehicles and will know someone in them or will see a few "kippa people" heading in the same direction.

So contrary to this YouTube link that I will leave you with, I think that there is something "for a Jew to do."

Costco Observations

It is rare for me to go to Costco or any of these humongous warehouse type city stores. I'm not partial to crowds, and honestly, I don't need corporate size stacks of cleaning supplies or canned goods. I am known to be most practical, aka the coupon queen, so my spending habits in supermarkets are rather tame. But let me loose in Costco and I might go haywire!

The other night my husband and I went -- primarily to get new tires for my car and to have them put on. In the meantime, while waiting, of course we went into the store and spent several hundred (some of them unnecessary) dollars! Some were frivolous buys, others were practical. But the truth is that for some things, Costco is not a great "metziah"; any local supermarket or department store offers better sales, even on individual items that you'll buy multiples of in lieu of one bulk item. Just ask me; I know these things.

It is most interesting to enter a Costco at the start of the holiday season and see the carts filling up fast and the holiday fever in the air. I take the time to see what people are buying and imagine scenarios in which they'll share these purchases.

Gigantic bags of frozen shrimp were in many carts. As was bottled water. As was toilet paper.

Hmmm...eating too much shrimp makes you thirsty, I guess...and then you need to go to the bathroom.

I saw people with industrial size bags of frozen french fries, ketchup cans, mayonnaise bottles, bagged lettuce, and I figured they own restaurants and buy supplies here at a supposedly cheaper cost.

Italian fruit cakes, packages of chocolates, electronic gadgets, games tables, jewellery piled up in shopping carts. Someone will be most happy this Xmas.

For our family, the Kosher meat section is ideal and we're lucky to have 2 full-size stand-up freezers and two fridge freezers in which to store the chicken and beef that we bought. But in all honesty, for many of the other great Kosher items that are offered in bulk for fridge and freezer, I wouldn't be able to store all the merchandise. So I left it in the store for someone else to buy.

So, I guess the moral of this post is: shop wisely (which is not necessarily a Costco thing), and if you are at Costco, amuse yourself by observing others and imagining how they use the merchandise they buy.

Have a good Shabbos.

Erev Shabbos

...with a walk down memory lane...

TO THE DISCO

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IptifK7eLvw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vw6F3Sf-PGw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_hz2am90Hk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0ZG4lTmIu0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZcY5vxLbpA

...and for fun...from The Animaniacs: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjOePNFRFRU

Good Shabbos, everyone!

Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About PEZ (tm)...and More

I just stumbled upon this website http://www.collectingpez.com/.

I can't believe what kind of PEZ culture is out there -- you want to be able to differentiate between an authentic PEZ dispenser and a fake one, check out the site; you want to know how to properly load your PEZ dispenser, check out the site; you want to buy a glass display or a wooden display case/shelf for your PEZ collection, check out the site...

I'm sure we've all had our fun with those dispensers in our childhood and youth. How many of you got your fingers caught in those little spring-loaded traps? How long could you make those little candies last? Not long, I bet. "I'll have just one more," was no doubt your popular refrain.

Check out the site... It'll make your day just that much sweeter as you walk down Nostalgia Lane.

The Brainy Detective

I was thinking about my last post and realized that my son must've thought of Peter Sellers -- not as Hrundi V. Bakshi in "The Party" but as the famous Pink Panther himself, Inspector Jacques Clouseau.

I guess the kid figures that if you've seen one mustache you've seen 'em all.

And now a great line from "The Party":

C. S. Divot: You
mashuga!
Hrundi V. Bakshi: I am
not your sugar.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Bli ayin hara, my kids are pretty bright -- each has his/her own strengths -- and know a little about a lot...and sometimes a lot about a lot!

So I thought that perhaps my youngest son might know who the man was in the photo that I showed him.

"Do you know who this is?"

He nodded his head from side to side.

"No? You don't know who it is? I thought you might." (naive me thinks that everyone ought to recognize Einstein)

After a brief pause, he shrugged his shoulders and stated in a questioning way, "Peter Sellers?"

That cracked me up; he doesn't know Einstein, he knows Peter Sellers. A couple days earlier he'd watched the brilliant Peter Sellers movie, "The Party."

I guess my 7-year-old son knows that Peter Sellers is a man with countless disguises. But I'm not sure that brilliant mathematician is one of them!

416-756-6000

Is that my telephone number?

No. It's the number of North York General Hospital.



For the past 18 months or so I've had a very close relationship with that phone number. If it shows up on our phone display without my expecting it to, my stomach clenches and I prepare myself for the caller and the news on the other end.

Earlier this year I would ask people to daven for my father, who was in hospital.
Early last year I would ask people to daven for my father, who was in hospital.
I stopped telling people in the blogosphere about my hospital knowledge.
About my knowledge of ambulances and emergency rooms.

I don't even want to say about my knowledge of other city hospitals, other hospital phone numbers over the years.

My father spent nearly 3 weeks in hospital in March 2006.
He was in hospital between December 2006 and March 2007.
He was in hospital for a few days in May 2007.
He was in hospital for 10 days in July 2007, missing his grandson's bar mitzvah and family celebration in the course of events.
He was in hospital for 10 days in August 2007.
He was in and out of emergency about three times over the course of a week a couple of weeks ago.
A few days later he was back in emergency and was admitted.
He was in hospital for a week.
He came home on a Friday afternoon.
He was back in emergency on the Monday. He was admitted on Tuesday.
My father is in hospital once again.

We have to find some humor in all of this. Someone I'd met in the emergency room in March 2006 asked if my dad was a "frequent flier" at the hospital. Not too long ago I told someone that with all my father's accumulated "airmiles" at the hospital, he could've already travelled around the world and back.

Maintain your health, be thankful if it's good, enjoy your families and friends...and be extra-nice to doctors and nurses.

I hope none of you have to know hospital phone numbers off the top of your head!

My father's name is Yaakov Arieh ben Chaya Malka.

A little bit of davening on his behalf might just be the medicine he needs.

Thank you.

From Our (Dog)House To Yours...

...Chag Sameach. Happy Chanukah!

Tagged at 8

I've been tagged by Fancy Maven...

8 passions in my life

My husband

My three kids

Our dog

My parents

My siblings

Writing

Editing

Music

8 things to do before I die

Publish a children's book

Sing at a piano bar alongside the pianist

Tell some people what I REALLY think of them

Organize family photos

Improve my confidence level

Go back to Saint Maarten, where I honeymooned

Visit Paris and Switzerland with my daughter

Share hugs and kisses a little more frequently

8 things I often say

Love ya

You're such a schnauzer

Ciao babe

Hi booba

How many times do I have to say the same thing!

I can't find my cell phone -- it's SOMEWHERE in my purse

I'm going to tell your Abba

II'll be there in a few minutes...

8 Books I read recently

{How embarrassing that I haven't been reading recently, lately, in the not too distant past, either!}

8 songs that mean something to me

It Had to be You

A Whole New World

Aishet Chayil

Those Were the Days

Dust in the Wind

Time After Time

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

Papa, Can You Hear Me?

8 qualities I look for in a friend

Non-judgemental

Sense of Humor

Family-oriented

Good sense of humor

Sense of adventure

Sensitive

Compassionate

Similar interests

8 people whom I'm passing this on to...but in case you DON'T want to do the meme, at least come up with 8 reasons why you can't or won't :)

Raggedy Mom

Oriyenta

Here in the Hills

Miriam

Neil F.

Elie

Cruisin' Mom

Marallyn

Remembrance Day -- November 11, 2007

This is a beautiful personal essay I read in today's Toronto Star. I wanted to share it in honor of Remembrance Day, and tip my imaginary hat to all those veterans of WW1, WW2, the Korean War and the war in Afghanistan who have fought, some of them fighting "the good fight" to their ends.

Lest We Forget what Remembrance Day is really about

It's about families who still cry over namesakes they never knew ...

Nov 11, 2007 AM

Harriet Cooper

I always hated my name. Harriet. Not a name you'll find among the most popular girls names.
I never felt it was mine. It belonged to my uncle, Harry, who was killed in World War II.
I got his name for two reasons.

First, in keeping with Jewish tradition, children are named after family and friends who have died to honour their memory.

Second, although my mother and aunts wanted to save his name for a boy, they kept having girls. During her second pregnancy, my mother decided her baby – boy or girl – was going to be named after Harry.

For most of my life, I've worn the name uneasily. How could I remember somebody who died before I was born? Somebody I only knew through a bunch of medals my mother keeps in a drawer and a picture of a fresh-faced soldier, a kid really, in uniform.

My mother never talked about him and I didn't ask, too afraid to stir up painful memories. While I only knew him from a photograph, he was her adored older brother – the only boy in the family.

As I've gotten older, I've become interested in exploring my roots. Harry was one of those roots.
I wanted to know more about the man who gave his life for his country and his name to a niece he would never know.

With Remembrance Day approaching, I called my mother and asked her to tell me about him.
With tears in her voice, she spoke about a quiet, good-looking young man with a sense of humour.

A case of rheumatic fever kept him from completing high school and left him with a heart murmur.

Rather than finish school the next year, he looked for part-time work. He spent his first paycheque on a rose-coloured plate for his mother.

When World War II erupted, Harry enlisted, despite his heart problems. After training, he shipped out to England and then to Italy. My grandparents sent him care packages – cookies, chocolate, cigarettes and gum – which he shared with the civilian families who had even less than he did.

The news of his death came during the High Holidays, when Jewish families celebrate the New Year. Only for Harry, there would never be a new year.

While our conversation left us both in tears, they were tears of relief. My mother finally had a chance to talk about her brother; I had a chance to see beyond some medals and a picture to a real person.

Since then, I've thought about the ways in which my uncle and I are similar – a sense of humour and a belief in giving to others. Even more, I've thought about the ways we are different.
At 20, my biggest concern was doing well at university. His was struggling to stay alive. At 20, I had my whole life ahead of me. At 20, he had six feet of earth in a cemetery in Rimini, Italy, and a Star of David carved into his tombstone, along with the words: "At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will always remember you."

Instead of disliking my name, I'm now proud to share his name. I can only hope he'd be proud of me, too.

This year on Remembrance Day, and every day thereafter, I will honour what is written on his tombstone: I will remember Private Harry Silver of the Loyal Edmonton Regiment, killed in action at age 20, Sept. 20, 1944, in the battle of Rimini, Italy.

My uncle. My namesake.

Harriet Cooper is a Toronto writer and teacher.

The Hollywood Story...about the Writers' Strike

19-Cent Cheques Leave Writers Wanting Change

Nov 04, 2007 04:30 AM

Ken Levine

Special to the Star

Why are Hollywood writers about to go on strike tomorrow? We asked Ken Levine, a Tinseltown scribe and Emmy winner with a near-peerless sitcom pedigree, having worked on Cheers, Frasier, M*A*S*H and The Simpsons. He's also the author of one of the sharper blogs in showbiz: kenlevine.blogspot.com.

I got a cheque recently from American Airlines. A royalty cheque. For the past several years as part of their "inflight entertainment"American Airlines has been showing episodes of Cheers, M*A*S*H and Becker that I wrote along with episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond, Frasier and Dharma & Greg that I directed. Considering the number of flights and years I'd estimate they've shown my shows 10,000 times. My compensation for that: $0.19. That's right – 19 cents (American, so it's even less in Canada.) I figure at that rate, in 147 years I'll be able to buy one of their snack boxes.

An episode of Frasier I wrote is out on DVD. I make nothing. The script is included in a book. I make zilch. Soon you'll be able to download and watch it on your iPod or iPhone at IHOP. The only one who won't make money is "i".

Are you sensing a pattern?

The Writers Guild of America is asking the mega-corporations that own the entertainment industry in America and the galaxy to compensate its members fairly for this highly desired product they create. Just a piece, that's all. More than nothing. And without sounding greedy, more than nineteen cents.

Via-Uni-Time-Corps-Ney would rather have a strike.

I've been through three of them already. Many of the companies I struck are no longer in business. Two-thirds of the people I struck with are no longer in the guild. And unlike actors and directors, when we go out it doesn't just shut down the industry. It slows it. Hair restoration crèmes have faster results.

But as someone who has prospered and enjoyed the gains writers before me have won, I feel it's my obligation to fight the good fight for the next generation. And hopefully in 20 years, when the issue is holograms transmitted directly to the back of viewers' eyelids, WGA members will hang tough for a piece of that pie.

This acrimony between writers and management has been a proud tradition since the 1930s when scribes first rose up and had the audacity to ... well, ask for things. Warner Brothers czar Jack Warner warned that any writer who joined the union would "find themselves out of work forever." And he claimed this wasn't blacklisting because "it would all be done over the telephone." Darryl Zanuck of 20th Century Fox once shouted, "Throw that writer off the lot until I need him again!" Critic David Thomson says Hollywood writers are like divorce lawyers or private eyes. When you want them you have to have them, but later you despise them.
Is it any wonder we "schmucks with Underwoods" have an inferiority complex and assume a defensive posture? We spend our entire careers trying to protect our work from meddling studios, directors, actors, fellow writers, research gurus, networks, and girlfriends of all of the above.

Yes, we're an angry bunch, a self-righteous bunch, but we make 19 cents from American Airlines when management flies in private jets.

I teach a seminar called The Sitcom Room (sitcomroom.com). It's a fun weekend where I simulate the experience of actually being on the writing staff of a network show. Students rewrite scripts, have real actors perform their work, and learn first hand the realities of the business – little sleep, bad Chinese food, notes. But they eagerly participate, because they love the process, they have a need to express themselves, they want to be heard. Not one has said they want to be a TV writer to make money.

And when they finally do enter the industry, who knows what that industry will be? New delivery systems are emerging so rapidly that even the "unthinkable" was obsolete five minutes ago. These young writers will embrace that future, and through their vision and zeal will make it soar. All they're asking for is their fair share. MyPiece, not MySpace. iShare, not iTunes. NetWorth, not NetFlix.

And Now a Word from the Peanut Gallery

I've mentioned this book in a previous post -- The Modern Jewish Girl's Guide to Guilt. It's a wonderful anthology of personal essays exploring various aspects of life and the Jewish woman.
It is funny, and honest, and insightful. I have picked it up, read an essay here and there, then put it down and picked it up weeks later; it's that kind of "pick-me-up" read.

Anyhow, I had the book at work to read over my lunch hour; it was sitting on my desk.

A non-Jewish co-worker passed by, spotted the book, and asked -- in a very Jewish way:

"For that you need a handbook??"

What's with the "Ugh" in Donut?

When I was working in copy editing for the trade publisher, I'd always have to change the spelling of DONUT to DOUGHNUT...adding that "UGH" whenever necessary.

So this correlation was on my mind this morning and the other day as I was driving.

On Saturday night, after 8 p.m., I was driving, came to an intersection, close to a doughnut shop, and spotted a cop car. I wondered if the cop was coming from the shop at that hour. Then I started to wonder what exactly a cop's routine is -- going from doughnut shop to doughnut shop until a call comes in over his radio? He probably leaves white powder sugar as evidence on his own police equipment!

This morning, while driving to work on a rather large and busy main street, I noticed several police cars as I neared an intersection -- three were parked on one side of the road, two were parked on another. I wondered who they'd be busting at 8:15 a.m., having a need for five police vehicles. And then I saw it: the doughnut shop!

And several officers were huddled outside its doors, standing around and talking freely.

My taxpayer's dollars hard at work...

I discovered this on a website, and thought I'd share it with you.

Why Do Cops Like Donuts?

This is a question that has plagued mankind for years. The answer is quite simple.
1. Donuts are relatively inexpensive, so they can be discarded with little guilt, in case of a hot call in the middle of a snack break.
2. In many areas, the donut shop is the only place open 24 hours.
3. Donuts have sugar and carbohydrates, which allow for quick energy. Donuts, coupled with the ever present cup of coffee, help keep the officers awake and alert.
4. Donut shops are usually located in centralized areas, which can be used as a meeting place for briefings between Officers of different agencies or shifts.
5. Donuts are TASTY! Can you think of anyone who DOESN'T like donuts?

There you have it. There is no great mystery as to why Cops and donuts go hand in hand. One word of advice. When the Police Officer asks you,"Have you been drinking? Your eyes are red." Don't reply, "Have you been eating donuts? Your eyes are glazed ."

Shlemazel Mazel Revisited...Yet Again!

The latter part of Sukkot we were hosting and were guests, but the first day lunch we were hosting, so there was much preparing for the large crowd we were having. Being a bit organized this time, I divvied up the meal-making over a few days, just leaving a couple of things to do for Erev Yom Tov, when I came home from work in the early afternoon.

One of those things was making gefilte fish.

No, I'm not such a balebusta that I buy chopped fish or the unthinkable, grind it myself, and make gefilte fish. But I do make the frozen fish loaves, doctoring them up in a flavorful way as they cook.

And I made two loaves. And when it was time to take them out of the pot, I used a couple of utensils to try to balance a loaf at each end. The first loaf didn't cooperate and fell back into the pot. S P L A S H! OUCHOUCHOUCH....! (a stronger expression actually spewed forth from my lips) The water had splashed onto the middle of my hand and on some fingers.

The pain was quite unbearable; after a minute of shock, I ran the hand under cold water and blew on the hand the way our mothers always blew on our "boo-boos" to make them feel better. Still so painful and tingling at the same time, the way skin does when you have "pins and needles" after a foot or a hand falls asleep and you get up to move.

I found some cream to put on the injury -- my domestic "war wound" -- and told my story to my husband and children as they came through the door.

The next day, the area that had been splashed was visibly red, the next day it being worse, and a couple of fingers being swollen. A doctor friend at shul declared it a first-degree burn and told me to continue to apply the Polysporin (TM) cream, which was not a burn cream, but the only one I had at home.

The hand became a conversation piece at shul and in mixed company: "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?" I tried to put on cream and then wrap it in gauze, but I looked too much like a mummy in that area. (a "mummy mummy") So I continued to keep it exposed.

About a week ago, the skin, which had turned reddish-brown, began to flake and peel and itch like mad...hopefully a sign of true healing.

It is not a pretty sight this hand of mine, but my youngest son noticed something that gave me a bit more perspective of the matter. A couple of days ago, he looked at the area in the middle of my hand that was flaking the most and exposing a new, light pink skin beneath, and he said, "It looks like a heart."

My little boy was right! That main wound is now noticeably in the shape of a heart.

There are some people who are said to wear their heart on their sleeve. Your friend Pearl wears hers on her hand...

I'd hate to think that a large scar might remain on my left hand from this kitchen mishap, but at least I know that the gefilte fish, which was the instigator, was enjoyed by those guests at my meals.

I can imagine it now: "Where did you get that bad scar?"

"Oh...that? From gefilte fish!"

Everything I Ever Needed to Know, I Learned...

...from the Internet!

I even learned something about myself...

Cultured pearls are simply real pearls managed in a semi-controlled environment.

LOOK! UP IN THE SKY...

...it's a plane.

Indeed it is.

I love walking in the neighborhood very late at night with Max, our "three-poo," and looking up at the night sky. It's dark, but as we live in the suburbs, we can actually see stars, instead of a mulitude of high voltaged lights. (contrary to Toronto's downtown business core)

One of the neatest things I love to see is an airplane cross the sky, his headlights on as he skims the inky dark. Those headlights/high beams cut swaths of brightness across its clear or cloudy path, just as a car does while driving on a lonely stretch of road.

Truly a sight to behold...

When I Grow Up I Want to Be...

We live in a modern, technological world. We witness advancements and progress on a daily basis.

People have different ambitions today than they might have had...say...40 years ago -- simply because the influences of media and education and society are different.

I don't believe that the ambition I'm about to share with you would have been on my "To Do" list 20 years ago. In fact, it might not have even been there a year or two ago. But it's somewhere near the top of the list these days. I don't imagine I'll actually fulfill that ambition simply because I don't tend to be a trendsetter or a leader; I'm a follower but still a doer.

Here's the wishful thinking ambition:

You know how you open up your emails on a daily basis and get jokes/videos/links to websites constantly being forwarded to you. You might get repeats of these emails from several friends and co-workers because these emails are making the rounds of the Internet.

Well, I want to write something or find something that's so attractive, so appealing, so interesting or so poignant or amusing, that I WILL START the ball rolling on a particular email. It will ORIGINATE from me and circle the globe through the forces of the Internet. It would sort of be similar to Norman Rockwell's "Gossip" -- I start off the email and eventually it finds its way back to me.

Hey, who knows...maybe it's this post that will have its fifteen minutes [or emails!] in the spotlight...!

Head Count

...so this is how the past few weeks have been.

Erev Yom Kippur -- I went to a funeral for the husband of a woman I used to work with. The family was able to sit shiva for 1 hour.

Erev Sukkot -- my husband went to a funeral of a close friend of ours. The family was able to sit shiva for 1 hour.

Chol Hamoed Sukkot Sunday -- my husband and I went to a funeral for a shul member. The family was somewhat in limbo for several days. The shiva begins tonight, motzei Shabbos. This afternoon, a friend and I went to deliver a seudat shlishit meal for the family.

Tomorrow, Sunday -- my husband and I will go to a funeral for the mother of a shul member, who is also our friend. His family was at our home this past Thursday for lunch, but our friend wasn't; after shul he walked for over two hours to get to the hospital where his mother had been taken by ambulance just before Yom Tov began on Wednesday night. He came home late on Thursday night; his mother was in intensive care. Yesterday morning, he and his wife walked to the hospital to be with his mother. Last night his mother passed away.
Today when I went to the other family who is waiting for the official shiva to begin, our friend who'd just lost his mother last night was also there to visit. It would be his only time because tomorrow, shiva will start to be observed by his family.

To say it mildly, it has been one hell of a tough couple of weeks. Yes, we've started a New Year and the famous "Who shall live and who shall die" has been presented to us. Let us hope for a better year and a better new month, which will start toward week's end.

Shavuah tov.

I Came, I Davened, I Ate...

...just about sums up the chagim/holidays for me.

[by the way, I have to try to recreate this post, as it got zapped before it could get published. GRRRRR!!!!]

"Food, glorious food" seemed to be the base line of the holidays. Guesting, hosting and feasting.

The question is now, do I start that intended diet after Shabbos is out this week? Do I wait for a few more weeks until the few upcoming simchas we have on our social calendar have come and gone?

Or do I just eat...and enjoy? With no guilt, no silent reminders that this is worth a few unnecessary calories and that is worth many necessary calories?

...and speaking of guilt....

I'm in the middle of reading a terrific anthology of essays entitled: The Modern Jewish Girl's Guide to Guilt. And yes, food is mentioned in several places...and yes, there is enough to say about food that makes one feel guilty!

I hope you've been enjoying your Yom Tov meals, whether you've cooked them yourself or whether you've partaken of them on others' homes. In case any of you would like to sample TorontoPearl's mediocre cooking and TorontoPearl's husband's amazing cooking (and baking), you are always welcome to join us.

Just do us a favor -- leave your guilt outside the dining room!

Moadim l'simcha and enjoy the rest of Sukkot.

Timing Is Everything

Forty-six years ago, my mother gave birth to a baby girl.

Apparently, that baby came out about three weeks early... I guess, curious to discover the world.

Why, then, is that "baby" no longer early for anything, but always running late, feeling flustered and flurried?

That "baby" should ask Bruce Springsteen, Julio Iglesias, Jason Alexander and Mickey Rooney if they also have trouble with time management. Kublai Kahn, Augustus Caesar, John Coltrane are TOO LATE to answer the question!
********************************

I hope you all had an easy and meaningful fast. May your prayers be heard, may forgiveness be bestowed upon you and may you have a healthy and happy year.

Mi Yichyeh u'Mi Yamut...*

* Who shall live and who shall die...

"These words from the liturgy of the High Holy Days testify to our insecurity. As we grow older, our youthful illusions of invulnerability begin to disappear, and the questions become ever more acute. Perhaps the most difficult transition we make as adults is the first time we catch ourselves saying, “If you have your health, you have everything,”—and we remember how completely uncomprehending we were when we, as teenagers, heard exactly those words from our great aunt, the one who had doilies covering her tables and newspapers on her freshly scrubbed floors."

(from Rabbi Robert L. Wolkoff, http://www.agudath-achim.com/)

Is this first paragraph not true? As young innocents, we don't think truly about the words we are saying, but as we age, we do.

I thought that perhaps I was morbid as I stood at shul over Rosh Hashanah and thought these thoughts. But in hindsight, as I think about all the things that are wrong with our world, all the people I know who are not well, or who have already been touched by grief and sadness in their lives, I think it is only right that I am aware of these words.

I looked around the shul and wondered who would be davening with us next year, who would be missing. Just like looking at a family photo album. Take out your parents' photo albums or look at your own wedding albums, if you're married. Scan the faces. You will see and say to yourself, "This one isn't here anymore; this one died a year after I married; he is in a nursing home." The list goes on.

And unfortunately, next year at shul, you will probably encounter similar losses. Familiar faces will be missing. Some families will be smaller and will need to buy fewer High Holiday tickets.

Perhaps I was most aware of the theme of this post as the kohanim went up on the bimah for "duchenin"; two of those men that were up there, whom I know, have cancer. They have been taking treatments and I believe that one of them has decided to stop his treatments. It shows in his face, in his body and in his wife's eyes as she looks at him.

As those men stood and blessed the congregants, as kohanim have done for centuries, I couldn't help but wonder if these men would be around next year to bless us again.

And moreso I thought that they are blessing us; Hashem should bless them hundredfold with strength and good health.

And how does one wish a true "refuah shlema" on someone who is so ill? Do you? Can you? Or do you wish them strength, as I do?

It is my fervent hope that we will all be inscribed in the Book of Life for the coming year; that strength, and hope, and prayer, and tradition will be part of those pages of our own Book of Life.

Gmar chatimah tovah.

Out with the Old, In with the New

As I stand on the threshhold of a new Jewish year, I stop to take stock.

I review so I can see what I've learned this past year...if anything.

I review so I can see what my next step should be.

I review so I can appreciate what I have -- and what I still have.

It has certainly been a year filled with emotional strife as I've dealt with family members with ill health and lengthy and several hospitalizations. Each of those hospitalizations also had me review the past and hope and pray for a better future.

As I do now...for my family, for your families and for all of Klal Yisroel.

May you be surrounded by those near and dear to you...whether in person or whether in memory.

May the road of life you travel down this coming year be smooth, with no sharp turns or major detours.

May the wishes you seek for yourself become reality.

May good health be your best friend.

May laughter, not tears, prevail in your life.

To all of you: SHANAH TOVAH U'METUKA. A sweet happy New Year.

Forever Young

Talk amongst yourselves... Then you can shout out your answers.

If you could be immortalized in any creative form, by someone living or dead, what form would it take and who would create it?

1. I would opt for a caricature done by Al Hirschfeld. He was a brilliant artist whose drawings I looked forward to seeing in the NY Times and elsewhere. It's interesting to watch any caricature artist at work, especially someone as talented as Hirschfeld was.

How would he depict me? Would he make my nose big? My lips big? My freckles big?

2. Also in the realm of caricature art, I would pick Norman Mingo to duplicate me.

Who the heck is Norman Mingo, you ask? Just think of Alfred E. Neuman...MAD Magazine...cover art. Also a brilliant, detailed artist who made his MAD Magazine cover people come alive.

(revelation: I didn't know his name either. I had to GOOGLE "Mad Magazine Cover Art" to find the guy whose design style I enjoyed.)

3. And last but not least, I would like James Taylor ("Sweet Baby James") to write an original, wholesome, mellow but catchy tune about Pearl.

YOUR TURN..................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!