Goodbye to the Bangs?

This is me in June 2011 in Israel. I miss this scarf. Will I miss my bangs?

I've spent a long time on this blog talking about hair covering or, more accurately, head covering (kisui rosh), both before, during, and after my first marriage. Some of my most-read posts are on both the religious/halachic and historic origins of hair covering, head covering, and sheitels (wigs). 

• Covering Your Hair: Why?
• Covering Your Hair: Leprous Plague?
• Taking the (Hair) Plunge
• The Hair That's There: You Can Never Go Back

Through the years, I moved from "yes I'm covering" to "yes I'm covering with scarves and knit hats" to "maybe I'll get a sheitel" to "okay I bought a headband fall" to "I'm uncovering because I'm divorced."

And now? I'm a mere three weeks away from getting hitched (Part Deux: It's Going to Be Amazing), and I've been saying for quite some time now that I'm more than ready to get back to hair covering. A lot of observant women struggle intensely with the concepts of tzniut and kisui rosh, and there are a lot of gray areas that people cling to as they struggle with where they are in their observance.

For me?

Getting rid of my pants was a breeze. You mean I don't have to spend the rest of my life uncomfortably and angrily searching for the pair of perfect jeans? You mean I can purchase skirts that are both sexy and flattering and fit a whole lot easier than pants ever did or will? Yes, please. Fulfilling a mitzvah of walking modestly with HaShem in the process? Yes sir!

As for head covering, everyone has their up days and down days, and even I kvetched when I was covering my head with scarves. Yes, I left my bangs out according to the rule of the tefach (hand's breath allowed showing), but even now I'm struggling with whether to keep them or not. It gets hot in Israel in the summer (sweaty foreheads aren't hot), and I've done bangs before. I'm going to cover, and in Israel scarves in beautiful colors and styles are the norm, making life a lot easier than when I was schlepping a scarf-covered head through the Carolinas. Hats? No. Knit hats? Probably, but the hotter it gets, the chances of me sporting them decrease. The major kvetch I've had in the past about scarves was that I didn't have long hair to create body with my scarves, but there are all sorts of tricks that people use in Israel to create height and body, so expect some changes in the scarf department. So why am I excited to get back to head covering? Life is easier, simpler, more easily changeable when all you need is a tichel in the morning. Am I simplifying the mitzvah? Maybe, but I know the why, it's the how and when that are coming back to me now.

The one thing I'm minorly struggling with is the trip to England over Pesach, where I'll be -- for the first time in a long time -- in a place where scarves are not the norm. The question is, do I cave to cultural pressures or sport my classic Israeli-style scarves?

Now if I could just start the covering now. I grow weary of having to do my hair. I'm looking forward to growing it out, seeing what I can do with it to keep Mr. T happy, and see where the world of Israeli head coverings can take me!

Sick Day

This, folks, is the petri dish -- Ulpan Etzion. 

There's a trend that people have told me about but that I've been very skeptical of until now. Yes, when Tuvia and I met we were both rocking pretty gnarly colds, but I'm suffering an all-out, full-blown something bad right now. They call it "cholah chadasha" -- it's a play on olah chadasha (new immigrant, with cholah meaning sick).

I blame Ulpan Etzion because it's a petri dish of sickness at the moment with half the ulpan down and out with something or another (teachers included). I thought maybe I would be okay, but with other students around me hacking up their own lungs and not the proper way (into your elbow, people!), I've been afflicted.

Lucky for me, Mr. T is a master care-taker. Yes, he's been plying me with hot water paired with honey and lemon juice, he went out and got me medicine, and he even made homemade Chicken Soup -- aka Jewish penicillin. Yes, I'm breaking my weekday no-meat rule because it's a proven fact that the qualities found in Chicken Soup do have a healing quality. With lots of sleep, lots of healthy nosh and rest, I'm hoping to bounce back in the next few days. I hate being sick, and I'm such a dude when I'm sick. Also? Missing ulpan sucks, and not being able to take two seconds off from work because even the internet is accessible from home so work in my world never stops is kind of lame.

The good news on top of the sick news comes three fold.

1. My wedding dress is in the country! Yes, it passed through customs and is floating around somewhere in the country. I just need to get it, try it on, get it tailored if need be, and find some shoes and a veil. Oh, and get a haircut. My hair is a little out of control right now. 
2. Mr. T and I are going to England for Pesach! Holy wowie zowie. We're going to stay a few days after the chag because so much is closed during Chol ha'Moed (the intermediate days) because Easter falls around the same time as Pesach this year, and I've never been to England before. Color me utterly stoked to be able to visit the land of my forefathers (quite literally). 
3. We were approved by the vaad to live to Neve Daniel! Our lease starts on February 1, and come February 20, we'll be living there as a family. Stay tuned for a video tour once I get it semi-set up. Yes, Mr. T and I will have a home of our own! I'm super stoked. And iBoy will have a space of his own, too. 

There is nothing else in the world that I need or want right now than to get my life started with Mr. T. The only thing I really need is a KitchenAid with a grain grinder for my new kitchen. Why? I am SO eager to get back to baking challah (yeah, I can't eat it, but making it is therapeutic and important to me) and baking yummy things. Also, grinding my own grains is a lot cheaper than buying them pre-ground in this country. 

Now? Back to hot beverages. And resting. And watching television. 

Hot Drinks on Shabbat: Part Two

In the last post, I spoke about the issues involved with making tea on Shabbat, and in this post I want to talk about coffee -- specifically the French press.

The major concerns about coffee and tea on Shabbat that Mr. T and I considered were borer (separating) and bishul (cooking). The latter is forbidden on Shabbat and the former is allowed only when you're removing the good from the bad, or the desirable from the undesirable. That is, you can pick cashews out of a bowl of mixed nuts, but you can't remove all the mixed nuts to get to the cashews.

Instant coffee is the no-brainer of coffee drinking on Shabbat, because it's already cooked and in Judaism there is a law of "no cooking after cooking" (ein bishul acher bishul), which means that once something is cooked, you're never "recooking" it on Shabbat. Instant coffee is just hot water from the urn in a cup plus instant coffee (for more, see Mishneh Berurah 318:39).

When thinking about the French press, my initial thought was that by pushing the plunger down, you're  removing the bad from the good. Mr. T, in all of his genius, pointed out that you're really just moving it out of the way, like if you push around the peanuts and almonds to find more cashews to pick out of the bowl. Pushing the coffee grounds downward in a French press is completely allowed, and when you're pouring the coffee out of the French press into a cup, you're actually taking the good away from the bad. So borer isn't an issue, is bishul?

Much like instant coffee, regular old coffee grounds used in a French press are roasted, and if you apply "no cooking after cooking," then there also should be no issue, right? There's a concept that is mentioned in the Shulchan Aruch (318:5) that "there is cooking after baking" (yesh bishul achar afiyah), and some consider "roasting" to be baking and not cooking. Even if you want to hold to this more stringent opinion, just make sure you pour the hot water from your urn or hot water pot into the French press before you add the coffee, making the French press a kli sheni (second vessel), and all is right in the world since there is no cooking in a kli sheni (ein bishul bekli sheini).

So I shall enjoy my coffee on Shabbat, my quality coffee on Shabbat, in the giant Bodum French press that Mr. T has even though he doesn't drink coffee. 

Hot Drinks on Shabbat: Part One

Mr. T and I were on our way to pick up iBoy from school when we got into an in-depth conversation about the use of loose-leaf teas and French presses on Shabbat. (Don't ask me why, but this is our life -- halacha, kashrut, movies, jokes, bliss!)

I'm a big coffee drinker, and Mr. T is a big tea drinker. The main things that can come up with tea and coffee on Shabbat are borer (separating) and bishul (cooking). Let's start with tea, and I want to mention that all of these "rules" are for Shabbat only and are not necessary to observe on holidays where cooking is allowed.

There are varying opinions about tea on Shabbat, and the Star-K takes the most hard line approach to tea on Shabbat, saying,

One should not use tea/herbal bags or loose teas on Shabbos. This is because tea is part of that group of foods known as kaley habishul, or easily cooked foods. These foods are considered so sensitive to heat since they will cook in circumstances that other foods will not.

Why? Because from picking to factory processing, tea isn't cooked, but rather dried and then packaged in tea bags or sold loose-leaf style. Thus, there are problems with bishul because the water that comes out of your standard urn or hot water pot on Shabbat is hot enough to "cook" the tea leaves, which is forbidden on Shabbat. The way that we avoid this problem is by using multiple kelim or vessels to make the tea. Essentially you have your hot water pot (this is your kli rishon or first vessel), a kli sheni (second vessel), and a kli shlishi (third vessel).  

Tea-Making Choreography: The hot water goes from the hot water pot into the kli sheni after which you pour it into the kli shilishi where you put your tea bag. 

Why? The idea here comes from Rav Moshe Feinstein z"l, who ruled that by the time the water goes from your hot water pot (kli rishon) to the cup for your tea (kli shlishi), the water is no longer at a temperature that can cook tea leaves. 

That being said, you also have to worry about borer (separating) once you've steeped your tea bag and your tea has hit the perfect color/flavor. Why? On Shabbat, borer is forbidden, but only when you're removing bad from good. What does this mean? It means that if I have a bowl of mixed nuts and only want the cashews, I am absolutely forbidden from sitting and removing every nut so only cashews are left in the bowl. I can, however, sit and pick out the cashews as much as I want. So when we apply this to tea, removing the tea bag would be removing the bad -- or what we don't want -- from the good, which is the tea we wish to drink. If the tea bag in your cup is annoying you to no end, you can go ahead and remove it, but only with a spoon and you have to make sure not to squeeze the tea bag as you take it out (that also being a Shabbat prohibition). If you're feeling wary about even this, go ahead and pour your tea into another cup, because in this instance you'll be taking the good from the bad and all is well in the world (except for your sink, which will quickly fill with tons of cups). 

For the super paranoid/strict, tea essence seems to be the rule of the road. Mr. T prefers to do tea essence, not because he's super crazy religious, but because it tends to be a bit easier. It took me a long time to really get what "tea essence" was, but if you think of it more as "tea concentrate," you'll be in a good place. 

Essentially, you brew tea very strongly before Shabbat, then use the concentrate/essence on Shabbat mixed with water to dilute it to the strength of a normal cup of tea. (Some people also do this with a French press for coffee, but that will be the next installment.) The problem here is how to keep your essence hot over Shabbat if you want hot tea, which would require you to put it on a blech or hot plate throughout Shabbat without removing it because you can't put liquids on to heat up on Shabbat. Oh the problems!

My advice? Learn the choreography, drink your tea fast so the tea bag doesn't bitter your tea, and do it often enough that it becomes old hat!

Stay tuned for the next installment, which is on the use of the French press on Shabbat!

Life Ch-ch-ch-changes

This is the view from the apartment we didn't take. 

I can't believe how long it's been since I last sat down and wrote a blog. I've gotten really spaced out in my blogging (in more ways than one), and for that I apologize immensely -- to you and to myself. I guess I've just been spending a lot of time trying to figure out life, what with a lost job, ulpan (intensive Hebrew learning) starting, and figuring out the logistics of marriage and starting life anew. 

So I've been applying to dozens of jobs every day, hoping to land something even part-time in the copywriting, editing, social media, SEO, or blogging world without much luck. I still have my part-time gig with Taste Guru back in the U.S., which is going really great (watching the Facebook likes and Twitter followers rise every day is the best treat in the world for me), but it doesn't pay all the bills I need it to, unfortunately. I'm happy that Mr. T has gainful employment and that he supports me in whatever I do (honestly, too), but after being financially arrested during my marriage, I found my way on my own with employment, paying off credit card debt incurred during my divorce and move, and living independently, so not having that comfort now with my lost job with CAJE has my stomach in knots. It's a weird feeling. 

Thus I've started Ulpan Etzion and have finished about a week in the program, although the first few days were lots of ice breakers and administrative things that didn't put us in the classroom. Right now there are roughly four levels below where I am, and several above. Essentially, I'm smack dab in the middle of the more than 200 students in this "class" of Ulpan Etzion. We're the 127th group to go through Israel's oldest ulpan, which is a pretty amazing feeling to be part of such an amazing and historic group of people. I'm in Kitah Bet Echad (כיתה ב-1), but I'm already feeling like I possibly should be one level up because the verb review and grammar are like air -- easy as breathing for me. I also think that being surrounded by people who are also stumbling in their various ways has allowed me to actually start using my Hebrew verbally, which is nice. I find myself talking to Mr. T a lot in Heebrish, but I still struggle when I'm in a store or restaurant. It's like I know they know that I'm Anglo and that chances are good I'm going to say something absolutely silly. 

But the truth is that I'm loving ulpan. I might not be learning much right now, and I might hate the textbook we're probably going to be using (I used the textbook in my first year of Hebrew at the University of Connecticut and actually finished the book, so …), but being in an environment where there are people devoted to learning the language and where most are taking it fairly seriously is a truly unique experience. It doesn't compare AT ALL to my experience at the Middlebury College ulpan, which took me from aleph-bet to where I am now, because there people spoke Hebrew in class, out of class, at the coffee shop, and in the car. It was everywhere, and that's what made it stick. In Israel, Hebrew is everywhere, but so is English. From the first month I was here until now, I use Hebrew a lot less. I'll be honest -- Israel makes it too easy to keep English as your 24/7 language. 

In other news, Mr. T and I are moving! Well, we've shaken on it so far, but we're moving to Neve Daniel so that I can join Har Ha'Bloggerim! We found a nice two bedroom, two bathroom apartment there with a beautiful mirpeset (balcony/patio) that has a small living/dining space that we're happy with. Mr. T has the most amazing outlook on life, and that is that we try something out, see if we like it, and if we don't, we figure something else out. He's easy going, confident, and patient. The funny thing is, I'll be able to get to Ulpan Etzion more quickly from Neve Daniel than from where I live in Jerusalem … and yes, I know I'll now be living "over there" across the green line. Am I worried? No. I've spent plenty of time in the Gush, and it's the most beautiful place on earth, if you must know. In some places, you feel peace, serenity, and you know that HaShem is there. That's how the Gush is for me. 

What else? I'm getting married in less than a month. Wow. Also? I might be going to England for Pesach, which is amazingly awesomely cool because I've never been to only two countries in my lifetime so far -- Israel and the U.S. 

Life is nuts. I feel like I have so many Israel-based reflections to make on the people, the food, the aura, everything, but the moment I think of it, *poof* it's gone. So what do you want to know? Hop over to Ask Chaviva Anything! and fill out the form. Seriously, give me a reason to think!

An Unexpected Turn of Events

Listen, it was really bright outside. But hey! Snow! It's our first

snow together as an "us." Talk about a highlightable moment.

Life has this funny way of being completely and utterly and ridiculously unexpected an oftentimes unpredictable. Some of those unexpected mometns are horrifying and scary and some of them are amazing and uplifting.

It's me and the illustrious Laura Ben-David at the engagement
party. Mad props to Mr. Ben-David for the excellent photo.

Last week, Mr. T and I gathered with dozens of friends (who spanned my life in Connecticut, Colorado, and Israel) of ours at Ha'Gov to celebrate our engagement. People just kept coming! There was a lot of laughing, noshing, reminiscing, story-telling, and general joviality. The most unexpected result of the evening for me is something of a PSA for any and all naysayers:

My dearest Melissa, a friend who helped pick me back up a week after my get when I arrived in Colorado, thank you.

The news below impacts my coworkers Sue (left in the picture) and
Melissa (right in the picture). But we're still happy to be together!

Here's another case in point from this week of the unexpected and unpredictable. Many of you will read this and say, "Aha! Things aren't going so smoothly now, are they Chaviva!?" But I urge you to read all of what I write and then 

On Monday night I got fired from a job I have absolutely loved and done nothing but kvell about at every conference and to every Jewish professional I've run into. Yes, the Colorado Agency for Jewish Education has let me go starting January 15, 2013. The moment I found out, the feelings I had weren't so much of panic or devastation but more a sadness that another Jewish agency is losing it's ties to any kind of presence in social spaces. Immediately I put the call out on Twitter and Facebook: "Help find me a job!" The next morning, I had a half-dozen jobs in my inbox sent by dozens of people. I've applied to them all, and I have a very important and hopefully fruitful call on Sunday afternoon. B'ezrat HaShem (with the help of G-d), I might have this full-time loss filled up more quickly than I can possibly imagine. This job loss was unexpected, and I had no clue it was coming. I anticipated at some point the distance with Colorado would become an issue, but the reality was finances -- not distance. Mr. T, the amazing man that he is, has reassured me time and again that we'll survive, and it's amazing how much I feel that. I'm not panicked, I'm not worried, I'm not stressed out. It's a funny feeling to be in the right space and to know that somehow HaShem will provide.

So, with IKEA bookshelves in our possession, a dryer on its way, wedding plans just about finished, life is moving along. The amazing thing about Mr. T and me is that we have something unique going on in that we manage to communicate everything, and even when we disagree, we don't fight. It's funny, and really unexpected, but I didn't know that having an argument didn't require yelling, crying, and hurt feelings. (Yes, we looked up the Merriam-Webster definition of argument just to be sure.) I feel incredibly lucky to have someone so easy-going, hilarious, and positive in my life. May things always be this good, even when they're not.

Onward and upward!

A Snowy Israel

It has snowed in Israel! So far, I have yet to experience a non-snowy winter.

I have to give major props to Mr. T for schlepping around in this weather (yes, we went to Ikea). It turns out I'm great at coaching snowy driving and he's great at driving in the snow.

It also turns out that there's an amazing coffee shop nearby and that Israel tends to get more of the hail before the real snow comes (when it does).

Just consider me a happy camper who happens to be snowed in because this country has zero clue how to function in snow, sleet, hail, or ice.

Shemot, Rachav, and Jericho

I'm really disappointed in myself for forgetting one of the most important parshiyot in the narrative that is my life -- Shemot, last week's parshah.

Why is it so significant? Three years ago I completed my Orthodox conversion on January 1, and after I converted friends threw me a bit of a "congratulatory" Shabbat dinner in West Hartford. At that dinner, I gave a d'var Torah on Shemot. Oddly enough, this past week I was in Mitzpeh Yericho for Shabbat with Mr. T and his son staying with some very, very good friends, and only after I got home and pulled up this d'var Torah did I realize how even more appropriate the d'var really was.

It begins like this, addressing the fact that the verb tzade-pey-nun appears in this form only twice in the entire Tanakh.

In this week’s parshah, sh’mot, Moses is born during a dangerous time in which Pharaoh has forgotten Joseph and the Israelites. Moses’ mother, fearing for his life, hides him – specifically, the text says, “and she hid him” or (ותצפנהו) – which has an interesting parallel that I’d like to share with you. 

In the book of Joshua, there is an incident – a very important incident – in which Rachav (Rahab), a harlot living in Jericho, hides Joshua’s spies from certain death. In the incident, in Joshua 2, Rachav is said to hide the spies when the king comes looking for them. Specifically, it says (ותצפנו), or “and she hid the men.”

The d'var goes on to compare the experience of the Infant Moshe to the Infant Israel in Joshua, citing Rachav's direct quotation of Moshe in Deuteronomy 4:39. The d'var goes on to discuss converts, the power of the convert, and why HaShem holds the convert so close.

From Numbers Rabbah 8:2, the midrash says,

“Why does the Holy Blessed One love the righteous (referring to a discussion of converts being loved as the righteous)? Because they have neither inheritance nor family. Priests and Levites have an ancestral house, as it says, “House of Aaron, praise the Lord. House of Levi, praise the Lord” (Psalms 146:19). If someone wants to be a kohen or levite, one cannot because one’s father was not. But if someone wants to be righteous, even a non-Jew can, since that is not dependent on ancestry.”

The midrash continues with a parable about the stag that attaches itself to the king’s flock. Daily, the king instructs his shepherds to take care of the stag, and they ask the king why he cares so much about this one animal:

"The king responded, 'The other animals have no choice; whether they want or not, it is their nature to graze in the field all day and to come in to sleep in the fold. Stags, however, sleep in the wilderness. It is not in their nature to come into places inhabited by man. Is it not to a sign of this one's merit that he has left behind the whole of the wilderness to stay in our courtyard?' In like manner, ought we not to be grateful to the proselyte who has left behind his family and his relatives, his nation and all the other nations of the world, and has chosen to come to us?"

It's a beautiful sentiment. And it's one that so many Jews grow up with -- "love the ger" -- and one that so many people misunderstand or don't know how to properly put into place. It doesn't just mean "be nice," but so much more including "don't embarrass the convert" and "don't blow their cover" and "if you're hozer b'teshuva or ba'alei teshuva understand that the narratives are very different" and "hey converts don't bully other converts." The midrash spends a great deal of time elucidating the merits of converts like Ruth and Rachav, not to mention discussing just how precious they are in the eyes of HaShem.

So I'm a week late on the parshah, but that doesn't mean the message and lesson aren't incredibly valuable and worth a read and consideration.

Marriage: Going to the Rabbanut

Will we get the stamp of approval!?

Don't take my word for it, but going to the rabbanut -- which Wikipedia says is recognized by Israeli law as "the supreme halachic and spiritual authority for the Jewish people in Israel" -- to open a tik (file) for marriage wasn't tough.

And I'm a divorced convert.

A lot of people complain about the politics, the rabbanut, the religious domination in this country and how difficult it is to do anything within the confines of halachah like get married, but so far? I'm not feeling oppressed or angry or upset or anything. In fact, going to the rabbanut was less annoying/stressful than going to the DMV in the United States.

Mr. T and I headed to the rabbanut on probably three different occasions, constantly getting the hours wrong. You see, in Israel a lot of the government offices close down in the middle of the day for lunch and then reopen for like ... an hour and a half. We finally managed to get into the office with all of our necessary paperwork -- get (religious divorce decrees for each of us), my conversion paperwork and name change paperwork, and our teudot zehut (Israeli ID cards). I also brought along a bunch of other paperwork because I honestly was anticipating some kind of insane experience of putting me through the wringer.

Silly Chavi, you were paranoid for no reason! They gave you candy for the love of Pete!

The rabbanut offices are under massive construction, so we had to ask around where to go. We ended up at an awkward desk with a man and woman sitting behind it. They got Mr. T's information and had a problem with what he'd brought to show that he was divorced and then proceeded to realize that I was a convert and then we had to go see the Big Cheese down the hallway. We sat down in a large office, the walls lined with pictures of famous rabbis, while the Big Cheese (you don't need to know his name, just know that he was incredibly friendly, sweet, and got us moving) looked over our paperwork. He asked several questions and made some copies, told me that I needed to have two legit Jews email him letters saying that I was, in fact, Jewish and awesomely amazing, and then he sent us back down the hall to wait to get registered.

We sat down at a desk after a few minutes with a nice woman who input our information (names, addresses, wedding date, etc.) into the computer. We paid a fee (which was discounted thanks to me being a new immigrant) and were told to go out to speak to another person.

Person number three looked like a rabbi, so we'll call him the Yiddishe French Rabbi, because he used a lot of interesting yiddish for a man who spoke French so well. At this desk (the wall where a door once was gutted out to a large hallway), we were asked questions about whether we were related, our family, how many siblings we have and whether our parents are still married and where they live, what we want our names to be after the marriage, and a series of repeated questions about our marital statuses and the names of those we've been married to before.

By the time the Yiddishe French Rabbi finished with us, the offices were technically already closed, but if there's one thing that Israel does right, it's that if you're there, everyone who is pertinent to what you're there for has to stick around until you're done and gone.

The next stop was to a woman to make sure I knew I needed to take kallah classes (where you learn about family purity and the laws of niddah and such), which simply required the signing of a form, some stuff being shoved in my hand, and being sent on my merry way back to the Yiddishe French Rabbi, who took the paper I signed and put it in our file, wished us a Mazal Tov, and we were gone!

Zip, done. I think the entire ordeal took about 2.5 hours, which seems like a long time, but with the company I had it was a breeze of a situation. I didn't feel like I was being put out, questioned, or oppressed in any way. The only other step left is that Mr. T and I each have to have two Jewish men go into the rabbanut to verify that we're both single and able to marry. Luckily, I had two early takers and we're good to go.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again -- like my aliyah process, everything has gone so very smoothly. Between meeting Mr. T and dealing with the rabbanut, I feel like I'm being led through life with a real purpose at last.  With the wedding coming up next month, there's so much to think about. Luckily, most of the thinking involves needing things like bookcases for the apartment and some proper furniture and things and stuff like that. I suppose maybe I should have paid for the lift to bring all of my stuff over, eh? I didn't know I'd be making a home so quickly!

So the next time you worry that Israeli living will be too hard for you, that things will just be too difficult and too much to handle, remember that often what we hear are the horror stories. Those are the easier stories to tell, after all. When things to smoothly, it's not as interesting -- it doesn't make a good headline, right?

Well, that's what I'm here for. To remind you that things can go smoothly.

The 2012 Recap

I love giving gifts to the people I love. And he's a Whovian.

Oh 2012, you were a good year. Despite experiencing some of the hardest and most emotional moments of my life, the highs were also incredibly high. I managed to end 2012 with the most amazing prospects -- marriage, happiness, love, family, possibility.

The biggest events of 2012 for me can be summed up as follows.

Dangerous relationship. 

Started officially at the Colorado Agency for Jewish Education.

Tons of teshuva. 

Lots of driving all over the place.

Started officially at Taste Guru.

Applied for aliyah. 

Moved to Israel. 

Met an amazing man.

Got engaged.

And now? Now I'm anticipating a wonderfully unpredictable 2013, full of getting married, starting a few amazing projects here in Israel, and who knows what else. At this point, life can't get worse -- it can only get better. That, my friends, is a certainty.

What was YOUR biggest event of 2012?

The Sensory Christmas

No Chinese food, no movie. But I was at Google Tel Aviv!

For the first time in my life, I wasn't in the United States for Christmas.

Yes, I know, I'm Jewish, who cares, it's Christmas. But when you spend your entire life in a Midwestern classic Christmas setting, there are aspects that surround the holiday that are so normative -- they're like breathing. The lights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes. They're all simply a part of my life. My genetics are bound to crave the smell of fireplaces, the site of lined and beaded lights, the taste of warm apple cider and holiday cookies.

I'll be Jewish for the rest of my life, but there will always be certain pangs of sadness at this time of year. And I don't feel guilty about it because the way I grew up, Christmas was about trees and presents and food and visiting Silver Dollar City* (where, for years, my aunt and grandmother worked) and dipping candles and eating s'mores. It was about driving around as a family looking at the city bedecked in holiday lights. It was presents, snow, and the knowledge that this is what everyone everywhere just does.

But?

I was in Tel Aviv last night at the Google Tel Aviv Campus for an event (which was awesome), and on my way back I hopped the Jerusalem light rail for a few stops and got off at Mahane Yehuda (that's the shuk, the giant outdoor market). At that hour, the shuk was quiet and filled with cars and trucks dropping off or picking up late-night deliveries. A few shops were still open and closing, and a few people were using the walkway as a quick bypass to get from Agrippas to Yafo.

About halfway through the shuk, I experienced something beautiful. I closed my eyes, breathed in, and the corners of my mouth curled up in a smile. I was transported to Silver Dollar City, the smell of cookies and s'mores, constantly kindled fires, fresh wax from candle dipping, and the crisp, cold air. For probably 10 seconds, I got my piece of childhood, my piece of December in the United States, in the Ozarks.

More and more, I understand the role HaShem plays in our everyday lives. The things we don't realize but experience in fleeting moments of absolute awareness with all of our senses. Those are the moments when HaShem reaches down to provide us a comfort that we might not even know we need. It was a gift. A 10-second gift.

I think it will get me through until next year. In fact, I know it will.

To read some past posts on my Christmas-time experience ... check out these posts from 2009 and 2007 (which is a particularly emotional post).

*This place has changed so much since the days I went there and purchased American Girl cards, watched glass being blown, got tin-type photos made, and enjoyed the simplicity of a rickety train ride (where, of course, robbers would take over the train, Old West style). Now it's all water rides and fancy things. I haven't been there since 1996, and I'm guessing I'll never go back. Some things are better left to memory, aren't they?

Marriage: The Details

I walked in the store, it was the first ring I saw. It was the ring
I had always wanted. And the shop keeper told us, simply from
our birth dates and names, the story of who we are, what we
need, and what kind of couple we will be. It was mind blowing.

Okay okay!

So you're wondering what on earth is going on with me, right? Why haven't I been writing about every oozy love filled moment I'm experiencing with my fiance? Who is he? Where did he come from? Have I gone off the absolute deep end meeting and getting engaged to someone so very, very quickly?

Or, perhaps those of you who relished in my hair covering posts are simply elated that such posts will continue. Maybe there are some of you who are eager to see what me -- married part deux -- will look like in the blogging universe. I'm guessing someone of you are just waiting to pounce and the comments section will inevitably be filled with a mixture of mazal tov and "you're nuts, why are you trying to solve your life's problems with another guy you barely know?!"

Yes, I can read you (my readers) like a book.

The truth is I've been enjoying the past month of my life in a way that I haven't enjoyed my life privately for years. And when I say years, I mean years. For the first time, I decided to keep my dating experiences off the blog, as well as all of the information about the guy and how everything went down and how absolutely utterly perfectly imperfect we both are and how when you know, you just know. I've been relishing (although, I've been more public about it on Facebook and Twitter since we got engaged) about this man who is brilliant and funny and ridiculous and who has a life story that could possibly champion mine in a real bout of insanity. We've both been married, we've both really experienced all that there is to experience in the outside world, and we both were sold immediately on the potential of what is going to be a relationship of growth, communication, understanding, patience, love, and hopefully some babies -- together.

So what do you need to know? All you need to know is that Mr. T and I are happy. Yes, we're going to call him Mr. T, because every loved one needs a fun moniker on a blog like this. Mr. T is an Englishman, a juggler, a storyteller, a jokester, a father, someone who can fix anything, and that he treats me unlike I've been treated ever in the history of the many men I've dated. He proposed to me a half dozen times, including the second-to-last time by text message. While we were sitting at the same table. That's how well he gets me.

Fish and chips and phone calls and tea. 

We'll be getting hitched just before Purim in the world's smallest (okay maybe not) wedding (we're talking roughly 25 people), because I've earned the right to relish in the closeness that I feel with Mr. T. We don't want a big shibang, no fancy halls, no giant family reunions, no giant wedding dresses, no upscale bouquets. Just us, our family (in my case my adoptive family, although my intent is to Skype in my family back in the U.S.), and a few of our very closest friends. Then? A few of the traditional sheva brachot in Neve Daniel, Ramat Beth Shemesh, and Jerusalem (tentatively that's the plan), and then the rest of our lives just enjoying each other's company (he recites poetry from memory, I regale him with my many speeding ticket stories).

And that, folks, is what's happening. My life has become a whirlwind of busy things and entrepreneurial projects, which I hope to share with you all soon once they launch. Ulpan also starts next month, so my life will become even more heartily hectic.

Conferences, meetings in the sun on Emek Refaim, lots of tea, smiles, laughter, love, shiny bobbles, friends, and happiness.

This is life in Israel. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

Going to the Chuppah

Another Saw You at Sinai success story. And I thought it couldn't be done. Who was I fooling?!

Just like aliyah, this was the smoothest, calmest, most meant-to-be thing that's ever happened to me. 

Stay tuned!

A Very Narrow Bridge

Today, on the two-month anniversary of my arrival in Israel according to the Gregorian calendar, I am being utterly adventurous and brave and perhaps fearless and putting on the brand new boots that I received this time last week that attempted to kill me -- twice.

Yes, some nice, wide, knee-length boots that were shipped by the amazing Leah to me in Israel that cost me quite the pretty penny were worn last Sunday without a care in the world. I walked, and walked, and walked, and didn't even slip. Then, on Monday, I fell twice, busting up my knee pretty badly. Yes, it's doing all the beautiful natural things like scabbing over, but the bone is bruised and still incredibly sore. I'll be honest in saying that I don't even know if it's healing right because in my ramshackle life I had some gauze (which I was using in place of cheesecloth in an attempt to make vegan cheese that failed -- for now), and that was it. So I gauzed it without any kind of antibiotic ointment initially. I got some later (thanks to Yoni), but I'm beginning to think that it might be a touch not okay. We'll see.

So I'm putting the boots on, wearing a long skirt (protecting the knee in the instance of a fall, please HaShem), and going to go about my day.

This, I'd like to think, is a little lesson from the following.

Kol ha'olam kulo gesher tzar m'od.
כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד.
All the world is a very narrow bridge. 

If you know the phrase, it's probably because you were singing it in Hillel or at camp or on a birthright trip or something. I know I learned this while in ulpan back in 2009 that is now reverberating in my life now. What you might not know is the rest of the phrase, that comes from Nachman of Breslov -- "... and the important thing is not to fear at all."

I spent an amazing Shabbat in Ramat Bet Shemesh with some new folks that I think will now be a very regular part of my life. While at the Shabbat table, everyone went around and mentioned some way that they saw G-d in their daily life that merited another day in this world. For me, it was a recollection of the very significant moments that I experience every day where I'm reminded how amazing, beautiful, and absolutely right this place is for me. I'm in such a good place in my life right now and every day there are these moments where I feel like I'm being reminded, "You've made the right choice in the right moment, you are home." Riding on a bus, walking through the shuk, sitting at home -- I can't really describe the moments, but I try to capture them by being completely thankful.

I've fallen a lot in my life, and I've picked myself up and put myself someplace new, in new situations with new people in an attempt to stay on this very narrow bridge of life. I've always thought that the important thing was being on the bridge, always on the bridge. What I never really considered was that the important thing is to understand that we're meant to fall, because it is narrow. It's picking ourselves back up that is the important part.

Something has changed with me here. I'm more in-sync with who I am, what I need, and hopefully a little closer to understanding what HaShem wants from me. As everything slowly aligns and feels more whole and complete, I'm realizing how possible it is to be content, to be okay, to be happy.

Be fearless, be intentional, listen to the still, small voice within and let it really guide you to where you were meant to go, who you were meant to be. You'll be blown away at how easy it is.

Here is to two months in Israel and to years and years and years beyond!

When Life is Happening

Oh hello blog. Long time no talk. This is what happens when I'm busy actually living my life, I guess, right? The blog slowly takes a back seat to everything else. I've been dealing with graduate degrees and jobs and marriage and everything that falls in between. Never before has the blog taken a random and unforgiving lull.

So what to say? Well, the past week or so has been filled with lots of work, purchasing my first Jerusalem-style chanukiyah (aka one in a box to be displayed outside), an excellent Shabbat with "family" in Ramat Bet Shemesh, a few amazing dates, my attendance at TEDxJerusalem, two major falls that busted up my knee royally, and my first-ever attempt at making my own gluten-free sufganiyot (aka fried jelly donuts).

Yum-my. Recipe can be found here. 

Check out my fancy chanukiyah!

My life seems much more easily documented in images these days than in text, which is a weird change for me. But pictures, you see, are so much easier to capture and post. I envision elaborate posts about every little emotion I'm experiencing, but I'm currently in a place where I'm really enjoying my own emotions in the privacy of my own space. That's a new thing, right?

So, keep tabs on my Instagram for quite literally up-to-the day (if not hour) updates on what's going on. I'm going to try to get better about posting here, but there is just absolutely too many amazing things happening in real life for me to post about right now.

Stay tuned!

A Little Inspiration

"It takes tremendous battle to merit being able to have a true geirus and return to kedushah; it is comparable to the war against Amalek." 

Likutey Halachos, Btzias HaPas 5:47 

Perhaps I should change the name of this blog, Just Call Me Chaviva, Warrior Giyoret!

The Motzei Shabbos Special

I ran this series a few times in the past, but after people were talking on message boards about how I was being needy and posting all the things I hoped people would buy for me, I figured I'd put the kabosh on it. Now that I live in Israel and the truth that these are just things I think that are awesome and not things I expect people to buy for me, I figure it's time to revive the series! So here we go on another round of The Motzei Shabbos Special!

Just Press Start
I'm a huge fangirl of Apple products, and when I spotted this iNecklace, I couldn't help but kvell. It also comes in cufflinks, so you and your fellow Apple sweetheart can make sure that you're properly fanning it up.

Oh Homer, Where Art Thou?
I was never a big donut eater growing up, despite my family's love of stopping at Krispy Kreme whenever we were in Omaha to pick up a freshly-baked batch of the heart-stopping glazed variety. I liked watching them processed through the machine, but they were too sweet -- even for me. When I discovered that there were some mass-produced gluten-free varieties, I gave them a go, but again the sweet factor just killed me. Thus enters Gluten-free Sugared Gingerbread Cake Donuts from The Urban Poser, which look like the perfect amount of donut with the perfect amount of sweet.

Jerusalem of Nosh
I've been watching as Serious Eats has been posting recipe after recipe of amazing nosh from the cookbook "Jerusalem." The book has gotten some negative reviews because it doesn't honor the kosher keepers, but the truth is the chefs who got together to write the book aren't of the Haredi variety (one is Palestinian, so, we can't hold him to kosher, folks). Mejadra is just but one recipe, and I have to say I am stoked to give it a go after having tried the Roasted Butternut Squash and Red Onion with Tahini and Za'atar, I am pretty sure it's going to kill. I guess I'll have to buy the cookbook now!

Get Up, Get Going

I have to say I'm intrigued and perplexed by the holistic UP bracelet by Jawbone. Apparently, it tracks your sleep and movement patterns and then an app (only on iTunes) on your phone displays the data, letting you add things like meals and mood. The app then provides you with insights to help you moving forward. I've seen other devices that do this, and I've also been skeptical, but this one seems like a no-brainer. The bracelet itself is $129.99, and I'm assuming the app is included. For me, this would be a wonder, as my sleeping habits are getting crazier and crazier by the day. 

Letters for Your Heart

If you're not a complete and utter devotee to xkcd.com (it's a web comic), then you're really missing out. Yes, there are weeks that the craft goes above and beyond my head, but most weeks it's genius if not romantic and heartfelt. So buy a print already. 

Campaign for a Cause

Last year at the 2011 ROI Summit, I had the pleasure of meeting the man behind NU Campaign, probably the coolest T-Shirt business on the planet. You see, there's a cause printed in graphically awesome ways on the front of the shirt, and then on the inside (of the shirt, yes) you get the explanation of the cause! The big push right now? The One for Israel T-Shirt!

Let's Get Visual! Visual!

I love infographics. They are all the rage, and if there's anything in the world that will get your message or cause or information out there, it's a really well-done infographic. Where do I find my favorites? I hit up Visual.ly, because it's sort of a clearling house for just about any infographic you could possibly imagine. Case in point? This one. 

Scrubbin' Bubbles I need one of these, hardcore style. Yes, it's a Shower Squid, and it will hold EVERYTHING you need in the shower, from your razor to that slippery bar of soap. Genius!

Come On Baby Light My Menorah I'm a huge sucker for chanukiyot (aka menorot to the rest of the world), so this time of year is like magic for me. I keep walking by amazing ones with boxes (the standard here in Jerusalem), but I have yet to buy one. I didn't bring mine with me because the one I prized was a heavy iron one, so I really have to find a long-term keeper for this Chanukah and all of those to come. Here are a couple I spotted online that are absolutely festive. 
Bronze Chair Menorah via UncommonGoods.com

Olive Branch Menorah by Michael Aram

Have something that you're raving about and want to share? Let me know!

The Bid for Palestinian Statehood

Look at all that Jewish land! Oh wait, 60 percent of that is desert. 

Today is quite the important day for Israel. It's Kaf-Tet B'November. Kaf-Tet is the date, with kaf (כ) being 20 and tet (ט) being nine, you can deduce that it means it's November 29.

The significance of this date is that on November 29, 1947, the United Nations voted on the Partition Plan for Palestine (also known as UN General Assembly Resolution 181). The plan was approved by a vote of 33 to 13, with 10 abstentions.

The plan would have partitioned the territory of British-Mandate Palestine into Jewish and Arab states, with the greater Jerusalem area (including Beth Lechem) coming under international control. The Jewish contingency was not pleased with the amount of land allotted, but agreed for the sake of moving forward. The Jewish state comprised 5,500 square miles (60 percent of which was desert), and the Arab state comprised 4,500 square miles (of lush land). In both states, Jews and Arabs would live side by side.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing a dual state as a boon, the Arab nations attacked in May 1948 in an effort to destroy the nation, they lost, and Israel began to expand back to its natural and historic borders, which continued through the late 1960s.

---

Note: The historic/natural land of Israel was known as Judea until the 2nd century after the Bar Kochba revolt. After the revolt, Hadrian decided to punish the Israelites and named the land Philistia after the great enemies of the Israelites, the Philistines. The name evolved into Palestine with the British mandate, and suddenly an entire nation was born of people who called themselves Palestinians. The interesting question is this: If Hadrian hadn't punished the Israelites and the land's name remained Judea over these hundreds and hundreds of years, would those who identify as Palestinians today call themselves Jews as well? Would this be a battle fought of Jew vs. Jew?

---

Today November 29 is important because today is the day, 65 years to the date later, the United Nations is voting again. Today in New York, Palestinians plan to ask the U.N. General Assembly to recognize a non-member state of Palestine in the Israeli-occupied West Bank and east Jerusalem, as well as the Hamas-ruled Gaza strip. The Palestinian collective is confident, and it they're playing this off as if a declaration of acknowledgement will make "peace talks" a more viable option. Any idiot knows this isn't true, of course, and recognition by the United Nations of a terrorist-controlled land -- in my opinion -- proves once and for all the complete and utter failure and insignificance of the United Nations.

Luckily, the vote won't mean that much. According to U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, the U.N. vote "will not fulfill the goal of independent Palestinian and Israeli states living side by side in peace, which the U.S. strongly supports because that requires direct negotiations."

To show just how against the vote the U.S. is, Republican Sen. Orrin Hatch filed an amendment to a defense bill Wednesday that would eliminate funding for the United Nations if the General Assembly changes Palestine's status. Hear hear, I say. 

After everything that has happened in recent weeks, I think this request is incredibly ballsy and a little bit out of bounds. The fact that Israel agreed to a ceasefire on the same day that Hamas terrorists blew up a bus in Tel Aviv says to me that Hamas and it's Palestinian puppets seem to think they have the world wrapped around their little finger. My hope, in the end, is that more countries abstain than vote, and that those who vote make a sensible choice. 

The Palestinian people are not ready for statehood. They haven't been for a long time. Abandoned by Arab nations who don't care about them or their plight and operated in Stockholm Syndrome-style by Hamas, the Palestinian people have a lot of growing up to do. You cannot change adults, so you have to start with children, and this requires a lot of education. A lot. Unfortunately, this isn't happening, thanks to Hamas. Someone -- a lot of someones -- need to rise to the challenge, to push out Hamas once and for all, to reclaim the peoplehood, to stop living in fear and confusion and hatred. It takes responsibility and leadership -- two things that are simply missing. 

Only then will I support a two-state solution. Only when Hamas is driven into the sea and the people teach their children the value of words, promises, and human rights.

Ask Chaviva Anything!: Of Observance and Conversion

Now, for another installment of ...

Don't forget to ask your questions, too.

The first question is bold (and a little presumptuous).

Given your many changes, what would you say to prospective in-laws who were questioning your ability to stay frum?

Simple: "Hello. I'm Chaviva. I want to marry your son just as much as he wants to marry me." What else is there to say? I don't think there's anything to say about my "ability" to "stay frum." I am what I am, and the right man and his family will take me for who I am, no questions asked.

The next question is a toughie, but a question that comes up a lot.

What is the most difficult thing about being a convert? 

Honestly I don't know how to peg just one thing. I suppose the easiest one to pick out is the feeling of never being completely up to snuff. At a recent Shabbat meal, we were discussing some of the bizarre traditions that it takes a while to get the hang of (let alone to seek out the origins of such things), and I quipped how for converts it's a long and dusty trail to get all of these things down pat with full understanding and comprehension. Someone pointed out that it's just as difficult for people who grow up Jewish or even for ba'alei teshuvah (people who don't grow up religious but "return" to religious Judaism). It was a true enough point, but what it doesn't account for is the fact that someone born Jewish who isn't quite up to speed on certain customs or traditions won't be scoffed at for his lack of knowledge. He'll be embraced, educated, and come out all the better for it. Oftentimes a convert will be scoffed at or questioned as to where exactly they did their learning and conversion. It's just not the same. Kiruv (outreach) is Jews converting Jews; it doesn't go far in the world of helping converts or wannabe Jews in fulfilling the calling of their neshamot (souls).

This last question is just as tough, and it hits on a problem with which I think all converts struggle.

One of the things I didn't expect when I started off the conversion process was the loneliness. I have great friends and family, but sometimes its hard for people to "get" it. What tips do you have for getting through without burdening the people around you with your kvetching about Jew-issues? 

I think one thing you have to do is establish your Jewish "family" and find a few individuals who can and will be there for you to listen -- not necessarily to say "I understand," because no one really can -- to the ups and downs and everything in between. There's a reason I set up a support group for converts at all stages of the journey, but even still, all of our journeys are different and because we're all in the thick of it, we're not always the best listeners. When I was going through my Reform conversion, I had an amazing rabbi and congregation (not to mention online community even back then) that helped me deal with some of the loneliest of moments. When I was going through my Orthodox conversion, a family sort of "adopted" me and took me under their wing every Shabbat and Jewish holiday for nearly an entire year. They listened to me kvetch, they listened to me kvell, they were there through it all and to this day I consider them my mishpacha (family).

No one will ever full "get" what you're going through; we all have such individualized experiences with conversion that the best we can do is try to listen and offer encouragement. That's what I attempt to do when people send me emails or ask me questions. You just have to find a safe space with non-judgmental people who will truly listen without attempting to understand something that they really cannot.

I don't know if that helps. I hope it does!

Have a question? Just ask online!

Contradictions

This is completely unrelated to the post below, but I thought it was funny.

Spotted this at Max Stock (an EVERYTHING store) today. Party plates!

An article that came out today in the Times of Israel paints a contradictory picture of Israel.

The report finds woefully inadequate transportation infrastructures, low productivity in an Israeli work hour, an education system producing a generation of low-achieving students, and employment levels dramatically lower than in much of the industrialized West.

And further,

Based on OECD data that links GDP to the total working hours of the economy, Israel ranks 23rd out of 34 OECD states in terms of the productivity of an Israeli working hour. Worse, Israel has been falling ever farther behind the OECD average since the mid-1970s.

Everyone tells you when you move to Israel that there are particularly frustrating aspects about the country's infrastructure. 

The fax machine is still king here, but the bank likes to send you text messages updating you on activity. The army has a crazy active social media presence where you can find the most up-to-date information, but getting an appointment with your aliyah counselor might take a good month. And the list goes on and on. 

The most obnoxious case-in-point for me is the banking system here. It's not enough to send me screaming or taking up hard drugs, but it is pretty annoying. It's like they want you to have to come into the branch (and, on that note, you better go to the branch where you set up your account or else things just don't work right). In the U.S., when you set up a bank or credit account, you set up your PIN to access the ATM when you set up your banking account or by calling into a 1-800 number and choosing the PIN. In Israel? No dice. In Israel, you have to come to the bank (the right branch, remember) to get your PIN, but first you have to request it. And then wait a week. And if they never send it or something strange happens, it could be a month later and you still can't access your money through the ATM. Instead, you have to go to the branch to get your money whenever you want it. And the card not working at retail outlets? Yeah, that one is a mystery -- to you, your banker, and the shop owner. (Note: The you in all of this is, of course, me.)

You can't call a number, you can't choose your PIN, it's all pretty arse backward if you ask me for a nation that calls itself the Start-Up Nation. In a place where high tech abounds, lo-tech seems to be the norm in most places, and I find it particularly frustrating. There's one place in Jerusalem where you can find quality Apple products (resale!), and there are tons of places that just plain don't take credit cards. And yet we have some of the most amazing medical and military technologies in the world. If quality counts in only some things, I guess medicine and defense are it, but why is it so hard to find quality floss or Q-tips in this country?

Walk by any given shop in Jerusalem and you'll find the shopkeeper standing outside smoking or schmoozing with his fellow shop owners. So it doesn't surprise me that we rank so low in productivity. The busiest shops? Shoe stores. Israelis love shoes, did you know? It doesn't take much to be productive in a shoe store. 

If anything, I suppose knowing the slowness of the system gives me pause as I consider what going to the doctor is going to be like. I anticipate putting it off as long as humanly possible, at least until I'm in the midst of a good book that might keep me occupied for however long it takes. I don't mind waiting. It's just knowing that Israel has the potential to be such a magnificently First World country that drives me nuts. I find it difficult to accept the fax machine and a banking system that doesn't let me choose my own PIN and insists I wait a week to get it.

They say Israelis are prickly on the outside and soft on the inside, which is 100 percent true. I suppose that the country itself is quite the same, with the personality it projects as being one of technological advances and an internal struggle with old tech.