I'm Entering Politics ... Sort Of

It's election season for Congregation Ahavat Shalom, better known in these parts (aka Teaneck) as TABC or the Apartment Shul. We're a community of young adults, recently marrieds, and people with a few kids here and there who live in a collective of three apartment complexes -- Terrace Circle, Walraven, and Westgate -- although there are a few stragglers outside these complexes. Tuvia and I live in Terrace Circle, and I actually think the bulk of the shul membership lives here, too.

So there's a president, treasurer, and all of those other fun positions, including Sisterhood Committee, and then there are four vice presidents -- one for each of the complexes and one to represent those who don't live within the complex system. And so, someone nominated me for the VP of Terrace Circle, and I was both shocked (in that Sally Field "you love me! you really love me!" kind of way) and stoked.

Most people have responded to my nomination with, "So now you're going to have to actually come to shul, right?" to which I respond, "Well, yes." You see, most people don't remember that I actually used to come to shul, every weekend, but then summer hit and I was in Israel for a month and then we were in Nebraska and then it was one million degrees outside and ... forgive me my sins!

My role, should I be awesome enough to land it, will be to make sure Terrace Circle shul members pay their dues (enforcer!), help connect the complex to the board (communicator!), organizing and erecting the complex sukkah (project manager!), and to help organize and make awesome the Purim chagigah and all other fun events like the BBQ (event planner! shmoozer!). I think I'm cut from the cloth to handle all of this, don't you?

And after the sukkah fell down practically on top of me last year, I'm ready to make a durable sukkah that will be able to sustain the wrath of HaShem! Oh, and I hope to make it more aesthetically pleasing than it was last year. A sukkah should be downright beautiful, people. Come on!

Also? I'd really like to use my position to streamline the inclusiveness of the Terrace Circle apartments. I feel like there are a lot of factions and cliques and people who come into the community who don't really get the welcome they should from the appropriate representatives of the various complexes, and I want to be that face -- the face of Terrace Circle! Yes, I might come banging down your door for dues, but I'll invite you to an awesome Terrace Circle event while I'm at it. I want people to feel comfortable bringing issues to the board about anyone, anywhere, anytime and to be able to trust in me that I'll handle things appropriately and confidentially, too.

Thus, my platform is simple:

Efficiency

Inclusion

Awesomeness

Coffee ... Lots of Coffee

Have questions? Want to know whether I'm ready for the position? Whether I can handle being a member of the boys club? Feel free to comment or email me. And I'm serious about the coffee. All are welcome to come and partake in the Keurig or enjoy a delicious Lazy Bean beverage, on me, to talk Terrace Circle and Ahavat Shalom shop!

Best Dairy Meal Ever. Period.

No one is paying me to write this. 

I just want to get that out of the way right now, because I know sometimes when I do "sponsored posts" (a girl's gotta eat) people get all in a tissy about me selling out or working for the "man." No, this post is coming straight from the heart. Or, rather, it's coming straight from my stomach and eyes to your eyes. If that makes sense.

I think the pictures can speak for themselves, but just for your info, if you want to read my review of this delicious restaurant -- Ariel's in Englewood, NJ -- on Yelp, be my guest. Also? It's Chalav Yisrael, so I expect @mottel and @wifeofmottel to come enjoy a delicious meal and to bring Baby Boo with them. Everyone else is welcome, too!

Tomato Roasted Garlic Soup, Stuffed Flounder, Gluten-Free Flourless Chocolate Cake

This was probably my last great meal before Israel. Not that I'm knocking Israel's restaurant stylings, I'm just not adept enough to know where to go and what hechshers make the most sense and so on. It's almost harder than keeping kosher in the U.S.

If you have suggestions of delicious kosher restaurants in Jerusalem that won't break the bank and beats this, be sure to let me know!

Gefilte Gone Gone Gone!

I have to hand it to my husband. He's ridiculous. This was sent to the Teaneck Shuls Listserv.

Last night I purchased a gefilte fish from Glatt Express. I know it was in my bag when I left the store but I couldn't find it when I got home. I went back and couldn't find it in the parking lot. Did anyone pick it up? 

Yes, he actually asked that. One response raises a really good point, however.

Hi. Just a thought . . . if someone did find the fish in the parking lot would it remain kosher after having lain unmonitored on the ground?

Indeed! What do you think? And, also, do you think my dear husband was being serious?

Sick, but Happy.

As my bestie Marissa would say, I'm a downed critter.

I spent the entire afternoon in bed (wait, de ja vu -- didn't this happen during the High Holidays?), after a less than stellar visit to my doctor's office this morning. I woke up congested on Friday and whatever I have has gotten worse as the days have gone on. Saturday I woke up with what felt like strep. Today I went straight to the doctor, they did the usual swab, asked the usual irrelevant questions, and shoved an antibiotic at me. I'm still unclear whether she said to take them now or start later, so I went with it and took it today. I've had probably two to three dozen cups of tea over the past two days, countless glasses of orange juice, and several bowls of soup. Sigh. So much to do, so sick, so little time, so not enough energy.

At any rate, the one highlight to my super-long and super-sick weekend was the most amazing surprise: a surprise birthday party! Yes, my birthday came over the chagim without much fanfare, and I went with it. After all, turning 27 isn't a huge thing. It's a nice, divisible number, sure, but that's about it. I was filling really ill Friday, but we had friends over for dinner anyhow, because I thought it was just a really bad allergy day. Afterward, we were to meet some friends at their place for dessert, and I advised Evan that we couldn't be there long -- I really just didn't feel well. We walked over, schlepped up the stairs, threw open the door, and "SURPRISE!" "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" I looked around, confused, mostly because there was another surprise party the next day for a friend in the complex. And then, after a few awkward seconds, I realized it was me. I blame the allergy meds for making me both loopy and slow. All of our closest friends were there and many of them went out of their way to make me gluten-free desserts! There were gluten-free chocolate chip cookies and brownies and an amazing trifle made by my awesome friend, who is behind Modestly Fashioned, and, who, by the way, was the hostess with the mostest who helped Tuvia coordinate everything.

I was, in a word, overwhelmed. The first thing I thought was, here's to all those naysayers who think the apartment community in Teaneck isn't the warmest, friendliest, most welcoming group of people you've ever met. They really are those people. I've never in my life felt so loved, and for that, I'm so thankful. I really do have the greatest crop of friends, and without them my feeling sick would be so much worse than it actually is.

Of course, there are no pictures, because it was on Shabbos and we were camera-less. But, you can imagine. Jews, Shabbos, lots of nosh, booze (thanks for the mixed drinks, D), and more. So thank you awesome Teaneck friends, and, of course, my darling husband Tuvia who managed to keep the entire thing from me (which is what happens when I am so busy that I can't notice all the weird things missing from the house or my husband's wacky schedule).

Here's to another year older, and, hopefully, less sick. Of course, that comes next week.

Figuring it Out

The thing about being me, is that I have very few of the major chagim as an "observant" Jew under my belt. Every time the High Holidays or Pesach or some other major Jewish holiday rolls around, I freak out. I almost ignore the impending bigness in order to not freak out. I get nervous because I don't even have as many "sort of" observant holidays in my past as many secular Jews do. I stopped eating pork and shellfish probably seven years ago, before I found a (Reform) rabbi or a (Reform) shul, but I didn't take on observing the chagim seriously until probably three years ago. I might have fasted on Yom Kippur, but not seriously. I might have considered the idea of Pesach and stopped eating bread, but the rest? Nah. And Sukkot? Well, I probably have the least experience with this multi-faceted time of year.

Last year, I was in the community in Connecticut, I was sukkah hopping, I was running out in the rain with challah and sparlic (parsley + garlic + olive oil) in tow, just for a b'racha. The funny thing is, I didn't really understand last year that as a woman, I'm not bound to the mitzvah of sukkah, but getting soaked for the sake of a bracha was worth it. Simchat Torah last year was my first real one, in which I watched people dance with the Torah and rejoice in Judaism. It was a lively, unforgettable experience.

But still, this year, I was unprepared. I've never had these holidays to myself, in my own home, with my own rules and my own plans. Overwhelmed, is how I felt.

The community put up a communal sukkah, and most of the couples in the apartments headed family-bound. Overall I'd say there were probably about six or seven couples around, and enough men to make a minyan. I made lunch plans for Thursday and Friday with some awesome friends who were hanging around, and I began to panic: What are the rules for the communal sukkah? How big is it? Are there chairs? Tables? Do we sign up? Do we have to wait for a place to sit? Are there lights? How do we wash outside? And the list goes on and on ... I panicked. Over meals in a hut.

Luckily, everything came together fine, despite Mother Nature's wrath the moment the chag started. Yes, a storm of the likes of that one that smacked Brooklyn (although, in truth, not as bad) hit us out of nowhere. Luckily, Tuvia and I had decided to not eat in the sukkah because my allergies were killer. We saved ourselves half the roof caving in and the extreme and fast downpour. The next day we hit up the sukkah and saw the damage, which was significant, but half the sukkah was in working order. We had several more meals there, until Saturday around lunchtime when the winds picked up and, while sitting in the sukkah, I made the executive decision to exit the sukkah as the walls were shaky. Just as I started to pack up, more of the ceiling came crashing down, along with a couple two-by-fours.

But the experience? Outstanding. Unique. Special.

Sitting in a sort-of functional sukkah, we joined a large group of families that ate most of their meals together, an older couple with a challah cover that seemed ages-old, a guy who came for kiddush and motzi ("how lucky women are!") and another awesome couple with the most amazing second-night idea: cheese, crackers, and salad (no worry about preparing here, folks). We had our separate food, our separate dishes and plates and cups, but we all ate together, swatting mosquitoes (it was far too hot) and laughing at the same jokes. We were eavesdropping on one another, but conversing with one another. We were all together, separately. It was a powerful, communal experience. Chag sameachs abounded and offers of shared food followed. We were a tiny drop of the worldwide Jewish experience, sitting in huts, eating our food, laughing, and praying.

In the end, the tiny things didn't matter, and just being there did.

I suppose it will be years and years before I get adjusted to knowing how to do the chagim. Every year will come with anxieties and pressures, and the moment I have children I'm sure I'll freak out all over again over food and time and choreography. But the moment the candles are lit, everything stops, and it is that that matters most, for which I am most thankful. For which being Jewish comes fully to a head.

Ir Ha'Kodesh?

Photo taken from kumah.org via Google Image Search.

Another Shabbat has come, another week has passed, and I've officially been (Hebrew calendar) married for 2 months and 1 day. Tomorrow, on the Gregorian calendar, actually marks the two-month anniversary of my being wedded to the man, the myth, the legend, Tuvia (a.k.a. Evan). It feels like boatloads longer that we've been hitched. We got married, settled quickly, and finally having all of our stuff in one place has helped us feel like an old married couple. We have a home. A home in Teaneck, New Jersey. So?

See, there's one thing I can't get over: When people ask me how I like living in Teaneck, it's always with a tinge of hesitation, like it's a loaded question. And when I say it's wonderful, facial expressions almost turn into a question mark. As if to say, "wait, you like it there?"

So what is it. What do you know/think about Teaneck? What is your impression of Teaneck? Have you heard about this city, its Jewish population, its rep in the greater Jewish world?

Tell me about it. Let me know what you think about this city I now call home, this city that I absolutely love.

And with that, I bid y'all a Shabbat Shalom!

Fourth of July: In and Out Like a Ghost

It's Tuesday July 6, and Independence Day just zipped on past me. In fact, yesterday zipped past me. I think it's the first Fourth of July in years that I really haven't thought much about the day or longed for July 4ths of years gone by.

This picture probably describes what I was doing on the Fourth better than I can.

Or maybe this one? 

We were on a bridge, driving back from Connecticut with a UHaul full of the rest of our "stuff." I didn't see a single burst of fireworks, and I only heard a smattering of poppage. It was depressing, mostly because where I come from, that is to so say where I grew up in Southern Missouri and Eastern Nebraska, the Fourth of July was a big deal.

I remember attending one year an installment of the dualing neighbors in their fireworks displays that rang in at $2,000+ at each house. Other years I went out to the lake with friends and watched the fireworks. One year I even hosted people at my parent's house; it was the July 4 after graduating, in 2006. We grilled out, had a water-balloon fight, and accidentally blew fireworks off in the garage (much to my father's dismay). Afterward, we went across town to watch the big display. That, folks, was a year to remember. A few years back I was in Oak Park with my then-boyfriend, drinking bears, playing bags (Chicago style), and ogling a friend's new baby. The year after that -- my last in Chicago -- I schlepped out to the local harbor, plopped down with hundreds of other people, and waited for the fireworks to begin. I watched people order Latino corn treats off carts, children edging near the water and parents pulling them back. It was a peaceful, calm, and, for me, perfect way to celebrate Independence Day.

And this year? Moving boxes, packing boxes, emptying boxes, staring at boxes, wondering when it will all be done. Painting, trying to find time to eat, nursing back pain, knee pain, leg pain, arm pain. One thing's for sure: I was never cut out to move heavy or light objects up and/or down stairs.

I was joking with Tuvia that I am a thinker, an intellectual. Worse came to worse, I wouldn't be able to snuff it physically with the rest of them. Thinking about the Holocaust, the camps, those who couldn't snuff it, it depresses me. Would I have been one of them? Such a morbid thought for Independence Day, but that's the way the cookie crumbles right now.

We hope to have everything painted and unpacked by Friday. Hopefully Shabbos will come in to a well-organized, settled, comfortable house that feels like a home. Come Monday, I'm back to being a student (for the time being anyhow, as I have to start and finish my grad exam in two weeks). It'll feel good to be back doing something that I'm good at: learning, writing, positing.

Back to the unpackin' and paintin' grind, folks. Be well!

Falling in Love, With Teaneck, New Jersey.

I. Love. Teaneck!

Okay, let me start over. I know, we're new and it's that honeymoon period of newness and awesomeness, and technically we haven't even moved in yet, but we spent last Shabbos in Teaneck and, frankly, I'm in love. The community is young, vibrant, impassioned, and ALIVE. Alive. Yes, I felt alive and active and excited the entire time I was around the other individuals and couples in the apartment community. I mean, we were only there for one Shabbos, and I already feel like I have a new community-family, because they opened us with welcome arms (EDIT: of course I meant "welcomed us with open arms, but I spoonerized that, and it's so funny, I'm leaving it there!), put a roof over our heads, fed and fed and fed us, and took part in conversation and Jewish geography with us. What's more to ask for?

The amazing thing about the community is that the welcoming wagon is a serious one. We're moving in on Thursday/Friday and folks are willing to host us for meals, cook for us for the first week, help us literally move the boxes and furniture, and to help unpack. I mean, wow. I'm not saying other communities aren't so gracious, but it's the proactivity of these folks that astounds and elates me.

I didn't spot a single doily over the weekend, but I did spot some strange and interesting styles of covering ye olde locks, which I may or may not write about depending on how I think the community would react. The interesting thing about moving to Teaneck is that I'm starting to feel an underlying sense of self-censorship, but not actual self-censorship. Like, I shouldn't blog about certain things for fear of people reading them and/or getting their panties in a bunch about my most-of-the-time benign comments, but at the same time knowing that I can't help but blog about them.

So, just to test the waters (like a 3-year-old with a crayon and nice, clean white wall), I have to mention this interesting hair-covering style. I think I'll call it the "Captain Jack Sparrow." It's where you take a scarf and sort of tie it back, pirate-style, but with all your locks still dangling out freely. Like the un-tichel, tichel. What I don't get is how it fits into the whole tefach of hair thing. It's sort of like edging on not covering, while still covering. I did see one woman at a kosher restaurant elsewhere in Jersey recently sporting such a scarf, but she definitely had a fall on underneath. I give mad props to the women who choose to cover like this, I just don't know how the greater Orthodox (modern and otherwise) community approaches that kind of style.

Speaking of, I'd really like to get some knowledgeable source in the arena of the halakot and community standards of hair covering to guest post something for me as far as what is hardcore, what is lenient, and what is necessary and what is not. I want to be a whole heckuva lot more informed than I am right now.

I also am seriously pondering the sheitel or fall, now. I don't know why. I'm very not down with the sheitel, but I'm not sure WHY I am. Some look so chic. But is that the point? I'm also struggling with what to do with my hair -- cut it? Let it grow? It's at this uncomfortable impasse where I can't really leave the back out but it really doesn't want to stay up despite the amount of clippy and rubber things I attempt to keep it in with. It's Hair Wars 2010. Suggestions? I haven't had it long since 2001, so it might be fun to grow it. I wonder how Tuvia feels?

I have a bucketload of posts I'd like to write, many of them based on experiences (all good, by the way) in my new Teaneck community. I got the impression that most of my new friends don't read or keep up with blogs (although they seem to be obsessed with Friends and Seinfeld, so I'm planning on watching EVERY season/episode from start to finish on BOTH of those), so I might just be in the clear. I pride myself on a positive dialogue about any and all of my queries and curiosities when it comes to halakot and community standards, and I don't see that changing. Any baggage brought to this blog by individuals I can't freak out about. After all, it's baggage.

Stay tuned for more exciting and intriguing adventures in the life of Chaviva G. Hrm ... maybe someday kids will call me "Mrs. G." Which, of course, reminds me of one of the greatest shows of all time: The Facts of Life!