Colour Me What?

During all my recent blabbering on about the lack of colour in Brooklyn wardrobes, I was busy reading up on colour analysis. And, while I am definitely not innately a girlie-girl, I admit to becoming obsessive about determining which of the colour analysis seasons I fall into: winter, summer, spring, autumn.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with colour analysis, a quick look at your combination of skin tone, hair colour, and eye colour enable you to categorize yourself as one of the seasons. Armed with that knowledge, you can then build your wardrobe/makeup around the colours included in the colour palette for your season. For you guys out there, this works for you too! For example, you could apply the colour palette when choosing ties, belts, cuff links, shoes, etc.

What's so important about colour if you live in Brooklyn and don't wear colour? Well, like it or not, we all wear some colour, and knowing the right colours to wear (for our makeup, for our ties, etc.), will add a bit of zing to our presence. In other words, one can remain tznius while looking one's best. Think about the boys in shul in their black suits/white shirts: the ones who wear the right coloured ties for their combination look the healthiest, the most vibrant. Now, if you're a married woman who wants to look pleasing to her husband, a single woman who wants to make a favourable impression on a shidduch, or a kallah who wants photos that she will be proud to show anyone and everyone, it's important to have an understanding of what colours suit you.

So, to put it differently, we are a holy nation, a nation that Hashem wants to lead the others spiritually. If we present ourselves well externally, albeit in a tzniusdik fashion, won't that further our intended purpose in this world?

As for me, my colouring does not fall easily into any one category (I always seem to be the exception in everything, LOL), so I'm still cracking my head deciphering my correct category. I think I'm going to just bite the bullet and get a book from the library. If anyone is interested in learning more, I have a bunch of links bookmarked, so feel free to post a comment and I'll be happy to share.

The Little Date

I had an interview this morning in mid-town for a perm job. I was very excited about the interview, but even more excited that today was my DH's first day at his new sales job. I even texted him in the morning to let him know how very proud of him I was. Yes, gag, I know.

The day turned out in our favour: My interview finished around 1 PM (I had to meet with a bunch of people and write an aptitude test), which is when his lunch break was. So I ran over and we had spent his lunch hour together. It was so much fun. And it was a nice change of pace from always being either in Brooklyn or Queens.

I was the first person they interviewed, although they said that not many people got through to in-person interviews. So I guess we'll see how it pans out. I hope, bli ayin hara, that Hashem lets me have this job, because it would actually be very interesting, and the corporate structure (i.e., flat = minimal politics/back-stabbing) is right up my alley. And you know, maybe this is just too sappy, so please excuse me, but the best part of it all is that I would be just a few blocks away from my DH weekdays. And that would be excellent, bli ayin hara, for shalom bayis... and we know how important shalom bayis is to Hashem. :=)

So come on everyone, repeat after me: Pretty Puhhhhllllleeeeaaaassee. (BLI AYIN HARA)

Shoulda Woulda Coulda

This Shabbos something simultaneously wonderful and disturbing happened.

We were invited to some friends of ours, and it wound up being a really nice group of attendees. The meal had very young-ish frummie hipster vibe as a consequence, as topics ran from current indie bands to the Jewish Renaissance Center to comments (by both genders!) on my husband's divar Torah. Then, in between courses, I found myself with our gracious hostess and the other married woman in the kitchen. The third woman was recently married and quickly advancing through her first pregancy, so the conversation naturally turned from food and walking in the heat to childbirth and the gazillion books the woman was reading to answer her gazillion questions. Despite her obvious trepidation at the unknown, she was admirably, remarkably calm.

I marvelled at both her "take charge" approach to her pregnancy and our hostess' personal pregnancy/childbirth tales, which were meant to offer informative encouragement. And then, as I stood there listening to them both talk it all out- the fears, the unexpected burden on their bodies, their husbands, the pain- I was most shocked and dismayed to find myself feeling, of all things, angry. I mean, I was thrilled to see a woman older than 19 who got pregnant right away and just amazed by her general demeanour. A most charming woman indeed. So what on earth was wrong with me?

In my life, I have made certain choices. I was a very mature teenager, more so then than now, and my Rav wanted to set me up with his prized talmid when I was but 15. I did chose to put off marriage until after university and a few years of working. I did only get married once I was thirty, but everyone told me I had lots of time left. A decade at least. No problem, right?

Today I had a doctor appointment and after more blood tests, etc., I seems that I still have 4 separate conditions that need to be rectified in order for me to bear children. Moreover, I recently discovered that due to certain facts about my infancy that I will not divulge here, I may, even once I return to "perfect health", be only half as likely as the average person my age to ever conceive. To say that I was alarmed by the confirmation would be an understatement. My husband had to drag me out of the house to cheer me up. And even then I am most embarrassed to admit that I still wound up crying.

I worry about having children, and the effect the worse-case scenario could have on my physical health, my mental health, and the health of my marriage. I worry, specifically, about how my health and ability to have children impacts my DH. Indeed, after a brief spat motzei Shabbos, during which he exclaimed "Why are you so angry about?", it came out that he had experienced the same "negative" reaction to the said young couple's happy state.

We are not bitter, angry people. We are actually a couple who generally experience tremendous joy when encounter other people's good fortune. And, most importantly, we do not in any way, shape or form want to give an impression of being ungrateful for everything that we do have. I mean, such miracles had to occur in order for us both to be alive and in the health we currently are.

I suppose what it comes down to then, is that I am human after all, LOL. While I can be happy for the young couple, I suppose it is natural to also have the nagging sense that I am running out of time to get better sufficiently to have a normal, healthy baby. Forget about having an active pregnancy, forget about natural childbirth: I just want us to have a baby who is healthy, and who can live a full life. And I want my husband and I to be sufficiently healthy that we can enjoy many decades with our little bundle of joy. Bli ayin hara on all accounts.

I hope the same for the young couple.

What???

Today, my DH drives me to the local factory outlet shop for eyeglasses. We spent about 30 minutes going through the current stock, until we hit upon the perfect frames for me. Excited at the prospect of finally having some pretty eyeglasses that stay up on my nose, not to mention, are the right prescription so that I can see properly, I went up to the front to place my order.

Wouldn't you know, that's when things hit a snafu? First, I wait in line for a good 5 minutes, despite the fact that there are 5 people working the counter and only one person ahead of me. Then, once it is my turn, the woman takes my information and the soft selling of more expensive options begins. I decline, but I am already prepared for the soft selling. She calls over a young man to read my PD, since you'll recall that the OD neglected to include that in the prescription. No problem. He measures it and waits for the lady to return (she has in the interim gone off to handle another customer) and mark it down on my account card. I wait. And wait. Finally, a second young man comes over and asks if he can help me, then calls out to an older gentleman that I need a second PD reading. I try to explain that No, I am only waiting for Lady to return and mark it on my card. Older Gentleman asks to see my prescription. In classic fashion, he says, Who wrote this? When I pointed out the OD's name and address at the top of the script, he protested that the script was illegible (did I previously mention that on the script the OD had marked down some numbers and then heavily circled them out before writing down the correct numbers?).

I decided that enough was enough. I hadn't wasted any one's time, because I had genuinely intended to buy from these people. But I realized it was just going to be yet another uphill battle in my saga of the 2008 Eyewear Purchase. So I reached over the counter, took my account card and my script, marked down the PD and the dimensions of the selected frames, returned the frames to the showcase and left. I figured that it was the guy's loss; if he wanted to be difficult, then I would just take the information I had learned and put it to my own good use.

This evening, I found very similar frames online. With lenses, AR coating (which cost an additional $20 at the shop this afternoon), and shipping, not only will I receive the glasses sooner than if I filled my order in the shop, but I payed $40 less. I guess customer service really is crucial after all, eh?

The bottom line? When a yekki is feed up, get out of the way!

Pens for the Cattle

I'm feeling a bit under the weather today, so you'll excuse me if my Torah Thought is briefer or more meandering than usual.

Parsha Mattos contains an interesting triangle of events:

1. Moishe, despite knowing that he would leave the world once the war with Midiyan was complete, immediately began preparing to execute the battle.
2. The tzaddikim who fought in the battle spared the Midiyanite women, including those who had incited the plague against the klal.
3. The tribes of Gad and Reuven asked to inherit land outside of Eretz Yisroel proper.

The common thread between these three events is keeping a mitzvah in the forefront of one's mind. For Moishe, though he was in effect hurrying his own demise, ran to fulfill Hashem's word precisely as instructed. Conversely, the tzaddikim erred in the performing the mitzvah by sparing the women. They consequently focussed on compassion during the battle, which is a most admirable trait but not what had been called for in this particular instance. Rather, the purpose of this battle was to exact vengeance against Midiyan for the tragedy that the region incited in the klal. In turn, to spare the women ran counter to the intended purpose, and thus the tzaddikim sensed that they needed to offer sacrifices for atonement. Finally, for Gad and Reuven, while they were willing to fight with the other tribes to conquer Eretz Yisroel, they hastened to claim the first land they found suitable for their material needs. With a focus on their material comforts versus their spiritual advancement, they are taken to task by Moishe for valuing possessions over the generations, and indeed become the catalyst for Hashem's retribution against the tribe of Menashe.

To summarize, the differences amongst the three groups then are the degree to which they ran to fulfill the mitzvah and their focus while performing the mitzvah. Those whose focus was on the spiritual were rewarded accordingly. We are consequently reminded that not only should we rush to perform a mitzvah but we should focus solely on fulfilling Hashem's will while executing that mitzvah. In doing so, we can avoid being swayed as in the case of the tzaddikim and the tribes of Gad and Reuven.

On a personal note, this week I found myself davening later and later in the morning, cutting the time closer and closer to chatzot. Then yesterday I IMed with a friend of mine, who commented that it's a good thing chatzot is so late these days. I answered that I felt guilty, because let's face it, my primary focus upon getting up in the morning should not be to "prepare for davening" by having a cup of coffee and checking my email, etc. Rather, I should get up and start davening right away. Since I get up and daven immediately when I am working, what excuse could I possibly have to delay davening now that I'm unemployed. Sure, I'm tired; sure, maybe today my davening might be better if I have a second cup of coffee first. The reality is though, I'm supposed to get up and start davening, because even though I am allowed to daven until chatzot, that doesn't mean I should willfully delay my davening.

So this morning when I got up, I davened without delay. B'H'!

Good Shabbos!

We are Family

With my library book due today, I was forced out of my self-imposed hermitship and left the house. I decided to take out Camus in English; that seemed to be suitably mindless summer reading, since I have previously read Camus in French. Of course, considering how complex his language can be, I may have to reach for a dictionary, so we'll see in the end if I made a wise choice, LOL.

The line to take out my book was BH very short; an Arab woman with her child was putting away her books ahead of me, and another Arab woman was a few feet away from her. I diligently waited a few moments since I couldn't tell if they were together; why assume, after all? So I looked for some indication as to whether she was in fact in line, without actually looking her way (I didn't want it to seem like I was staring or anything). The funny thing is, that's when I saw that she was, in fact, staring at me. Hard.

I tried to figure out if she was staring because I was doing something wrong, or if she was somehow just offended by my mere presence. I decided it didn't really matter, since her stare gave me the clue that she was not waiting in line, so I walked up to the checkout.

Last week, my friend in Florida sent a very disturbing video that I'm sure you've all heard about, FINTA. In brief, the film quotes passages from the Koran and shows how they are interpreted by extremists. Basically, the film contains scene after scene of disturbing images and sound bites about the impeding doom for Jews, Gays, etc that these given groups of Arabs are propogating.

While I do make comments on this blog about Brooklyn, and perhaps make statements about behaviour that I have encountered here, I do not favour generalizations or stereotypes. Indeed, if I have made such generalizations and have offended anyone, I am deeply sorry, because that is not my nature or my intent.

That being said, I do not believe that Muslims = Arabs, Arabs = Terrorists. Nor do I believe that all Arabs or all Muslims hate Jews. Rather, as in our own communities, different people think differently from one another. To be frank, that is what I am trying to point out, albeit occasionally with strong language: that sometimes we behave well, and sometimes we don't. Certainly that is the case for myself personally, I have good days, I have bad days, and on both types of day I can do mitzvahs or the opposite, chasve shalom.

But I could swear that the woman in the library today did in fact hate me simply because I'm Jewish. At least, that is certainly what her stare conveyed. I am still hoping that I somehow misconstrued the meaning of the stare because contemplating the alternative would be a very sad endeavour. As I have mention ad nauseum in other posts, since we are always judged as being representative of all yiddin, I am particularly careful when I am outside about what I say and how I act. My actions, in other words, can contribute to generating a positive or negative perception of yiddin. Therefore, while I hope that the woman in the library is above stereotypes, I understand that most of the world judges different social groups based on stereotypes and other such shorthand. To put it differently, she probably did hate me because I'm Jewish, and that is that.

But you know, I guess that the experience was good preparation for reading Camus...

Things that Make You Go Hmmmm

Surprise, surprise.

I got a call from the OD's office today. They claimed that they couldn't make out my voice mail (naturally), but once I explained that I had found the doctor to be withholding medical information, he got right on the phone. As in, two seconds later.

All business now, he claimed that this was the first he had heard that I had a complaint. So I explained that I had found his prior suggestion that I just stick a trial pair of contacts in and see how I feel to be an unsatisfactory response to my question about whether the diameter of the given lens would probably suit my eye. I reminded him that while I could understand he wanted to make sales, that I had been upfront when I had called the three times prior to the appointment that I only wanted an exam and a prescription.

B'H', he volunteered that the lens should probably fit my eye sufficiently, and if I wanted him to take a look at my eye while I am wearing a trial pair, he will make sure to charge me a "reasonable" amount. Given the designer eye wear he carries in his shop, I believe this his idea of reasonable and my idea of reasonable are quite far apart price-wise. But I am happy to report that in the end, I got the confirmation I had be seeking.

On a totally unrelated topic, for those Americans out there, remember that everything is relative. Everyone and their dog lately is bemoaning the fact that in Saudi Arabia, gas is a pittance, i.e., costs cents a gallon, versus here. Well, I will have you know that in Canada, gas is sold by the litre, and for those of you who never learned the metric system, a gallon is equivalent to 3.7854 litres. That being said, the going rate for a litre of gas at Canadian pumps is currently hanging around the $1.28 mark. In short, each gallon of gas is topping $4.85. Perhaps now you all may understand why Canadians love compact cars; gas has historically been more expensive in Canada than in America. So, no more complaining, people!