Growing Up & Getting Older.

This is a photo from ... maybe 2005? 2006? I don't remember. It's old. Just like us, now!

I hit the road to South Carolina around 5:45 a.m. on Monday from Teaneck, beating the early-morning traffic around the city. I turned the music up loud, chugged my Skinny Vanilla Latte, and watched the world fly by in my rearview mirror. I drove through Delaware and Maryland and North Carolina and part of South Carolina, and I knew when I had entered G-d's country: Ronald Reagan quotes on billboards and the "Pull off for porn here" billboards juxtaposed with "Have you been saved today?" ones just across the highway.

I stopped at a large Outlet Mall somewhere in North Carolina, popped into the local Lane Bryant and nabbed a new skirt. While checking out, I had to explain to the woman the difference in names on the cards and all that and she queried, glancing at my head scarf, "Did you change your name for religion or somethin'?" with a thick, curly twang. "Yup," I said, "I got married and converted to Judaism." Without much interest, but with a hint of "well, then ... " she said, "Well, isn't that just nice," handed me my bag, and wished me no pleasantries on my way out. It's easier for me to express the tone in person, with the language and the tone, but, well, perhaps you get the drift. As I left the store, two Muslim women were entering, and I almost issued them a "steer clear!" I almost wonder if my name gives off a hint of Middle Eastern-ness that doesn't say "Jew" to a non-Jewish or non-Muslim crowd. It's not an Esther or Miriam or Sarah or Elisheva or anything. Chaviva sounds to many like Habibi. Anyway ...

So I'm here in South Carolina, where I've been for the past two days, and tomorrow I pack up and ship back off to Teaneck. I am here visiting my little brother, although calling him that feels really strange now. Yes, he's nine years younger than me (surprise!), but he's not little anymore. I resisted a long time seeing him as a teenager, and now seeing him as an adult is even more difficult. He and his awesome girlfriend are sharing an apartment in town until they're able to move into campus to start the school year (which will happen in a few weeks), and at first I wanted to quip, "So how is playing house?" but after being here for two days and watching them cook each other dinner and clean up and do dishes and everything, I realize they're not playing. They're grown up. They buy groceries and watch movies and hug and snuggle and cook pasta in the meager pots and pans they have, but they make it work. And most importantly? They're happy. They're really happy. I'm almost jealous of their happiness. It's simple happiness, but they're really happy.

And it's about 5 million degrees and humid here -- not sure how anyone can function in those temps, but they do. And did I mention they're still happy? Sweaty and snuggly, they're happy.

If anything, being here with my brother and his girlfriend has made me miss my husband more than ever (this is, after all, the first time we've spent nights apart since being married in May). Yesterday we went to Myrtle Beach and roamed the beach, we watched fireworks, we schlepped the boardwalk. And the entire time I was thinking, Tuvia would love this. Vacations without your beloved kind of suck.

I never thought I'd be okay with Joe (that's the brother) getting older, but I think this short trip has helped me cope. I'm beaming with pride and joy in his accomplishments. He's a smart kid, he's always been smart, but his smarts have landed him some pretty sweet stuff here in South Carolina (a scholarship with a FREE computer attached!?), and he's living his life. He's doing his thing. He's living. He's grown up now. And I think that finally -- sof sof -- I'm okay with that. I love my little brother more than anything in the world, more than life itself. For all the hell I put him through as a child, he clung to me and nothing has ever come between the two of us; he is my closest relative, my most special soul. I don't know if he knows how much I adore him, but I think he has an idea. After all, I drove 12.5 hours just to see him.

And buy him sheets and a pillow for school, of course. What are sisters for, after all?

Life is a funny thing. I feel so old around him now. This kid, a man now, with a long-term girlfriend and name on an apartment lease and his own things and life. He's growing up, and I'm getting older. But I'm okay with it now. I have the pride of a million mothers for this boy-turned-man.

Now if I could just get him to cut his toenails ...

Stay tuned for lots of trip photos and me letting you know what it's like keeping kosher around non-kosher/non-Jewish family in a state with very, very, very few options that are not convenient at all. As a preview, check out this gigant fried flounder I got at Cafe M in Myrtle Beach!

Chaviva's PSA: GET HEALTHY!

I'm a big fan of full-disclosure of the most random things here on this blog, so I thought I'd share with you a really entertaining (and sort of unfortunate) X-Ray I received today of my knees! I've been dealing with a certain amount of knee pain over the past two years after injuring myself in late January 2008 (read about it in this post), and I have been stubbornly not trying to take care of it. Walking up stairs, my knee makes the  most hideous and mind-blowing crackling noise -- like bones rubbing against bones in every which way -- and the pain I experience is always on a very high level. When I was in Israel, it was really bad, and the day-to-day ranges from no pain (like today when I sit around all day) to tons of pain (lots of stairs and long distances). So, after visiting with my new General Doctor last week, and her slapping me upside the head with my health woes (sleep, TMJ, stomach woes, knees, etc), I was referred to about six different physicians. One of them? An ortho person. So today, I went, and I found out my knees look like this:

A normal Right Knee?

Yes, those are my kneecaps. And yes, they're sitting WAY off to the side. They're meant to sit in those little grooves, not off to the side, hanging out in their own little bubble of stupidity. But I'm sort of like the opposite of a bow-legged person, I'm a knob-kneed person. The way to treat this? Lots and lots and lots (and LOTS) of physical therapy. Then more visits to the Ortho, and more physical therapy. Hopefully, someday, my knees will re-migrate to their designated posts. Maybe if I migrate to Israel they'll migrate to their little cozy knee spots.

At any rate, this has been one ridiculous medical day. The X-Rays topped off the day that was started by spending three hours in a doctor's office having blood drawn. I managed to fill nine vials all together with blood. I even got to drink this disgustingly sweet Orange Soda (OU kosher!) and then sit in a waiting room and wait. It was thrilling, just thrilling. Come Monday, I should know whether I have a thyroid issue, diabetes, and a host of other medical problems. Let's hope they all come out negative.

The point? You guys -- all of you -- whether you're feeling healthy or not, need to get your health issues in order. I take after my mother with my phobia of doctors. Why? Because if you go to the doctor, they'll tell you what's wrong with you, and then you'll have to pay for it to be fixed, and deal with the life-long affects of having to change the way you live, medicate, and more. That's a lot to take. So better live in ignorance, right? NOT. You have to set up your life so you know what your kids can expect -- look at it that way. The more you know, the more they know, the more your grandkids know. The more everyone can prepare for hearth disease, cancer, diabetes, etc. So if you haven't been in for a physical, just go. Deal with it. Suck it up. Make yourself healthy. Make 2010 the Year of Healthy Living! Lose some weight, work out, eat more fresh and colorful foods, and feel better about yourself.

If Chaviva can do it -- begrudgingly as all hell -- so can you. To motivate you, take another look at my unfortunately jacked-up knee caps. Then call your physician and get your tuches on the move to health!

Self-reflection, in the key of the little brother.

I lit the Shabbos candles tonight and watched the wax melt down the candles, angled slightly, dripping wax on the cloth covering the top shelf of the bookcase. I couldn't get them to sit upright, and after many attemps, I gave up, anticipating a mess to clean up after they finished burning. They seem to have burned much quicker than usual tonight, in a rush, like the flame had someplace to be -- someplace important. Sunrise, sunset.

I'm talking to my little brother on MSN messenger. I can't remember the last time I logged into it before last night. Something sparked me to install Pidgin (a multi-platform IM system), which logged me into my old MSN and AIM accounts. I haven't been consistently on either of them in more than a year, MSN for several years. I think we grow out of things, and I think I've mostly grown out of instant messaging (and on to fun things like Twitter and GChat, I guess).

So here I am, chatting with him about his 16-year-old love life. And trying to figure out who his love interest is, I pop over to his MySpace page (the kids are big on the MySpace, not so much with Facebook), and here I am, now, listening to his cheesy punk pop love ballads in his music player. It started with a song by Blink 182 -- "I Miss You."

Man, does that song take me back.

He's telling me about this girl and how it's "complicated" and I'm relaying to him how I have a couple of my own "complicated" situations right now. I'm telling him about when I was in high school the boy I wanted, but the other boy who chased after me, and I finally gave up on the boy I wanted for the boy who chased after me and had a really amazing two-year relationship. About how there's an old flame visiting soon and how there's that other special someone who has me, but doesn't necessarily need me. I know he doesn't care, but listening to this cheesy music and listening to him relay these things, I feel like I'm 16 again.

It makes me wish I could be there for him, even if he didn't need me. I've missed him growing up. I mean, I helped raise him through elementary school, but then I was off to college and he was left to do it all on his own, and he's doing okay. But I feel his distance now more than ever. And then I'm telling him about how I talked with our older brother (one year my senior, 10 years the little brother's senior) and how I think I upset him with my suggestions about how to get his life back on track. And the little brother says,

yah, you're good at that. and alienating yourself from the family in general.

I quickly jumped to my defense -- to defend my life's decisions and aims, but he knows. He's always understood, for some reason. He knows that I don't want to end up obsessed with money, depressed and working in retail with the world's biggest chip on my shoulder. And when I converted to Judaism he thought it was neat, he understood why I was doing it. He's always thought it was cool that I've lived in so many places, traveled to so many more. I know he looks up to me, at least, that's the way he's always treated me. His respect and love is more important than anything in the world to me. If there's one person always worth fighting for, it's my little brother. Joe joe. Bubba. Josephina (he hates that last one).

So we're talking, and I'm feeling old. He says I'm "cool old ... you're like..mom old..minus the disgusting parts" and that has me laughing. I get what he means, and I appreciate it. But none the less, I know I can't continue to listen to Blink 182 and relive the glory days where boys would spend months trying to pin me down. Where I was the one in control.

I used to be so difficult. And now? I feel sort of translucent. I wear my heart on my sleeve; I'm not nearly as strong as I used to be. But I guess that's what happens when you get old, eh?

I guess I should peel the wax off the bookcase now, since it's hardened as the night has gone on. Sunrise, sunset, don't you think?