Numbers & Pearl Don't Mix

I can add; I can subtract; I can multiply; I can divide; I can figure out percentages. I can decide if a price I see on a tag or label is a good buy.

But that's about it.

Talk numbers to me -- I'm lost.

Talk investment returns -- and I'm befuddled.

Talk measurement conversions -- and I screw up with a recipe.

Is that why I married an accountant? I wonder.

And no, not ALL accountants are boring people, contrary to their reputation!

It's All in the Jeans...

...aka When a Spelling Error Just Won't Do!




The following job posting is available for the 2006-2007 school year:

Jewish Studies Middle School Half-Time Position

Requirements: Knowledge of Hebrew Language Arts, Bible Studies, Denim, T'fillah and Oral Law

C'mon, people, hire me already. I will edit your work before you post it for all the world to see!

"It's the law!"

(Denim is actually supposed to say "Dinim"--which means Jewish laws)

E.S.P.*

* Extra Sensory Persuasion ... for the sake of this post!

How often have you found yourself saying, "Great minds think alike" when you find yourself having the same idea as another person. You might reach for the phone to call someone, and just then your phone rings and it's that person at the other end. You might decide it's high time you write a note to a friend, and before you attempt to write one, you go to your mailbox and find a note from that friend waiting for you.

I have always had that "psychic" relationship with my mother. I can forever hear her saying, after I've said something, "How did you know I was going to say that?" or "How did you know it was me on the other end of the line?" or "I was just going to call you" when it's me who calls her.

Surprisingly enough, I have that rapport with my husband, too. Even when we were dating, I "clicked" with him in more ways than one. "How did you know I was going to say that?" became a common refrain between us.

Tonight I had another taste of our connectedness. My husband went grocery shopping after Shabbos, in preparation for a light supper we're hosting tomorrow night for family.We'd decided he was going to buy sugar waffle cones -- something we never buy -- because we have ice cream at home, and that would make for a nice dessert.

When he was gone, I realized that waffle cones are rather big, thus take a lot of scoops per cone, and we probably didn't have enough ice cream to go around. So I decided to call him with a change of plans. Only problem was that his phone didn't get picked up and I was forced to leave a message. I said that perhaps instead of cones, he should buy waffle cone cups instead so it would be more appropriate for the amount of ice cream we have, and maybe some strawberries or berries to cut up on top and whipped cream to decorate with. (we've never bought waffle cone cups, and it is once every several years that we buy whipped cream)

Well, he came home, dropped off some bags, then went to the van to get more. As I unpacked the first bunch of bags, I saw a can of whipped cream. And I thought, "Good, so he got my message."

He walked into the house again and I said, "Good, I see you got my message."

"What message?"

"The one I left you. I was afraid you didn't hear it."

"I didn't check for messages.... I want to show what I got.... I decided instead of waffle cones to buy waffle cups. It'll be really a nice dessert." And he pulls a box of these out of a shopping bag.

"And I didn't buy them tonight, but I thought we could buy strawberries or berries tomorrow to put on top. I did buy whipped cream, though."

Another coincidence for the books.

I asked, "Did you really not listen to the phone message I left?"

"No."

"Please listen to it!"

I announced then, "There's a reason Hashem put us together!"

Excuse-Moi???

I was just looking at a job description (yes, I'm still looking for a full-time or part-time job) and saw this in the last line of qualifications:

Fluency in French is an asset, as is membership in/designation from The International Ass

No wonder this job is called PUBLIC AFFAIRS ASSOCIATE...!

Whitney & Bobby

Whitney Houston filed for divorce from Bobby Brown...

FINALLY!!!!

What the heck brought you two together? What the heck was keeping you two together for 14 years amidst the drugs, the alchohol, the arrests...basically, the nasty entertainment headlines?

Enough is enough.

Check Out These Links

I found this a link to this great website while visiting over at Marallyn ben Moshe's blog. Her blog ain't bad, either!

Link to http://www.paulsadowski.com/birthday.asp and find out interesting and little known facts having to do with your birthdate. And while you're at it, link to http://www.paulsadowski.com/Numbers.asp and find out interesting and little known facts having to do with your name.

Seraphic Silence...No More

Seraphic Secret is apparently up and running...no doubt, much to the pleasure of Robert Avrech and his many fine readers.

I hope you took my advice from several hours ago and reviewed some of Seraphic Secret's earliest posts.

There will be a quiz tomorrow.

A Seraphic Silence

I've been advised by the powers that be -- Robert J. Avrech -- to please let readers know that Seraphic Secret is temporarily silent.

Due to technical difficulties -- *&%$%^#%^!!!!! -- Robert is unable to post.

In the meantime, why not read some of Seraphic Secret's older posts? Why not start at the beginning? Rediscover the early days of this warm and wonderful blog.

Please make certain to have tissues handy. You might just need them....

I Like Jeremiah's Idea

In the comments section of my last post, Jeremiah had a good idea: the question behind my post could be the premise of a plausible independent film. He stressed "independent."

Does that mean that no studio would care to join forces with me?

Does that mean that it is the story of an independent blogger after all, that no match can be made in blogland?

Truth is....NOTHING. I have no personal stories to share and so I'd hoped that perhaps one of you might've heard something or come across a story about bloggers trysting and maybe taking it further, ie. trysting " 'til death do they part."

Apparently, some of you folks have suspicious minds. "Is Pearl hinting at something personal?"..."Is Pearl keeping back 'the whole story'?"... "Is PsychoToddler Pearl's long-distance paramour?"

Nothing to be suspicious about. I lead a boring -- but happy -- life, interspersed with some personal blog posts. Yes, I consider myself sort of friends or long-distance acquaintances with some bloggers, but that's it. But somewhere deep down, my subconscious must've been trying to set me up for something it considered exciting.

The other night I had a dream. Yes, Martin Luther King and I both had a dream. His had to do with racial justice; mine had to do with a blogger who was at some social gathering where I was, and apparently said blogger was trying to woo me, so much so that I believe that the social gathering turned into an engagement party of sorts. An engagement party for me...and the blogger. All along in this dream, I was thinking, "But I'm happily married....!"

AND THEN I WOKE UP.

The dream niggled at my thoughts. Why this blogger? Why this dream?

And I began to wonder about such a scenario -- not in my life, but in others' -- and that led to the premise of my last post. Which apparently is now the possible premise of an independent film...if there are any takers out there?

There are people who, no doubt, discover that life and love can co-exist in blogland. Whether they expressively seek this new love out, or just stumble upon it, I'm sure that somewhere there also already exists a blog or a bulletin board/forum where bloggers can write about loves lost in real life, and loves found in blogland.

* A personal note to Dr. Bean: PsychoToddler was only a temporary diversion. Please take him back. He's all yours. As for Cruisin' Mom, she can be yours too...for the price of a babka!

Something To Ponder

Have you heard of any bloggers who have left their spouses and/or significant others...FOR A BLOGGER?

Learning Any Which Way

My boys LOVE LOVE LOVE GameCube. They play games for one, they play games for two, they trade in games that they tire of.

GameCube can be the cause of many distractions, many parent-child disagreements in our home.

Why not just take it away from the boys? you ask. Truth is, I do, from time to time, but always end up giving it back at the end of the day or a few days later.

And I've just decided that there's another reason I can't take it away for good -- at least not from my six-year-old. And why is that?

Because...he learns a lot from GameCube.

Like what? you ask.

Well, for starters, he learns hand-eye coordination; he learns about high tech and how to make things work for you. In playing certain games, he learns all about sports, specifically current hockey and baseball players. He knows names of players, of teams, knows their stats, and more importantly, learns geography.

On Friday nights, while sitting around the Shabbos table, we often play Geography. We go around the table and everyone says a place name using the last letter of the last place name given by the prior player.

My little guys thinks of the most obscure places! I wonder how he knows of them -- my husband pointed out to me this weekend: GameCube. Because my son knows team names, he knows what city these baseball and hockey teams play in, eg. Anaheim, San Diego, Detroit, he stores the names up to use in future Geography games.

It is a wonderful game, and all of us -- ages 6, 9, 11 1/2, 45 and 46 -- play and enjoy it thoroughly!

So...could I interest you in GameCube to start...and then perhaps a game of Geography?

One Thing To Say, Mom...

Vill Glück zum Geburri!

Women in Tights

So...is this image saying matter-of-factly that tights please people, ie. men and women... Or is it a request, "I want tights, please" ?

In my case, it's a bit of both...

When I was a child, I wore cotton or nylon tights of all patterns and all shades. The unfortunate thing is that the nylon ones would run easily, and the cotton ones would pill. I remember sitting in class at school, plucking at all these little pills on those leggings!

And because I was tall and leggy, it was often difficult to find the right length of tights. And when I did, I also had to be assured that the hosiery wouldn't shrink. Oftentimes, I sagged big time in the crotch area; the tights weren't sitting flush, as they should, and it was uncomfortable. I always imagined that if someone were to throw a tennis ball against my tights, I could've bounced the ball right back to the pitcher, using the material's tension in the way the tights sat on my body, a few inches below where they should have.

I never danced ballet or jazz when I grew up, so I never had tutus and leggings or tights; and I never took great notice of the superheroes wearing their tights, save for Catwoman and perhaps Robin, in his dorky outfit.

But I'm grown up now. And I've decided that I love tights. So much so that I had to go to a nice local store and sort through their display of tights and buy myself a few pairs.

I went for basic black. No patterns. Just stark black with a shimmer from the Lycra.

I've been wearing tights now for the past three days. I almost don't want to take them off! Yes, they keep my legs cozy in this early fall-early winter weather we've been having of late. But it's more than that...

They give me superpowers. Call me Catwoman. I can purr and meow now with the best of the other tights wearers in the world. I can slink down a catwalk -- okay, maybe not in spiked heels, but in a comfortable-looking and comfortable-feeling pair of shoes -- 'cause my tights are just about ready for anything.

Tights make me feel sexy. They make my legs look flawless. They make my legs look longer. They make me walk straighter. They make me feel self-assured.

Okay, nylons are good too-- patterns and prices abound -- but give me a pair of tights and I swear, it's like I'm wearing a "second skin."

If I go so gaga over a pair of tights -- especially a pair that fit! -- imagine what a pair of ankle sports socks with pom-poms do to me...!

An E-mail I Received Today

I dreamt that I went to Heaven and an angel was showing me around. We walked side-by-side inside a large workroom filled with angels.

My angel guide stopped in front of the first section and said, "This is the Receiving Section. Here, all petitions to Hashem said in prayer are received." I looked around in this area, and it was terribly busy with so many angels sorting out petitions written on voluminous paper sheets and scraps from people all over the world.

Then we moved on down a long corridor until we reached the second section. The angel then said to me, "This is the Packaging and Delivery Section. Here, the graces and blessings the people asked for are processed and delivered to the living persons who asked for them." I noticed again how busy it was there. There were many angels working hard at that station, since so many blessings had been requested and were being packaged for delivery to Earth.

Finally at the farthest end of the long corridor we stopped at the door of a very small station. To my great surprise, only one angel was seated there, idly doing nothing. "This is the Acknowledgment Section," my angel friend quietly admitted to me. He seemed embarrassed.

"How is it that? There's no work going on here?" I asked.

"So sad," the angel sighed. "After people receive the blessings that they asked for, very few send back acknowledgments.

"How does one acknowledge HaShem's blessings?" I asked.

"Simple," the angel answered. "Just say, 'Thank you, Hashem.'

"What blessings should they acknowledge?" I asked.

"If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep ... you are richer than 75% of this world.

"If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish, you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.

"And if you get this on your own computer, you are part of the 1% in the world who has that opportunity.

"Also .....If you woke up this morning with more health than illness ...... you are more blessed than the many who will not even survive this day.

"If you have never experienced the fear in battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation ... you are ahead of 700 million people in the world.

"If you can attend a shul meeting without fear of harassment, arrest, torture or death ... you are envied by, and more blessed than, three billion people in the world.

"If your parents are still alive and still married, you are very rare.

"If you can hold your head up and smile, you are not the norm, you are unique to all those in doubt and despair."

Ok, what now? How can I start?

If you can read this message, you just received a double blessing in that someone was thinking of you as very special and you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world who cannot read at all. Have a good day, count your blessings, and if you want, pass this along to remind everyone else how blessed we all are.

"Attn: Acknowledge Dept.: Thank You Hashem!

"Thank you Hashem, for giving me the ability to share this message and for giving me so many wonderful people to share it with."

Fashion Sense

I was sorting through my daughter's dresser drawers and bedroom closet today, seeing what still fit and what didn't. She has A LOT of clothes and as my husband says all the time, "You have to get rid of stuff for all the new stuff [many of which are gifts] that comes in. Otherwise we'll have to buy another house."

Some of the stuff I just made a judgment call on and removed and bagged to pass on to a friend for her daughter. About others I announced, "This doesn't fit you anymore."

My daughter piped up, "Oh yes it does." And she proceeded to put it on over whatever she dressed in this morning.

This scene kept repeating itself with each new item of clothing that I held up for inspection. "Oh yes it does." Another article of clothing went on.

After a few minutes my daughter was wearing a short sleeved sweater, under a turtleneck sweater, with a vest on top, and a housecoat on top of that, and a summer dress over her pants.

Talk about the layered look... Talk about trying to convince me to keep her stuff... Talk about a creative way to argue one's point....

Talk about a fashion sense...

Child # 4

Notice the "before" pic of me, taken almost a year ago, before Pearl and the family even considered getting another dog.
But it was this pic that drew them in. I was still Snoopy in that period of my life.

Since the family got me in January, I'm now known as Max.

Yay, Pearl finally posted a recent picture of me. I threatened to pee on her Persian rug if she didn't!

She got a new camera phone, took some pics and took longer to try to figure out how to download them to her computer and then on to her [really cool] blog.

Aren't I cute? I can hear you saying "Poo, Poo, Poo" as opposed to the more familiar Jewish "Pu, Pu, Pu"...but that's okay, 'cause I am a shih-poo after all, and sometime ago, Pearl blogged about me after taking me for a late-night walk one day and announced that I'm not really a shih-poo, but rather a three-poo. Guess you figured that out, too!

So...was I worth the wait? Talk about puppy dog eyes...

A Violin Speaks

If you ever need to have a good cry, but the tears won't necessarily come, tune in to this performance by Itzhak Perlman -- the theme from Schindler's List. Unless you are made of rock, you will be weeping.

It is a magnificent piece of music, scored by John Williams, a master of movie soundtracks. Perlman, like always, makes his violin speak...and sing...and cry.

Shabbat Shalom. May there be peace in your homes and in your lives.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGXMZK6T_Fo

Canine-a-Hora

Hi, guys. It's Max -- formerly known as Snoopy. If you read Pearl's blog religiously, you already knew that. If not, let me explain very quickly.

Pearl and her family adopted me. My given name was Snoopy. She decided I'm not worthy of being called Snoopy. She asked child # 3 to name me when he saw a photo of me -- he didn't know yet, nor did his siblings, that I was about to enter their lives -- and he said I looked like a "Tyson." Pearl decided it wouldn't be good luck to give me the name of their dog who died last year, so she told her son that name had already been taken and to think of another. He chose "Max." And it stuck.

I may be a little snoopy, keeping my nose close to the ground and sniffing/snooping around for clues, but I'm more of a max. I live life to the max; I have energy to the max; and I'm the sweetest pooch to the max.

I've come to like Pearl's family, especially Pearl. She calls me her baby or child # 4 and I refer to her as the mom I never had. I follow her all over the house, and even find her behind closed doors. She does get mad, though, when I push open the bathroom door without knocking and just sit there, staring at her, watching her go about her business. I know it's rude and all, but she watches ME go about MY business, too.

In any case, I like my family; I like my yard; I like my neighborhood; and I love the canine connections I've made around here. On a good day, I might just see half a dozen of my pals. Of course, they're not always as excited to see me as I am to see them. But I really do have lots have pals, and if you don't want to call them pals, then at least consider them acquaintances. I'm VERY friendly and could easily become the neighborhood Welcome Wagon. (TM)

[Max had me edit his post and I informed him that he MUST insert a (TM) there. I once learned the hard way, when that trademark wasn't used in the nicest way in a manuscript, that a trademark is not meant to be presented in a poor light. But that company went to the extreme; my company was no longer able to use the trademark at all in our books.

So I'm glad that Max listened to me and put in the copyright symbol; I don't want the company coming after me and my blog!]

Let me name some of the cool dogs 'round here:

Phoebe (#1) -- Maltese (my girlfriend!)
Phoebe (#2) -- Poodle
Terry -- Schnauzer/Terrier
Oriel -- Shnauzer
Wilson -- Shih-Tzu
Riley -- Wheaten Terrier
Tyler -- Poodle
Cody -- Poodle
Rolex-- Pug
Tiffany -- Pug
[Rolex and Tiffany are not siblings, but come from the same breeder and the owner wanted each dog to have company, so that's why he got two. They replace his pug, Brisket, who passed away earlier this year. Our pug, Tyson, and Brisket, were often mistaken for each other...just because they were both so overweight.]
Jasper -- Westie
Pugley -- Pug
Chiclet -- Pug
(also owned by same owner; Chiclet is a young pug, and a companion to the older Pugley)

There are other dogs that I know -- by smell, of course. Pearl complains that she only knows the dogs' names, not the owners'! Is that good etiquette, she wonders? Who am I to tell her about good etiquette? I lift my leg and pee wherever I get a chance!

In any case, I know that Phoebe is my girlfriend -- how do I know, you ask?

She dances and prances all around me and wiggles her tushy in my face when she sees me. If that doesn't mean she wants me, then what does?

But even though Phoebe is my girlfriend (supposedly the girl-next-door -- except she lives three houses away from me), I could always stand to see some pics of your pooches if you'd like to share them. Maybe I'll know somebody around here who's available for your pooch. No, not me.

Hey, what a great idea: MAX, THE SHIH-POO SHADCHAN (matchmaker). They say that if you make three matches in this world, your place is set in the world to come. I'd like my place to be set with a sheepskin-rug-trimmed bed, lots of snacks and a professional pooper-scooper! Someone who follows me around heaven, cleaning up after me. I'm not sure that Pearl will get up here to do the job!

Can you imagine if I, Max the shih-poo, made a match between a neighborhood dog and one from across the country? I'd be saying "Canine-a-hora" and I'd be dancing a "canine-a-hora!"

I want to see your dog pics, and I know you want to see mine, but because I'm all black, with dark brown eyes, I'm hard to photograph -- I sort of get camouflaged all the time. I'll try to get Pearl to snap a recent and decent one of me, so you can all see how I've changed over the past several months since the family welcomed me.

I now send a hearty bark your way and will head over to my bed to sleep. I thank you for your time and hope we someday get to meet -- and not in heaven either. Although I am planning to meet five people there.... [Please forgive Max. He thinks he's funny. The last bit refers to Mitch Albom's book title, The Five People You Meet in Heaven.]

You Talkin' to Me?

Pssst! You wanna go shopping with Pearl? She'll show you how to shop for bargains, how to buy and return merchandise if family members don't like it, and how to just be a shopping diva.

Truth is, I'm NOT a shopping diva; I'm not a diva and I don't like shopping. But I do like bargains and grabbing some great finds.

I don't care to shop for myself and find it easier to shop for others, usually going to a store looking for a particular item for someone and buying up items I don't need but that might come in handy.

Although I don't care to shop, I do like the thrill of perhaps hearing THE VOICE.

"The Voice?" you ask. "Are you hearing things, Pearl?"

No, I'm not hearing things, I don't have imaginary friends, and no 6-foot-tall white rabbit named Harvey has taken up residence in my life.

"Phew," you say. "You had me worried there for a minute. I thought that perhaps because you go to bed so late 'cause you're on the computer, you don't get enough sleep, and the result is that you're hearing voices."

But yes, I'm sometimes driven by the Voice.

This is the voice that, in Jerusalem, said to me many years ago, "Hey, habibi, you like me? You have Canadian or American dollars to spend on me?"

A pair of dangling earrings with coral pieces was speaking to me. How did those earrings know that my cousin had just given me a coral necklace to keep? It would be a perfect match -- one made in Jerusalem. But I wasn't wearing the necklace right then! But I figured that Israelis are forward and make assumptions, and this pair of coral earrings was no different!

And then there was that time in Miami, when I was browsing. Simply browsing in the ladies' section of the department store I was in. I heard a "Psst" and looked over to a rack, where a gorgeous, multicolored cotten-woven sweater was waving me over.

"Hey, lady. You want to have a multicolored sweater such as myself in your wardrobe? You'll really light up a room when you walk in, and the bold and bright colors will make you feel good. Happy, happy, happy. That's what I, as a representative of the Liz Claiborne industry believe anyhow."

How could I resist? Guess I'm a pushover for a pullover!

Not too long ago I was browsing in ladies' wear and heard my name. This time it was a beautiful, black cashmere wool skirt, with assymetrical embroidered hems, doing the calling. I approached, then slowly backed away. Beautiful, yes, but pricey too.

I circled the area some more and felt myself being called back. "Try me, try me...you might like me."

Now I don't just hear the Voice, I talk back, too! "I do like you. That's the problem. I like you too much, but I don't like your price tag."

"But I'm on sale. And I'm your size. And I'm the only skirt like this left. Isn't it destiny that we should be together?"

What could I do, but listen to these smooth-talking skirt? I tried it on, twirling in front of the three way mirror in the change room, and loving how the bottom flared out. I knew this skirt was a show-stopper, and I just had to have it.

The Voice had won me over again.

Last night, the Voice beckoned me again, as I was rushing through a Sears store. This time it was a wine caddy doing the talking.

"You know you want me. I'm just the right price, marked down twice. I'll fulfill all your needs -- um, all your bottles' needs. I'll help keep your dining room clean of bottles on the floor in the corner, and I am rather eye-appealing, don't you think?"

I walked away, managed to go a few short steps, then turned back to the Voice. He was still talking. "Look, take me home, let your husband check me out too. If you don't like me, you can always return me."

Now the Voice had a point. I guess he knew me well. I am notorious for buying and returning merchandise after second thoughts.

"Deal or no deal?"

I shouted, "Okay, okay. But if I change my mind or my husband doesn't want you, you get sent back...understood?"

The Voice said, "I don't think you'll send me back. I'm gonna wine and dine you!"

Well, I got home with the box, and lo and behold, the Voice hadn't been that upfront with me. He never said that he had to be assembled...and with lousy instructions, too.

Soon my voice, and my husband's voice could be heard: "What kind of ****** directions are these!? Where the **** does this piece go, and this piece?"

The Voice was chuckling and said, "Oh, stop WHINING. The frustration will pass, but the beauty will remain..."

******

So I guess the point of telling you about the Voice is to remind you that shopping can be quite an experience. You browse and suddenly you're being summoned by something or other. When I get comments or compliments about a purchase, I often tell the person, "It spoke to me, " or "It called out my name."
Sometimes you've just got to listen to that voice...

Especially when it drowns out your own!

GameCube Gets a Hechsher

Last evening, I was in the kitchen, which overlooks our family room. My 6 1/2-year-old son was happily and busily beginning to play GameCube while I got dinner together.

Suddenly he pipes up. "This game is Kosher."

"What?" I repeat, just so he'll repeat his comment.

"This game is Kosher."

"And how do you know that?"

"It has an R."

[Explanation for those who might not get this kid's mind: one of the Kosher U.S.. symbols is a U inside an O, and it stands for Orthodox Union. My son noticed an R inside an O somewhere on the game screen and interpreted it to mean Kosher.

Okay, okay...so it was funny at the time.]