For whatever reason, I've always been a magnet on the Mormon radar. Everywhere I've travelled, worked, etc., they've found me and given me the tap dance routine.
So I always wondered what it was about me that attracted that element. Did I look particularly alone and in turn vulnerable? A thinker (since I'm invariably lost in thought while taking public transpo)? And then this afternoon it hit me that's it's not me in particular. It's my essence.
What attracts Mormons and other evangelicals is precisely the innate holiness I carry within me, like all yiddin. It's that they pick up on and that they try to convert over to their side.
Sometimes, the answer is so obvious, and yet we just don't see it until it bangs us over the head...
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The Bubbe Speaks
I let it slip this week to one of my "families" here in Flatbush that I'm planning to ditch the Greater NYC area in the next several months to return to my native land. My declaration met with the expect New Yorker incredulity. I mean, who leaves NY, right?
Anyhow I had the pleasure of eating lunch at the said family's yesterday, and even more importantly, the opportunity to catch up with "Bubbe", the matriarch who has inspired quite a few posts. I just love her, and not only because she is a fellow Yekki. Well, okay, maybe that explains the meeting of the minds, but she is just a very wise old woman- and I mean that as the highest compliment. The topic inevitably turned to my planned relocation, and Bubbe weighed in with her two cents.
Basically, the gist of her comment is that I should stay in New York for the next year or so in order to find a shidduch. If you want to find a shidduch, New York is the place to be, and I should find a partner and then move. I explained to her that it was precisely because of the dating pool in New York that I felt I will need to search elsewhere. I've been thinking long and hard about what I want my life to be like, the one I want to share with any future anyone, if Hashem should be so kind as to eventually send such a person my way.
And I've realized a few things about what makes me happy. Now, obviously marriage isn't about happiness per se; it's about sharing your life with someone, about building and growing with someone. That said though, I want to try to get back to the things that ground me, because without that, I'm never going to be ready to start dating again. I need to get myself back to a happy and healthy self physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And I truly believe that for me, that means leaving New York, and returning to Canada.
Problem is, Bubbe is a very wise lady. So now I'm thinking about what she said. Any thoughts, people?
Anyhow I had the pleasure of eating lunch at the said family's yesterday, and even more importantly, the opportunity to catch up with "Bubbe", the matriarch who has inspired quite a few posts. I just love her, and not only because she is a fellow Yekki. Well, okay, maybe that explains the meeting of the minds, but she is just a very wise old woman- and I mean that as the highest compliment. The topic inevitably turned to my planned relocation, and Bubbe weighed in with her two cents.
Basically, the gist of her comment is that I should stay in New York for the next year or so in order to find a shidduch. If you want to find a shidduch, New York is the place to be, and I should find a partner and then move. I explained to her that it was precisely because of the dating pool in New York that I felt I will need to search elsewhere. I've been thinking long and hard about what I want my life to be like, the one I want to share with any future anyone, if Hashem should be so kind as to eventually send such a person my way.
And I've realized a few things about what makes me happy. Now, obviously marriage isn't about happiness per se; it's about sharing your life with someone, about building and growing with someone. That said though, I want to try to get back to the things that ground me, because without that, I'm never going to be ready to start dating again. I need to get myself back to a happy and healthy self physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And I truly believe that for me, that means leaving New York, and returning to Canada.
Problem is, Bubbe is a very wise lady. So now I'm thinking about what she said. Any thoughts, people?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
End of an Era
I can hear the typical Brooklyn comment already: "They're goyim. Who cares?".
As a child of the '70s, Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett creeped into my childhood and adolescence. True, I knew I could never be as pretty as Farrah, and I didn't listen to rock or pop until I was into full-blown adulthood. Yet their personas defined the era in which I grew up.
To have them pass on the same day really makes me feel like a chunk of my early life has been laid to rest.
As a child of the '70s, Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett creeped into my childhood and adolescence. True, I knew I could never be as pretty as Farrah, and I didn't listen to rock or pop until I was into full-blown adulthood. Yet their personas defined the era in which I grew up.
To have them pass on the same day really makes me feel like a chunk of my early life has been laid to rest.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Hunting Expedition
Growing up in Canada, everyone had at least a 6-pack of beer in their fridge. It was basically de rigeur, up there with common etiquette, e.g. offering someone a coffee or tea as soon as they entered your house. And you generally socialize over drinks, be it beer, wine, or my favourite as a twenty-something, Canadian whisky.
Yet when I moved to the US, my alcohol consumption came to a slamming halt. The shift was partially due to my moving to the right of the frummie spectrum, but even more so due to the appalling quality of the beverages available. I am no fan of bourbon, vodka is okay but not fabulous according to my taste buds, and well, imported whisky was just plain expensive. As for beer, it was bad enough that all I could find was Miller, Budweiser, or Corona, but it was unfathomable to me that the said beer came in a can, not a bottle. I mean, a can? That's just tacky.
So I've kept my imbibing to some dry wine every once in a while. But the last few weeks I've really been hankering for a beer. Really. The groceries around me though have only offered the usual suspects, with Heineken thrown in for good measure. I decided today to turn things up a notch, and followed the advice of numerous friends to look in the convenience stores around the neighbourhood.
After ambling along for over an hour, I finally found a great spot on Avenue P. Not only did the shop offer mainly imported beer, but the guy also sold a gazillion types of cigarettes, cigars, etc. , aka it was a true beer joint. I even found a new Molson beer. After learning that I could break up a 6-pack if need be, I took my bottle up to the counter. The guy looked at me and said "Only one"? I told him I didn't know if I'd like it. That's when he almost cracked a smile and nodded. He could relate to my sampling. Obviously a beer drinker himself. :)
Since I now had my beer, I figured I needed some type of salty snack. So I bought some type of cheesy crunchie, and home I came. My loot is sitting in the fridge, awaiting the proper moment. All in all, one of the best hours I've spent as of late. There's nothing like discovering more about what's in your neck of the woods, you know?
Yet when I moved to the US, my alcohol consumption came to a slamming halt. The shift was partially due to my moving to the right of the frummie spectrum, but even more so due to the appalling quality of the beverages available. I am no fan of bourbon, vodka is okay but not fabulous according to my taste buds, and well, imported whisky was just plain expensive. As for beer, it was bad enough that all I could find was Miller, Budweiser, or Corona, but it was unfathomable to me that the said beer came in a can, not a bottle. I mean, a can? That's just tacky.
So I've kept my imbibing to some dry wine every once in a while. But the last few weeks I've really been hankering for a beer. Really. The groceries around me though have only offered the usual suspects, with Heineken thrown in for good measure. I decided today to turn things up a notch, and followed the advice of numerous friends to look in the convenience stores around the neighbourhood.
After ambling along for over an hour, I finally found a great spot on Avenue P. Not only did the shop offer mainly imported beer, but the guy also sold a gazillion types of cigarettes, cigars, etc. , aka it was a true beer joint. I even found a new Molson beer. After learning that I could break up a 6-pack if need be, I took my bottle up to the counter. The guy looked at me and said "Only one"? I told him I didn't know if I'd like it. That's when he almost cracked a smile and nodded. He could relate to my sampling. Obviously a beer drinker himself. :)
Since I now had my beer, I figured I needed some type of salty snack. So I bought some type of cheesy crunchie, and home I came. My loot is sitting in the fridge, awaiting the proper moment. All in all, one of the best hours I've spent as of late. There's nothing like discovering more about what's in your neck of the woods, you know?
Sweet Spot
Given that this week has thus far consisted of "cold call" emails begging for jobs, rejection emails, and multiple legal issues, I was really needing a pick-me-up yesterday. So I decided to experiment in the kitchen. Here is my original creation.
Cocoa Truffles
3/4 cup cocoa (I used Hershey's Unsweetened)
10 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup oil (I used pure olive oil)
2-3 tbsp milk
Combine cocoa and sugar. Gradually add oil. Mix very well then add milk 1 tbsp at a time. Bake at 350 F for 15 minutes. Chill in fridge for several hours (I put it in the freezer for two) until hardened. Shape into balls and roll in cocoa. Store in fridge.
I think a dash of cinnamon or vanilla would go well with these, eh? Anyhow, I'm enjoying them plenty as is. :)
Happy chocolate fix to you!
Cocoa Truffles
3/4 cup cocoa (I used Hershey's Unsweetened)
10 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup oil (I used pure olive oil)
2-3 tbsp milk
Combine cocoa and sugar. Gradually add oil. Mix very well then add milk 1 tbsp at a time. Bake at 350 F for 15 minutes. Chill in fridge for several hours (I put it in the freezer for two) until hardened. Shape into balls and roll in cocoa. Store in fridge.
I think a dash of cinnamon or vanilla would go well with these, eh? Anyhow, I'm enjoying them plenty as is. :)
Happy chocolate fix to you!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Immediate Hangup
I decided to do the proper thing a couple of weeks ago, and in the midst of my pre-Shabbos calls, rang my hostess from that second day Shavuous/Shabbos lunch to thank her. After all, the last time I had been at her house was years prior, and it was nice of her to invite me upon my calling her up out of the blue.
She picked up the phone, obviously busy in the middle of her preparations. Her tone, however, conveyed most emphatically that I was some type of weirdo for making the courtesy call. The upshot? She said "Thank you" and hung up. Immediately. No "Good Shabbos". No social niceties. Just the ol' dial tone in my ear.
Now, I get she was busy. I also get she never thought I would be calling anytime soon. But if someone calls to say "Thank you", shouldn't you indicate that the call is ending in some fashion versus simply hanging up?
It was the perfectly ending to the whole saga, and oh so very Brooklyn.
She picked up the phone, obviously busy in the middle of her preparations. Her tone, however, conveyed most emphatically that I was some type of weirdo for making the courtesy call. The upshot? She said "Thank you" and hung up. Immediately. No "Good Shabbos". No social niceties. Just the ol' dial tone in my ear.
Now, I get she was busy. I also get she never thought I would be calling anytime soon. But if someone calls to say "Thank you", shouldn't you indicate that the call is ending in some fashion versus simply hanging up?
It was the perfectly ending to the whole saga, and oh so very Brooklyn.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Hair Today...
I had three incidents this week regarding my hair. Since every aspect of a woman's appearance is scrutinized here in Flatbush to ensure she is "up to standard" for tznius purposes, I thought it might be useful to contemplate these happenings. I should stress that all three episodes happened within a 48 hour period, so I guess hair really is important after all.
I was most relieved when my ride came to pick me up and mentioned that she hadn't recognized me for a moment without my sheitel. I was even happier to hear her rave about the colour of my hair, as she used to be in the beauty business, i.e. her opinion counts for something. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that her enthusiasm helped pave the way for a rousing evening, because one always enjoys oneself more when they know their appearance passes muster.
Then yesterday I was at the BPL to pick up my hold, and decided since I had the time to get my new card. When I produced my driver's license, the librarian was thrilled by my picture: "You look so pretty with blonde hair!", she exclaimed, and even called over the other librarian behind the desk to review and concur. Since the blonde hair was in fact a sheitel, I didn't bother to elucidate the disparity between my now dark locks and the fair halo in the picture. I just went with it. I personally also like myself as a blonde, because it reminds me of when I was younger and a perfect example of German colouring. Makes me think of my Daddy too, olev hashalom.
So, two thumbs up in the hair department, and I was feeling really good. And then the third incident happened, which was downright hilarious for its predictability. You may recall my previous mention of the two "standards" ladies in the neighbourhood, one who deems nail polish heinous and gave me a glare when she saw my uncovered head a few weeks ago? The other is equally notorious for her comments on both the sewed up slit in my skirt and my lipstick. In any event, I of course ran into the latter female within a couple of hours of the library incident. Her immediate refrain (after "Hello", to be fair), was "What's with the uncovered hair?". Her response to my explanation? "But don't you have to still cover your hair?".
Now, yes, one could give her the benefit of the doubt, and say that she was truly ignorant for why I might be able to uncover my hair and asked the question out of curiosity. But believe me people, such was not the case. And in my mind, as par for the course with her personality, such questions are necessary to communicate that my choices are unacceptable.
To which I respond, thanks for acting as the tznius police and trying to ensure that I don't wind up in Gehinnom. But you could try to say with more tact, to say the least. Or even better, to wait until you're a true tzeddeket before weighing in with your lofty level of tznius. Because, as we all know from Pirke Avot, until you've walked in someone else's shoes, keep your big pie-hole shut!
I was most relieved when my ride came to pick me up and mentioned that she hadn't recognized me for a moment without my sheitel. I was even happier to hear her rave about the colour of my hair, as she used to be in the beauty business, i.e. her opinion counts for something. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that her enthusiasm helped pave the way for a rousing evening, because one always enjoys oneself more when they know their appearance passes muster.
Then yesterday I was at the BPL to pick up my hold, and decided since I had the time to get my new card. When I produced my driver's license, the librarian was thrilled by my picture: "You look so pretty with blonde hair!", she exclaimed, and even called over the other librarian behind the desk to review and concur. Since the blonde hair was in fact a sheitel, I didn't bother to elucidate the disparity between my now dark locks and the fair halo in the picture. I just went with it. I personally also like myself as a blonde, because it reminds me of when I was younger and a perfect example of German colouring. Makes me think of my Daddy too, olev hashalom.
So, two thumbs up in the hair department, and I was feeling really good. And then the third incident happened, which was downright hilarious for its predictability. You may recall my previous mention of the two "standards" ladies in the neighbourhood, one who deems nail polish heinous and gave me a glare when she saw my uncovered head a few weeks ago? The other is equally notorious for her comments on both the sewed up slit in my skirt and my lipstick. In any event, I of course ran into the latter female within a couple of hours of the library incident. Her immediate refrain (after "Hello", to be fair), was "What's with the uncovered hair?". Her response to my explanation? "But don't you have to still cover your hair?".
Now, yes, one could give her the benefit of the doubt, and say that she was truly ignorant for why I might be able to uncover my hair and asked the question out of curiosity. But believe me people, such was not the case. And in my mind, as par for the course with her personality, such questions are necessary to communicate that my choices are unacceptable.
To which I respond, thanks for acting as the tznius police and trying to ensure that I don't wind up in Gehinnom. But you could try to say with more tact, to say the least. Or even better, to wait until you're a true tzeddeket before weighing in with your lofty level of tznius. Because, as we all know from Pirke Avot, until you've walked in someone else's shoes, keep your big pie-hole shut!
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