Congrats to the Necklace Winner!

First of all, sorry it took me nearly two days to draw a winner ... I've discovered a wacky issue with mobile comments on the blog, and the wacky issue is that you simply can't comment on a mobile device. I attempted to make it happen, it failed, and I'm sorry. In 2016, mobile reigns supreme, and the inability to comment on mobile really bums me out. So. Sorry!

Anyway, congratulations to Mor S. (a Denver friend and most-excellent mama) for winning the giveaway! In case you see this,  Mor, please send me an email at kvetching dot editor at gmail dot com.

In other news: I'm now Facebook "verified" as a personality. Eegads. I'm like, famous or something. Wait, no, I just went through the Facebook Mentions process of verification. But a girl can dream, right?

Shabbat Shalom y'all!

Giveaway: Personalized Silver Name Necklace!

For a long time, one of the classic bat mitzvah gifts handed out was the personalized name necklace, usually in Hebrew, and usually retrieved from the Holy Land, so elusive to American Jews. I want to say this was during the 1970s and 1980s, because by the time the 2000s rolled around and I hit Israel in 2008, the jewelry stores along Ben Yehudah Street were selling them second hand. I thought the trend had died, but the truth is with Sex and the City and the Carrie necklace being ever-so-popular for all time, personalized name necklaces are -- and will always be -- popular and beloved.

Although I don't have one myself, I do have the uniquely hand-crafted necklace that Mr. T gave me for our anniversary and a simple name necklace that I got years and years ago from Sima Gilady jewelry (that, honestly, I take off maybe two or three times a year at the most).

So I thought to myself, wouldn't it be nice to give the gift of personalized jewelry to one of my readers? Yes, yes, I thought to myself, it would be nice. Enter the folks at Name Factory, who are helping me give away a personalized silver necklace (value up to $42) just for you!

And because I know how much people love entering giveaways with ease, all you have to do is comment on this post telling me which of the necklaces on the site you'd love to call your own (or to gift to a friend, daughter, mother, your dog, you get the drift).

Ready? Set ... GO!

Note: This giveaway ends on Wednesday, February 17, 2016 at noon MDT. 

The Anniversary Gift

When I was a kid, and we went out to restaurants where they still put paper on the table and gave out crayons to the kids to entertain them, my dad used to draw the same image over and over. No matter where we went, the time of day, or the mood he was in, he always drew a tree. It was a bare-branched tree, no lush leaves, but it always managed to capture something special about my dad. As time went on, and I became a doodler, the tree became a common theme for me. It was the same: no leaves, just bare branches.

Awhile ago, Mr. T asked me to draw him a picture of the tree I always sketch. Being generally grumpy and overworked most of the time, I brushed him off and said I'd do it eventually. He started bringing a piece of paper and pen over to me and asking me to do it. He said he wanted to make a paper cut or something with it, and after several tries I acquiesced and drew him the tree.

Then, he gave me this.

Our anniversary is February 20, or Erev Ta'anit Esther on the Hebrew calendar (that means, because this year is a leap year on the Jewish calendar, we celebrate the Hebrew date in March), but he wanted to give it to me early. He'd managed to hide the whole project from me (which is hard to do), and I never thought to ask him what had come of the tree.

If you can't read Hebrew, or read really, really small writing, the necklace says the following:

• 02/20/2013 חביבה טוביה (That's Chaviva and Tuvia written in Hebrew.)
• אשר יצחק 12/19/2013 (That's Asher Yitzhak written in Hebrew.)

It's my very own, super unique (just like my husband) family-based necklace charm, which I'd wanted for some time. And, there's space up another branch for The Blob (that's what we're calling the baby I'm brewing). 

I was really overwhelmed and surprised! And, of course, now I'm thinking "How am I going to match this!?" Here's to you, Mr. T. 

Happy Birthday Mr. T!

Asher was such a grumpy-looking baby
two years ago, wasn't he?

Three years ago, we'd known each other fewer than two months, were engaged, and were less than a month away from getting married. I spent Mr. T's birthday sick as a dog on his couch, with him making me chicken soup and honey-lemon-ginger drinks by the gallon. His thoughts on the experience of me being sick on his birthday, "Love is not caring about snot."

Two years ago, we celebrated twice, once at our favorite restaurant in Israel, Bodega (yes, there's now Mexican food in Israel) in Efrat, sparklers and all. Then I made his favorite soup, Salmon Chowder, and a chocolate cake for his birthday at home.

One year ago, he was a million miles away and we spent his birthday apart. I sent a card, and I think I sent a Metal Earth for him to build (he loves those things), but it was just another lonely day apart.

This year, I gave him the most hilarious of books, and he's going to spend the morning checking the eruv, the late morning and early afternoon doing some work on someone's house, and then going into the deli for the evening. It's not perfect, and we won't see much of each other, but it's better than a million miles.

Happy birthday to the kindest, most genuine, and most giving person I've ever known. Mr. T would bend over backwards to find a way to help someone -- emotionally, financially, you name it. And I'm happy to report that Asher is following 100 percent in his father's footsteps, and I couldn't be more proud.

Here's to as many more as we can manage, Mr. T.

Ask Chaviva Anything: Parenting and Jewish Divorce

Some great questions rolling in, and I'm so glad I get to answer them. Let's start with what might seem like a tough question, but one that actually has a pretty simple answer.

Hi Chaviva! My question is how would you handle a situation where Ash decides to be less religious or non-religious? I wonder because you fought so hard to become Jewish, so I can imagine that it would be a really sensitive situation for you. Would you accept him if he was not religious? Or mourn him? How would you try to bring him back to Judaism?

Once upon a time, after a very difficult marriage and divorce, I was left spinning, unsure who I was or what life was meant to look like. During that time, I made some questionable choices and ended up dating someone who was not Jewish (this was a few years after my Orthodox conversion, so I was, for all intents and purposes, a Jew). When it was revealed that I was dating a non-Jew (while still keeping kosher and Shabbat), I received hate mail, calls for my conversion to be revoked, comments on blog posts saying that I was the "worst thing to happen to Judaism," and harassment from people who had once been friends (mostly other converts, too). I was being pushed and shoved away from the Judaism that had so nurtured my soul and given me a home. I was being told I was not a Jew, I was being distanced from my family. 

But there were, during this time, a few (religious) friends who pulled me close. They sent me notes, they checked in on me, they reminded me that I had a home, that I was loved and that Judaism was not rejecting me. They gave me the nurturing and love that I needed to make the right decisions at the right time, and they allowed me to return. I really learned who my real friends and family were in Judaism, and I learned who was toxic and insincere. 

What this taught me, this entire experience that still hurts and stings to this day, is that Judaism teaches us that when someone strays or makes choices that don't necessarily jibe with Torah Judaism, we pull them close, we give them a space. If you push them away, they'll just move farther and farther away until they're lost in the crowd. The often-quoted adage is "hate the sin, not the sinner," and those who truly understand Judaism and HaShem hold tightly to that dictum. 

So, long story short ... I grew up not Jewish and found my way here. Mr. T grew up fairly Jewish, attending a Jewish day school and then a boys school and then had some wild and crazy teen years before returning in his early 20s. We've both lived our lives and experienced things that those who are FFB (frum from birth) perhaps not, and that gives us a unique perspective. Sure, I'd love for all of my kids to be as religious as us, but there's always the possibility that they'll be more or less observant than us, and I'm okay with that. Judaism is a journey, and as long as I do my job and give my kids a healthy view of Judaism and the outside world, they'll choose what is right for them and I'll respect that. I'll hold them close, give them a nurturing environment where they know that they are loved for who they are, no matter the choices they make. They will always have a home. 

Next question!

Thank you for admitting that you seeked marriage counseling! Did you and your ex-husband ever go through counseling? How was that experience different? I've been reading for years but I guess I still don't understand why you got divorced. It worked out for the best obviously but I can't help but be curious since it seems rarely discussed in the Orthodox world.

I've actually written about it before, I'm pretty sure. I was much less open during my last marriage. All of our struggles and trials were kept quiet and out of the public eye, contrary to how I live much of my life. My in-laws were shocked, absolutely no one knew it was coming because darn if we weren't good at putting up appearances. I was depressed, anxious, and embarrassed that it wasn't working, but I managed a smile when I needed to. Of the 16 months we were married, we spent a year of that in couples counseling, with me in additional counseling on the side. Despite that, it just wasn't meant to be. It took a meeting with a rabbi, who posed an ultimatum to my ex. When he responded with "I'd like to think I'd choose my marriage," I knew it was done. I had to make the decision, and I did. 

Believe it or not, divorce is actively encouraged in the Jewish community (in the Orthodox world anyway), because if things aren't working out (for any number of reasons), both individuals have the right to move on and give it another go. There are even discussions about how one merits a series of partners (read about it: A Zivug or Bashert?). 

Hope this provides some semblance of clarity!

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

Ask Chaviva Anything: Reunited, but How Did It Work?

So I've received two questions after re-opening one of my favorite features. The first question was "How often do you poo?" and the answer is, I'm pregnant. What do you think? Not enough!

Now for the serious question, and this is a really amazing question, so thank you to the asker!

Hi Chaviva, you never wrote how you worked things out with Mr T, after being apart for so long. You have a baby coming, so you've clearly (probably?) found each other again, but it couldn't have been easy. So did you just let it happen, or did you take some conscious steps? Couple's therapy? I'm really interested because I'm currently in a long-distance relationship and a bit apprehensive (though excited) about living finally together.

The interesting thing about this question is that I thought a lot more about this while Mr. T was gone than when he actually got back. We talked a lot about how hard it was going to be, and despite the fact that things were seamlessly easy the two times we saw each other in person during those nine months, they were just visits. 

When you don't live with someone for a month, or two months, or nine months, you get into a flow. Asher and I had a very firm schedule, our day ran like clockwork and I knew that I was responsible for all of the household chores, cooking, and I didn't have the misconception that someone else was going to show up so I could ask them to help. It was all on me, and I got good at taking care of a toddler and running the house and working full time. My home was a well-oiled machine. 

Being that my personality is very "I am a rock, I am an island," this was a very dangerous place for me to be. It took me a long time to warm up to asking for help, and meaning it, and accepting it, with Mr. T. So to fall out of that role and back into the "I'm doing it all myself, I don't need anyone" role created an environment that was not at all easy for Mr. T to walk back into. But when he got back, he needed to be needed, because he'd been gone so long, didn't have a job right away, and so on. 

Family photos over the weekend. They make it fun.

I don't think anyone can just let it happen. I tried really hard to think that letting it happen was the best way, but even though that worked for the first month, it got really hard after that. The conscious steps were necessary. He's been back a little over six months and we're still working on this. 

So I really had to force myself to ask for help, to stop doing everything myself, to need someone else. But it hasn't been easy. We've had a bit of counseling, and it was the good kind of "smack you in the face, you have to stop thinking he's a mind reader" kind of counseling.

Also, I had to really let go of the parenting side of things. It had been just me and Ash for nine months, and in those nine months he was eating like a normal person, growing teeth, learning to walk, starting to talk, the works. I was so overprotective of him when Mr. T got back that it was hard to step back and remember "Mr. T is his Tatty" (that's Yiddish for dad). I had to let him be a parent, too. I had to let him be alone with him, play with him, reunite with him, and grow with him, because he missed so many milestones that he can't replay or re-experience. I keep thinking, despite the (regrettable, frustrating) distance Mr. T experiences with iBoy these days, at least he got those moments with him. He'll never have those with Ash. So letting him be a Tatty was one of the major things I had to really give into. 

But the little things, surprisingly, take a long time to get used to. I find beard hair on the counter and I think, "Well, I went nine months without that driving me nuts." It can be frustrating, but it also makes me smile sometimes because the reality is that it's those little things that make it all worthwhile, cheesy as it sounds. You decide which things are worth fighting for, fighting about, and getting over. 

One of the best things I learned in counseling from a rabbi, actually, and this really changed my perspective on how to make things work after such a great divide. And, honestly, it works for just about any major relationship. 

You have three Ls in a relationship. You have no fourth L, so don't look for it, don't try and find it, it doesn't exist. 

• Lobby 
• Live with it 
• Leave

You can lobby for change, lobby for things to be different. If they don't or can't change, you move on to the next steps. You can decide to live with it (like the beard hair on the counter or the fact that my husband doesn't always put dishes directly in the dishwasher), or you can leave. It's as simple as that.

I spent 12 of my 16 months of marriage the first time around looking for a fourth L. I was desperate for a fourth L. Had someone (like one of the two counselors I was seeing) given me this relationship map, I would have been able to make a better decision a lot earlier. It was only when I had lobbied and lobbied, lived with so much, and not found the fourth L, that I decided it was time to leave. 

This perspective has helped, a lot. It puts everything into perspective, and because I'm a planner, it allows me to look at every issue we have with a fresh perspective. It's not easy, in fact it's been really, really hard since Mr. T got back, but seeing Asher light up when his Tatty comes home from work or watching him shove me back in the house on Saturday mornings when he and Tatty go to synagogue is so worth it. 

Hope this helps!

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

Pregnant and Playing Powerball

I'll admit it, I played the Powerball over the weekend and I'm probably going to play it again. I actually walked into the 7-11 last week, looked the woman working the counter square in the eyes, and said, "I've never done this before, can you help me?" I'm a 32-year-old woman who doesn't know how to gamble.

This might not seem strange to 99 percent of you, but if you knew that my father has loved the lottery every day of my life, would that change things? I remember my dad's 40th birthday -- we got him these little bouquets of 40 scratch-off tickets. He's always played the Powerball, too, so I feel like I should have just known how it worked since I watched him play it so many times, choosing our birthdays as the numbers. But I blanked. The woman looked at me like I was nuts, too, which just made the experience all the more awesome. I had $2 in my pocketbook, so it was perfect. 

Did I win anything? Nope. 

Will I play again this week? Why not? 

After finding out just how much it's going to cost me to put both of my children in daycare in the coming year, I either have to win the lottery or cut food completely out of our diet. So, here's hoping HaShem is down with the Gordon-Bennetts this week. 

The funny thing is, this is the reality:

• I have amazing earning potential in the U.S., and with my current work, I make a really good amount of money. But daycare and rent in the U.S. are murder.
• In Israel, daycare is crazy cheap (rent is still murder), but I have basically zero earning potential. 

So. There's that. Mr. T, too, is sort of in the same boat. His credentials don't transfer here, so despite the fact that electricians make a killing in the U.S., he can't work legally as a master electrician, so he's relegated to hourly jobs. We're also reaching a point where he wants to transition to something that isn't so hands on (too many bad bruises and injuries), but the question is: What? 

I probably wouldn't be so obsessed with budgeting and figuring out how to win $1 billion if I didn't have another parasite on the way. Oy! Why does daycare have to be so expensive, 'Merica? 

Note: From everything I learned, prior to purchasing a ticket, it's completely okay in Judaism to purchase one ticket, and one ticket only, and many say you shouldn't pick your own numbers, lest it suggest you're questioning the fact that HaShem runs the universe. So there you go. 

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

Scrabble with Eliezer ben Yehudah, anyone?

Ah, Eliezer ben Yehudah, the father of modern Hebrew. My hero. I'll admit that his style of parenting was a bit bizarre. At a time when his version of Hebrew was not spoken widely, even semi-widely, okay let's be honest, no one really spoke it, he raised his son to speak only modern Hebrew. I'll be honest that my love of this linguistic genius arose during my time at Middlebury College when I was there for my intensive Hebrew ulpan during the summer of 2009, and every time I speak Hebrew I stop and consider whether it's one of his words.

The truth is, most of modern Hebrew is the same Hebrew that was used in the Torah, although a host of new words appeared because, well, words like "ice cream" didn't exist in the time of the Torah. That's where Eliezer ben Yehudah really shined. He used the biblical roots of words to build and craft a whole new addition to the language. In 1880 he said: “in order to have our own land and political life… we must have a Hebrew language in which we can conduct the business of life.”

Anyhow, the whole reason I'm posting this is because the cartoon above made me giggle with delight.  For those of you who don't speak or read Hebrew, I'll translate (reading from right to left, of course):

Title: It was really not fun to play Scrabble with Eliezer ben Yehudah.
Top right: "Your turn, Eliezer."
Top left: "Please, handkerchief, 44 points."
Bottom right: "What? That isn't a word!"
Bottom left: "Now it is."

Hilarious, right?!

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

Hello 2016!

Wow. Just wow. It's 2016, which is a pretty significant year in the life of this blog, because:

• This blog began in 2006.
• I completed my Reform conversion in 2006.
• I graduated college with a bachelor's of journalism in 2006. 

So, I think, I'll just leave that there. No long, reflective posts about what happened in 2015, because I really just don't want to think about it, and no forecasting posts for 2016. I think I've finally hit an age where I'm not into resolutions for the secular New Year, and I'm not into reflecting on life and loss and triumph or anticipating those things in the new year.

The only thing I can hope for in 2016 is that the world gets its #*!$ together and people stop murdering, hating, and judging one another.

Just think, we're in 5776 right now, which means we're a mere 224 years away from 6,000, at which point, if we haven't gotten our #*!$ together, mashiach (the messiah) will be forced to show up for the Messianic Era. Now that's a real (scary?) thought.

Happy New Year, folks.

What is it About Christmas?

Christmas is such a weird time for me. At 32 years old, I've still spent more of my life in the world of American, secular Christmas than I have in accepting that everything's closed and the Jews stick to movies and Chinese food.

When I was in Israel, I lamented the fact that there weren't holiday lights or obnoxious Christmas carols played over loudspeakers everywhere I went. I love Chanukah and its lights, but in the U.S. the experience is isolated and not as public as it appears in Israel. In Israel, you see the lights of Chanukah everywhere you go, and it feels festive and celebratory. In the U.S., every night I was out during Chanukah I looked around at houses and apartments hoping to see a chanukiyah, but no dice. Not even in the "Jewish" areas I drove around.

Now, as it's Christmas day, I'm mourning the loss of the season because come January 1, people will start taking down their decorations, the festive seasonal American secular Christmas machine will shut down, and it will simply be winter again. I love winter, but there's a difference during December. A sense of joy. Come January, it's just grumpy people angry that it's snowing and cold.

Part of me wonders if I'll ever get over my love of the season. I think the things that paint our character and personality happen most aggressively in our childhood. If you experience something as a child, it sticks with you for life. The tastes, scents, emotions all stick with you forever. Things that you absorb in your 20s and 30s don't hit you as hard as they do when you're younger. It's the growing years, the time when your brain and emotional maturity are coming of age.

So, I suppose, the fact that I grew up in American, secular Christmas, never going to church on Christmas or Christmas Eve (save in high school when I went once because a friend was in a Christmas pageant and another time I went to "midnight mass" with another friend) with my family, will always paint my December experience. Luckily, I don't long for a Christmas tree stocked full of presents or a big feast of roladin (an old family dish of expensive, thinly sliced beef with onions and pickles wrapped up inside and cooked in a tomato stew sauce). I'm not sure what it is about it. The lights? The scents ...

Anyhow. Back to Shabbat cooking for me. Next year, thankfully, Christmas and Chanukah fall in sync, with Chanukah beginning on December 24, 2016. I appreciate when the holidays are inline. Do you?

Additional reading: From December 25, 2007, a turning-point event that shaped my conversion experience.

Giving Birth: Israel versus the U.S.

Last week, on December 17, Mr. T and I headed to St. Joseph's for a tour of the Center for Women and Infants. Oddly enough, exactly two years earlier, we visited Hadassah Ein Kerem for the first time because my water had broken and I was in labor with Asher. Two days later, he was born at 5:46 a.m. IST, and, if you recall, the entire labor and delivery and recovery experience was one of the most traumatic of my entire life ...

Part 1: The Labor

Part 2: The Recovery

So, imagine my nervousness and anxiety at visiting St. Joe's for the first time. So far, this pregnancy has been really difficult with endless bouts of nausea and exhaustion. Compare this with Asher, who was as chill as could be in the womb giving me no nausea and not killing my level of energy. I keep telling myself that a rough pregnancy will hopefully prove the opposite in the labor/delivery/recovery realm and I'll have a cakewalk experience. VBAC with no trouble, quick recovery, no drama, no trauma.

When we got to the hospital (and, mind you, my only hospital stay was with Asher and every other extended hospital visit I've ever experienced was visiting a family member or friend), I was blown away at how clean, bright, and warm the space was. At St. Joe's there's a completely separate elevator that takes you straight to the Center for Women and Infants ... to guarantee you go exactly where you need to go quickly.

On the fourth floor of the hospital, everything is done: labor, delivery, recovery, c-sections, you name it. They have separate spaces for any procedure or process involved in the birthing process, so you don't have to be shoved on an elevator and shipped somewhere else (*cough* HEK took me from wing to wing and floor to floor *cough*). The space is open, clean, airy, and the rooms are huge with lots of space, gigantic bathtubs ... you name it. But here, watch this video, it will provide a better explanation than I can:


Now before you go all "oh my gosh people gave birth standing in a wooden shanty for thousands of years, why do you need such a fancy space," let me tell you something ... after experiencing what I can only describe as third world care and attention and a commitment to mother/baby/family at HEK in Israel, I want all the bells and whistles the world has to offer because I think I've earned it. Beyond the nice space (not having to share it with another woman and her gigantic Moroccan family) and the fact that visiting hours are 24/7 so my husband doesn't have to be thrown into some cold, cavernous space without a blanket to sleep overnight, their attention to making sure mom and baby are together as much as possible as quickly as possible sings to me.

When I was in Israel, everywhere we were -- from hospital to the baby hotel -- nurses and caretakers treated me like I was insane because I wanted to have my baby in my room with me. They kept trying to take Ash away to put him in the nursery full of screaming babies, and I was flabbergasted. Telling this to our tour guide at St. Joe's, I was met with a response that they encourage and provide rooming in for baby as much as the mother wants. In the laboring suite, they even have the measuring equipment and all the initial testing stuff built into the room so that your baby doesn't have to leave the immediate vicinity. Also, in the laboring suite I was in at HEK, I had to walk down he hall to go to the bathroom ... no toilet in the room. Terrible.

Sigh of relief. And the food? It comes from the local kosher deli (where my husband works, where they know me, where they know how to produce gluten-free food that tastes good).

After being rolled into a general recovery area full of people vomiting and coughing in Israel and not getting to see my baby for the first six hours of his life, color me stoked at the chance to have this baby nearby immediately -- even in the case of a c-section, they do skin-to-skin contact immediately, and so much more.

I know I've only been on a tour, and what happens when I give birth will definitely provide a better compare/contrast situation when it comes to what I experienced in Israel versus what I'll experience in the U.S., but after meeting with the tour guide and seeing the facilities, I have no doubt in my mind which experience will be more mother/baby-centered and where the attention to family and wellness are emphasized.

As someone pointed out to me, in Israel, the process is routine, in America people want "fan fare." I don't want fan fare, I just want to see my baby immediately, be in a clean facility with privacy and the ability to bond with my child with my husband and other child at our side, with the ability to use my own bathroom and take a shower in private. This hospital saw 4,400 births last year. I'd say that they've got routine down pretty well.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I can't begin to describe how anxiety-inducing the memories of being at HEK and giving birth were ... I spent months recovering from the c-section, months where doctors should have done things differently to move the healing process of my c-section scar along more efficiently, but the Israeli healthcare system, as good as it is, doesn't always do routine as well as it does trauma and life-threatening crises care. (In my humble opinion.)

So we'll see what happens. My little trauma-inducing baby is now two years old, and as beautiful as can be. He's lively, has an attitude only a mother can love, and he's creative beyond his years. He's obsessed with dinosaurs, loves cooking in his play kitchen (he frequently makes cake and challah), and he loves drawing and creating art. I love him more than words, and I can't wait for another little person to join the family. I just hope this time around, I feel like I'm a vital part of the experience, too.

Have you given birth in the U.S. + another country? What was the experience like?

Have a question? Just ask: http://bit.ly/AskChavivaAnything

The Saddest Way to End 2015

The most devastating way to end 2015? It's officially the first year since 2008 that I haven't spent at least 10 days in Israel. I'm just. Torn and sad and really unhappy about it.

2008 = StandWithUs Birthright Trip
2009 = Trip with the ex
2010 = Trip with the ex
2011 = ROI Community
2012 = Aliyah
2013 = Citizen of Israel
2014 = Citizen of Israel (left for U.S. in 04/15)
2015 = *sigh*

Yes, we are planning on moving back (after all, iBoy is there and it's our home). The question is how and when and where, and with the ramped up terror in Israel, especially in our preferred area of residence, it's hard to drop everything, hop back into a financial hole, and run back. 

Recently, the rabbi gave a moving talk on Shabbat about the balance of life in Israel, burying a teenager murdered by Islamic extremists/terrorists and celebrating a wedding (of a woman whose father and brother were also murdered by terrorists). After living through a season of rocket attacks in Israel, I felt I could handle anything. I survived the terror. But this terror? Stabbings and car rammings is a totally different ballgame. It isn't even blowing up buses, so you can say "avoid the buses." It's random, it's everywhere, it's terrifying. 

Having a child has made it even more so. My child needs me, I need him, survival is not an option. 

At the same time, mass shootings in the U.S. have risen this year, with practically one mass shooting for every day of the year. Some random, some motivated by Islamic extremism and terror. I live in a big city, with a proud and potent Jewish population. We haven't directly struggled, but what if we do? What if we could? 

I miss my home, but my heart is confused. 

An Announcement!

I'm pretty sure this stuff isn't kosher, but I can guarantee that what I'm cooking up definitely is. Here's hoping we didn't use all the cute juice on Asher, right?

BAM!

Review and Giveaway: Pereg Gourmet Goodies

EDIT: In an attempt to take a night off from cooking dinner and cleaning up afterward, I asked the husband to make dinner. He did, making a nice tuna bake, but he took the fusilli pasta out of the giveaway box. Sigh. Husbands. Sorry, it'll be two boxes of the macaroni/elbow-style pasta.

If you've ever heard of KosherFest, you know that it is the biggest event where you can get the most amazing kosher food samples on the planet. But if you've ever tried to go, you probably also know that it's an industry event and you have to be media or a buyer/seller to get there. Well, lucky for you, even though I didn't go this year, I did get some delicious samples from Pereg Gourmet's gluten-free line to try and give away!

The products I received (and that one lucky winner will also receive) are:

• Quinoa with Lemon & Herbs
• Quinoa: Southern Style
• Quinoa Pasta: fusilli
• Quinoa Pasta: Elbow/Macaroni x 2
• Pistachio Mix (topping for salads, mashed potatoes, and more)

The quinoa mixes could use a bit more salt and pepper, but that's an easy fix and I tend to be a bit of a salt fiend. The pastas are really impressive and hold up well with cooking and reheating, even. I was really happy with them. The pistachio mix is also really versatile, and it was delicious on top of mashed potatoes (which I've been eating a lot of lately for some reason). I had also requested a box of their new quinoa-based gluten-free cereal, but, unfortunately, they never sent it so I didn't get to enjoy it. I have to assume it's pretty delicious, however. 

All you have to do to enter is COMMENT on this blog post, letting me know what your favorite Pereg Gourmet product is or which product you'd most love to try. 

One lucky winner will receive all the goodies in the picture and list above. Just comment by 11:59 MST on Thursday, November 19, 2015. 

G'luck!

I Fell Into a Black Hole, And?

Sweet holy Moses where have I been? It's like I'm stuck in a wormhole ... make that a workhole! Yes, the past month has had me travel to California twice (once for a week, boy oh boy did I miss my boys), leading up to the hugely awesome launch of the world's first intelligent tea infusion machine: Teforia!

Now? Well, now I'm just riding the wave and trying not to have my head explode in the process. I've neglected the blog hardcore, which has me feeling both guilty and upset. There's a lot going on that is worthy of talking about, but unfortunately I don't have the koach (strength, energy) for that at the moment.

What I will say is that I'm knee deep in reading The Secret of Chabad by David Eliezrie, and I'm absolutely loving it. It's got some fascinating tidbits about Chabad that I hadn't learned about in the other books I've written, with a really intense look at the Russian efforts of the movement.

I attempted to crochet a cozy for my mason jar tea infuser, and I failed, so I bought one on Etsy instead. I just wasn't cut out for this kind of stuff. I clearly missed the gene, because my mother is an amazing crocheter of all things.

I've got some goodies from Pereg Gourmet to giveaway. It's going to be a Chanukah giveaway, of course, because who wouldn't want some free food for the next Jewish holiday in the lineup, right? The best part, it's all gluten free, too!

What else what else? Asher is becoming quite the little man, Mr. T is finding his place as a Mr. Do It All here in Denver, and ... yeah, that's that.

What's new with you?

Being Jewish, Being Israeli

Six years ago, my converting rabbi sent me the official Manhattan RCA Beth Din conversion application via email. A month later, I had my first meeting, and 1.5 months after that, I had my Orthodox conversion and became a certified Jew. Now, my Reform conversion years earlier made me just as Jewish in the eyes of most of the (non-Jewish) world. Hitler wouldn't have hesitated in murdering me, and neither would anyone else out to murder, with malicious intent, the Jewish people.

Three years ago, I boarded a plane to New York and then on to Israel. After years of mulling it about in my head, I finally took the dive and became more than just a Jew, I became an Israeli. A proud member of the only nation in the world where Jews are allowed to live Jewishly, religiously, without persecution or fear of death and violence perpetrated by individuals who believe in ages-old myths and legends and religiously fueled ideas that Jews are the surge of the world, responsible for all of the world's ills economically, socially, and religiously.

Oh wait. No, no. That's not true. That was Herzl's ideal, but since its inception in the modern period, Israel has never been a safe haven for Jews. Not really. And I feel like the event of the past week make that more aggressively, depressingly obvious.

I suppose, in truth, there has never been a land in which the Jews, the Israelites, have lived in complete peace without fear of persecution. I think about other minor peoples over time, and I feel like, for the most part, threats are of the natural variety. Disease, the food chain, self-destruction. But the Jewish state, the Israelis and Jews that live there ... we could pray for our only destruction to come from disease and natural causes, but it would never be a reality.

The malicious murders and stabbings that have taken place by random Arabs and Palestinians over the past week in Israel -- not just Jerusalem but Raanana, Tel Aviv, and other "modern" areas of Israel -- have me torn. On the one side, I'm desperate to return to Israel and stand my ground as a proud Jew and Israeli, to show those who would see our -- my -- destruction as a win in the war against the Jewish people that we're not going anywhere. On the other side, I see my toddler, who was born an Israeli and who will someday be conscripted to fight and defend Israel in the IDF and I'm terrified. How I raise my child is vital. He's growing up in a terrifying world and an environment where who he is is the problem. Not what he believes or says or thinks, just who he is. And that terrifies me.

First Jew, then Israeli, and now? Now I'm just a target. All Jews are, from England to France to Dubai to Israel to New York and beyond. We're all just someone's target.

When I stepped out of the mikvah five and a half years ago, I didn't know that this would be the reality. But like a marriage, I took it all -- the good, the bad, the ugly, the absolutely terrifying.

Yom Kippur at Last

This Yom Kippur, I'm simply happy and blessed that I'm not spending at home, alone, with a crying baby. I have a husband who is here with us, and that is a gift.

I'm reprinting this from 2011 because that year, like this year, was one of epic changes for me. Just a few weeks out from a divorce, I was reflective. This year, I'm feeling quite the same.

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On a whim, while failing to fall asleep the other night, I decided to read one of the portions of the Yom Kippur reading: Isaiah 57:15-58:14. I was struck by the following, because I think it makes aware something that we probably don't consider when it comes to fasting.

In this portion, from 58:14, Isaiah is sharing G-d's words.

Call with a full voice, do not spare, like a shofar raise your voice and relate to My people their transgression, and to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet they seek Me daily and they wish to know My ways, like a nation that performed righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of its G-d: they ask Me ordinances of righteousness; they desire nearness to G-d.

And the people ask: "Why have we fasted, and You did not see; we have afflicted our soul and You do not know?" And HaShem answers with a question about how we fast and why we fast.

Behold, for quarrel and strife you fast, and to strike with a fist of wickedness. Do not fast like this day, to make your voice heard on high. Will such be the fast I will choose, a day of man's afflicting his soul? Is it to bend his head like a fishhook and spread out sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is this not the fast I will choose? To undo the fetters of wickedness, to untie the bands of perverseness, and to let out the oppressed free, and all perverseness you shall eliminate. Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and moaning poor you shall bring home; when you see a naked one, you shall clothe him, and from your flesh you shall not hide?

HaShem says not to bow your head and afflict yourself so much as to open your eyes to the true reason we fast, to acknowledge the wickedness and neglect of our people that we pursue day in and day out.

Then your light shall break forth as the dawn, and your healing shall quickly sprout, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall gather you in. Then you shall call and the Lord shall answer, you shall cry and He shall say, "Here I am," if you remove perverseness from your midst, putting forth the finger and speaking wickedness. And you draw out your soul to the hungry, and an afflicted soul you sate, then your light shall shine in the darkness, and your darkness shall be like noon. And the Lord shall always lead you, and He shall satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; and you shall be like a well-watered garden and like a spring of water whose water does not fail.

And this part I really like, because it says exactly what we need to do; HaShem doesn't mince words. He's not mealymouthed about what is expected of us.

And [those coming] from you shall build ancient ruins, foundations of generations you shall erect, and you shall be called the repairer of the breaches, restorer of the paths, to dwell in. If you restrain your foot because of the Sabbath, from performing your affairs on My holy day, and you call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord honored, and you honor it by not doing your wonted ways, by not pursuing your affairs and speaking words. Then, you shall delight with the Lord, and I will cause you to ride on the high places of the land, and I will give you to eat the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

It's easy as pie. So often we look to fast days as a means of pain and suffering for our own souls, for our own being. But the truth is that Yom Kippur and its fast are a means of taking our inward obsession outward and to acknowledge the indifference we have to those around us, to the hungry and empty souls that need to be sated, to observe the Sabbath and to make for ourselves a path of repair.

I want to wish you all a tzom qal (easy fast), which doesn't mean I hope it's a walk in the park for you, but that I wish that you all have come to a point of inner reflection over these Days of Awe so that when it comes to standing before HaShem and asking to be sealed in the book of life that it means something and that it is more than mere words and wishes, that it is based on introspection and action, so that for HaShem it is easy -- easy to seal you eternally in the Book of Life and to the House of Jacob.

Shanah Tovah: It's Time for a 5776 Calendar Giveaway!

Well, it's a brand new year in the Jewish world, which means it's a brand new start in my world. So far, so good, and it's only been a few days! Did you know? Right now, we're in the midst of the 10 Days of Repentance between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, which is a particularly meaningful and potent time for prayer. (Read more ...)

It being a new year, I figured what a better way to start off 5776 than with a clever calendar giveaway, thanks to the amazingly creative and crafty folks at ModernTribe.com. They sent me a few products to check out, and a few products to give away -- it's a win-win for you and me!

First up is an 11x17" 5776 Jewish holiday calendar printed on white cotton, linen paper. This colorful calendar includes all of the major Jewish holidays in bold on the calendar with the days and dates listed at the bottom of the calendar.

Then there's the 28x28" 100% cotton natural flour sack 5776 calendar tea towel with the calendar printed in an 8.5x11" size. Made in Atlanta, the image was heat pressed onto the towel so it can withstand hundreds of washes (no bleach, please) and is incredibly absorbent.

The design of the calendar is simple, but modern and super colorful, which is sure to brighten any room -- from the kitchen to the den. I can't wait to see who wins these! And if these aren't your style, there's always the ever-popular (and seriously awesome) Nice Jewish Guys Calendar. Come on, who doesn't want that? Also, check out their big Rosh HaShanah Sale for some goodies for next year!

There will be two winners -- one will receive the wall calendar, the other will receive the tea towel, which, honestly, you could easily frame or hang like a regular wall calendar, too! Good luck, everyone. This giveaway is open to the U.S. only (sorry international readers).


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10Q Reflections: Part I

It's that time of year again, the time when the email arrives: Your 10Q are ready!

You log in, look at five years worth of responses to a simple set of 10 questions about the year. Your hopes, your dreams, your failings, your triumphs. It's all typed up and locked away year after year after the High Holidays. Five years. I recently posted about how much my life is not where I expected it to be. But that's looking at the long haul of experiences.

Clicking on each year and reading my life in a vacuum, what I predicted for the coming year, what I'd experienced in the past year, I realize how short-sighted I live my life. In a way, that's good. Living in the moment, experiencing life on life's terms. I never dream too big, I never dream too far away. I've always been a realist.

But this one, this one from last year's 10Q is big.

Here's the thing. When I was filling out my 10Q last year, I didn't know that Mr. T was going to be gone for a shocking nine months. I didn't know how much things would speed up. I didn't know how much I would need that connection in order to thrive and just survive.

I suppose I achieved what I was missing -- sort of. I spent a lot of time this past year praying and talking to G-d. A lot of time crying, pleading, begging, and reflecting. But I still don't completely and utterly feel like the deeply spiritual person I was several years ago after my divorce and moving to Israel. Life's incredibly busy and engaging with that self isn't as easy as I wish it were.

But that's the ultimate battle with being a Torah-observant Jew. It's so easy to go through the motions day in and day out. Say a blessing, eat an apple. Go to the bathroom, say a blessing. Get up, cover your hair, observe the laws of modesty. Go to the mikvah, speak Hebrew with your child. Write an article on the origins and meaning of the siddur (Jewish prayer book).

What's often missing is the feels. Yes, that's a popular bit of internet lingo at the moment, but the feels are what I've always battled with when it comes to taking my Judaism personally. I'm a cerebral person. I first came to Judaism through the textbook in college. I dove in to a master's degree in Judaic studies with the mind of an academic. I'm no Orthprax, because G-d, whether I spend hours in hitbodedut or not, is very central to my existence and understanding of the world.

And the funny thing is, the whole of modern Judaism is based on the deeply academic pursuits of the great rabbis, battling and arguing over meaning, substance, observance. But, for some reason, when I think of the rabbis of the Talmud and the great sages of the Medieval period and the great thinkers of modern Judaism, all I can think is, "Here are some super spiritual people, right?"

Who knows. My husband is a Hasid through and through. He's got the feels oozing out his ears and dances around the synagogue on Shabbat and has a joy in his soul that is something I envy. I wouldn't say I'm a mitnaged, the classic thought-based opponents of the Hasidim, as I don't oppose Hasidic thought and I find a lot of it incredibly inspiring and personally valuable, but my natural state is more that of the classic mitnaged than Hasid.

I suppose, then, Mr. T and I are creating a balance in a way. I learn from him, he learns from me, and hopefully, maybe, I can find the balance of spiritual seeker and passionate thinker and not feel so far, so rote in my Judaism.

Sign up for your 10Q.

Bonus: I really need to get back to 2013 and take my own advice.

Don't sweat the small stuff -- and it's all small stuff. You have an amazing husband, wonderful friends, and this life is a gift.

Help Fund Coworking in Israel

Once upon a time, I dreamed of starting a coworking space in Jerusalem. After living in Denver and watching the coworking space boom, I dreamed of finding a space in Israel where I could work my remote jobs in a comfortable, forward-thinking space.

But when I moved to Israel in 2012, I couldn't seem to find anyone willing to help fund a coworking space -- it wasn't the time, there wasn't the need, they said. I even put together a Facebook page (that still exists, in private mode, of course) for my venture. I won't even share the name because, well, I have dreams that someday I'll get to start the space up again.

In the meantime, some amazing friends and neighbors of mine in Neve Daniel started up a coworking space in the Gush called Hub Etzion, and they're making what I once dreamed a reality. I'm so proud of them, and super excited with their venture. But they need help with funding, because it's no small task.

DONATE
Will you help fund Hub Etzion? The amount of people in the Gush who work remotely for their own or for U.S.-based companies would blow your mind. Help provide them with a space to work, to thrive, and to build an amazing community of workers in Eretz Yisrael! Also? Please spread the word!

DONATE