Potpourri.

Birthday funnel cake!


Yesterday Ian and I went to the Lincoln Park Zoo -- probably the best zoo I've been to second only to the Omaha Zoo in Omaha, Nebraska (I've been to Denver, Springfield, Tulsa, Kansas City, Washington D.C., etc.) -- for my birthday. And the Lincoln Park Zoo is FREE. Yes, it is FREE, folks. Not a penny is put out when you walk into one of the many wide-open entrances. It was clean, the animals were aplenty and lively, it was just beautiful. Here are a few photos of my favorite exhibits at just about every zoo: meerkatz and gorillas.

Then there was this guy, a red panda, that completely posed for me; it was beautiful!

Then we went up to Northwestern to this little peninsula with a beautiful view of the downtown skyline, not to mention some snazzy rocks that are decorated with proposals and other happy things and lots of boats.
For more fun photos of my zoo and Evanston adventures ... visit my Flickr!

Today (my actual birthday) wasn't so much fun. Lots of things swirling about resulted in me sleeping much of the day and only really enjoying the day long enough to hit up Wildfire for some dinner, which was wonderful; the joint makes me feel like I'm in the 1940s and should be wearing a snazzy cocktail dress. Ian made the weekend truly great for me, and for that I thank you.

So here's to possible massive changes in the near future. Cheers to all!

This is ... PHOTO HEAVY!

Read on for the dad files, Ian's birthday cake and FRIED PICKLES!

So an addition to the dad files is below. I got a new shipment of mail (credit card offers, etc.) that went to my parents house, and of course there was an envelope filled with coupons from dad. The thing about this envelope though ... this was a special envelope. This envelope was BIG doins. Why, you ask, would an envelope be such big doins? Just take a look. It not only had the pork and beans (for Ian) and Hebrew National hot dogs (for the Hebrew in the house) ...

It had both our names! That's like ... huge! Well, in my mind it is. For years I've gotten the coupon envelope with just my name. But now it's for the both of us. And on that note, I'll mention that we saved $4.00 at the store today thanks to dad coupons :D

On another note, I made Ian a cake for his birthday (which was Aug. 20) last night. It was white cake with chocolate frosting. Of course it was nothing like the homemade goods that Christy recently dished out, but it was something! I made myself a piping bag and even wrote on it ... and I'll be the first to admit it was a lot more delicious than these photos make it appear!


And some post-cake-making carnage!

And that's what yesterday was, in addition to paying a visit to Uber Burger up in Evanston where I found my FAVORITE memory food ... fried pickles! Now, when I lived in the dorms, there were fried pickles. But they were frozen and they were in spear form. When I was a kid living in Joplin, Mo., we used to go down to Arkansas to the AQ Chicken House and that's where I was first exposed to fried pickles. It's one of those foods that sticks with you and you crave it when you get the slight hint of a certain smell like buttermilk and pickles and fry grease. Maybe I'm the only one who has this kind of experience, but it's THE ultimate comfort food for me. The best thing about Uber Burger is that they make them in-house. They're not frozen or freeze dried. No sir, they're fresh out of the barrel and put into the grease with their homemade recipe of batter. Served up with some ranch dressing, it absolutely made my day. Perhaps my month.


Folks, if you haven't done fried pickles, I can't express how greatly you're missing out. They're so ... so good ... crispy, tangy, comfort home style food.

Okay, a few things.

Firstly, I'm going to wait to do the Hebrew courses until the Spring, considering the deadline for registration for the non-credit courses is, well, you know, THURSDAY. That's just too quick. Plus, I've got some hefty expenses otherwise that shall keep me from dishing out the grand or so for the Hebrew (you see, if I take it for non-credit, then pass the equivalence exam, then I don't have to pay for the courses as a part of my master's degree which would be three times the non-credit cost). As such, I'm going to pick up the Hebrew textbook they use, zip through the first seven units (aleph-bet, vowels, sounding out, etc.) so hopefully when I get to taking Hebrew I can skip the Mekhina course (the admissions gal said it sounds like I'm probably solid on skipping it anyhow). So for now, I study for the GRE (again) and work on my application. WOOOOO!

Secondly, for Ian's birthday (which is Monday) I was hoping to buy him some Omaha Steaks (which he loves) and take him to Chop House for dinner. The latter is still happening, but instead of my semi-selfish plot of buying steaks (since he does all the cooking), I've gone halfsies on a guitar that he so very much wanted. That beautiful baby over there helps make his collection complete for the time being (two guitars? why does a man need to guitars?). It's nice, considering he sold his stuff when he moved to Chicago (to be with me). So I feel like we're coming full circle.

Thirdly, I'm ready for winter. This heat and humidity is ridiculous to the umph degree.

And that, for now, is all. Shalom!

Bagels and Lox! Bagels and Lox!

Am I a bad Jew? I had bagels and lox -- for the FIRST TIME -- last night at Eleven City Diner here in Chicago. And I don't know if it's an acquired taste ... but ... I didn't particularly enjoy it! Ian and I spent some time discussing the finer Jewish foods. There aren't many that I am not a fan of. I live gefilte fish, kugel, hamantaschen, charoset ... you name it ... I love it. But bagels and lox -- what Ian calls the "Jewish sushi" -- definitely didn't win me over. But here are some fun photos of the experience anyway!

Eleven City Diner is now my favorite Jew restaurant ... where the meals have names like "The Schwartzy" and "The Moshe," the pickles are homemade, the bar is full of Manischewitz and the jazz and blues are always playing. Amen!

Welcome back, Chavi.

Ian has started school, and that gives me two nights out of the week to devote to Torah. Because of my sad dedication to Fox's "Hell's Kitchen," that knocks Monday night out. So Wednesday is now Torah Thyme (his slogan, not mine!). In the past three months I've neglected to read 3 or 4 of the parshah, which has given me this gigantic guilt complex. I loathe going to shul on Friday and not being previously knowledgeable on the topic at hand. I prefer to be prepared!

This week's Torah portion is Chukkat (חקת), and includes the dreaded moment when G-d tells Moses and Aaron that they won't enter the land, following the water/rock fiasco. I found a couple of interesting points and commentaries in Etz Chayim this week, including what could be construed as an allusion or validation of Christ in Christianity. But first, I have to mention an article I read in "Reform Judaism," the URJ's publication, regarding kashrut and an interesting take on the text.

In the summer issue, in "The Civilized Diet" -- a conversation with Rabbi Simeon Maslin -- the origins of kashrut are discussed and the text is addressed in a most interesting way. According to Rabbi Maslin, the instances of the law to "not boil a kid in its mother's milk" appear in relation to pagan sacrificial rituals, suggesting that such acts were forbidden to Israel so as to avoid practicing pagan rituals. He points out that the three times it appears in Torah, not once does it appear within the exhaustive list of dietary laws in Leviticus 11. The article is mostly dedicated to the idea of eco-Kosher, or "keeping with the spirit and intent of Torah." Eating, as it were, is an act that should receive much more attention than it does (i.e. appreciate and understand what you are eating prior to consuming it, appreciate the animal that died and where it derived). But his point about the appearance of this key component of kashrut is particularly interesting. He says he appreciates that many avoid mixing milk and meat as a respect for thousands of years of history or the idea of avoiding the food of persecution (pork, for example, because it was an identifier of Jews during the Inquisition), but for him the milk/meat "law has nothing to do with the prohibition against eating." There are a few thoughts here. In fact, Maimonides also suggested that in biblical times there were pagan cult rituals which involved the cooking of a kid in its mother's milk (Guide of the Perplexed, III-48).

On to Chukkat! I have just a few things I'd like to mention and a few questions I'd like to pose.

+ There are plenty, PLENTY of citations of ways to become unclean in the Torah. One, cited in this parshah, is dealing with corpses. Torah cites that one is unclean for seven days upon touch a corpse, but what I wonder is whether ... and perhaps this is a stupid question ... the number of days one remains unclean varies by the number of corpses one touches ...?

+ In Num 20:1-13 is the explanation of using the ashes of a brown (red) cow to atone for sins. The comments listed in Etz Chayim says something interesting: "Just as the ashes of the brown cow atone for sin, the death of a righteous person does the same (BT MK 28a)." The first thing I thought of when I read that was the concept of Christ and the basis for Christianity. I think it's interesting that the Talmud says such a thing about the death of a righteous person being akin to atoning for sin ... am I crazy here? Or could this be a valid citation for a Christian theologian to say "See! See! The Talmud says so!!! Jews for Jesus!"

+ I had another query, but then I Googled it and "Judaism 101" (JewFaq.org) had the answer! I think it's quite interesting, and I hadn't a clue. Num. 20:29 has a notation that although the mourning period of losing a parent is 12 months, Kaddish is only recited for 11 months. I thought this was a *little* strange, but alas! Here's the explanation from the Web site:

According to Jewish tradition, the soul must spend some time purifying itself before it can enter the World to Come. The maximum time required for purification is 12 months, for the most evil person. To recite Kaddish for 12 months would imply that the parent was the type who needed 12 months of purification! To avoid this implication, the Sages decreed that a son should recite Kaddish for only eleven months.

Brilliant! Thanks Judaism 101!

+ I have to make a note about this appearance of "Oi!" in this parshah. I don't know if I've missed it before, but this is the first time I've seen it in Torah. In Num. 21:29, there's sort of a "woe unto you" spiel that says: "Woe unto you, O Moab!" and in Hebrew is אוי לך מואב! or "Oi-l'cha Moab!" Beautiful, nu?

And that's it for this week. I'm trying to get better about my studies, so here's to hoping for more regular posting, more Torah thought, and more Judaism, darn't! On that note, Ian and I are officially becoming members of Temple Sholom here in Chicago. It's the first time in my life I've paid "dues" to be a part of a religious organization (in Lincoln my monthly bulletin duties and the fact that I was a poor student got me by for temple dues). In the coming months, hopefully I'll be able to plan on participating in many of the synagogue's committees, activities, and perhaps what I'm most excited about -- Adult Education courses! Hoorah!

Here's to the weekend, and a relaxing Shabbos to my friends and readers!

Like an old shoe.

They say you can never go home. And they lie.

I'm back in Nebraska for the weekend. My college friend Patrick married his Husker sweetheart, Amanda, last night in a short, but kind wedding at St. Paul's in downtown Lincoln. Aside from a lot of Christy-talk, it was a nice ceremony. The song was strange, as it was about the "beauty of Christ's body." Being me, it made me squirm a little in my seat. I guess there's nothing beautiful about a crucified body, in my opinion. Though I imagine it was metaphorical, I don't get that kind of stuff. The reception that followed was small, beautiful and what I'd hope mine could be. It wasn't ritzy (the steak was delicious, though), but had a flare of class. The music options (some Sinatra, and other big band tunes) were astounding, not to mention that the cake was moist as anything I've ever had. The best part? The jellybeans on the tables. Kudos, my man. Kudos. The bride and groom were dashing, and I nearly cried after finishing my dollar dance with Patrick. There's something about seeing a good friend happy, glowing in what they really deserved that makes you want to cry for them. In happiness, of course. Mazel tov, my friends.

The trip has gone quite well so far.

We went to South Street temple on Friday night, and I can't even begin to describe how fulfilling it was. If there's one thing I miss most in my life, the one thing that if I could top it all off right now and be completely happy, it would be to be able to be with my synagogue family again. It's been more than a year since last I went to temple there, but I fell right back in. Rabbi Emanuel welcomed me to read a bit from the siddur (which was so nice, considering it will be eons before I'm asked to read at our new synagogue in Chicago) and there was a baby name ceremony, so myriad people were there. All of the old friends -- Barb, Deb, the Zlotskys, the rabbi and his family, Sara and her husband -- everyone was there. It seems I've missed a lot in the past year. Babies, engagements, catastrophe at the Conservative synagogue in town (which I INTEND on finding all about, of course). I miss my friends there. I miss the Torah studies and conversation. It's so hard to get to the new temple on Saturdays for Torah study, when it takes an hour and a half by transit to make it there. But it was reassuring, reaffirming, and uplifting to be there again. The place where I kindled my faith and found a home and a family among all the world's Israelites. It will always be my home, and each time I come back is a reminder that no matter how lost and far away I feel, I always have somewhere to go back to.

We hit the Starlite Lounge Friday night, where we ran into Johnny and other old Daily Nebraskan chums. I fell in love with the Tom Collins and relished in the hipness of the place I used to go every Thursday for free appetizers and cheaply priced faux martinis. There was Bison Witches yesterday afternoon for lunch, which I was happy that Ian loved. If I could franchise a restaurant, that might be it. We visited Target and went to the wedding, topping the night off with some Runza to fill our stomachs. If you've never had a Runza burger, then you're missing out. It's another restaurant I'd like to franchise -- if only so I could eat the burgers and fries for the rest of my days. Even Ian, a burger/food connoseur and the toughest critic I know, said it was the best fast food burger he'd ever had (topping Inn-N-Out, among others). Today it was Frenchees and the Coffee House, the latter being a staple of the College Years for me.

Either way, every place felt like home. It's quiet, being summertime with classes out. The college kids make up a big chunk of the heart of this city, which is why when many graduate they move on to Omaha -- it keeps that umph that many miss from college around these parts. But it's flat, and the buildings are low. I took Ian out to my "spot" -- Alvo Road at 14th Street -- where you can see every star in the sky, no matter what type of night it is. Big Dipper, Cassiopia, you name it, it's there. It's a gravel road that leads somewhere, though I'm not sure where. I've always just pulled right in, turned off the engine and killed the lights. It's the kind of place where you can just hold your breath and hear all the sounds of the world. There are few places left like that, and definitely none in Chicago.

When they say you can never go home, they lie. I'm back where I used to be and I feel as though I've never left. I settled right in at synagogue and Bison Witches and among the streets of Lincoln. There are new roads, new people, new restaurants and structures, but it's all the same old shoe. It's comforting and I couldn't be happier to be back. So now I know that the myth is a lie, and I couldn't be happier.

We're taking our time.

I haven't disappeared. I haven't stopped reading Torah or going to synagogue or being who I am.

I have many drafts written that haven't been posted. Many of them become outdated and sit in my blogger account. I had one about the parshah Emor and how if you flip the letters around you get Omer! How appropriate for Emor to be during the Omer. And other things. Important things. Pertinent things.

I find myself reading a lot more. I'm trying to get through Rashi by Maurice Liber. I've been reading a variety of articles and just finished one about the reception of Rashi's take on Adam having "intercourse" with all the beasts before the advent of Eve. I'm poking around at a paper about Maimonides and another about reading R. Gershom. The bonus to working at a university is the free access to billions of journals and texts online :) I'm horribly spoiled!

Ian and I are filling out the papers to join a temple here in Chicago. It will be my first "paid" membership to a synagogue. In Lincoln my membership to B'Nai Jeshurun (South Street Temple) was taken care of because I was (a) a student and (b) did the temple newsletter. It's strange to actually become a card carrying member of a synagogue, especially one that is so incredibly large. The sanctuary is THE most beautiful one I've ever been in. The building is built in the same style as B'Nai Jeshurun, which is a relief. I "grew up" in the byzantine style, which I find the most beautiful and Jewish. The temples that are built in the style of churches put me off, and this is the first place I've ever felt at home. The thing I'm looking most forward to? Volunteering! Adult education! Activities! Community!

So yes, things are starting to come together. Baruch HaShem!

A diversion. Pardon me.

You never know how lonely you can get until the person you love, who you've been living with for just under two months, leaves the state for four days to go two time zones away.

I've known Ian for nearly 3 years (it will be "officially" 3 as of May 14/15 -- I responded to a LiveJournal post of his on the 14th, but he didn't respond to me until the 15th), and I've been (finally) living with him almost two months, though it feels like years. Maybe that's because it's all this kindred spirits finally coming together stuff. You know, that person you always knew you'd be with and that you've always wanted to marry, now just right next to you.

Did I mention he cooks? Not just cooks though. He'll make chicken parmigiana and the most delicious mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned chicken. Brilliant, he is. And I smile more when he's around. I'm more awake and alive. I'm more excited.

I typically get off work around 5:45 and take the quickest possible route home to get to him. Tonight? I pudded around. Went to the store. Went to Staples. Took the long way to the bus. And here I've been since about 8 p.m. Lame-ola. Time just sits still, I guess. It's how I felt in D.C. Alone and aimless.

Boo to that I say. So I'll wait till Sunday. I guess. Man, I got attached really quick.

The anti-Pesach food.

So my boyfriend is a HEATHEN! Well, not a heathen ... he just isn't observing Passover. So while I nosh on matzo with cream cheese and jelly or charoset ... he's noshing on this. Yes. That's charoset on bread, with cream cheese and a little butter. It's Italian-Jewish fusion, he says. I present to you, Charoset Bruschetta.

Evidently it's really amazing. In a week, you can bet I'll be making some fresh charoset and will be trying this out. I'll admit, it looks delicious. I'm jealous, of course.

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In other news: There is a job prospect on the front. It has nothing to do with Judaism or journalism, and I'm okay with that. It's a stepping stone and a job until grad school. On the positive, though, is that this gig is at the University of Chicago, includes benefits and half-price tuition. Talk about a STELLAR deal. I'd kill for some Hebrew classes right about now. Anyhow, here's to hoping for a job. I love sleeping in, really, but it's getting old. I've been unemployed for three weeks. It's about time I throw myself back into society, don't you think?

Pesach is coming alive!

Well.

The Pesach goods are bought. That is, the matzo (I accidentally bought egg matzo, only to have to go back and purchase NON-egg matzo, rawr). Among other things.

We've got cream cheese, jelly, goods for charoset, matzo farfel, apples, eggs, matzo ball mix, etc. etc. This will be a glorious Pesach. Filled with ... well, lotsa matzo with cream cheese and jelly and salad. I'm okay with this, of course.

I hadn't realized, however, how hard it was to find goods without things like CORN SYRUP ... ugh. Grocery shopping was, well, more hectic than it's been before. Mostly because I hadn't paid that much attention last year to it all. This year, however, finding salad dressing that would be good for passover, not to mention all other goods ... man. Tough cookies. It made me truly respect Pesach, though. Expect reflection ... hardcore reflection. I did pick up a classic Maxwell House hagaddah at the store at no charge. Oh yes. Some of the translations irritate me, tho.

And in honor of not being able to down corn syrup and rice and things as such ... I downed oodles of sushi and Coke tonight. It was a good way to ring in Pesach, I think.

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I'm stoked for the first-night seder tomorrow night! It's a community-wide young adult seder up at Temple Shalom on Lake Shore Drive (though it did cost a pretty penny for tickets). Ian and I went there for services Friday night in our third adventure in shul shopping. After a synagogue I didn't like and a synagogue he didn't like ... we found one we LOVE. Temple Shalom ... my G-d. It was absolutely wonderful. It was relaxed, but not too relaxed. I daven without anyone looking at me oddly, which is really nice, and the people were really impressive and friendly.

[Sidenote: I've noticed sort of by accident that I daven. It isn't conscience, it happens. Actually, I didn't notice on my own. A man at the second shul-shopping destination asked me if I was visiting from a Conservative synagogue because I was davening. It's subtle, and it's natural. Hrm.]

The seder is there, although it isn't sponsored by the temple. We're definitely in love with the place and intend to go back. The great thing about it, is that it's in a BEAUTIFUL neighborhood up by Wrigleyville, and there's a kosher deli right there on the corner (where we're going to eat Friday since our typical pizza evening is axed ... ).

Basically ... I think I've found a shul I can really, really thrive and grow at. I'm planning on hitting that up for Pesach service Tuesday morning (although truth be told it IS a bit of a trek). Seriously though -- there's a rabbi there who I'm absolutely all about it.

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I have some thoughts on Tzav from last week that I have yet to write about. Plan on reading here and there on it -- especially some thoughts on the dynamic of the haftarah portion with the parshah (conflicting views on the rules of ritual sacrifice). It's some fascinating stuff that played a pretty significant role in the then-future of Judaism and its practices.

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Oh, and I'm sort of cutting it close. But I need to burn my chametz and gift my cereal and other goods to Ian and the other roommate. This must be done stat. Wahoo!

A quick recap of last week's parshah (there were really two of them!):

I didn't get a chance last week to blog on the parshah(s), which was pretty crumby, but things came up and with the GREAT MOVE to Chicago, there was a lot going on. The move ended up going pretty well, despite some initial catastrophes with picking up the car and having to drive through a decent snowstorm. But we made it. On my way to the airport to pick up Ian, I got through last week's parshah pretty quickly. So I'm simply going to transcribe some of my notes that I took, if not for the inquiry of the reader, then for me, myself and I in future adventures in Torah study.

+ Ex. 35:3 -- "you shall kindle no fire." The comments suggest that some sages saw "fire" in both a literal and metaphorical sense, as in one shouldn't harbor anger on the Sabbath. What if that is ALL that phrase meant? And our whole concept of not starting fires and popping on lights is a misinterpretation of a phrase that could be interpreted at face value, but wrong?

+ Ex. 35:31 -- Rashi has an interesting take on skill, ability and knowledge (this, of course, in reference to Bezalel who is tasked with doing this and that and everything else). The comments read:

"Rashi defines 'skill' (hokhmah) as what a person learns from others, 'ability' (t'vunah) as the result of one's own insight and experience and 'knowledge' (da'at) as divine inspiration, ideas that suddenly come to a person from an unknown source."

I suppose I'm fascinatd by this because I'd never thought about the difference in the words, or, rather, the significance of each.

+ "Wisdom of the mind alone, without wisdom of the heart, is worthless." -- Aaaron of Karlin (a Hasidic master, on Ex. 36:1)

+ Ex. 34:2-7: Why is it significant to emphasize the people bringing TOO MUCH? There's several lines ... but why?

+ In the construction of the tabernacle, the word adanim is used multiple times (its meaning is translated as "sockets"). The word derives from a similar source as Adonai. The adanim hold together the upper and lower portions of the ark, just as Adonai holds together the upper (spiritual) and lower (material) worlds together. -- Menahem Naham of Chernobyl

+ What is the significance of blue, purple and crimson? The colors are used in the yarn, but it appears in stained glass and facades of synagogues the world over, not to mention on holy garments and utensils and dishes. I can't seem to find a source who really delves into the meaning of such colors, though. The search continues!

+ Why is there SO MUCH gold that goes into the tabernacle? Why is it that G-d's place need be so extravagant? I'm not one to believe that G-d must be crowned king in the way that human kings are adorned in gold ... it just seems wrong and not representative of the Israelite G-d. Am I nuts to be so irritated at the EXTENSIVE use of gold?

+ What is the significance of the cloud? Why does G-d descend in a cloud?

+ The comments at the end of parshah P'kudei are incredibly profound. I must share the thoughts of the Etz Chayim:

"There are moments (a wedding, the birth of a child, an escape from danger) when G-d erupts into our lives with a special intesnity that transforms us but that is too intense to be lived constantly. Then there are times when G-d is a constant presence in our livies (marriage, parenthood, years of good health) in an equally real but less intense manner. The challenge is to recognize G-d's constant presence in our lives without its becoming so ordinary that we take it for granted."

True it is. How is it that we keep G-d as a constant? How, through the day in and day out, the mundane and ever-changing/never-changing that we maintain a constant hum within ourselves of the divine presence? It is a challenge I'm willing to take on, of course.

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Guaranteed, there will be comments on this week's parshah, as we begin ... the book of Leviticus!

Shalom. Be well!

Stay tuned!

I can't help but share the daily thought from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe from Chabad.org. It's Jewish related, but it's also a departure (yet again) from all things Jewish in this blog. But it's absolutely profound and meaningful to me. The relationship of man with G-d epitomizes the relationship of me with the man I love and have loved for nearly three years. Those close to the situation are wary of the outcome at this point, but only because of the pulling and running. But for those who understand the relationship with G-d, perhaps too those can understand the relationship of all-consuming love.

Dance With the Other
As a mother and the baby she holds in her arms, as a father and child, as two in courtship or in marriage, so we are with Him. One chases, the other runs away. One runs away, the other chases. One initiates, the other responds. The other initiates, the one responds. It is a dance, a game, a duet that plays as surely as the pulse of life.
Until one falls away and becomes estranged. Then the other looks and says, "This is not an other. We are one and the same." And so, they return to each other's arms once again.
It is a great mystery, but in estrangement, there is found the deepest bond.

In other news, there will be Torah commentary this week, as well as a bit on the book I've been reading and hope to finish regarding the reach of the Holocaust into Arab lands. I've sort of fallen off the wagon of study, and am hopping back on now that I'm in the process of putting things together and moving along.

Basically, faithful readers, please stay tuned!

Where I've been.

So I've been out of town. I spent about three days in Chicago this past week. It was a minorly spur-of-the-moment trip to visit the city that I call my "happy place," to hopefully see some snow (which I didn't), to get away from the monotony of my existence in Washington and to see someone very special to me. Aside from the unfortunate bit with the snow (the storm showed up a few days after I left), it was everything I could have hoped for. The kind of days you pray for, that lift you up and give you hope. That rekindle the fervor for life. The kind of days you want to live everyday. What does this mean? Well, it means that hopefully by summertime, I will have moved to Chicago. I don't have a job lined up, I don't have school lined up, I don't have anything but a place to put my head and stuff lined up. (I hope.)

I'm not a very spontaneous person, but if there's one thing I've figured out while being completely alone out here on the coast with nothing but Torah, reading and coffee to keep me company, it's that I spend too much time considering how easy things are that I don't put enough effort in changing them. I waited till the last minute to take the GRE and apply to graduate school. I should have started the process in May or June. Instead, I waited till November and gave myself a month to figure things out. My desperation opened my eyes to a lot of things.

So I'm going to go after the things that make me happy. There's a person, there's a city and a job can't be that hard to find in a city thriving with the Jewish presence. Graduate school will come when it's ready, and if I get accepted to Connecticut or Michigan, well, I'll figure that out when I get there. But I want to give myself a better shot at things. Because there are ways in which we can fulfill happiness, and it's how we prioritize those things that expresses who we are. I need my Shabbat, I need a warm bed, I need the feeling of love and warmth and kindness. Ani mevinah. It took awhile, but ani mevinah.

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In completely unrelated news, I was riding the Metrobus the other day and was shocked to find this written on a cushion of the bus I was on. It was my normal bus route, and the seats typically are covered with all sorts of scrawlings in permanent marker by teens in "gangs" like the "Lench Mob." It's incredibly sad, but sort of amusing that these middle schoolers are sporting gang names and symbols years after the bloods and crips -- two of the bloodiest gangs -- called it even. Yah, MS-13 is still around, but they're an incredibly DIFFERENT breed of hoodlum (if you don't know about them, they're a Salvadoran group, almost more like the mob, as they're known for using machetes to remove people's body parts). These kids are kids. But I saw this and have no clue what the writing below the "NO JEWS" stands for. If anyone knows, I'd be curious to know for sure. It's the first bit of anti-Jew scrawling I've seen, ever, in graffitti.

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And no Torah this week. Next week, though. Sh'mot got my attention, but not as much as it deserved. I'll proceed with Exodus next week, and perhaps pick up some of the questions/thoughts I had from Sh'mot.

Be well!

To the ocean!