I Broke the Rule

Every marriage has its own set of, for lack of a better word, I'll say RULES. Really more of a mutual understanding that certain actions are just not appreciated by the other spouse, and since there should be some modicum of affection between such spouses, each should respect the other's specific requests. You know, like "please don't invite your brother," type thing.

I alluded in a different post to a change in MBB's appearance. A change that necessitated the purchase of some new clothing, even though he really didn't want to buy anything. A well dressed man like him NEEDS to buy clothing when he looks like a hobo with his cinched pants, the only accoutrement missing a rope belt. No, not a braided belt, a ROPE belt.

Over the years I have learned that no matter how careful and particular I am about an article of clothing I purchase for him, I am just not particular enough. Did I notice that the polo has open sleeves, no I did not. Did it register that he doesn't like textured dress shirts, did I notice what type of collar or stitching, no, no I did not. Thus it was requested of me that I please not buy him clothing.

Ever.

So I didn't. For years and years.

However, I've been doing a lot of boy shopping lately, (my friend is not pleased with my choices, preferring I dress my 4 1/2 month old like a baby. Pffft. I love his newsboy cap and I bought him a tie today...though the latter may just be in my DNA), and MBB has become very easy to shop for. He's still particular, but he can wear anything, and now he has someone who can match him! How fun is that.

As much as I really respect his wishes, most of the time, I just could not resist. He probably would have done a better job, but at least now he can get up a little later in the morning, because he has something to wear.

Maybe the girls are rubbing off on him.

No Computer, No Problem

Even though our computer is eight years old (and just went in for a major cleanup) and all of the software on that computer is that ancient (in computer terms, of course) or older (is that even possible? Yes. Yes it is), I have nonetheless joined the technological age.

I am posting this on my new kindle, the new kindle that MBB got me as yom tov gift. You all remember MBB, right? He looks a little different these days, but he's still his non blogging self. I really like the kindle, though I don't usually buy books, I'm more of the library type. Luckily, there are magazine subscriptions, some free word games, and free classiics. Not to mention free 3G wireless, and thus my current posting.

MBB suggested that perhaps I should rate the gifts from the past. They're mostly all good, except one. Man was that a doozy. I dont mean that to sound ungrateful. You know that moment when you open a gift and it is just so off the charts anything you either want/need /expect that you just think: "Really? C'mon, Really?" I'll be happy to generalize and say that most women are not interested in a gift......hmmm, how should i put this? That really just makes a put upon husband's life easier. Essentially this gift was to take the place of something that he was doing for me, up until which time I didn't even realize how much he hated! Why would I want a MINI FRIDGE in my bedroom? Decor? Hello? Why would I need a MINI FRIDGE for my room, when I had a super nice husband who went to get me diet coke? Appparently, he was unhappyw ith this arraangement. Who knew? Well, he did, but chose not to share this tidbit.

Needless to say I did not keep this gift. I exchanged it for lovely solar outside lights (they stopped working a few years ago and i sold them to an electrician who wanted them), and stopped asking MBB for liquid refreshment.. So I guess it was win-win.

If the worst gift you have ever given someone ends up making both people happy-you're a pretty good gift giver. Now if I could just get him to blog a little.........

What Happened to Sharing?

I was speaking to a Yeshiva guy recently about his meals. Really more about the lack of decent options, and what he planned to do about it. Obviously contraband items were a definite, as in most yeshivas, and he would need to cook some of his own meals to fill in the gaps left bare by those charged with filling the gastronomic needs of these young men, who need to achieve their spiritual goals with the requisite energy and fervor.

One of items he intends to use is a crockpot, with goulash and chulent his meals of choice. The pot is actually fairly medium sized, and I asked him what he intended to do with the leftovers. His plan was to eat his fill, and then sell the rest.

Hmmm. I understand a guy who decides, "I will make enough chulent and goulash for everyone, and sell it to them, if they want it." But I don't understand how it gets to the point, where it is not thought of as a business, per se, but a way to recoup the costs of the food that you ate, and make a little money on the side if it comes up when there's a little left. So, your buddy comes into your room hungry, and you have a portion left, and you SELL it to him?

Imagine if this happened in grade school. How often do kids have enough of their snack, and are willing to give it away? Should they be encouraged to sell that half empty bag of chips? Have the words "Up for grabs," lost all of their meaning?

I can understand not wanting to be taken advantage of. I get not wanting to be the one who consistently pays for all the food, and then ends up the provider for all. So why not split the costs with a few guys, and then eat it together when it's ready.

I know that the system that's in place for many of these men is one in which they need to learn all the angles and find ways to make some money to support themselves, but everyone is in the same boat. So going back to the grade school example, why not trade? Give the leftovers to the guy who gives haircuts, the guy who charges to use his treadmill, the guy who rebinds seforim. Everyone wants an angle, and they're finding it...at each other's expense.

Sorry

We didn't real mean to neglect the blog, life just got busy. Good busy, but busy. I forgot how a baby takes up so much of your "free" time...and brain cells.

I had some really good blogs in me, but then the moment passed and/or it was Friday night or Shabbos morning.

I had a great one come to me on Yom Kippur night. I was dealing with the three and half year old, as I was putting in her in bed I was struck so strongly by the relationship of parent/child as it pertains to man and G-d. It just becomes so much clearer when you pay attention to your own relationship with your kids.

There was one about the absolutely crazy things my kids said in one week, all of which I have completely forgotten.

Those are the few I can remember right now, as I run in between the kitchen, the succah, shopping with the big girls, and feeding the baby. Honestly, if I didn't feed him, I don't think I'd have seen him at all in the last week.

Speaking of him, you can all join us at his Ushpizza on the fourth night of Succos. You'll get his name right, if you keep in mind the nusach we would follow (it goes by the father, folks!).

I kinda thought I'd have a certain someone very ably pick up the slack, as one of his stellar postings would equal to quite a few of mine, but apparently, SOMEONE has to "work for a living..."

We plan to get better. Hang in there.

Thanks.

Perspective

Perspective is something that can be gained in many different ways. You can go to Niagara falls and feel and comprehend the awesomeness of this world God has created. You can have hindsight after mistakes have been made, or even when things went the way you wanted them to.

Or you can speak to your sister.

Yesterday, we were discussing her 40th birthday, which was on Friday, while she was busy with the open house portion of her son's bar mitzvah. I asked if she would have liked more of a celebration. Her answer keeps ringing in my ears:

"I can't think of a better way to have spent that day. I was with every person who matters to me."

On the Road

We finally did it. My sister has lived in Detroit for seventeen years, and we managed in all that time NOT to drive the six hundred miles (one way)to go see her. Until now.

Sheand her husband made a beautiful bar mitzvah this past weekend, and we made a trip of it. We left Wednesday and drove to Niagara Falls, where we stayed overnight, and enjoyed the sights on Thursday before climbing back into the car and arriving at her house at midnight.

Niagara was gorgeous. The falls are beyond magnificent, their power and constancy, awesome. We did all the activities that bring you up close and personal with one of the (not official!)wonders of the world.

Everyone says Niagara is cheesy and very touristy. I found that when walking on the promenade between the American falls and the horseshoe falls, and on the maid of the mist, journey behind the falls, and the rapid river walk this was not the case. It was a natural wonder in its natural state, and you could enjoy different viewpoints and perspectives at varying degrees of proximity and dryness.

Except for one thing.

Every attraction let you out through a gift shop. You could not avoid it. It put France and Wisconsin to shame. It put shame to shame in its shamelessness. The only place that didn't do that was Aero car that was built in 1916, and if they could figure out away to enclose it in a gift shop, you can be darn sure they would have by now.

It was a great trip. It was magnificent, the kids had a blast, and we got to go see the family in Michigan. Then we drove home. Am event we've dreaded for a long time, and thankfully was not as bad as we thought. Apparently it was fine for the kids too, because the three year old told my sister this morning "I want Mommy to drive me back to your house."

I Tasted Summer Last Night

There is really no other way to describe it. I got some plums at a farm stand at the Middlesex County Fair (in NJ). As I bit into the thin, but ever so crackly skin, the golden flesh beneath it was so soft, sun drenched, and juicy. It evoked everything the summer is, and all the smells and activities of the season were dancing on my tongue.

Definitely being at the fair didn't hurt, but when I had another one this morning the results were the same. One bite, and I was at the beach, in the pool, playing net ball with the kids, summer evenings on the porch, barbecuing and riding bikes at dusk.

The fair itself was great. Lots of rides (with lots of lights), though we didn't end up going on any of them. After the magic show, animals, acrobat show, face painting, window (actually tent)shopping, Skee Ball! and fireworks, it got too late, and everyone had had a good time.

A few minutes before the fireworks were supposed to start we headed in the general direction of where they would be. We were told "anywhere, just kind of look up and you'll see them." As much as this seemed like a good plan, I love fireworks, and was able o determine based on which part of "the sky" I was advised to look up at, where I wanted to be for optimal viewing. We walked through the fairgrounds, and found the farm stand along the way, continuing to the giant,Paul Bunyan sized Turkey Hill cow mascot, as the first explosions began. They were right on top of us, and there was plenty of room for us to stop and watch without blocking any foot traffic. One of the kids echoed my thoughts when she noted all the people just walking on, not even glancing skyward. We did. What a treat.

Imagine, a cool summer night sitting on the grass, lights strung up between tents, the tall rides glowing in the night sky, hearing shouts of glee and laughter from the rides and entertainment, and watching the fireworks splash pulsating colors on your wide-eyed children's faces.

Perfect.