The Coffee Break: Pumpkin Spice Latte at Home

Living in the U.S., I was never a super huge fan of Starbucks, mostly because my formative coffee drinking years took place in Nebraska where I frequented a local haunt called The Coffee House (aka Panache), where I'd spend up to eight hours a day studying and doing homework.

When Starbucks showed up, we shunned them.

But after I left Nebraska, Starbucks was an easy find. I discovered what I liked and didn't, and it was usually easy to find a place to sit for hours on end and soak up the free wireless access.

When I moved to Colorado I largely reverted to my local coffee shop hopping, but sometimes the local joints didn't have great wifi, so I was sent packing back to ole reliable where I'd get a Grande Starbucks Doubleshot on Ice (which, at 99 percent of stores, they'll tell you is not an available drink and that there is no button for it, but I know the recipe).

All of that being said, I was never a huge fan of their seasonal drinks, mostly because I'm not a huge fan of sweet and milky drinks.

At The Coffee House I started my adventures off with the sweetest treats they had like the Crunchy Cricket (a blended ice drink with creme de menthe and coffee beans) and their Irish Mocha (which was very milky and very sweet).

But as I progressed through my undergrad and money became more sparse, I realized I couldn't afford those drinks, so I'd buy the cheapest cup of freshly brewed coffee and take advantage of the super cheap refills. I learned to drink my coffee black, and I loved it.

These days, I usually take my iced coffee (קפה קר for those of you in Israel) black and my hot coffee with a bit of sugar and milk, but I'm going to attempt to take myself back to my origins with hot, black coffee.

But with the weather turning a bit and chatter on the web surrounding all things fall and pumpkins, I've been jonesing for a classic Starbucks treat known as the Pumpkin Spice Latte. I've probably had a handful of them in my life, but for some reason, the canned pumpkin in my cabinet was begging me to turn it into a coffee drink.

So I brewed up a strong cup of coffee and got to the pumpkin part.

I took 2 Tbls canned pumpkin, 1 cup milk, and 1 Tbls agave and put them in a pan over medium-high heat and brought to a boil. I mixed in a generous dose of nutmeg, coriander, and cinnamon (in the place of pumpkin pie spice), as well as a teaspoon of vanilla. Once it was well mixed with a whisk, I gave it a very hefty hand whisking to bring in some air bubbles (no frother over here).

I poured the coffee into my mug and poured the pumpkin/milk mixture in over top and mixed.

Then? I devoured. It was hot, spiced, and just the taste of autumn I needed but can't really get here in Israel, unfortunately. It's not exactly a latte, because I don't have a fancy espresso machine with a fancy wand or anything, but it got the job done, and when you're a world away from anything remotely resembling "home" as you once knew it, a fudgin' in a recipe is the best thing to do. (Also, this is much cheaper than the $4.50 I would have paid at an actual Starbucks location.)

What at-home coffee concoctions have you come up with to get that fix? 

Lech Lecha and Then?

The view from here. 

This week's Torah portion (aka parshah) is the classic trope for converts the world over: Lech Lecha.

At the ripe age of 75 years old, Avram (that's his name before he becomes Avraham) is commanded by G-d to leave home, to go forth from your land and your father's house, from everything you've ever known, to a land that will be revealed. Avram puts the ultimate trust in HaShem to guide him, but not without plenty of bumps and "hold on a second" moments along the way.

The promise, HaShem says, is that he will multiply Avram and bless him and his progeny and curse those who curse Avram and his kin.

The reason this parshah is so outstanding and emotional for converts is because Avram is, for all intents and purposes, the first willing convert. He hears G-d's calling and says, "Sure, let's do this" willingly and wholeheartedly while holding fast to his nature to battle with G-d over the things that he doesn't understand or agree with (just think about Sodom and Gemorah in Bereshit 18).

For me, this portion has always held a near and dear place, because coming from a place where I didn't know or grow up with any Jews, the "calling" (if you can even call it that) came as much from within as from without and the moment I felt it, life changed indescribably forever.

At this point in my life, where I think of myself so much less as a convert and more as just another Jew trying to find the right path and living how HaShem wants and needs me to, how do I relate to Lech Lecha?

Well, I'm mere days away from my one-year anniversary of aliyah (moving to Israel). Officially, the anniversary is October 16, I can't think of a more appropriate parshah.

Like Avram, I felt a calling (for years, folks, since at least 2008) to make Israel my home. I was being called to this land that was a mystery to me, even after frequent visits. The promise of finding a mate and starting a proper family stood waiting for me. So I packed up, left the land of my father, and arrived to the place that HaShem seemed to need me.

What happened? I was mated and started "multiplying" almost instantly. The amount of people I know who moved to Israel and got pregnant after some time of trying is equally astounding. There is something to be said to HaShem's promise to Avraham Avinu (our father), which continues to benefit the Jewish people thousands of years later.

Avram might have been the first to leave his comfort, his family, and start anew at the will of G-d, but modern aliyah is a true nod in the direction of the trope of Avram. It's hard, it's complicated, and we all end up screaming and crying in HaShem's general direction because of the roller coaster of emotions, finances, and reality that Israel really does do everything in her power to chew us up and spit us out. But we also learn to appreciate and experience the sense of community and family, the angels in our midst who would bend over backwards to make us feel at home, loved, cared for, and wanted.

Aliyah is not for everyone, but then again, not everyone can be an Avram, either.

So how do you bring Lech Lecha into your every day life? How do you go forth into the great unknown -- be it personally, emotionally, at work or at home? 

Shabbat Shalom everyone!

Inaugurating the Expanded Kitchen

I inaugurated my new kitchen this week (officially) by baking my first batch of gluten-filled challah for the husband, completely with a shehechiyanu, believe it or not.

Jonesing for a pot pie of some variety, I managed to find and execute probably one of the most savory and delicious things I've ever made that would make my simple, Midwestern kin pretty darn proud of me. I timed out the bits and pieces with making the challah, too, and I even came up with a clever way of making the challah in a single pot that relieves my poor KitchenAid from duty.

(Oh, and I also threw together some crockpot rice pudding, which I've been eating as a snack topped with milk, maple syrup, golden raisins, and pecans.)

I started with the most giant stewpot that you can find at Ikea, filled it full of 14 cups of flour and all the other ingredients, kneading the entire thing by hand (with gloves, of course ... I might need a face mask next time, too). Leaving it to rise, I tackled the first component of the pot pie: vegan mushroom gravy.

When the gravy was done, I punched down the dough and moved on to the second component of the pot pie: the gluten-free almond-based crust.

The crust was quick to throw together, so after I put it in the fridge to chill, I moved on to the veggie mixture for the pot pie.

I quickly threw together the gravy and veggies, nabbed the dough from the fridge and rolled it out, and put the pie together. Throwing it into the oven, I grabbed the challah and with my brand new huge kitchen counter space, began braiding the dough. For the first time in my life, the challah was braided quickly and ready to rise for the third time while the pot pie finished up.

The pot pie came out of the oven, the challah went in, and the husband and I devoured the goodness of a classic comfort food. Mr. T ate probably half the pie, which told me I was doing something right. I don't know how often I'll be making this pot pie, because it was a little time intensive (or maybe it felt that way because I was doing double-duty with the challah), but it was so worth it. The homemade gravy, especially, will come into play in the future whether over mashed potatoes or with my Vegan Veggie Loaf.

On Friday I threw together a complete hodge-podge of a Sundried Tomato, Feta, and Spinach Crustless Quiche (complete with creamed tofu mixed in with the eggs) and this Gluten-Free Black and White Cake, which we took out to dinner Friday night. (Alas, I didn't realize my SD Card wasn't in the camera while I was taking the photos, so ... not pictures of that sweet, delicious, gluten-free goodness.)

This week, I'm planning on trying these Buffalo Cauliflower Bites with Vegan Ranch Dressing, Slow Cooker Bean and Spinach Enchiladas, and this trio of delicious smoothies! I'm already thinking about next week's Shabbat menu, and I envision some stuffed peppers and perhaps some vegetarian chili for Friday night since it's been hella cold out here in Neve Daniel over the past week (which I'm loving).

What's on the menu for you this week? 

The Syndrome: Jewish Mother Martyrdom

The past week was particularly challenging for me, between getting over being horribly sick, preparing for Shabbat, and struggling with the financial reality that we still have not rented out our old apartment meaning our bank account is quite unhappy and my stress levels are super high. By the time Shabbat rolled in, things were tense and all I could think was that those angels were showing up as I lit the candles and they were not happy with what they saw and this week is going to be a mess, right?

After lighting I curled up on the couch with the boys off at synagogue and opened up the book I'm reading at the moment, One Baby Step at a Time: Seven Secrets of Jewish Motherhood, and there it was, I was up to the middle of a chapter and a piece called "Winning Shabbat" followed by a chapter called "What We Need to be Happy."

Sometimes, HaShem hands us exactly what we need when we need it.

In "Winning Shabbat," the author Chana Weisberg talks about perspective. As I get more pregnant, I think more and more about how this baby is going to arrive and all of the housekeeping and working and being a good wife is going to fall by the wayside and how it's going to grate my "must do everything right and immediately and constantly" nerves.

I was born for Jewish mother martyrdom, you see. My default in anything and everything is knowing how to best do anything (after all, I'm a master Googler).

Citing Rebbetzin Yemima Mizrachi, the author writes,

"We must decide that the work we do is a teruma, an offering that we give with joy to God, rather than a temura, something that we do for other people with the expectation that we are going to get something in return."

It's about overcoming our nature.

"It reminds me of how our Sages teach that Sarah was barren for many years because she ahd been born without a womb. And then, when she was ninety years old, after a life of praying and doing good deeds, God rewarded her with a pregnancy -- without a womb!"

The gist is that if we learn to overcome our nature, whether it's a tendency toward jealousy or grouchiness, miraculous things can happen (look at Chana, too!). My nature these days is one of "I must do everything" and "Things only get done right when I do them." It's the Jewish mother martyrdom nature that I really, really have to learn to step back from. After an amazing dinner out with friends, things got calmer, things were talked out, I shared the chapters I'd been reading with Mr. T, and the tension that Shabbat came in with dissipated.

(I also have to say that it was an appropriate week to read this with the Torah portion of the week, Noah. One of the big discussions about the portion is why Noah was viewed as so special, yet by the end of the portion he gets drunk and is shamed. How did someone rise so high and fall so fast? We're taught that it's about perspective. Avraham walked before G-d, whereas Noah walked with G-d. Avraham was bold and outspoken when it came to his fellow man. Noah simply obeyed, didn't question anything, and waited for permission for anything to happen. Noah didn't have the right perspective, you see.)

Reading over the essays in the next chapter about finding happiness and figuring out what we (mommies, women in general) to get everything done but still have our special, happy place.

"The greatest gift we can give our families (and ourselves) is a mother who is thriving physically, spiritually, and emotionally."

So I've been thinking. What do (or will) I need to stay sane and happy so I can be the best Jewish woman possible and the best mother possible?

The author talks about needing a few hours to spend on Torah a week, to not make cooked dinners every night of the week, and to have a cleaning lady once a week.

The funny thing is, her needs greatly resemble mine.

Last week I kept telling myself "You're going to sit down with the weekly Torah portion, learn it, devour it, and blog about it like you used to." When I was living in Washington DC and Chicago back in 2006-07, I devoted my late-night, post-Washington Post work nights to a coffee shop and the weekly parshah. It fulfilled me, it kept me feeling academically minded while I wasn't in school, and it gave me perspective on my Jewishness on a weekly basis.

It gave me strength.

When I was in grad school in Connecticut, I had tons of Jewish learning happening all the time, because I was both in grad school and working on my Orthodox conversion. When I hit NYU and life started crumbling, I still had my classes, I still had Jewish thinking and learning, and felt like I was giving back to myself but also fulfilling a major happiness need.

Since then, it's been tough. I've been trying to figure out what it is that I need to be happy, while also being a stellar wife and future mama.

As I figure out what I need to be happy (scheduled blogging time, an evening of pleasure cooking, once a week in a coffee shop working, and so on), I'm curious what those of you out there -- whether you're a hard-working woman trying to find time for yourself or a mother of many who can't seem to find a moment to herself -- need to be happy. Have you even thought about it?

My last piece from reading so far? This little morsel from Rebbetzin Feige Twerski:

"Grow where you are planted." Recognize that the life you have is not arbitrary, but orchestrated from above and hence is, at this moment, the context to which you must bring your finest efforts. 

Chaviva 3.0

I have to give a huge nod to Ronit for her mad skills at coming up with the quirky title of this post. I hadn't yet had the boost of creative juice to realize that today, my 30th birthday, is a new version of me.

I'm not really sure why or when the 20th, 30th, 40th, etc. birthdays became such a big deal, but the reality is that after 21, you don't have many other major milestone "something happens" birthdays (if you're born in the U.S. anyway).

• Ten was a step toward the teens.
• Fourteen was getting a job (technically I started two months before my 14th birthday). 
• Sixteen was a driver's license.
• Eighteen was the right to vote. 
• Twenty-one was the right to (legally) drink. 

And then? Well, I guess 25 meant that I didn't have to pay up the wazoo on rental cars, but other than that, not much happens. I haven't gotten gifts in years (this year was the first in many for receiving gifts, thanks to my most awesome MIL), and the attempts at attempting a birthday party simply didn't happen.

So my 30th has mostly come and gone without much fanfare. My Hebrew birthday was last week, and after a nice dinner out with Mr. T I got violently ill (glutened?) and have been under the weather ever since (bummed that we spent the money when I just regurgitated it all). Today was a work meeting, a visit to emergency care (again), and stressing over finances (again, as we're paying rent in two locations for the second month in a row with money we don't really have).

Perhaps, then, too much value is placed on birthdays. There are many in the Jewish world who believe that celebrating birthdays is a no-no, something in the vein of what pagans once did and something that Jews aren't meant to (in the Bible, the one birthday mentioned is that of Pharaoh, believe it or not). I joked with Mr. T today that henceforth, mommies count time in the days of their childrens' lives.

Time to spend the few hours left of this Chaviva 3.0 upgrade mumbling like a madwoman in HaShem's general direction. All I want for my birthday is peace, strength, patience, and a healthy, happy, curious child.

What do you think about birthdays in the Jewish world? Was 30 a big one for you or did it float by without any recognition? 

FYI: Sukkot was amazing. We spent time in the north with friends in Ma'alot minutes from the border with Lebanon where we ate delicious chili and chatted the night away in the sukkah. We spent the next day driving back home with a detour past a winery that I visited ages ago that just wasn't the same, but I got to see some beautiful landscapes of Israel that reminded me of Colorado with their greenery. Check out some of the pictures over on Flickr!

Israel and My First Sukkah

I'm sitting in my favorite Jerusalem coffee shop because our wifi in the new apartment isn't working and I am a "work from home" desk jockey, and right before my eyes, arising out of nowhere, is a sukkah! (And it's coffee themed, no less.)

Yes, the beautiful thing about living in a Jewish community is that all of your favorite restaurants throw up sukkot -- or booths, huts, shanties -- for the weeklong holiday where we're commanded to eat, drink, and be merry all outside in the sukkah. The great thing about living in Israel is that this is basically happening everywhere. Why? It's a mitzvah to eat in the sukkah! So if you're the kind of establishment that wants Jews of every flavor and religious leaning to show up during the holiday, you put up a sukkah.

Note: The sukkah is meant to be reminiscent of the temporary huts the Israelites were forced to dwell in during their 40 years wandering in the desert. It's also one of the Three Holidays that the Israelites/Jews would pilgrimage into Jerusalem to the Temple. Oddly enough, according to the prophet Zecheriah, in Messianic times, all nations of the world will celebrate Sukkot and pilgrimage to Jerusalem to celebrate. So to my non-Jewish readers: Brush up on your sukkah knowledge now! You never know when Mashiach will show up and you'll have to set up your own sukkah.

It might be hard to believe, but after "doing Jewish" for around 10 years now, I've never had my very own shiny, sparkly, law-abiding Sukkah. Despite a Reform conversion in 2006 and an Orthodox conversion in 2010, my sukkah experience has been relegated largely to community huts and those of close friends -- not to mention Sukkah City 2010, which was quite the experience.

One year my ex-husband attempted to install a sukkah on his deck, but he got flack from the neighborhood association and it fell down before we could even use it. I have experience with one-person pop-up sukkahs, large community sukkahs (including one that fell down around me), and sukkahs built in backyards, front yards, and everywhere in between.

But never have I built or decorated or dwelled for even a moment in my very own Sukkah! So this year, folks, this year is the year! It's the year of My First Sukkah. It's also the first year that I only have to observe one official "holiday" day at the beginning and end of the weeklong holiday. (In Israel, most of the Jewish festivals are only observed for one day, because theoretically we're close enough to Jerusalem know the calendar. Outside of Israel, most holidays are two days, because the idea is that Jews in the Diaspora would have to wait to hear when holidays began/ended. Yes, we have the internet and calendars, but this is just how we roll.)

With the holiday just a few days away, however, I'm left with a bit of panic: Where do I buy decorations? Do I even want to buy decorations? Should I create a theme that will create a tradition in our family? Should I go minimalist? Ahhhh! Plastic fruit: yay or nay? Cheesy posters of the patriarchs (who we invite in like visitors, because it's a huge mitzvah to invite people into your sukkah)?

The benefit of never having a sukkah of my own was that I never had to decorate it. May this be the worst of my problems this year, right?

Luckily, for us, our sukkah in the new apartment is up year round. According to the laws of sukkah, we're covered by the fact that there are two cement walls attached to the apartment where there is a glass sliding door, plus the rails on the fourth side of the balcony (with a beautiful view, I might add). We're borrowing the "roof" (called a skach in Hebrew) from our new landlord, and we recently picked up some plastic chairs that are currently serving as our dining room chairs (we're classy, and not rolling in money). As far as the basics, we're set.

As of now, the only "decoration" I have is a printed out and laminated infographic on Sukkot. I could run with the theme and just go nuts printing out and laminating infographics on the holiday, but that might be a little wonky and once Little Z is less fetus and more small child making cute pictures in school, I don't know how well they'll match. (Here's a thought: Teach Little Z about infographics in-utero!)

Decorations or not, I'm just blessed to live in a country where on every corner, on every balcony, in every little nook and cranny in this country, I'll be privy to sukkot of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Do you have a theme for your sukkah? If you don't have your own sukkah (yet), what would be your theme of choice? 

The Yom Kippur Approach

Oh hello there half of my new, large kitchen. 

Well, it's a new year, and I'm finally settled (or sort of settled, after roughly 24 hours) into a new apartment with a real kitchen, real living and dining space, but much smaller bedrooms and only one real bathroom. Life, as it goes, is all about compromises and, on occasion, sacrifices.

The past year (not to mention the past two years) has been quite the whirlwind. Moving to Israel, meeting Mr. T and getting engaged, losing both of my jobs, getting married, moving to Neve Daniel, Mr. T hitting rough professional/financial times, us struggling to get by ... and then finding an amazing job, money showing up that we were owed, an apartment popping up that perfectly suited our needs with an impending baby and a 10-year-old boy with us part-time.

It was a year of blessings and curses, in a way. And I cried a lot this year, and not just because I was pregnant for a lot of it (oh hormones).

I learned a lot about myself and what it means to daven (prayer), but not in the "I'm going to synagogue on Shabbat and reading out of the siddur (prayer book)" kind of praying. More the Chana style of praying. I like to think of it as silent but deadly: the quiet, angry moments with HaShem, coupled with the blissful, confusing moments with HaShem. I whispered myself to sleep with all of the problems and blessings on my lips, and I began every Shabbat with silent requests preceded by thank yous for all all of the beautiful things I've been gifted with -- from friends and family to parnasah and the beautiful baby I'm carrying.

After last year's immensely successful (for me) Yom Kippur, where I fasted successfully for the first time in years, I've been wondering how this Yom Kippur will be for me. I'm pregnant, and with the up and down of my blood pressure and dealing with some almost-black-out moments on days where I didn't eat or drink enough, I won't be fasting. Eating as little as possible, I don't even know if I'll make it to synagogue. It's going to be a Chana-style Yom Kippur/Shabbat experience for this gal.

What I do know is that I have all the hope in the world that 5774 will be a year of forgiveness, a consolidation of Jewish peoplehood and religion, and peace to all nations of the world. It's really all I can hope and wish for at this point. HaShem has smiled upon me in many ways, and no matter the amount of "curses" that seem to come my way, the "blessings" are abundant. It just takes a few moments for things to come into focus, sometimes.

Wishing everyone an easy fast, and g'mar chatimah tovah!

Sukkot: The Ushpizin Infographic

Absolutely loving this infographic. Hopefully, you'll be able to find it in my sukkah!

Shana Tova!

It's funny that this time last year I'd just pulled into Denver after a quick divorce and really had all the time in the world to sit down and pen a thoughtful and pensive post about life changes, ebbs and flows, and HaShem's plans for me.

This year? I was busy cooking, cleaning, working, and trying to get everything perfect for the three-day Jewish version of "Eat, Pray, Sleep." (Two days of Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year, with Shabbat tagged on at the end -- oy!)

The funny thing is, basically every year of my life since I graduated college in 2006 has been something completely and utterly different. Whether it was my physical location, schooling, who I was dating, conversion, life's tumults ... something was always changing. I haven't had two years of fairly consistent anything in a long time.

So my prayer is for the mundane with a twist of excitement in the unexpected, as usual. I pray that this time next year, I'll have a happy little baby on my hip, a wonderful husband at my side, and a home where people come and go and it feels like home. I don't think it's too far out of reach, either.

To everyone on the face of the planet who I've wronged in the past year -- please accept this meager attempt at an apology for misspeaking, misunderstanding, or just plain wronging.

So here's to my first year in Eretz Yisrael. It started out wonderful, got really, really rough, and has picked up since then. People say that this land tries with all its might to chew people up and spit them out, and I don't doubt the accuracy in that statement for a second. Judaism, as a whole, has a tendency of doing the same thing. You have to really want -- nay, need -- to be Jewish, to be all in with this fight for religion, peoplehood, identity, and culture.

Nothing here comes easy. Nothing.

Happy New Year. Shana Tova. Even if it's the absolute least you can do, eat those apples and honey with a huge smile on your face. This life is a gift. This life is all we have.

Let's start 5774 off right.

From Webb City to the Gush

I'm such a weirdo. This absolutely made my day. Yes, a scale that measures in kilograms made my day. Why? I'll tell you why.

Mr. T and I went to the doctor to go over some blood test results as well as to discuss my ultrasound from last week. The baby is great ("Nothing spectacular," says the doctor) and growing at the right rate ("But why nothing spectacular," asks Mr. T) according to all of the measurements so far ("You don't want spectacular!" the doctor says with a smile). After getting referrals for a 32-week ultrasound and a dietician (if I happen to need it) and the three-hour glucose test (which, hopefully will come back negative for gestational diabetes so I can rip up the dietician referral), I decided to hop on the scale since I neglected to make an August appointment with the nurse to check my weight and all of that good and fun stuff.

Of course, I made Mr. T turn around (he went to the bathroom) and started moving the scale around to detect my weight. As I landed on the same figure (less one pound or 1/2 a kilo) that I had in July when I weighed in (huzzah!), I noticed -- next to the brand name of the scale -- ", MO U.S.A." so I moved the weights a bit and bam!

Webb City, MO U.S.A.

You guys, I practically squeeeed with joy at this. I know, I sound like a nutcase, but you have to understand: Webb City was right down the road from where I grew up in Joplin. Webb City was where I spent my summers going to the drive-in movie theater. Webb City was like a mini-vacation from Joplin.

From 1921 E. 33rd Street to the Drive-In Movie Theater!

[And, please note my devastation as I just discovered that the movie theater was torn down to build a Walmart Supercenter ... sigh ... ]

Seeing a little piece of "home" from so long ago in a medical center in Efrat, Israel is like ... wow it's a trip for me. A real trip. It makes me wonder how a scale made in Webb City (in kilograms at that) made it all the way to the Gush of Eretz Yisrael.

It really is a small world after all.

Agunot in the Age of Facebook

I just saw something on my Facebook timeline, and for the first time in my Jewish life it made me stop and wonder about the situation of the agunah and particularly what it means in this new age of technology and the ability to publicly shame someone.

An agunah is a Jewish woman whose husband has not granted her a get, or ritual divorce. A lot of times, a civil divorce has taken place but a religious divorce has not. For a religious Jewish woman, this means she is bound to that man until he grants her the get. He can remarry, and she can't. She's in a horrible status of limbo that there isn't always much to do about other than fight, fight, and fight some more in beth din (religious court) to pressure the man into just letting her go.

The reasons for not granting a get are boundless, and most of the time childish and trivial. It's a power play by men who simply want to be in control of a situation they've lost control of. It's both pathetic and sad.

There are so many women who are living as agunot. Back in the olden days, especially when men started leaving their wives and immigrating here there and everywhere, the Yiddish newspapers would post their photos, names, and where they ditched their wife in the hopes that locals would turn them in to the local religious courts so they'd do the right thing.

Nowadays, it seems, people are turning to other resources, like Facebook and website building to make things happen. On Facebook I spotted Set Gital Free, which is a website made by friends of Gital Dodelson. Her (civil) ex-husband Avrohom Meir Weiss (of the Artscroll Weisses) refuses to grant a get unless all of his demands (of money, visitation with their small child, etc) are met.

The site includes information about Weiss's family, a timeline of events (these people had a wedding night baby, folks, and separated shortly after the child was born, which is a common thing in religious communities, believe it or not), and information about how you can make a difference.

I don't think I'm the kind of person to pick up the phone and berate the family of some idiot who can't man up and let a woman go, but I'm not about to go campaigning on Facebook either. The fact that I'm even blogging about it has me a little perplexed.

I guess, in a way, I think it's interesting how we've gone from the Yiddish edition of the Forward's "Gallery of Vanished Husbands" to Facebook page and website please to free someone. I think it's socially and psychologically fascinating, and I'm curious whether it has any pull or works.

I guess, in a way, I'm helping the "cause" by posting something here. I can't imagine being stuck in this kind of situation, and I thank haShem every day that I didn't have kids with my ex and that our divorce (by and large) was incredibly smooth (I asked for basically nothing, I left with basically nothing). I've never understood the type of divorce where you ask and torture and try to emotionally and financially ruin someone. When I got divorced, I just wanted to be done with it -- all the money in the world couldn't have made me feel any better about the decision, even when I left essentially broke.

It's all quite baffling. Sad. And baffling.

If you want to help support the cause of agunot, check out the Organization for the Resolution of Agunot. 

Musings of the Pregnant Lady

Mr. T makes a mean salad. I'm one happy (and full) pregnant lady.

While Miley Cyrus was busy getting down and dirty on stage at the VMAs (goodbye childhood), I was fast asleep (or something like it) preparing for the all-important glucose test to find out if Little Z has come with the fun accessory of gestational diabetes (cross your fingers that it's a no!). Luckily, the Israeli system has a overly sugary lemonade-style drink, which outdoes the disgusting, throat-burning orange soda stylings of the U.S. healthcare system's diabetic testing process.

The hour that I was sitting idle waiting for jitters to set in (they didn't), and without an iPad (had to sell it to pay the rent), I spent people watching. Efrat, where the medical center is, is across the main highway that runs through this region, and is very friendly to the English-speaking community. It's interesting how clearly American some folks are, but how they can turn their Hebrew off and on like a switch (with a pretty impressive accent, too).

I also felt reassured that babies seem to know when there's a pregnant woman nearby. I swear babies look at me like they know something, like they have a direct line into my uterus and see what's going on. Have you ever had a baby look into your soul? Yeah, I feel like that regularly.

Last week we went for the "big scan" where they check for organs and limb length and heart development. Unfortunately we didn't land many good pictures because Little Z was moving around like a maniac (same during the first ultrasound), and I appear to have an anterior placenta, meaning that it's both difficult to feel much movement at this point and to get clear pictures of the baby without forcing it to move (which, by the way, the guy did and I've been sore in the tummy ever since). The most beautiful things we experienced with Little Z were seeing the spine and ribs and hearing the heartbeat. We did get one good picture, in which Little Z looks just like a lot like Mr. T and, it appears, is holding a microphone and doing karaoke in-utero (that's my kid ... but it's probably the fist).

As I approach my 25th week, the flutter of insane "OMG AM I READY!?" thoughts are whipping up a storm. If it's a boy can I handle the bris? (We went to a friend's baby's bris last week and that little wail kills me every time.) If it's a girl can I handle the possibility that she's going to be as bratty and as much of a pain in the tuches as I was?

What do I need when the baby comes home? Wait a second, I have to choose a hospital? Will a larger apartment appear so that we don't have to eventually put a new baby in a room with a 10 year old who has had his own space his whole life? A birthing plan? Do I need a doula (midwife)? Do I know enough about breastfeeding and diaper-changing and not getting any sleep ever for the rest of my life (not that I get much now anyway)?

And then, today, while sitting in a coffee shop working, Little Z started acting like a mad person flipping or hopping or doing a jig of some sort ... I felt bumps and lumps and for nearly a minute all the insanity of glucose tests and cloth versus regular diapers and the reality of never sleeping ever again drifted away.

There's a baby in there. That's weird. Have you ever considered how absolutely bizarre and strange it is that a human being can grow another human being? I mean, that's miraculous, folks. It's weird, but miraculous. And for someone like me -- who for the entire extent of my first marriage didn't want to have kids because things weren't good and then swore off children -- the fact that I got pregnant so quickly after getting married and after being off birth control for a millisecond after 12 years of being actively on the pill ... I mean ... how does that happen?

Sometimes, I'm able to marvel at the life I lead. It's nothing glamorous. It's nothing special. I'm light years away from the free and single New York City-dwelling journalist superstar I thought I'd be 10 years ago.

Last night, before drifting off to sleep (and before Miley's crazy teddybear-inspired hump fest), I checked my social streams to find one of my former copy editors, who I managed what feels like ages ago, tweeting and instagramming from the VMAs as an editor at Mashable. For all intents and purposes, he's leading the life I dreamed for myself so long ago.

And yet, here I am, going through the motions of a first-time mommy, anxiety about nesting and doing the right thing and raising kids right in tow.

HaShem has a funny way of taking us through life. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Note: If you don't have the app Timehop, you should get it. Every day I wake up and look at my life a year ago, two years ago, and even five or six years ago. Not everyone is nearly as social as I am online, of course, but it's quite the interesting adventure. 

Meet the Lemurs

And now, for a video interlude ...

Shanah Rishona Guilt

Gluten-free enchiladas, granola bars for Mr. T, gluten-free pizza and fries,
pasta with sautéed spinach, sundried tomatoes, and mushrooms. 

One of the toughest things about having a full-time job, being pregnant and energy-less part of the time, and having a busy and awesomely ravenous husband is figuring out the proper balance to my day so that Mr. T doesn't end up eating pita and hummus for dinner and I don't end up gorging at one meal and feeling sick/exhausted the rest of the day.

After the first trimester, where I spent a lot of time sleeping and laying about (which I could do because I was under employed), I got a boost of energy and appetite -- for about two weeks. Yes, there were two glorious weeks where I was a machine from dawn until dusk and was able to eat just about every last bit of what I craved.

Those two weeks were short lived and a huge tease.

Now my energy levels wane from day to day. Some days I am more than eager to get up at 6:30 a.m. when Mr. T's alarm goes off and work all day and stay up late watching TV and having a nice homemade dinner. Other days, I pull myself out of bed at 9:30 a.m. and am crashing around 6 p.m.

So what's the big deal? I'm rocking a lot of "shanah rishonah guilt." What, you ask is this phenomenon? Shanah rishonah is how Jews refer to the first year of marriage (it literally means first year). For religious Jews, this first year means you're like a king and queen, you can hand out brachot (blessings) and instead of dipping your challah in salt you dip it in honey so everything will be sweet.

For very religious Jews -- who often don't date long before marriage and definitely don't live together -- it's also the chance to really spend time getting to know the other person, and the truth is that for Mr. T and I, it's been very much "getting to know you, getting to know all about you!"

Before we got married, I'd cooked for him a few times, and he cooked for me a few times, but we never shared a bathroom or bedroom or closet or space. We've been incredibly blessed that the transition has been smooth -- he's very easy going when I rearrange the entire kitchen or move things around in the closet. There are bigger fish to fry, as it goes.

But for me, there's still that feeling of needing to perform. I might work full-time now, but I'm home all day sitting at a desk near the kitchen, which makes me feel like I should be able to put up a four-course meal every night when Mr. T comes home from a day of hard-labor (he is an electrician after all). I also feel the need to make sure he's got healthy and filling lunches to schlep in every day to work. The guilt I feel when he comes home and I'm still tapping away working is probably unnecessary (he's even said it's unnecessary), but I know that the first year sets you up for life.

And with a tiny alien growing inside me, I have to wonder: What are things going to look like in six months when husband's working full-time, I'm working, baby is chilling out with me at home ...? And what about Erev Shabbat (Friday) when I basically stand up in the kitchen cooking from the moment I wake up until Shabbat comes in?

The truth is, I could probably take a huge load off of myself by not insisting on having an adventurous kitchen and palette. We have a vegetarian home, meaning that it's a constant battle to find protein-packed options for my most ravenous Mr. T (who can eat and eat and not gain a pound). So between work tasks, I'm scanning the web for gluten-free black bean burger recipes and ways to cook spaghetti squash and tips on using tofu that doesn't involve stir-fry (we over did it a few months ago). I don't like to replicate dishes too much, because I don't want to bore myself or the husband (or iBoy when he's around).

So what do you do? How do you rejigger things when your energy is up or down to keep things running at home? How do you fight that relationship-performing guilt? 

When You Feel Like a Hippo

Yes, I also sleep with an eye mask. That is, when I sleep. 

The weirdest thing about being pregnant is that you feel huge -- like hippopotamus huge -- even though you don't always look it in the first half or so of the process. I'm in that awkward phase of the pregnancy (20 weeks, about halfway through the pregnancy) where my weight has shifted and the clothing I've been getting by in just isn't necessarily working. Everything feels snug, and the things that I have that are naturally oversized make me look more huge (I think, anyway). 

I'm blessed with an amazing husband who -- on the first date -- told me that he thinks pregnant women are beautiful (it means they work, come on, how is that not attractive?) and that a woman's body changes more rapidly and frequently than a man's body and that he's cool with that. 

I've spent the past few months in anticipation of going to the U.S. and doing a crazy shopping adventure at Old Navy and Target to pick up maternity maxi dresses and skirts and sleeveless tops that I can modest-up with the the shells I own in abundance. When I canceled my U.S. trip, I thought, well, I'll just keep wearing what I'm wearing and if it stretches out, it stretches out and I'll figure out what to do when our finances are more in a mode of being able to afford things that fit. 

Alas, I don't think that's going to work. Or maybe I just need to come to grips with my size. 

As someone who has never been skinny or thin or even average, I can tell you that being pregnant is tough on the ego and self-image. There's a reason I haven't been taking the typical pregnancy photos. I'm struggling with feeling like my overall image hasn't changed much, even though it has, and I can feel it. It's a huge mind-mess. 

Looking at maternity bras and clothing and scanning discussion groups, it seems to me that there's something huge missing from the conversation: what it means and what it's like to be a curvy girl that's pregnant. 

When I was living in New Jersey and Colorado, I had a fairly regular gym regimen. In Colorado, I was going almost every day, spending a half-hour on the elliptical and then a half-hour on weights and working on balancing exercises. Burdened with misaligned patella on both legs, there are not many exercises I can do that aren't going to worsen an already bad knee problem (swimming and elliptical were the two okays I got from the last three physical therapists I had). Unfortunately, there isn't a pool super close, and there's no gym in sight. 

Right before I found out I was pregnant (which we found out while we were in England over Pesach, by the way), I was game to start a workout regimen again. I wanted to track down a Wii Fit and get moving, but the moment you find out you're pregnant, all the books and advice sound bytes tell you not to start up anything new. 

Stick to walking! they say. 

I've always found walking to be like ... the most boring thing on the planet when you don't have someplace to go. It's why I always hated running during volleyball in high school. When your'e running in circles, it's just pointless. Give me a destination!

So I'm doing what I can. My diet is still largely vegetarian (although with the pregnancy I've been craving meat and feeding that craving once a week or so), so I'm not gaining weight very rapidly according to my checkups. At my size, you're encouraged to not gain more than 15 or 20 pounds during the pregnancy, and I'm on a good pace for that. I try to walk up to the grocery store, even on the hottest of days, and every Shabbat we take a hard schlep around the neighborhood, which is crazy hilly and hard on me, but it's something. 

Anyone out there struggled with the "I'm already curvy" and "I'm getting much curvier" transition? How did you handle it? Did you just layer more? Wear more loose-fitting clothes? Or is it a non-starter when it comes to dealing?

The Big Reveal: It's Better, I Promise

The last time I wrote a "Big Reveal" post all hell broke loose. We'll see if that happens this time around, although I don't think it will be the same kind of hell breaking loose.

What do you think?

I'm due mid-December (that ultrasound is several weeks old, and I'm now in my 20th week), for those of you still stuck on the shotgun wedding bandwagon of conspiracy theory. Yes, we got pregnant pretty quickly and unexpectedly, but sometimes, when things work, they work in the most amazing way.

Six months in Israel, and I was engaged, married, and pregnant (and lost two jobs and was broke, but whose keeping score?).

Waaahhhhh?

It was really hard writing that three-months later post about me and Mr. T and not saying anything, believe you me, and it's part of the reason I haven't had much to blog about these days. But I also was trying to get hired and really needed to keep the pregnancy quiet. Why? Israelis don't like hiring pregnant women, unfortunately.

Starting August 1, b'ezrat HaShem, I'll be gainfully employed doing social media, content writing, brand management, and all that good stuff that I like to think I'm pretty darn stellar at.

It's been unbelievably hard not writing about the past several months of the pregnancy, especially when it comes to asking questions and sharing the weird and bizarre moments of being a first-time mom married to someone who already has a child (who just turned 10, by the way), not to mention why my financial stress has been compounded beyond the norm.

I'm lamenting that I can't pop over to Target or Old Navy for pregnancy attire, that the comfort foods that I so crave (Mexican, Mexican, and more Mexican) are practically unavailable in this country, and that I always feel like it's about 110 degrees. The pluses about being pregnant so far in Israel? I know that I'm going to have a ton of help finding all the bobbles and necessities for a baby thanks to a huge network of moms who share, lend, and swap everything from cribs to baby clothes. Oh, and my awesome mom is making sure things from the U.S. come over, too!

But here I am, ready to share and regale y'all with yet another interesting chapter in my life. It's going to be a wild and interesting ride folks!

Note: For those of you uninitiated, that cartoon is done in the style of BitStrips a la Facebook. 

The Israeli Driver's License: Only Me

Oh hello there. You're going to save the day?

And then you're going to make me battered and bruised?

Okay.

Today was a big day -- I took a driving lesson and test in order to switch my driver's license over to Israel so that I can legally drive here. Technically, you you can drive legally on your U.S.-based (or other international) license for one year after making aliyah, and then you have another two years to convert or transfer your international license before you're stuck with starting from zero.

So, me, being a bit yekke, I opted to get it done (with a bit of nudging from Mr. T). I found an awesome English-speaking driving instructor, and after going through the paperwork process of the conversion, I met up with the instructor this morning around 10:20.

We drove around, he gave me lots of tips, explained how to best enter and understand a roundabout (seriously helpful), and we went back to the starting point after about 40 minutes, with the instructor telling me that my driving is very relaxing (aww thanks). After all, I've been driving for nearly 15-16 years, folks!

Now, because I was told that converting/transferring your license is a pretty painless and quick process (one lesson, one test), I assumed that it would all just happen magically very quickly, so when we got back to the starting point, I thought we were done. Alas, that was just the lesson, and I spent the next hour in the back seat of the car fearing for my life while a Haredi driver with a New York license took the road. Tip to drivers: Stopping in the middle of an intersection -- any intersection -- is a bad idea!

After a while, we picked up another person, drove for a bit, and then ended up at the testing facility around noon. This is when things get a little wacky, folks.

When the testing guy got in the car with the three of us (our instructor was going to stay behind and wait for us), he looked at the Haredi guy's paperwork and it was fine. Then he moved on to mine and -- oh! What? What's that? Problem? Oh right! Awesome!

What happened next is one of those "only me, only in Jerusalem" kind of moments.

The driving instructor didn't want me to miss out on getting my test done, so he ran over to the area where they were doing motorbike and scooter testing and lessons, asked to borrow a scooter, zipped over to me, handed me a helmet, told me to get on and to hold on if I want and we zoomed a few miles away.

Now, I'm wearing a skirt, which didn't go well with the expediency with which I needed to mount this scooter (and then unmount and remount a few minutes later). I've never been on a motorbike or scooter. And with someone who was fairly a stranger, the entire experience was petrifying. He's not a small guy, and I'm not exactly a twig, and on a little scooter? This thing was super small, not the typical Israeli scooters you see flying around. It had one side-view mirror, and barely fit the two of us.

Note: Motorbike helmets don't really fit onto my style of head covering. Had I fallen off ... who knows.

I basically sat on the metal bar on the back of the scooter and every time we turned or went uphill, I was pretty sure I was going to die. As the bike tipped on a turn and scraped the ground, I knew we were in for ... but no worries. The driving instructor knew it was my first time, and my clutching to him for dear life I think he found amusing.

So the instructor got me to the optometrist so they could check off three boxes that the other folks had forgotten. I paid my 15 shekels, and we hopped back on the scooter.

The drive back was incredibly painful, mostly because I was more on the metal bar than before and we hit a huge pothole (I thought I was flying off the thing). I'm feeling it in my bum and in my back, and I'm not looking forward to how I'm going to be feeling tomorrow, but the funniest thing?

We get back to the testing center just in time for me to do the test, which consisted of ... get this ... something along the lines of four turns. I was in the car for roughly five minutes! Five minutes! Pull out of the testing facility, make a right, then another right, then another right, and then a left and you're done!

Shoot me now.

Luckily, I got a call from my amazing instructor, and I passed, so I won't have to go through that insanity again. Will the bruises and pain I know I'm going to feel tomorrow be worth it? Meh. It gives me a story to tell. I'm sure I'll laugh about it later, but I feel like my insides are trying to crawl outside.

Time to recover. D'oh.

Note: If you want the name/phone number of this most amazing instructor, send me an email, and I'll pass along his details!

At Last: Blog Merging

I waited a long time to do it, and it's not perfect, but I merged the old blog (where there's lots of scandalous posts and hateful comments) with the new blog, so you can now find all posts from 2006 to the present in one place.

However! You'll notice that comments are missing from a lot of the earlier posts, and some of you might have even posted comments on recent posts and you're not seeing them. (Blessing in disguise?!)

Let me explain.

I use Disqus commenting on the blog, which unfortunately isn't compatible with mobile, meaning that if you're posting a comment from the mobile site that it doesn't show up except on the back end. So I see them, but the rest of the world doesn't. It's really mind-boggling, honestly, that in 2013 that Disqus hasn't figured out how to make commenting available for mobile.

I installed Disqus a few years back, so you'll see all of those on the blog, but from the early years you won't see any comments unless they're new. You'll probably be a bit confused becuase it will say that there are comments, and when you click, you won't see any. That's because they live in the backend and not in the public world.

For this, I apologize.

As soon as I find a solution, I'll get it fixed up quickly. If you want to comment, please try and wait until you're in front of a computer.

Thanks!

At last! Gluten-Free Cinnamon Rolls

Um, it smells really good in here.

I can't tell you how long I've been craving cinnamon rolls. When I was living back in the U.S. I did the best I could to consume the closest thing I could find to classic cinnamon rolls, but unfortunately Udi's take on the gooey classic just didn't compare to anything I knew.

Living in Israel, you can't go anywhere without the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting every which way, which makes it tough for a gluten-free foodie. The benefit of being me is that I'm not constantly noshing the crap people buy at bakeries (once in a while is fine, but some people feed their kids this stuff daily). The downside is that it means I have to seriously muss up the kitchen to make something delicious to satisfy that fleeting desire.

So cinnamon rolls. I found this recipe over at Sarah Bakes Gluten Free and got a few recommendations for her recipes being very stand up, and it turned out to be a pretty easy recipe to follow and put together. I had to do some modifications because I didn't have any dairy-free milk on hand, just lactose-free milk, and it's tough to find honest vegan butter in this country (if I could import Earth Balance, I would). I also used her lighter version of the flour blend as she suggested, which seemed to be the best option available.

I'll was really surprised at how easy these were to roll, because my past attempts at cinnamon rolls using recipes from You Won't Believe it's Gluten Free! ended up in a mushy mess that was more like a coffee cake than cinnamon rolls. I'm super pleased with this recipe and can't wait to make them again.

These rolls proved perfect, absolutely perfect! Crisp on the top, and with that gooey center, they hit the spot in a way that no factory-produced gluten-free cinnamon rolls ever will.

The question is: Will these last until Shabbat ...?

Make Me Modest: Tips for Your Wardrobe

I realized something funny recently while interviewing for jobs. I dress the way I think that the interviewee will perceive me. Getting all up in my head much?

I interviewed with a few individuals in a more "frum" atmosphere and made sure to wear a longer skirt and more reserved colors while when going to more startup-style offices I dabbled in more bold color combinations and varied fabric choices. I made sure my mitpacha (head scarf) was a bit more wild in color at the startups and a bit more tame at the other offices. I wore my high-wedge sandals to the startup offices, but flats to the other interviews. Without a doubt, I was almost always the most "dressed up" person in all of the startup offices because, well, much to my husband's dismay, this isn't a suit-and-tie culture in the workplace. It's a quirky shirt, jeans, and sandals that come off the moment you sit down in your work chair kind of place. (Which I just squeeeee at!)

On a daily basis, I don't dwell much on what I'm wearing, mostly because it's Israel and there are as many different ways to dress here as there are Jews. I'm never really concerned about looking too religious or not religious enough; I just wear what I wear. In that way, then, Israel is a bit more freeing when it comes to clothing and tzniut (modesty).

On that note, I recently got a question from a reader that I thought might be perfect for answering in this post. She asks,

My question is if you have advice on how to "tzniusify" a normal, secular wardrobe. Any tips and tricks for people who are transitioning to a more modest style of clothing? I'd appreciate any advice, especially for cold climates as well (sorry to remind of cold in this heat). Oh, and I'd also love to get some tips on head covering. What are your favourites? What accessories and helpers do you use?

The amazing thing about making your normal wardrobe more modest is that it's easier than ever since the kosher clothing community has made some pretty cool advances in making it easier to shop in the "real world" and still be modest as we understand the term.

In short, in the religious Jewish world, tzniut is considering how you dress, carry yourself, and the words you use as if HaShem were always with you (and, really, HaShem is always with you): 

Do justly, love mercy, and walk modestly with your God (Micah 6:8)

Most religious Jews accomplish this by covering the knees, the elbows, and the collarbone --  not in a stifling way, but in a "hey, the stuff I'm covering is special and between me, HaShem, and my partner (if I have one)!" I will mention that there are lots of variations here in Israel, including some women who wear "Hammer" or Harem pants and short-sleeve shirts. The pants, to me, seem less airy and more diaper-like than wearing a skirt. There are also women who won't wear open-toed shoes, always wearing stockings or hose, and don't show a lick of skin besides from that on the hands and face. Call me crazy, but in Israel, that's a huge no-go for me. 

The nice thing about colder climates is that layering is always in, meaning it's actually easier to be modestly dressed. Using cardigans and layering really give you endless opportunities for modest attire. But to transition some of your non-modest clothing over, there are plenty of options.

This is a tank top I purchased at TJ Maxx
with a black 3/4-length shell.

Plenty of companies sell shells, which allow you to turn tank tops, short-sleeve shirts, v-necks and beautiful summer dresses into something more modest. My favorites are Kosher Casual and Halftees, the latter which makes its shells in a more forgiving fabric that is cooler in the summer, not to mention that they are versatile in that they're reversible for different depths in the front. I find Kosher Casual's fabric to be a little stifling in the summertime, but in the winter the higher neck keeps me warm! Kosher Casual also sells a cool bolero-style shell that is nice underneath T-shirts. Halftees offers quite a few different options, including 3/4-length, "boyfriend"-style, tank top-style and cap-sleeve halftees, and Kosher Casual offers up 3/4 length and tank-style. (Note: I exclusively buy the "crop" style, simply because I find the extra fabric of regular shells overwhelming.)

On that note, if you're not quite as svelte as me, there are lots of options for skirt extenders and other nifty and sneaky modesty helpers, like the Layering Dress and Skirt Extenders. There's also the SuperSlip Skirt Extender by Shell Sheli, which Redefining Rebbetzin reviewed last year. If you're tall, sometimes these things are just convenient, rather than exclusively made for modesty. I'll admit that I don't usually need the skirt extenders, mostly because even the average skirt tends to be long on me because I'm not that tall (around 5'4.5"). I like to stock my wardrobe with lots of cotton foldover skirts, mostly because they're comfortable, airy, and go with just about anything. 

This is a sleeveless shirt I purchased at Target.
It would be quite revealing without a shell underneath. 

The only difficult thing to transition from not-modest to modest these days is the swimsuit. Unfortunately, there just isn't a way to make that super cute bikini fit the modest model. That being said, there are a half-dozen companies that have come out with some pretty amazing alternatives that, I'll be completely honest, I'd probably rather wear even if I weren't a religious Jew. They're stylish and cover up all the areas that make us ladies a bit skittish about going to the pool. I own a suit by HydroChic that I recently wore to a very chiloni (secular) pool and shockingly, I didn't get too many wacky looks, despite being the only woman over several days wearing such a getup. 

It's like I'm glowing!!

As for head covering, that's a whole other post on its own! Let me work something up and maybe make a quick video with a few different ways I wear mine. Stay tuned (and keep me honest by nudging me if I don't post anything soon). 

If you have questions, Ask Chaviva Anything! is dead, but you can still email your questions in to kvetching dot editor at gmail dot com.