Israel: Everything is the same.

step out to cough, smoke
step out to breath, garbage strewn.
are they happy? no.

Back in NYC: This City Isn't What I Used to Be

Being back in NYC for the first time in ... something like five years, but really we'll say six years because the truth is the last time I was here I was in a hotel at JFK passing through on my way to Israel, feels like a dream.

Six years ago I was living in New Jersey and commuting in to NYC every day to attend NYU, where I was pursuing my second and third master's degrees in Judaic Studies and Jewish Education. It feels like a million years ago, honestly. And being back here is just surreal. I forgot what life was like "in the city" and I'm only here for 24 hours for work.

It's possible that my entire experience is probably grumpily painted by the fact that my flight was delayed twice and ended up getting in more than three hours later than anticipated. It's also probable that the fact that I arrived in the city close to 10 pm and nearly every kosher restaurant was closed or closing plays into my annoyance at the city. And then when the food I did order showed up it was breaded instead of gluten free, leaving me food-less and hungry after being in airports all day with nothing by nuts and hardboiled eggs.

But I digress.

The noise, the hectic bustle of these streets is something I'd forgot about. Or, it's possible, the noise is less aggressive down south near NYU where I spent most of my time. Up here, near Times Square where I stayed, it was an overnight constant of car horns and garbage trucks and police cars and music. This morning around 5 a.m. it was jackhammers and yelling. And I heard it all as if it were happening next to me in bed ... from the 15th floor of my hotel.

Awake, showered, hopeful, I stepped outside into the swamp. I don't mind an 80 degree day or a 100 degree day, as long as it isn't humid. I don't do humidity. I don't do sweating and sticky grossness. It's one of the reasons I truly love living in Denver. I walked a few blocks, shoving my way through vendors attempting to get people onto bus tours and to shows they don't want to see, and it was funny because not a single one of them even attempted to talk to me. Suitcase in tow, is there something about me that says, "I'm not a tourist"? Something determined or focused on my face?

I'm seriously narrating to myself as I walk. All of this. Then I hit this place called Greggory's Coffee, and here I sit, waiting for a 2:30 pm meeting that was supposed to be a noon meeting. And then off to the airport to fly back home. But this time? I'm flying out of JFK and not the ramshackle, looks-like-it-was-set-up-overnight-in-a-mad-dash LGA.

I don't know if/when I'll be back in NYC. Something about the hecticness of the city makes my social anxiety activate. My typically confident and determined personality feels confused, rushed, out of sorts. There's something about the noise and the dirt and the people ...

I didn't used to be like this. I can't imagine brining kids into the city. I'd fall apart.

Honestly? I can't wait to get back to Denver. It's clean, crisp, quiet(er). I've aged, obviously. I've gotten older. I'm only 33, but feeling this way about a city I once thought would be my long-term home makes me feel ancient.

Back from the U.S. and ...

Photo taken by my mom, Debbie, at the Omaha airport before

we hopped on the first of three legs of air travel back to Israel. 

Oh hello there blog. What? I've been neglecting you? Yes, yes I have. With traveling back and forth to the U.S., work, and raising the fastest growing bundle of cute ever, I haven't been as active here on the blog as I want to be. I've got a bucketload of book reviews (including a few cookbooks of mention), a book giveaway, and tons of pictures and insights about being back in the U.S. to share. It'll take some time, but I'll get it all up. I promise.

The first and quickest thing I have to say?

Flying back into Israel, I always felt a rush of "I'm home!" in the past. Every trip I got the same sensation. This was the first time since 2009 that I saw the coastline and my thoughts turned to, "Is this really home? Is this really where I'm happiest?" I then reminded myself that home is where the heart is, and for me, home is where Ash and Mr. T are. They're here, I'm here, and thus, that's where my happiness can be found (for now anyway).

The U.S. was a time of comfort, a time where I could go to any grocery store and easily find vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free products worth eating. Where convenience foods were just that, and I didn't have to think about cooking something from absolute scratch in order to be able to eat. It seems like a shallow, superficial thing to care about, but with the diet I'm sporting these days (gluten free as always, but now without many eggs, and without any dairy) it's hard to live in Israel.

But more on that later.

Also? Adventures in breast feeding were fun. That's going to be a post, without a doubt.

Time to go snuggle with the hubsters and little one. We're all sick, so we make for good company. Happy company, that is.

The In-Flight Commentary

I wrote this in two spurts while in-flight on my way from JFK in New York City to Ben Gurion in Israel. Enjoy!

As I walked down the ramp after reluctantly giving up my carry on, I said to no one in particular, with a huge grin,

"It's happening."

Dinner was outstandingly delicious. Consider ordering gluten free the next time you fly El Al. Fish with steamed zucchini and snow peas, hummus with rice cakes (a substitution I never considered), a salad with Italian dressing, and a delicious chocolate mousse. I was pleasantly surprised. Or maybe it was that I hadn't eaten all day ... Again.

It's just after 7 a.m. in Israel, which means the trip is more than half over. In 4.5 hours we land. That's like a trip to LA from NY. Someone on the plane is sick enough to necessitate the "Is there a doctor on board" call. Of course, there were several.

I'm currently watching some ooey gooey Discovery Channel-style thing. It made for brain-stimulating background noise as I completed a crossword puzzle. I spent a good ten minutes puzzled (bada ching!) on the last clue: feature for a garage door. S_ _s_r. Duh Chaviva!

I've watched two movies so far: Rock of Ages and some movie with a star-studded cast that took place in Rome. Rock of Ages was good, and not annoying at all. I was bummed by Alec Baldwin's role, however. And Tom Cruise just ... He just. The other movie had Jessie Eisenberg, Woody Allen, the girl from Juno, Alec Baldwin (seriously El Al, what's up with that?), Roberto Benini, and Penelope Cruz. It was quality, but it left me sort of wondering ... And? [Note: The movie is To Rome With Love.]

The flight has been going smoothly for me. More smoothly than usual. That is, aside from the kicking child behind me and the petite mother in front of me who has her seat all the way back and keeps pushing on it like there isn't anyone behind her. Sometimes I wonder why people pose all respect for human beings the moment they enter a plane (or any mode of transit, that is).

There are only 67 olim on this flight, which bums me out, but it's no charter flight. Now? I'll watch an episode of Alcatraz I've already seen. It's good Hebrew practice.

Just remembered to write about the international crisis averted when the security guy at baggage drop pulled Bananagrams from my suitcase.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A game," I said. 

"Did anyone give it to you?" he asked. 

"No ... It's mine," I said. 

The girl whose luggage was in after me? She also had Bananagrams and nothing happened. What's up with that?

It's now 9:23 in Israel. We're two hours out. What? Is this happening?!

I haven't gotten up nice to move around. I think my legs are not gong to be able to carry me when the time comes. That's the downfall of the window seat, of course. [Note: I did get up to move around about an hour before landing. It felt so good!]

And ... breakfast.

Leg One: Denver to New York

As our plane approaches the state of Illinois, and as I lament missing Felix Baumgartner's epic fall to earth, I have to relay that leaving Denver wasn't at all emotional for me this morning. Am I an emotional zombie? Or maybe just a sleep-deprived zombie?

I went to sleep around 1:45 a.m., woke up at 6:45 a.m. and proceeded to see if any of my luggage gained weight over night. Every suitcase looked like it was somewhere around 48 or 50 pounds, and I still had more to pack up. So I unpacked some things, sacrificing more stuff, again. I'm beginning to wonder what is in my bags that makes them so heavy, if anything. It's probably the bottles of vitamins. Maybe.

I showered, packed up, sold my bed, and schlepped off without enough time to hit the bank. Here's hoping there's a Chase Bank at LaGuardia or JFK. If not? I'm kind of screwed. I returned my car and arrived at the airport at the same time as approximately five million other people. Yes, the line for security went out and around to baggage claim, which, if you've never been at DIA is, well, insane. What's more insane is that it took about 15 minutes to get through security. I should have just taken the chance and not taken out my liquids and computers; they probably wouldn't have said anything.

If anything is going to kill me on this trip, it's the giant computer and the three books I could fit into my carry on. My carry on suitcase is … it's got to wait like 40 pounds. I nearly killed two people getting it into the overhead compartment. Throw on that my backpack, which is stuffed to the brim with my camera, my computer, my iPad, my unlocked iPhone 4s, and other fragile items like my mezuzot … and I'm going to have knots in my back the size of golf balls and sore arms for a week.

I'm kvetching a lot, aren't I? Sorry. I love traveling; I hate schlepping.

I'm eager to get to my hotel. For the first time in a good six months or so, I'll be able to watch Sunday night television -- live! It's the small stuff, folks. I'm eager to just kick back and chill out for a little while, to enjoy a cushy king-size mattress and really let my hair down (not that it's possible).

Listen, I'm not feeling the reality of my move yet. Is that weird? Maybe I won't? I wrote in my last post about how it just feels right, it feels like a second skin. Is that why it doesn't feel like I've packed my life up and am moving across the world? Why does it feel so … relaxed? So inconsequential? So … just so?

Maybe once I get to JFK tomorrow and see the Nefesh b'Nefesh booth and join the other olim at the gate it will suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. And maybe it won't, and I'm okay with that.

Anyone out there who has made aliyah: What was the experience like for you? Butterflies or anxiety or fears or excitement or anything?

The Listen and the Action

Two of my three 50-pound suitcases +

my carryon suitcase + my backpack. 

What I've realized is that there are not enough pounds in the aliyah allotment for me to schlep the amount of clothes, coffee mugs with sentimental meaning, medical stuff (vitamins, supplements, allergy pills, and my oodles of creams), my down-alternative comforter (because I'm neurotic about the things I sleep with and on -- not being able to schlep a pillow is actually causing me unrest), and so forth. I don't know how it filled up so fast. But it did. I had to hardcore downsize, leaving lots of clothing and some precious home goods behind. I sent home THREE boxes of books to my parents -- seforim and lots of books from graduate school I cannot part with. I'm not taking a single cookbook with me. I'm so paranoid about finding clothes that both fit me and are well-built (being a plus size gal makes certain items difficult to find anyhow), so I stocked up here. My luggage is brimming with Lane Bryant and Old Navy and ... I'll be set for a while, anyhow. 

I'm rising in about 5 hours and 45 minutes to shower and get everything else packed up. I'm weighing my luggage every few minutes, it seems like, and I just know I'm going to get to the airport and they're either going to be too heavy or they're going to have five pounds of free room and I'm going to say "WHY ME?! WHY!?" After packing, I'm packing up the car, taking a last-minute trip to the donation center, the bank to withdrawal a ridiculous amount of cash, and off to the airport for my 11:15 a.m. flight to New York City. 

If anyone desires a meetup in the Five Towns for dinner Sunday night, let me know. My flight gets into LaGuardia at 5 p.m. and I figure I'll be at my hotel by 6:30 or 7 p.m. Then? Rest. Relaxation ... and ... I'll probably end up doing a lot of work actually. Monday I have to be at JFK by 3 p.m. for my 7 p.m. Nefesh b'Nefesh flight to Israel. 

This is aliyah folks. When you're a young, single person, you pack your life into three, 50-pound suitcases plus a carry on plus a personal item. The funny thing is that it doesn't feel weird to me. At work on Friday everyone said I seemed inordinately calm. For me, it's like I'm moving to a new city -- something I've done so very many times before. Packing up a bunch of suitcases and schlepping them across a country is what I do, so an ocean seems no different to me. The only difference is that I'm not the one driving the car doing the schlepping -- I'm on a plane, my luggage is packed tightly away, and I'm at the whim of the weather, some pilots, and time. 

It's adventure for me. Grabbing life by the reins and really owning it. It's taking the land -- Eretz Yisrael -- and possessing it. HaShem commanded me -- all of Israel -- to do this. So it doesn't feel strange, it just feels more right than all of the other attempts I've made at moving and possessing the space I inhabit. This time, it's real. This time? It's for keeps. This time, HaShem is fully with me. I finally listened, as we're commanded so many times in the Torah to do so. Shema, it says. Listen. 

Not once in the Torah does HaShem demand that we obey Him. HaShem asks us merely to listen. To absorb. To take in. To internalize. And only then do we act, because we want to be an active participant in this world, in this creation, in Am Yisrael. 

"Be silent, Israel, and listen! You have now become the people of the LORD your God. Listen to the LORD your God and follow His commands and decrees that I give you today" (Deut. 27:9-10).

It's taken me several years of listening to finally act. And now that I am? The listening, the choice, the action -- it's like feeling my skin for the first time. It's a part of me.

Get a Room (at Room 77)!

My life of traveling -- really traveling, not that driving from Joplin to Tulsa or Kansas City to Nebraska -- began my junior year of high school when the Lincoln Northeast Rockets Concert Choir headed to the trenches of New Jersey for a choir competition. Luckily, the competition was a small portion of the trip that took a bus-load of white kids from Nebraska out of the corn and soybean fields and into places like Harlem, Ellis Island, and to shows like Les Miserables and out to fancy dinners. It was a world I had never experienced before, but that first trip sealed the deal for me. I was going to be a traveler, period. It was in my blood. I loved staying in a nice hotel, I loved having a million channels on TV, I loved knowing that a machine that produced ice was down the hallway and if I wanted an extra pillow, all I had to do was ask for one. That New York City trip back in 2001 changed my perspective on the world (and not just because we had what appeared to be New Jersey mobsters as our "security guards" at the hotel) ...

I want to apologize to Maryl profusely. But seriously, look at my hair!
You can't see the excitement on my face. I think I was pretty much exhausted.

And now?

I've got four flights booked in the next month. I'm heading to Dallas, Los Angeles, New York, and then on to Israel. If that's not globe-trotting, I don't know what is! (And when I get to Israel and have some money saved, the first thing I'm doing is heading to Europe ... I've been to Israel four times and I'm moving there, but that's my only out-of-the-U.S. experience!)

A few of the upcoming trips I have I'm staying with at-home accommodations, but with my trip to New York as I prep to head onward to Israel, I didn't have such luck. I had to dig around for a hotel, comparing Hotels.com with actual brand websites with other hotel search engines. Finding out that Room 77 exists makes me lament the stress it took to find a price-friendly, wifi-capable hotel with a free airport shuttle. It took some digging.

Had I had Room 77 -- “an intelligent and easy to use hotel search engine that allows travelers to find and book the best rates from across the Web in one fast and simple search" -- I would have found my hotel in about two seconds flat. Why? Well, Room 77 offers competitor rates (in the vein of everyone's favorite airfare search engines). D'oh! Where were you all my life Room 77?

My requirements for this adventure were a free airport shuttle from the hotel to JFK (where I need to be by 3 p.m. on October 15) and free wifi, because you know I'm going to be Tweeting and Facebooking every single second of my aliyah adventure. And guess what? Room 77 has that option. Genius!

I'm glad I found something, although I probably would have had better/more options to consider had I opted for Room 77. There's always next time, of course, and they do have international location, so that's a huge win for me!

Seriously, friends. Never wonder whether you've gotten the best deal on your hotel room again. Check out Room 77 when planning your next travel adventure!

I was selected for participation in this campaign as a member of Clever Girls Collective.

Aliyah Update: Flight is Booked!

I appreciate that Southwest Airlines allows one to "name" their trip itinerary. Above? That's what I named mine. Yes, I just booked my flight to New York to catch my Monday, October 15 flight out of JFK to Eretz Yisrael. (Okay, so it's not my last U.S. flight ever ... G-d willing my little brother will get married someday, and I'll come back to see it.)

I'd been stressing out over the logistics of the entire adventure, mostly because Southwest (where I had boatloads of miles to use) didn't fly in to JFK. I didn't realize (until today) how close LaGuardia and JFK are, so I nabbed a reservation at a hotel near the two with a free shuttle service to JFK. But also stress arose because I'm going to Los Angeles for the last days of Sukkot to catch up with one of my favorites families on the planet, which has me back in Denver on October 10. Those days when I get back are going to be hardcore crunch time.

And the hotel? It's not a five-star joint -- after all, it's hard to find an airport hotel with any niceness that is under $300 a night. But I found one, and although I might not sleep at all my last night in the United States, I do have this:

"This nonsmoking guestroom offers 1 king bed with a pillowtop mattress, plush duvet, and a choice of pillows. Wireless Internet access is complimentary. The TV comes with premium cable channels."

I'll be comfortable, to say the least. 

So friends, if you're in New York and want to see me before I boot-scoot off to the land that HaShem promised me when I decided to take the wacky adventure of appeasing my Jewish neshama (soul), then you'll know where to find me. 

I just have to be at JFK by 3 p.m. Or Nefesh b'Nefesh will have my head!

As a side note: I think the hotel where I'm staying actually was where I attended a Nefesh b'Nefesh fair several years ago. If so, it will be a weird, happy coincidence.

I'm in Nebraska!

Wait, what?

What a mug, right? Runs in the family. 

Stay tuned for details.

I Don't Hate Israel(is)

Circa 2008, I planted a tree in Israel. I forget the type, but it's the kind that
doesn't fully bear fruit until the generation of the grandchildren. Why?
I believe in Israel, and I believe in continuity.

My last post, Only in Israel, really resulted in quite the ruckus from my readership and some strangers. People said I was speaking lashon hara about Israel and Israelis and even Jews! I really don't like writing these "in defense of myself" posts, but the things people have said to me rub me in a really, really wrong way. Some things people said:

Stop talking loshon hara about Israel and it's [sic] people or leave the country. You should feel lucky that you're even here.

"Its" people are largely Jewish. I'm Jewish. I'm proud to be Jewish. In fact, I'm that person back in the U.S. fighting for Israel education and Hebrew language education, if I'm not mistaken. I'm the person in the U.S. defending the right of Israel and Israelis -- Jews for the most part -- to exist. Sure, I'm luck that I'm here, but you should be, too. 

These [the things I wrote in my post] are just blatant lies. You should have titled your post "why can't Israelis have class like me"

Class? What does "class" have to do with anything? It doesn't take class to let a woman with a stroller by or to not knock over an elderly person on the sidewalk. It also doesn't take "class" to give someone room to breathe, let alone stand, while attempting to connect with HaShem at the Kotel.

And to the comment that "With all due respect, you are writing about your somewhat limited experiences in Jerusalem," I've spent my fair share of time in Israel. December 2008-January 2009, I was here for 10 days. Another 10 days in November-December 2009, followed by another 10 days in November-December 2010. And now, here I am, here for three weeks in Jerusalem proper.  Aside from my first trip (which was Birthright), I've stayed in an apartment in Nachlaot, walked the streets of Jerusalem, sat at coffee shops and wasted time, and eaten at the restaurants and hole-in-the-walls that everyone else does.

That's 30 days before now, plus another 21 after this trip. It might not be consistent, but I know Jerusalem, and I know Israelis. Two of my best friends are Israelis, and they're moving back to Israel this month and I'm sad to see them go because they are my emotional rock much of the time.

I love Jerusalem, and I love Israel. I've been to so many places, including Ramat Shlomo and Ramat Beth Shemesh, Caesaria, Tel Aviv, the Golan, Chevron and so on. I love this country more than anything in the world, but the horror of that moment at the Kotel that sent me reeling and into the doors of an ambulance -- the psychological trauma of it -- sent me reeling.

Everyone, that was a personal post about a personal experience. I didn't want to go into the sordid details of the experience, but maybe I should, so you all understand the gravity of the situation. But it was *that* traumatizing. I didn't leave my apartment for a good day and a half after it. It could have happened anywhere in the world, but it happened in Israel, it's a result of circumstance.

I've been to dozens of concerts in the US, concerts of crowding and pushing and mosh pits, and nothing prepared me for what I experienced at the Kotel.

I love the frankness and chutzpah of Israelis. I love how Israelis can be harsh and giving in the same moment. I love how the same people will ask you for tzedakah over and over again, hoping to help groups of needy young Israelis. I love the attempts by Israel to have the Gap and American Apparel (it closed) and other "American" stores. I love the style of Israeli women in long flowing dresses and multi-colored scarves that dance around their dark eyes. I love the food, the smells, the color of everything and everyone. I love the children bouncing in payot and the scream of sellers in the shuk. I love how I don't feel the need to wear makeup here, and I don't spend hours getting ready everyday. I like how I can sit in my apartment, doing work or wasting time and how I feel completely at peace and at home without even trying.

We all have good days, and we all have bad days. There are, without a doubt, days when Israelis hate being Israelis. There are, without a doubt, days when I hate being in New Jersey, let alone the United States. But the reverse is true, too. Having a frustrated confusing experience in a land that you love with all of your heart can be heartbreaking, and for me, writing is therapeutic. It's like the child who sees his father as completely infallible, perfect, and in one quick moment something small makes him realize we're all human and nothing is meant to be held upon a pedestal, because the moment it is, it surely will begin to fall. Respect, love, and admiration are healthy -- but not without an understanding that all things in this world are imperfect. If they were perfect, then we wouldn't have such a heavy load to carry, Mashiach would come, and HaShem would be satisfied. Clearly, that's not the case.

As one commenter argued,

It's a wonderful country, but if you think we have nothing to work on, then _you_ can leave. E"Y is for people who want to grow, not for those who want to remain stagnant. (Mike)

Amen, amen.

And for those of you who doubt my sincerity or love of Israel, just look at my past posts on Israel. I write about Israel, Israelis, terror, and my desire to make aliyah all the time. 

Only in Israel

Every time I come to Israel, I feel like there are more and more things that stand out to me as "only in Israel" kind of experiences. I think it's staying in an apartment and not a hotel that aids to this experience, but also schlepping around and seeing Israelis and experiencing the life that really makes these things stand out. There are moments when I'm actually saying to myself, "Good lord, this would never happen in New York!" ... Let alone Teaneck, New Jersey.

I mean, we complain about keeping kosher in the U.S., but here it's a ridiculous experience trying to buy a jar of mustard in the store let alone figure out which booths at the shuk are good for spices or loose-leaf tea. It's funny how the te'udot (the document that explains a restaurant or booth's kosher affiliation) have changed since December when Tuvia and I were here last. I still can't manage to tell the difference between  Kosher L'Mehadrin and Rabbanut. Yes, I know, I should just read the documents, but, when you're being shoved around by a hundred other people trying to buy tomatoes, it's kind of hard to stop and smell the roses and analyze a document hanging high above a wall under which is a man yelling for you to buy his delicious, red agvaniot.

Things that happen only in Israel?

• You take a shower and soak the entire bathroom floor. Why? Well, either the shower doors aren't really shower doors, or the Israeli folks behind the bathroom's construction expect that small tilt in the floor to do the job. Of course, there's always the gigantic squeegee. 
• Your feet, the floor, and everything else is perpetually dirty, no matter how much time you spend cleaning (with the squeegee, of course). 
• Leaving your door open for a nice cross-breeze means stray cats think you're inviting them in for a visit.
• A man will sit on the stairs outside your apartment screaming at the top of his lungs into a cellphone -- wearing a kippah and cursing, that is -- without a care in the world. And no one, not a single person, screams out the window "SHUT UP!" 
• Another man (or maybe the same one) will walk down your street coughing as though the world's largest hairball has found its way into his mouth, again, of course, without a care in the world. (The word "restraint" must not exist here.)
• People on the street move for no one -- not the elderly, not babies, nothing. You can say slicha (excuse me) a million times, and they won't budge. Not even IDF soldiers! Call me old fashioned, but ...
• Strangers will speak to you freely, willingly, saying whatever is on their mind or asking you any kind of information. 
• People don't know the next street over. Unless they live on it, they can't tell you where it is. Especially in Nachlaot. 
• People will push, shove, and knock you down to get to the Kotel on a holiday. They'll watch you freaking out, being crushed in a crowd, when they know that there is no room to move forward or backward, watching children be crushed in a crowd, and they will continue to push and push and push until you're forced to freak out in a way that you've never freaked out before. I will never forget the word for stroller (agalah), and I will never forget the nice EMT who once-upon-a-time lived in Memphis, TN. 

And, I'm sure more will be added to this list as my trip goes on. I'm looking forward to be secluded for a few days out at the Dan Hotel on Mt. Scopus for ROI, to be honest. I love Jerusalem, but I don't love being here without Tuvia, and I don't love how claustrophobic a single event has made me. 

If I weren't halfway around the world, I'd pickup and go back to Teaneck. 

In Israel, and ROI Cometh!

My little street in Nachlaot, Ma'on.

Well, here I am in Jerusalem safe and sound. I'm not sure why I'm more exhausted this trip than past trips -- maybe because I don't have Tuvia with me to keep me alive, alert, awake and enthusiastic. Either way, I was up later than I wanted to be last night (millions of emails in the inbox), and there was someone upstairs have a crazy party in which the music rose in volume about every two minutes. I'm worried I might not be able to swing a Shavuot all-nighter, but we'll see. If anything, I'm going to make it to the kotel, even if ever-so-briefly. Then? I might need to sleep some more. But this is one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of things, I feel like. Pilgrimage holiday at the pilgrimage locale? Awesomesauce.

So tonight and tomorrow are Shavuot, which I'm spending with some new and old friends, followed by some chillaxing and then an as-yet-unknown Shabbat in Jerusalem. I kind of want to get my Shabbos on at the kotel, so I'm staying local. Next Shabbos I'll be in Ramat Shlomo with my awesome Lubavitch family (Tuvia's side, of course).

And then it's on to the races. Er ... the 2011 ROI Summit at the Dan Jerusalem Hotel. Still not sure what this ROI thing I'm talking about is? Well, this is the press release, and you can follow everything on Twitter with the hashtag #roicom! (Read more here.) I've got three main areas of passion: Conversion, Social Media, Hebrew Language/Israel Education. I can't say my Hebrew is stellar (sigh), but hopefully this trip will prove my passion worthy.

You can expect gobs of blogging and Tweeting about the event, so if I bog you down, feel free to tune me out for a few days, but I hope you'll listen and learn along with me!

---

Connecting to Create the Jewish Future
Young Social Innovators Will Collaborate at Global Summit in Jerusalem to Transform the Jewish World and Beyond. June 12-16, 2011, Dan Jerusalem Hotel


As cyber-activism and Facebook revolutions sweep the Middle East, 150 Jewish social and business entrepreneurs, technology whizzes, thinkers and artists from Hong Kong to Zagreb, Sao Paulo to San Francisco, and Melbourne to Beersheva, will converge on Jerusalem for the ROI Global Summit of Young Jewish Innovators, to connect and create new tools and novel approaches to shape the Jewish world and beyond.

ROI Community is an international network of 600 social entrepreneurs and Jewish innovators in 40 countries on six continents who are creating innovative ways to connect to Jewish life.

“These young Jewish social entrepreneurs are transforming the Jewish world through their vital initiatives and commitment to tikkun olam, repairing the world,” said Lynn Schusterman, the American Jewish philanthropist who, in 2005, created ROI Community as a partnership with Taglit-Birthright Israel. “As change agents within their own communities, in Israel and beyond, these 20- and 30-somethings are key to ensuring the vibrancy of Jewish life 3,000 years down the road.”

Keynote speaker Marina Nemat, whose best-selling memoir Prisoner of Teheran recounts the torture she endured while imprisoned by the Khomeini regime as a teenager, will address human rights and the revolutions sweeping the Middle East. Opening keynoter Daniel Birnbaum, who, as CEO, oversaw Israel’s biggest IPO in 2010 for start-up SodaStream International, will share how building a corporate culture grounded in environmental responsibility boosts business. And, in conjunction with the Jerusalem Season of Culture, world-renowned video artist Kutiman will unveil a new piece inspired by Jerusalem during the ROI Global Summit.

At the heart of the program is peer-to-peer training and collaborative project-building lead by ROI network members from around the world. In addition, some of Israel’s most successful entrepreneurs and thought leaders will teach Master Classes to inspire the ROIers with their personal stories and insights for effecting change. Among the dozen Master Class teachers will be Yossi Abramowitz, president of the newly formed Arava Power Company and Jewish educator/activist; Independence Party MK Einat Wilf, a Cambridge PhD and former Senior Fellow at the Jewish People Policy Planning Institute, who serves on the Foreign Affairs and Defense, Education and House committees; and, Rachel Azarya, the youngest Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem.

ROI Community has played a key role in seeding and supporting such cutting-edge Jewish start-ups as Moishe House, G-dcast, Jewcology, Omanoot.com, andHaggadot.com. ROI also offers an expansive Micro Grants program to help ROI members turn ideas into actual meaningful projects.

“ROI Community creates a space where connection and innovation happen,” said Justin Korda, ROI Community Executive Director. “Our ultimate goal is to link up dynamic, creative young Jews, enabling them to translate their ideas into initiatives that bring the joy of Jewish life to Jews around the world and impact the world around them. Ultimately, we envision a thousand-strong network of innovators engaging a million people in diverse forms of Jewish life.”

AirTran, You Suck.

Well, SXSW is over, and I am exhausted. The trip is always just long enough to wear me out, but not too long to make me regret taking the time and energy. Overall, I think I got a lot more out of this trip than I did last year because I was more focused in picking panels, and I also didn't kill myself trying to make it to everything. I would say things were chill, and I met a lot of really interesting people. This will probably be a muli-part post, because I have some kvetching and some kvelling to do. First, of course is the kvetching.

Tuvia dropped me at Laguardia at 5:45 am last Friday for a 7 am AirTran flight, and the day just fell apart from there. Why? It began with security. I was wearing a short sleeve shirt with a zip black hoodie/cardigan thing and a gray knit hat. The woman at security asked me to remove my "jacket" and hat. I told her I was an Orthodox Jew (I can't even count how many times I said this phrase during my trip) and that for modesty purposes, I couldn't remove them. She was zero tolerance and called for a full-body pat down. The woman who checked me out went quick, but moved my hat around, which upset me. I was upset that they even asked. It's New York. There are lots of Orthodox Jews. Did Dallas ask me to remove my hat on my way back? Nope!

I got to the AirTran gate with plenty of time to spare and grabbed a seat. As 7 neared and no plane was at our gate, people started to get antsy. Then, finally at 6:50, they decided to tell us that our plane was having difficulties and told us to go to a different gate. So evryone went to that gate, but there was no explanation of what was supposed to happen. Then, after people started asking, we found out that none of us would make our Atlanta connections, so we had to get into a line to rebook our connections. It being Friday, I was worried about making it to Dallas in time for Shabbat, so I went to the front of the line and explained to the conter guy my situation. Hs reaction? Tough luck, you have to wait in line like everyone else. I turned to the people in the front of the line and explained my situation, asking if I could hop in the front of the line to secure something ASAP (before any spare seats got eaten up). The girl in the front of the line looked at me and said, "Are you kidding? No way. Get in line like everyone else." The people behind her iterated something similar. The attitude, the snark, the scowls on the faces shocked me. No sympathy, no understanding, nothing. I wasn't asking for a hand-out, but I was in a serious bind. 

I went back about five or six people to a group of women and explained my situation and asked if I could cut them in line, and they were more than willing. They were incredibly sympathetic and felt really horribly for me. I got up to the counter, to the, pardon my French, jerk of an AirTran employee and, once again, explained the situation. "I have a 5 o'clock flight that will get you in at 6:30, but I can only put you on standby," he said, completely unsympathetic. I begged, I pleaded, I explained that my husband had looked online and found five open seats on a 3 something flight. "Nope," he said, as he printed me out a standby ticket for a flight that was completely worthless anyway. I was almost in tears. This guy didn't get it. I asked if they'd transfer my ticket to another airline if someone had a flight, and he said they could refund me if I found something. I asked him to check his computer for other airlines with flights, because they'd announced that a new plane was coming to take the 7 o'clock passengers, so I had minimal time to figure something out. "We don't have that information on our computers, you have to go check with each of them," he said. Stunned, I walked away, and then ran away, to the Southwest counter, where they were boarding a flight that would get me to Dallas -- however, it was $600, they wouldn't be able to transfer my luggage, and, oh, right, the door was closing. I asked the guy if he could access other flights with other airlines on his computer, and he did, meaning the jerk at AirTran was too much of a jack*** to help me out of my bind. 

I ran back to the AirTran gate, figuring that if I at least took the plane to Atlanta, I could find a place in Atlanta to stay for Shabbat and maybe find a flight that would get me to Dallas before Shabbat. And then? They started to prepare to board the 8 o'clock flight to Atlanta. I walked over, begging for a spot on board. The flight would get in in just enough time to give me to transfer to my 10:15 to Dallas. And then? The woman at the counter said that because my luggage was already set for the 7 o'clock flight, I couldn't get on board. Why? WHY!? Both planes were going to Atlanta! My bag had to be transferred anyway! So I waited. Angry. I waited. The plane didn't come until ... I don't even remember when. Everyone boarded, we took off, and on-board, with free Twitter access, I started crowd-sourcing Shabbat plans in Atlanta. I was still holding out for the plane to seriously gun-it and make it in for my 10:15 a.m. flight. While in-flight, someone let me know that the flight had been delayed to 10:30, I was still hopeful. 

The worst part of all of this was that they didn't communicate with us, it took forever to get a new plane, they didn't offer any kind of compensation for the CRAPTASTIC way they handled things, they were rude, and ... I mean ... you had an entire plane of people that you screwed over and you didn't follow-through with good customer service. AirTran, you followed-through with radio silence and rudeness. Way to #fail.

And then? We landed, I ran out of the aircraft, only to discover that the flight had just left. Half of the 10:15 flight was on my plane, so I guess there were a lot of people on standby who got really frakin' lucky. I walked to the gate attendant and told her I was having a serious emergency, so she sent me to a counter to rebook. The woman at the counter told me she had nothing, but to go to "The Specialist" Ben down at the main gate. I ran, I booked it, to this specialist guy. After all of my troubles, and explaining my story to five million people, most of which were unsympathetic and didn't give a crap, all it took was me telling Ben that I was an Orthodox Jew, that I needed to get to Dallas by 5 p.m., or else I was screwed. He tapped at his computer, printed out a pass, handed it to me, and said, "Don't go flaunting this around, there are a lot of people from your flight on standby for the 3 o'clock flight, but I squeezed you in, a window seat is okay?" I wanted to kiss the man. Like, fly over the counter and just hug him. It would be pushing it, but I was on the flight. Luckily, the seat was in a cushy space with lots of leg room and the flight was smooth. My luggage arrived (I was really worried about that), and I was picked up by @ravtex, schlepped off to his and @susqhb's place in Dallas, I hopped in the shower, hosed down, got dressed, and bam, it was Shabbos. 

Luckily, my trip back has been smoother. I know that I'll never fly AirTran ever again, because their customer service is horrible, save for the amazing Ben in Atlanta. When I checked my luggage this morning in Dallas, which I paid $20 to do online, and it was weighed, it was 9 pounds too heavy. I looked at the pricing chart, and it looked like an overweight item was $49. So, I assumed, I would only have to pay another $29. Nope, the lady says, it's $20 and an additional $49. What the hell? Seriously? $69 to check a bag? You've got to be kidding me. I paid it, because I didn't have a choice, but this means that AirTran is on my you-know-what list, and I will never, NEVER fly them ever again. 

Thank heavens Southwest Airlines is now flying out of Newark (well, starting late March). I hope that Southwest knows that they bought a dud when they bought AirTran. Maybe they'll rub off on AirTran and make them suck less and not rip their customers off so horribly. Oh, and maybe teach them some sensitivity training. 

I love travelling, I love flying, and most of the time, I don't have problems, as an Orthodox Jew, but man this time killed me. Next year? I'm flying direct to Austin like I did last year, and I'm going to make Shabbos there, too. Why? It'll make life so much easier. 

Friend Heading to Israel Needs Advice!

Hello faithful blog readers! I have a request and need your advice for a friend.

She's planning on a trip for her 30th birthday. Can you give her some advice on good options? Here are the specs:

• Travelers will be ages 60, 50, 30, and 18.
• One person is very interested in religion, and three people less so. 
• All are interested in art and culture and food.
• Two people are interested in being active (a modest hike, dead sea).
• Hotel doesn't have to be kosher.
• Not five-star, but nothing slummed out.
• Planning a seven-day trip. Maybe 10 days. 
• Important: No one speaks Hebrew, and two people read it only so-so. 
• Would you recommend a tour guide?

So? What's your advice? My only major tip is to devote a ton of time to going to The Israel Museum. It's *amazing.* Oh, and go to Papagaio, it's deliciously meaty and amazing.

Home Bittersweet Home

Well, we're back from Israel. I've been largely incommunicado because, well, surprise surprise I'm ill. It started with a bout of nausea motzei Shabbos (Tuvia went for falafel at Moshiko on Ben Yehuda Street, and I went to bed), and it culminated with a temperature drop (I don't get fevers, I drop in temperature), chills, and a horrible headache yesterday. I went to bed yesterday at 4 p.m., woke up at 8:30 p.m. for some soup, and then went back to bed until 7 a.m. this morning. I'm feeling better, sort of, but the nausea is killing me. No, I'm not preggo. Don't even ask.

Our last major adventure in Israel was a trip to Hevron and Kever Rachel. Here's a view from the טיילת.

Leaving Israel was bittersweet, but because I wasn't feeling well I was ready to just get home to my bed and my stuff in my house. Traveling is hard, it's fun, but it's hard. Living out of suitcases and being without your favorite toiletries is just rough. It is. Being in Jerusalem and Israel all over was beautiful and exciting and riveting and ... yes, I was elated to be there, to feel the feeling of being a Jerusalemite for 10 days, but there's something about being home. Being in the U.S.

I know what you're thinking: But Chaviva! You want so much to move to Israel! To make aliyah, right?

It's funny, and you all will find this shocking, but this trip didn't sing to me like ones in the past did. Yes, it was nice to hang out with gobs of awesome Twitter olim and seeing family who are living in and loving Israel. But the trip was frustrating for me. I'll admit it's probably because of the language frustration -- being almost there, but not fluent. Or it might have been the weather and the idea of losing winter if we ever moved to Israel. Not having the normal stores with the normal stuff, too, was frustrating. And, of course, the water giving me stomach aches was no fun (this was my third trip and the water never bothered me before). But there was something about this trip that made me ask myself, "Could you really do this?"

Don't get your panties in a twist just yet. I'm just saying there was something about this trip that didn't hit me right. And it might just be that I'm grumpy and sick and have nearly 40 pages to write by Wednesday ... but something gave me pause. Caution. And it's a scary feeling. Knowing that my neshama and heart are in Jerusalem and that my brain and body are wondering "hrm ..." is frustrating.

At any rate, Happy Chanukah, this time from New Jersey.

Israel Adventures: Take One

Kotel tunnels ... yummy. 

Greetings from Eretz Yisrael, which, by the way, is known as Medinat Yisrael when you're in the country (Eretz = land and Medinat = state, and thus it makes sense).

I have a million things to blog about, which I'll aggregate for you here (and hopefully expand on -- when necessary -- when I return in a week). Among these things are:

• The lack of self-awareness of a certain couple of super frum guys in front of us on the plane. I think there should be a rule about getting up from your seat for extended periods of time to daven and putting your SEATBACK in the upright position. You leave for an hour. I should get a break, right? 
• There was some big macher rebbe on the plane. No clue who he was or what his chassidus was, but he was really important. Really. First-class and first-on-the-plane important.
• My Hebrew sucks. My accent sucks. I'm angry at myself. I'll expand later. 
• I don't care who you are, or where you come from, or where you're going, or what you're doing ... bringing a box cutter in your backpack through security to the Kotel is ... sigh ... the most idiotic thing. EVER. 
• There was this kid that chased us down in the cardo (the market/shuk in the old Jewish quarter in Jerusalem) because he was haggling with us obnoxiously and we turned him down. I gave in, in the end, but for my price. I regret this. 
• We had the same tour guide for the Kotel Tunnels and the Hurva Synagogue. He was awesome. You want a charismatic leader? I've got one for you. Oh, and the sites were amazing, too.
• Why is it that when you ride a plane with some people or go on a tour with some people, you end up seeing them EVERYWHERE the entire time you're on vacation? Is Israel really that small? 

And, for now, lastly, Tuvia and I just returned home from the #BStweetup. For those of you not completely immersed in the Twitterverse (aka www.twitter.com), this was an event for Twitterers who follow one another and like to get together and geek out and actually meet one another in real life (IRL). I've met some of my best friends this way, so it was the perfect way to meet my Israeli mishpacha (family) during our stay. It was really nice to sit down to a huge meal in Bet Shemesh (hence the BS in #BSTweetup) with a bunch of Americans who've made their way to Israel for one reason or another. If anything, it's made the desire to move to Israel stronger. Knowing we have friends and a mishpacha here? It's a confidence booster. So, I give you, the Israeli Twitter Mishpacha: A Sampling. 

Leavin' On a Jet Plane!

As you know, I'm on my way to Israel, where I'll be chillaxing until December 5. This means I won't be around as much here on the blog and on Twitter, especially as much as I have been the past week (and, I ask, what's up with me being around so much?).

I did want to give a heads up to my Israeli readers that there's a Tweetup in Bet Shemesh (#BSTweetup) on Sunday, November 28, at 8 p.m. at Homes Burger. There will be Twitterers, Facebookers, Bloggers, and other awesome folks there, so I hope you can make it. People will be schlepping in from all over, so if you need a ride, it can probably be arranged. Check out the Facebook event.

I'm hoping to blog from the road, especially because my blogger wheels having been spinning rapidly these days (again, seriously, you'd think I have nothing else to do, right?). So stay tuned!

PS: We're staying in Jerusalem, but we'll be heading to Tel Aviv, Ramat Bet Shemesh, and Ramat Shlomo, too!

The Kosher Traveler: Woe is Me!

The view on my way out of New Jersey on Monday.

South Carolina: It's south of the "border," and the kosher options are slim to none in most places. I anticipated this, of course. I did my research, scouring the internet for some semblance of hope for my four-day adventure, and what I came back with was that there were a few kosher digs in Myrtle Beach, so I immediately told my brother that we'd be going there, no excuses. His response was to ask a really amusing question, drawn out over nearly a minute, "So, sis, if you, you know, if you come down, and, we, you know, go to a kosher restaurant, can you, you know, pay for it?" 

Here's a guy who has no idea that kosher restaurants are more expensive than hitting up Wendy's, but who has been living on very little this summer. Amused, I agreed, and thus it was settled -- there would be at least one kosher meal on my adventure. But what about the other meals? I decided that I wanted to cook for the brother and his girlfriend, assuming that they've been eating a lot of canned chili and things like that. I packed my cooler with Empire Kosher Chicken, a bag of mixed potatoes (red, purple, white), a jar of olive oil, a mixture of thyme and other herbs, and a jar of my Celestial Seasonings 7 Pepper Spice, with the intention of making some yummy spicy chicken and herb-roasted potatoes. Set. That's two meals. (And the latter went over super well with the kids; they inhaled it!)

Now what?

I packed dried fruit, a can of cashews, a loaf of the Katz Gluten Free Bread, Marshmallow Fluff, peanut butter, and some cottage cheese. Oh! And some Gluten-Free Cinnamon Chex. I planned to get by on cereal and sandwiches, but after one created sandwich, I was ready to throw the bread away. I had good luck with the Katz Gluten Free Challah (sliced) Bread, but this whole grain version was ... well ... disgusting, grainy, and gross. So I noshed some nuts and dried fruit on the way down, bought some chips, and by the time I got to South Carolina (two large coffees and that food later), I felt disgusting. I had such a horrible stomach ache and I was up half the night with tummy pains. Sigh.

Tuesday we went to Myrtle Beach, and I was so excited to actually eat something, so at Cafe M I ordered a big ole' flounder with some fries and Israeli salad, and the meal didn't disappoint. In fact, I ate far too much food because I knew I wasn't getting a real meal again until the next night when I was making dinner. The rest of the day consisted of some Ben and Jerry's Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz at Broadway at the Beach, and lots and lots of water. When we left around 10:30 to head back to Columbia, the kids were famished and very softly asked me if it was okay if we stopped at Wendy's for them to get dinner. Listen, they're not kosher, and if they need me to deliver them to Wendy's to grab some burgers and fries, then so be it. So we went, they ordered, they ate, I drove, finishing off the rest of my cashews and water. Woe, be me. I was hungry.

Back at the apartment, I opted to just go to bed on an empty stomach than suffer through some chips or cereal again.

Here we are, the two of us. He's so tall now!

The next day, I awoke to eat two large bowls of cereal -- I was famished. Luckily, the first night I was there I picked up a big carton of Lactaid and made it work. The cereal, thank G-d, kept me full until dinnertime around 7, which, of course, was the dinner I prepared and the kids inhaled. All it took was some throw-away pans, lots of foil, and bam, easy kosher dinner in a non-kosher kitchen. It can be done. It can!

I started Thursday morning at 6 a.m., downing a bowl of cereal and hitting the road as hard I as could. I stopped in Raleigh for coffee with one of my BFFs of nearly 10 years who I'd had yet to meet. It was an awesome and surreal experience to sit down with a friend over coffee after so many years. Two cups of coffee later, I was back on the road. My plan was to drive all the way through to Baltimore and stop there for some kosher eats, and the plan was going along swell up until the point that I got on the beltway amid torrential rain and horrible traffic ... two hours I sat there in the traffic, intermittently noshing tortilla chips and dried fruit. The payoff? A burger and fries from Kosher Bite, which I inhaled so quickly I barely tasted it.

Was it really that rough that I had to inhale all the kosher eats I could get? Should I have planned better and brought more food?

Yes, it was really that rough. Being kosher and gluten free presents the challenge wherein I can't even go to the store and buy a loaf of bread. The cooler didn't work like it was supposed to, and my milk went bad pretty quick on the ride back home. Chips and snacks aren't a way to live, and a salad isn't practical to eat on the road. So planning better wouldn't have done much for me. I eat a lot of yogurt, cottage cheese, salad, and other cold-necessary items. I could have gone to the store, I suppose, but it would have been buying items that I wouldn't have been able to finish in the few days I was there and wouldn't have survived the trip back. The problem of eating was compounded by the fact that my little bro and his girlfriend have a very wacky and casual eating schedule, so I wasn't exactly sure when and where and how to eat.

This led to my little brother quipping, "Are you not hungry? You haven't eaten like anything on your trip?"

I was hungry, believe me. It reminds me of my trip to SXSW back in March and how difficult it was for me to plan my food and not be starved. I existed on powerbars and coffee most of the trip, which wasn't ideal, but I wasn't really prepared for the meals either. Now, I'm gluten free and making a sandwich isn't as easy as it once was. I want to avoid the pre-packaged self-heating meals and things like that because they're bad, bad, bad for you, and fruits and vegetables are delicate and can easily be smushed or go bad in the wrong environment.

Overall? It was a rough kosher experience. I got one really good meal out of it at Cafe M in Myrtle Beach, and the meal I prepared really hit my tastebuds out of the park. But inhaling both of these meals because it was the only real meal eaten both days wasn't smart. That's no way to go about my business. Luckily, there are no long-distance roadtrips in my future because this one destroyed my knees, my back, and my shoulders. My body is seriously beat down, but I managed to get home Thursday night after the two-hour traffic delay and a weird incident on the highway with a traffic closure and a cop's wacky driving style. Friday I woke up and cooked a meal for champions for my four Shabbat guests, and it all came together better than I could have planned. The result, however, is that I'm even more sore than when I arrived home Thursday.

Tomorrow is the Jewish Social Media Schmooze event in NYC at which I'll be a moderator, which means another day where I won't be able to rest and relax (listen, Shabbat is supposed to be relaxing, but those of you who entertain know how not true that is). So this week is my week. I'm going to hopefully get a massage, take lots of baths, and chill. This body needs a break.

So here's my query to you, the reader: How do you travel kosher? How do you travel kosher and gluten free? Or, better yet, do you have any recommendations for how I can travel kosher and gluten free? 

(Luckily, I won't be travelling long-distance again until November/December and that's to Israel, so no kosher concerns there!)

If Jews Ruled the World ...

It occurred to me, just a few days ago, long after I booked my flight to SXSW Interactive, that big Music, Interactive, and Film festival in Austin, Texas every year around this time, that Daylight Savings is going to rain on my parade. My flight, at 6:45 a.m. on Sunday, will really be more like 5:45 a.m. on Sunday. This means that I'll have to be at the airport around 5 a.m., which is really more like 4 a.m. This means I'll probably, if I'm lucky, get something along the lines of four hours of sleep, before flying off to three days of interactive, social media awesomeness and geekatude in one of the nation's greatest (and most humid) cities.

Sigh. So much for planning well.

In a perfect world, with the time change, there would be more late motzei Shabbos flights. Then again, "if only Jews ruled the world!" Yeah, if we ruled the world there'd be late flights everywhere! Especially time zones behind the East Coast, because, well, they're behind us in time. Wait, don't Jews run the world? Isn't that the rumor/stereotype?

All I'm going to say is, if that rumor were true, I'd be flying to SXSW on Saturday night, not Sunday morning at the tush-crack of dawn.

For those of you planning to be at SXSWi, check out the Judaism 2.0 panel at 3:30 p.m. on Tuesday. Come and partake in the goodness hosted by myself and Mordechai, and meet the awesomest of attendees, including Leah Jones and others. Also, if you're in the Austin area but NOT attending SXSW, let me know and maybe we can do a meetup.

School starts soon, and I am so unprepared.

I'm back, part two. (That's me in the Omaha airport on Thursday, nursing a 2-hour delay with $3.99 unlimited day's web access.)

After returning from Israel, I headed home to Nebraska to get some time in with my family -- specifically to see how my father was doing after his first round of chemo at the end of December. The trip out wasn't too bad, we flew out of Newark in the wee hours of the morning on Monday and got to Nebraska with time to do some outlet shopping at some sad, sad outlet malls between Omaha and Lincoln. Our first stop? Runza. The world's greatest fast-food joint. Tuvia loved the place so much, every time we talked about getting another bite to eat, he'd joke about going back to Runza. We spent the next few days driving around town, me showing Tuvia my old haunts (especially the Coffee House, where we went three of the four days we were there), my high school, my favorite places, and cheesy places like the mall to buy me a nice formal dress for an upcoming awards ceremony that was canceled due to the inclement weather last night (but it was beautiful -- well, the weather, that is; I guess the dress is okay, hah). We ate at all my favorite places -- Runza, Bison Witches, Lazlos -- and a few places that I wasn't so fond of. We went book shopping and I discovered that my favorite bookshop -- The Antiquarium -- that used to be down in the Old Market in Omaha is no longer there, trading space for someplace out of town. The old places are turning into new places with condos and lofts popping up all over downtown Omaha and in the Haymarket in Lincoln.

But the most important part of the trip was probably the time spent at home, just sitting with my family. Tuvia managed to spend a good hour stumping my mom, little brother, the little brother's girlfriend, and me with a game called "Petals Around the Rose." I could have killed him, that game is so ridiculous. I got to look at old photos of my mom and dad, and many of my mom when she was just a child. My grandmother, in an effort to clean out the house after my grandfather passed last year, has come up with some real gems. My favorites are probably the ones of the car my mother wrecked -- there are so many of that poor front bumper. But the photos of mom and dad opening gifts, dad in his plaid shirts and overalls (a style he managed well into the early 2000s) are some of the most prized I saw.

Last Tuesday, we took my dad to his doctor's appointments, eventually shuffling him to a hospital across the way for some extra looks into what was making him feel so crappy. We spent nearly four hours with my dad that day. I followed him into the doctor's office, helped ask questions, and took about four pages of notes to share with my mom on his medicines, how he was feeling, his shocking weight loss, and other notable things. He kept apologizing for taking up our time, and I kept reminding him "We're in Lincoln, Nebraska, there isn't that much for us to do, it's okay!" In some way, I have to believe that me being there helped calm him, in some way maybe.

It was more emotionally exhausting than I had planned for, and it didn't really hit me how drained I was until Tuvia and I got back to our little Motel 6 room each night. I just wanted to sleep it all off, prepare myself for another day, and go. Even now, as I sit comfortably in Connecticut staring out the window after a night's snow leftovers, I feel a little tired. I talk to my mom who tells me when dad is having his up days and down days. Some days he's down for some Subway, other days he just feels sick. It's the chemo.

So that was the past week for me. Trying to smile and stay lifted. Excited to see my little brother, who has managed to grow a nice little "emo" 'do on his head (men in my family are blessed with thick heads of hair), which his girlfriend seems to really like. He's a smart kid, a really smart kid, and he always makes me smile, no matter how crappy I feel. I miss him -- a lot. Luckily, having Tuvia there was a great lift. He's kind of a personified smile. He is always optimistic, uplifted, and manages to keep me afloat. I think it was a good thing for my parents to meet him when they did -- he allowed laughter, smiles, and fun to enter the house for a few days.

At any rate, a sobering post, I know. I have more Israel to talk about, of course, and I'll probably write next on my Bat Mitzvah ceremony, which was a major trip. I think, if anything, the photos will do the talking for me, though. The look on my face? Priceless and cheesy!