Reminders of Jewish Morality

I encountered two incidents in the last week that drove home how many commandments in the Torah protect us from emulating the moral shortcomings of other nations.

First, I was walking down the Avenue, and kept finding myself in shops that a particular non-Jewish woman was also frequenting. I happened to notice her because aside from her loud attire, she was yelling into the phone. As we went up the street after exiting another shop, we passed a fruit stand. She was still on the phone, but grabbed fruit from the stand and kept on walking. One of the owners happened to be outside the shop and told her she had to pay for the fruit. To which she yelled, "So call the police then". Then she continued walking, and for a full 2 blocks kept muttering loudly, "Pay for one cherry. One cherry! Damn fool!". To be honest, I was astonished that she couldn't comprehend that yes, even for one cherry- which are currently $4+ a pound- you do need to pay. If you take anything, even a pea, without paying for it, it's called stealing.

Then today I was on the metro going uptown. I made my connection and was glad to see that there was one seat available if I squeezed my little butt in between the two guys who were sitting, legs wide open, on the given bench. I consequently put my foot between them, pivoted and dropped myself into the space. Because I had put in my foot before pivoting, the men moved their legs and I was able to sit just as the train yanked itself out of the station. I had barely rested my back against the seat when a man and his female companion started in. "She doesn't say 'Excuse me', she just puts her foot there and sits down. No excuse me! Just puts her foot.", etc. etc. For 5 minutes. To be honest, perhaps I should have said "Excuse me". But in my mind, they were the ones being rude by hogging the space! In other cities, saying "Excuse me" gets you somewhere. On the MTA, good luck. Yet the irony was that, like the Cherry woman, this guy had no clue that it is actually very rude to keep your legs wide open when people are entering the train looking for a spot. But even more importantly, he felt that it was acceptable to attempt to publicly humiliate/embarrass me. Not that he succeeded, but the difference between his mindset and the frum mindset (aka that embarrassing someone is tantamount to murder) was apparent.

Let's just say that I'm really glad that I'm a Jew right now.

The Look

Yesterday during my train ride home from Manhattan, a guy stared at me for a good part of the trip. He was, naturally, a goy and I was, to be fair, all dolled up in a suit and makeup. Still, it got me thinking...

When I first moved to Brooklyn, I noticed two related, yet equally perplexing inter-gender phenomena/rituals: As a woman walking down the street, if I

• Wished a male "Good Shabbos", he didn't respond.
• Approached a male on the sidewalk ,the man would look up at the sky or otherwise make a grand display of not looking at me.

(Granted, some of them probably weren't looking, if my getting pushed over on the sidewalk/into the gutter when they passed is any indication).

My ex-husband used to say to me, "Don't worry. They look! All men look". :) But I will admit that these encounters continue to disturb me. Perhaps my reaction is due to my never having had such an experience before moving to Brooklyn. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I am mildly insulted by the experience.

Why?

When you begin to live in the hermetically-sealed environment that is ultra-frum Brooklyn, you begin to notice that there is, like it or not, an "Old Boys" mentality to the men. It permeates everything, from when you're doing your shopping to when you are at work to when you attempt to park your car at the end of the day. Men rule here.

Now, I go on record as saying that I like men to be men and women to be women; I am most comfortable when in a traditional feminine role. Indeed, I have zero interest in the "freedoms" of feminism, because I find feminism to be a flawed ideology that has actually worsened women's lot. Instead, I want to be equal with a man but remain a woman. Hopefully you can grasp the distinction without labelling me "oppressed". :) But despite yiddishkeit's innate equality between genders, gender inequality does exist around these parts.

As a result, when the men do their song and dance pretending that I am invisible, I feel that inequality. And when they don't move out of the way, but rather expect me to step aside! Well,that actually upsets me. I may be a woman, but there's no excuse for chivalry to be dead.

You can consequently imagine that now, almost 5 years into living in Brooklyn, it comes as a surprise when non-Jewish men look at me on the street (or cat call, depending on their culture, lol). And while yes, I am being acknowledged in a way that is sexual and therefore not empowering, I *am* being acknowledged. In short, is the act of frum men ignoring me any more respectful than the non-Jewish men staring/making comments?The answer is no.

I guess it would be fair to say then that if I were choose how I prefer to be disrespected, it would be in the goyishe style. Because I just don't buy the claim that pretending I am invisible is actually about tznius. Jewish men may sing the praises of the righteous woman layl Shabbos, but you will note that in order to sing her praises, they are acknowledging she exists.

So stop pretending you don't see/hear me, guys. Because the nicest take on it is that you're being rude. And the last thing we yiddin need is more fodder to be twisted into "evidence" of the misconception that Judaism is misogynist. At least, that's my humble opinion.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho...

I will admit it- I was quite resentful that I had to work Memorial Day. Granted, my mind told me that I was being unreasonable. If you factor in my getting all the chagim and Chol HaMoed off, then that more than compensates for my working all legal holidays.

Of course, understanding that I needed a mental adjustment didn't make it any easier to drag myself to work today; I was literally the only person I know who had to work the holiday. So there I sat, finding work to do and otherwise feeling sorry for myself as I got through a quiet phone day. I left promptly at 5:15, when the cleaning lady finally departed and I was able to lock up.

My attitude evaporated when I opened the door to my apartment post-6 PM. I would even go so far as to say that I practically fell on my knees in gratitude to Hashem for having sent me to work this morning. Turns out the Israeli family that lives behind my building was having a colossal birthday party. The noise level was, as is their custom,deafening.

Now let me tell you, it took a lot of energy to tolerate the vibrations/noise until things finally wound up at 10 PM. All I can say is, 4 hours of the experience was plenty; if I had been required to endure the tactile intrusion from the party's start (which I place at early-to mid- afternoon, given where they were in the BBQ when I arrived home), I would have probably resorted to filing a noise complaint. Because people, there is socialising/holding a party, and then there is having the noise from your get-together affect the ability of your neighbours to function.

So a hearty TODAH HASHEM for dispatching me to work this morning. You saved me, the Israelis and their guests, and Brooklyn's finest a whole lot of trouble! Say it with me, everyone: Gamze L'Tovah!

Crossroads?

The past several weeks, I've been chomping at the bit to leave New York. Let's be blunt: I'm just plain not cut out for New York, and not in the way I would've expected. The brief version of the story is that my move to New York hasn't been particularly fruitful to date. Sure, I found work and got remarried. We all know how those endeavours worked out. And as I ponder the dating pool (i.e. quantity over quality, with most over-40 men wanting the "Brooklyn experience), my lack of work, and my overall personality, I couldn't see any benefit to staying in New York. And I mean not one.

But then last night I went to a birthday party. It wasn't anything special, just me and about a minyan of other ladies coming together for dinner to celebrate our mutual friend's birthday. And I had a blast. Every last one of those ladies has a story (or several) and is so chilled about their frumkeit that I finally felt like I was in sympathetic company. Now that's not to say that my friends to date haven't been fabulous. They definitely have. The difference lay in the face that save 2 ladies who are from Brooklyn, all of us were from out-of-town and either divorced or on the path to it. So I had people who could really identify with my "out-of-town" mindset, as well as where I happen to be in my life right now. It was quite liberating.

More to the point, I saw how all of these women were walking the line between being frum and living their lives. Unlike many people that I've met in Brooklyn, all of these women were trying to negotiate a life in Yeshivish Brooklyn when they are, in fact, more modern. Quite modern. And I appreciate that as well.
When I returned from the party lat night, I felt better than I had in ages. More to the point, I slept better than I had in months. So when I woke up this morning, I realised a few things.

First, that while I'm so over the prospective dating pool in New York (been there, done that- twice), there is a silver lining to the situation, namely that I can meet a lot of divorced/single women such as myself. Kindred spirits, if you will. Second, that what has been lacking from my life since I moved to New York, for various reasons, is having fun. Forget trying to cram myself into the Yeshivish box. That just not me. I need to go, live my life, have fun, and remain frum while doing so. That's it. Because after all, the only thing my being modern affects at this point is shidduchim, and even there, it's a good thing; I don't want to go get married to another Yeshivish person. That doesn't interest me in the slightest. So, since I don't have children, why limit myself to an existence in a tiny, constrained box for no reason? I mean, I was sitting next to a woman who's shirt keep falling down, and nobody felt the need to point out that we could see her bra. Because we were all fine with it. Say what you will, but my life definitely needs an infusion of that attitude.

I guess what I'm saying is, I may stick around New York for a while and give living my life like I did pre-New York a try. Live my life like I've always lived my life but here in New York. In any event, in the next while, I'm going to have make my decision. And as you all know already, while I'm not necessarily the quickest decision-maker (I like to devote adequate time to weighing all the pros and cons), once I do make a decision, I tend to stick with it. Within reason. :)

Yup, things are finally about to get interesting around here in a good way. Boo-yaaaaaaaaa! ;)

The Beat Goes On...

Over Yom Tov, while I was kept up way late by Downstairs Boy (i.e., 1:30 AM and 3 AM, respectively), Front Neighbour and her crew seemed to have vacated the premises for the last days. Phew.

Then, as I was walking down the block Shabbos, I saw Block Yenta. She informed me that our landlord had told FN that either she shapes up or ships out. BY seemed to be of the impression that the current vacancy was permanent. However, as I tend to suspend belief where gossip is concerned, I didn't really give the situation too much thought. Sure, the thought of being spared at least one set of crazy, loud neighbours (who smoke excessively to boot) was pleasant. I just didn't believe that my mazel was on the upswing. :)

Sure enough, tonight around 9:30 post-chag, I hear the oh-so familiar sound of the front door opening, followed by thundering footsteps up the stairs and the next apartment door opening then slamming shut. From the voice that I overheard, I could tell that it was Front Door Israeli Guy, aka He Who Told Me To Keep The Front Door Open last Shabbos. Within seconds, they turned on their water full blast- an event announced by a screeching noise that reaches my ears from the very farthest point in the house. As for what the immediate running water was for, that's any one's guess and none of my business. :) What was my business, however, was my hand washing that was waiting for me in the tub. After the allotted hour soaking time was up, I went to rinse out my things.
That hour happened to elapse about 10 minutes after the said screeching noise commenced.

Now, perhaps I need to pause here and mention that in Canada, we're taught to conserve water. Specifically, we're taught to turn off the water at intervals. For example, when soaping up your dishes, don't leave the water running; turn off the water and then turn it back on when ready to rinse. I practise this conservationist etiquette pretty much exclusively. So I went to rinse out my hand washing, and did my usual routine of running the cold water for 10 seconds, turning it off for a minute or so, then turning the water back on.
It's also worth mentioning that one of the nice features of my building (perhaps the only one at this point, lol), is that when you run the water in your unit, it does not affect the water pressure or temperature in other units. Indeed, I have often been in the shower when FN et al turns on the water full-blast, and I have B'H' suffered no ill effects.

Imagine my horror when FDIG starts banging on my bathroom wall so hard that my shower head (which is an old-school pipe running into the wall) starts to shake. He repeats the pounding, even after I have turned off the water and am simply swishing around my stuff in the basin. I resisted the urge to turn the hot water on full-blast though. It would've served him right.

In short, I was appalled by his behaviour, and given that such is the normal state of things, am planning to have a conversation with my landlord once he is back next week. After all, if this dude isn't a paying tenant... Hopefully the said conversation will remind him that as a guest in the building, some common courtesy is in order. And if he can't manage to be civil (as demonstrated by his behaviour to date), then perhaps he should simply not be allowed on the premises.

At least, here's hoping so! Until I move, natch.

Breslov Love

Earlier this week, I found myself on Avenue J. As I was returning home, I saw a Breslover Chassid carrying his books, and tried to get his attention so that I could give him tzeddakah. But wouldn't you know it? I guess wearing colour AND a jean skirt screamed "untznius" to him, because he literally turned the opposite way and walked away from me. Strangely I wasn't offended, only disappointed that I had been unable to give him the tzeddakah.

But then this afternoon, after waiting for the non-stop honking to cease for a few minutes, I ran across the street to do some shopping. I was most thankful to find that the shop was half-empty. (Don't worry though: the honking resumed shortly thereafter, as did the mob scene in the shop.). That's when I was approached by a Breslover Chassid.

I enthusiastically reached for a dollar to give him and after waving away one of the many pamphlets I already own, asked if he had a calendar. He then proceeded to give me at least 6 pamphlets that I hadn't read yet, as well as a book that supposedly you keep in the house as a segulah (Does anyone know about that latter one? I've never heard of it before.). True to form, all the pamphlets he chose are eerily pertinent to my life right now. That he gave me one for my basheret I expected (my hair is uncovered after all), but the rest? Spooky stuff, as usual.

Anyhow, I gave him an extra dollar to make up for the other Breslover earlier in the week and because he was just so pleasant and friendly at a moment when I really needed it. Why can't all my interactions with yiddin in Brooklyn be so pleasant? :p As the saying goes, it starts with you, so maybe if I read my pamphlets enough, those interactions can start improving. Hey, they call it emunah people!

A Tree Falls in Brooklyn

Since the playgroup has morphed into a school as of Tuesday, I decided yesterday to have a conversation with Basement Lady. Basically, I asked her to provide me a time frame for when the children would be outside; I figure this way we all have a schedule and can amicably work around each other. She told me a one-hour slot, and although the time was probably the worst hour of the entire workday for me, I decided that for the time being, it would have to do. After all, if it wound up being a problem, we would just have to converse a bit further, right?

However today, the hour wound up being an hour and a half. And while I understand that with children you can't be exact, it was too much already. To come out 15 minutes before the agreed-upon time? Fine. To extend past the allotted cut off point? Not cool. So I had no recourse but to take the loathed route, and call down to get her attention.

In typical Flatbush fashion, the assistant made out like I was from Mars by responding with the anticipated "But they're children". To which I mentioned that we're all trying to make some parnassah here- at which point Basement Lady conveniently became available and took over the conversation. Yet she also seems to speak Brooklynese also, because our conversation consisted of her repeating that she had given me a time, and me trying to point out (without actually saying the words in an effort to remain civil) that the time frame had been over for a nice while already. Much to my relief, she wound up taking the children in shortly thereafter, and I was able to proceed with job hunting calls I had been waiting to make.

While I know that the whole situation is pointless and I really need to just move already, I still felt lousy about the "incident", because who wants to be on bad terms with another yid, especially in Elul? Sure, I'm fed up with being accommodating, especially when she seems to unwittingly take advantage of it. I just wish I didn't have to come across as the Nasty Upstairs Lady.

I suppose I'll have to simply suck it up for the time being, and hope that I can find work outside the house. Until I can eventually move, of course.

You Know It's Elul When...

I've noticed that since Rosh Chodesh, the yetzer hara is a lot stronger. Case in point, this evening while I was out shopping, I was much closer to the edge while making my rounds. The yetzer hara wants you now, while you're trying to start making amends for your aveirahs, chasve shalom, of the past year, to FAIL. It wants you to keep adding to the Going to Gehinnom column, chasve shalom, as opposed to wiping that side clean.

So don't give in, y'all. Stay strong. Hang tough. Remain aware of the yetzer's devious little plan. And don't get caught in his trap. We're all better than that, and if we put our mind to it, we can succeed.

Here's hoping that we all side-step any spiritual pitfalls in the coming weeks so that we can truly enter the new year spiritually recharged and invigorated. And make Hashem proud.

Duped Again

I got referred to a family for Shabbos lunch, and it turned out to be yet another "singles" affair, complete with two dozen or so older singles. GRRR.

To be fair, the hostess was a wonderful, warm lady, as evidenced by the fact that when I first arrived and went to the kitchen to introduce myself, the other ladies were all in there too. I find that such grouping tends to only occur when the hostess has truly opened her home and heart to her guests.

In any event, the food was delicious, but the problem was that there was no talking during the meal (save when the women cleared and congregated in the kitchen between courses). Instead, the talking during the meal consisted of the host giving over divrei Torah, complete with the constant, "subtle" focus of reminding us singles that it is our shortcomings that have prevented us from getting married. Of course, if we just apply the advice from his divrei Torah, he'll have the joy of attending all of our vorts and chuppahs!

But it didn't stop there. It seems that the host also has a minhag of going around the table, and giving each guest an individualized beracha. Very nice, except he again throws in a bit of mussar. He even told the woman to my left that she should learn to be flexible and listen more- in front of everyone. I cringed internally,, wondering how he could justify embarrassing someone in public like that. When it got to me, I told him before he started that I didn't need a beracha for a shidduch. He managed to alter his beracha formula for me in time. When I was taking my leave after the meal however, he felt the need to raise the question: Why had I asked him to refrain from a beracha for a shidduch? I found the question inappropriate, but since that was evidently the law of the land in that house, I decided that honesty was the best policy. So I explained my situation to him, and he remarked "Smart woman". I managed to refrain from the almost automatic eye-roll, cordially thanked him, and managed to escape without giving any confirmation concerning a repeat visit.

Now, I can certainly appreciate a host who opens his door wide for singles, and sincerely wants to help his guests find their bashert. However, it's about time that some Rav puts a stop to this condescending down talk. Just because some one is married does not mean that they are qualified to speak on shidduchim or that they themselves are perfect spouses. So let's refrain in future from this New York-wide phenomenon of marrieds feeling justified in passing mussar on to their single guests. It is simply offensive. Obviously, if one knows a guest well, is on good terms, and the guest initiates the topic during private conversation, a host may (I repeat, may) have an opening to gently point out certain behaviour that is preventing the guest from finding their bashert. But most of the time,the delicate topic of shidduchim should be left to the given man or woman, their Rav, and their shadchan.

Because in the end, humiliating one's guests in front of each other, even with the best of intentions, is simply unacceptable.

Lost Sheep

I was at ShopRite yesterday as the last leg on my weekly shopping trip along MacDonald Ave. My backpack was already quite full, as I had hit King Tomato, but I figured I would just have to keep myself in check while perusing the ShopRite aisles. Not that the prices of the non-sale items doesn't help with that, but anyway.

I thought I would take solid measures to ensure that I wasn't slogging 20 pounds home by hand, and decided that a hand basket would do the trick. So I located the stack, then started down the aisles, keeping to only the items on my list. I hit the very first aisle I need, my basket is (thankfully) still empty, and I see a 20-something frum guy trying to put his groceries in his baby's carriage. You've all seen the women do that, and to be honest, I think there's definitely an art to it- kind of like the female version of Tetris. Anyhow, I see this guy, and his carriage is about to topple over despite his having only a few items. Then, to prove my observation, a bunch of things cascade from the carriage onto the floor as I'm coming down the aisle.

I quickly sized up the guy, and noting that he was beardless, decided that my speaking to him wouldn't result in my either being ignored or hostility. So as I passed him, I asked him if he needed a basket; I could get another one. He gratefully accepted the basket, and I turned around, went back down the aisles, and got myself another one. When I returned to the same aisle to commence my shopping anew, he was still there, and politely said "Thank you" as I made my way down.

There you have it. It was nice to finally get past the whole "I'm looking at the ceiling/over to the side pretending not to see you" situation. And as a result, I was able to do a little chesed for one of the klal.

Notes from the Block

Everywhere I have lived "out of town", I have been able to at least visually identify my neighbours, if not also know their names and other pertinent details.

Not so on my block. Save the:

• neighbours one door down
• Chinese family three doors down
  
• elderly Russian lady four doors down (who inexplicably started speaking to me last week after refraining from interacting these past 3.5+ years. [we now wave to each other])
  
• young thug who walks his dog while chain smoking
  
• two Chassidishe boys who gawk as they ride by on their bikes
• block yenta

I have no clue who lives on my block. FYI, all of the identified parties live on my side of the street. That means the other side is an utter mystery.

So it came as not such a surprise this last layl Shabbos when I meet a young lady (Canadian no less!) who lives across the street and only 5 doors down from me. I had NEVER seen her before. That's almost as hilarious as how much she reminded me of myself at that age, down to the style of her skirt. A CANADIAN on my block and I was unaware. What a disgrace!

On a separate but related note, to all my male goyishe neighbours, young and old, the following is for you:

Please, please, please stop exiting your houses without your shirts. That behaviour is just gross. Same goes for shorts. I don't care how fabulous you feel you look (and I suppose, in turn, consider such displays to be a gift to the female population), I'm here to burst your bubble and inform you that the sight thereof is downright gag-worthy. In short, just put a shirt on already, and if you could throw on trousers as well, so much the better! Thought I would get that in before the heat wave this week.

Geshem

I'm telling you, it's not a good sign when my first thought upon arising and seeing clouds through the window is "Joy! Rain!"...followed by the inevitable disappointment when the sun peeks out.

SIGH. Can't a girl catch a break and get one day of summer camp rained out. P-uhhh-leeeeeeeease?

(Would it be wrong of me to say Geshem? I'm thinking yes, but the desperation is palpable.)

Beautiful

Such a beautiful day outside earlier, and even now, deep into the evening, you can still stroll outside minus a coat. It was even borderline too hot for my Shabbos walk, but not quite. :) I just slowed down, which gave me an opportunity to marvel at the trees in full bloom and the insane amount of people out on Ocean Parkway. I even saw a hint of what my single friend calls the single crowd; I had thought it was a bit of a myth, but no- there they all were clustered on the benches between L & M, basking in the sunshine and enjoying their socializing.

Of course, once I got home this evening, my little bubble burst slightly. My Israeli neighbours typically have 2 dozen people over for Shabbos, which is, to use their favourite adjective, "beautiful". What's a bit less beautiful is how the said crowd uses our hallway like their private veranda. That custom coupled with the neighbours' habit of their leaving the door open for hours so the cigarette smoke and natural screaming volume wafts into my apartment is typically enough to peeve me off a bit. I mean since when did the entire building become their territory? But now, with the fantastic weather, they have added a new, seasonal custom to the mix- opening up the skylight to go up onto the roof.

Now I can tolerate the noise, cigarette smoke, and overcrowding by reminding myself that they're young and Israeli, so pushiness and space-hogging is in their DNA. But the sunbathing comes with a real hassle, namely that they neglect to close the skylight when done. As a result, bugs, birds, and all kinds of other lovelies get into the building, and then our apartments. I stopped leaving my shoes outside last year upon finding pigeon feathers by them. Enough said.

So when I returned this evening to find the skylight open, after having discussed the situation with one of the neighbours and she had agreed to close it after they were done, I was a bit disappointed. It was a royal pain last year with the additional "nature" in the apartment, and I'm not revelling a repeat, chasve shalom.

I'm beginning to think that maybe I'm officially too old for in this apartment, and may have to seek out a dwelling better suited for an old bird like myself soon, LOL.

Gut voch.

Cold!

I informed someone this afternoon that I would be unavailable this evening because unfortunately I had to make a shiva call. However, I offered an alternate time frame for the given activity. The response email I received? That due my "time limitations", the given individual would complete the activity toute seule.

Now, you'll excuse me, but refering to a shiva call as a "time limitation"???? That's. Just. COLD.

Thanks Very Much

I remember learning at age 16, courtesy of one of my nursing friends, that it takes 4 days to develop a cold/virus and another 4 days to get over it. Since I began to feel lousy mid-evening yesterday, that would make Thursday the day when I got "infected".

Given the combination in Brooklyn congregations of a lack soap with a proclivity for wiping noses on hands (if at all), I'm not terribly surprised that Thursday happened to be the same day as Yizkor, aka the day that I made it to shul. In fact, I recall distinctly that the woman who came and dropped herself into the seat right next to me (there was, astonishingly, a few empty seats) coughed/sneezed on at least one very loud occasion. And I also recall wondering if that would translate into my falling ill.

Guess that mystery is solved. Isn't there some way that we can implement in the local shuls the same shtick that they have at Maimonides Medical Center: Ask Me If I've Washed My Hands? Because, my fellow Brooklynites, I sure as heck have the unshakable feeling that the answer is a most heartfelt NO...

A Fruity Lesson

A pear sat washed and ready on its plate for me all day long. I finally had mercy on it a while ago, deciding it would make a good dessert to cap off dinner. When I went to slice it, I actually stopped to take a look at it. Normally I don't do so; I just cut up the fruit and eat it!

But I'm glad I took a second to note the beauty of this delicate little fruit. And it got me thinking about- you'll excuse the pun- the nature of things, specifically the hierarchy in our world. Here you have this fruit, which grows on its tree in an orchard. The orchard is part of its ecosphere, just like the penguins in the Antarctic are part of their ecosphere, and so on. In other words, it occurred to me how Hashem's world is divided first into biospheres (from continents into separate topographies into countries, provinces, etc.), which then subdivide into smaller components, all of which remain interconnected.

Now of that's true of something as fabulous yet B'H' commonplace as a piece of fruit, then how much more so are we humans all interconnected. In turn, the condition of one person affects us all. Given that reality, how can we become numb to the plight of another? Because in essence, their problems truly become our problems, and vice versa.

I guess you could say then, that by having dessert this evening, I got a proper reminder that if something as "minor" as a pear is dependent on a gazillion interrelated factors, how much even more so does that apply to our relationship to each other in the klal. Hmm. Maybe I should have dessert more often!

Patience versus Leisure

When it comes to patience, I like to think that I'm somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. I certainly wouldn't claim to be very patient, but I generally do try to talk myself into extending my level of calm when necessary.

The current case in question that brought this middah to mind: the fact that BB has yet to inform me whether or not he will be staying with me as of tomorrow night.

Now, I don't really mind that he didn't let me know as I had originally asked by Monday, because I understand that he's waiting to hear back from his friends. And when last night came and went, which was the deadline he had himself set for informing me one way or another, I assumed he was of course, still waiting. Since his friends are in Williamsburg, I understand that they operate on a Chassidishe concept and approach to time.

The snafu comes in with the fact that I'm Yekki, not Chassidishe. As such, I have my usual weekday list of What to Do Each Night in preparation for Shabbos, etc. Add to the mix that yesterday I received a staggering amount of work, all due Friday. In short, I'm totally stressed out, because I'm beginning to recognize that my list of What to Do will probably not get done. For a Yekki to have to start thinking about doing things quickly instead of leisurely, or to not do them at all- well, suffice it to say that such a situation is perhaps the most frustrating of all.

So about an hour ago I found my patience really waning due to the pressure cooker factor. I decided, in an attempt to let patience and restraint prevail, to default the increasing pressure by phoning my brother. Seven Ricola candies, and one even more sore throat than I thought humanly possible later, and still no word from the Chassidshe friend. But promises to know by tomorrow morning.

Having deflated the unbearable pressure though, that's okay. And hey, if I don't end up cleaning my floors or the washroom before Shabbos, the world won't end.

Well, okay, maybe for me it will. But at least I was okay there for a few seconds, right?

Navuah?

Whenever I'm out in one of our local dining establishments, which is infrequently, one of the dedicated Breslover troops enters to peddle their pamphlets/books. To be honest, it's part of what I enjoy about dining out- a little break in the meal, a fine opportunity to give tzeddakah. And yes, I will admit it, I find there is value in the pamphlets.

Lately the gentlemen have only be offering me the Breslov Calendar. I could have had quite the collection thereof by this point for 5769. Which begs the question: how do they know which pamphlets to offer? Because one of the astonishing things about these guys is that they inevitably offer reading material that is precisely what one needs at the given moment.

Now granted, most of the Breslov pamphlets are, shall we say, slightly generic in tone. So one could suggest that the offered pamphlets will always find a suitable home with whomever purchases them. But my experience has been that there is variation between the different titles. Which leads me to believe that either the troops are schooled in reading people exceptionally well, to the end that they can discern one's unspoken needs, or they are in fact all tzaddikim and consequently recruited.

All I can say is that I'm blown away ever time by how appropriate the pamphlets given are to the recipient's life at that given juncture. That said, what the heck does it mean that they're only offering me the calendar??? (Be kind in your responding post, please. :p )

Little Girl Needs Prayers

My brother-in-law's little girl was admitted to hospital erev Shabbos. Turns out she had been complaining for the past week about pain in her leg, and it wound up being a virus that is spreading in the frum community between children. The virus causes an infection in the leg that, if left untreated, can progress to the joints and cause irreparable damage.

B'H' they caught it in time, and she's now in hospital on IV as they try and rid the virus from her system. So if everyone could please daven for:

Shoshana Miriam bat Chana

And if any of you hear of a child complaining of pain in their leg, don't disregard it immediately as "just growing pains". It could be something else!

Avian UN

This afternoon, I decided to take a work break, and glanced out my window to take in the pretty snowfall that had been happening all day. I noted that, as is commonplace, the tree in the backyard held some birds.

Then I looked a bit closer. The tree was full of birds, and held not one, but several species: Sparrow, pigeon, robin, and more. All were hanging out in peaceful coexistence with nary a peep, waiting out the storm together. Multiple species even occupied the same branch.

So listen, people, if the birdies can do it, why or why can't we???