Sunday night

I remember when I was little that Sunday night always was a time for comfort food and ritual, and it still feels that way. Just a bittersweet, poignant feeling....and here I am, 51 years old, and still feeling that way.

I'm making cheerfulness by playing a soft jazz cd, and cooking, cooking, cooking! I'm making shredded chicken barbeque and mashed potatoes (one bowl with spinach and onions, one plain) and split pea soup, all for tomorrow night when we are having Randal over for dinner. And for tonight, baked potatoes and chicken breasts baked in foil, with tamari.

I'm feeling a little tentative the past couple of days, as if I can breathe easily, but don't quite dare. The last couple of weeks were so stressful emotionally. Abby came down with a fever and chills, which became bronchitis, which became pneumonia. Seeing her, with each breath hurting her chest, dark shadows under her eyes...it was really hard. Thank God for antibiotics.

Now that she feels a lot better, she's been working hard all weekend on her homework, and has gotten so much done. We're putting a lot of laundry through right now, for a good start to the week.

I drove up to Mom's yesterday and bought a microwave at Target near her house. She had given us her microwave about a year ago, thinking that she didn't need it, but then confessed to me recently that she did miss having it. So, we set it up and went out for lunch, to Steak and Shake for some good chili.

I've gotten so that each time I'm in Kroger's, I HAVE to buy one of those grocery bags for charity, and each time I pass a Salvation Army kettle, I HAVE to put in at least $3 (one dollar to thank God for each of our wonderful children).

Here I am, daydreaming all the time about the new house, and how wonderful it will be to decide where stuff goes....how to decorate....being able to walk places from there...

I'm a lucky, lucky woman, and I know it. Jordie and I are going to have a "money talk" tonight and one thing we need to decide is what charities to give some money to...we're giving Amalia a plane ticket home for Chanukah, and Abby's present is the trip to Disney World over Martin Luther King weekend in January...and Adam will probably get a printer and some cash...and we'll give some money to some good causes.

So, there is no way I could ever walk by the Salvation Army kettle without dropping some money in, to say thanks to God for everything I have, material and child-wise and husband-wise and job-wise and friend-wise...an abundance of riches.

Back to cooking.

Sabrina is home, Abby is better, all is well

Last night, as I drove near our driveway, I saw our grey cat Sabrina. She always comes out, but stays out of the way, when someone comes home. And I was furious! I called and called for her, but no response. I went inside and was mad at Jordie for letting her out when the forecast called for a low of 14 degrees during the night. But, he hadn't let her out. And neither had I. I figured she might have slipped out when i carried a box out to the car in the early morning.

So, during the very cold evening while Jordie was away, I took Sadie for a walk and called Sabrina. No response. I called from the front door about every half hour. No response. I eventually went driving around the neighborhood for a bit, calling out the window. No response. My heart was heavy. I knew she could die outside with temperatures that low.

I called this morning. Icalled from the front door tonight, several times. When Jordie walked the dog tonight, he called for her. No response. We were both feeling so sad that Jordie even said "I've heard that dying from the cold is quick and it doesn't hurt." So sad.

Then, just a few minutes ago, Jordie turned on the movie To Kill a Mockingbird downstairs while he fooled around with the wood stove. And Sabrina came strolling out of the laundry room! We figure she must have come back in while he was hauling in wood.

Very glad to see our furry beautiful cat!

Abby is better, looking much more like herself, and Bonnie is coming over to visit her tomorrow morning. I am so glad it is not last week, when Abby was looking so wan, with dark shadows under her eyes, and coughing, and pain in her chest. VERY glad it is not last week!

Tonight on the phone, Amalia told us she has an audition for a recycling commercial for the Discovery Channel tomorrow. And she told me that a man she recently went out on a date with -- well, he was disappointing. And I said "There's some wonderful man out there for you, honey." She replied "No, there's not, but don't worry. Someday I'll have in vitro so you can have grandchildren!"

But I know there is some man out there who will be right for our beautiful, talented, wonderful girl! I said "Look at all my friends who have finally found wonderful, loving men and are so happy with them..." And she said "Mom! Your friends are all at least 45!"

What a week...

Just finished making some matzo-ball soup, a good thing on a cold winter night. I usually make it vegetarian-style, with some great chicken-tasting soup powder from Bloomingfoods, but this time I put in chicken as well, because Abby's iron is low.

Abby has bacterial pneunomia, which sprang from bronchitis, which sprang from a virus, which she woke up with while at her friend Savvy's for the night, a week ago Friday night.

We had planned to pick up Abby, go to the holiday Farmers' Market, have brunch out at the Encore, then maybe walk down to the IU Art Museum and schmooze around.

Instead, we have spent this week worrying, watching Abby, refilling humidifiers, taking her temperature, trying to get Abby to eat and drink, worrying, taking her temperature, going to the doctor three times, and juggling our work schedules. She had a fever for days and days.

I didn't feel well at the beginning of the week, and then I felt guilty because I wasn't worse and Abby was...

A few days ago, Abby had dark shadows under her eyes, constant chest pain, coughing all the time....it feels absolutely wonderful to see her eating today, and feeling a little crabby because of boredom! She's still weak enough that she isn't reading, but just watching TV. We have watched the entire Ninth Season and Third Season of FRIENDS! Now she is watching a DVD of the tv show NORTHERN EXPOSURE, which Malinda loaned to us.

Tomorrow I will pick up some homework at school for her.

Mentally and emotionally, I am tired. But also, it is nice to think back about how kind people have been this week. One memory is noticing that Bob Z just went ahead and did extra work, formatting columns for the weekend, because I was just going crazy, juggling my schedule, making up for when I missed earlier in the week, and doing an extra project -- a Power Point presentation for Doug Wilson to use at the HSPA seminar. Carol Thompson, my office-mate, was gracious as usual about having to do extra stuff in my absence. Rod also did extra work to help me out, as he always does...friends were emailing me, asking what they could do.

Yesterday, Jordie stayed home all day so I could go ahead and attend the Hoosier State Press Association seminar and contest awards luncheon in Indianapolis. I really enjoyed it -- rode up to Indy with my friend Marci and other friends from the newsroom. And among the awards our paper won were the best editorial page in our division (which thrilled me, because I paginate the editorial page -- and then Bob said afterward "Couldn't do it without you, Lynne.") and the Community Service Award, which also thrilled me! We also got the General Excellence Award for our division. I coordinate the contest entries for our paper, so I love to see my newsroom friends getting awards.

Today, I went to the Y early in the morning, then came home. Jordie had a meeting with some teen mediators (they have a presentation in front of the School Board Tuesday night) and now he is attending a wake for George, a hospice patient where Jordie has been volunteering...he really liked George a lot and wrote a letter about George for his family.

Time for me to go and watch NORTHERN EXPOSURE with Abby, and have some matzo-ball soup. And stay cozy on a winter Sunday night!

What is a good friend?

Let's see....a good friend is one who calls me up to make sure I don't miss John Prine (and our talented and wonderful friend Jason WIlbur) on Austin City Limits....and who has driven by our future house a few times (just as I have) just to check out how it looks at different times of the day! And, well, who meets me day after day at the Y at the unbelievable hour of 7 a.m. so we can work out together (even when she has the discipline to go on her own but I don't!) Thanks, Malinda! Now back to John Prine and that glass of red wine....it's such a thrill to see Jason on TV! Life is good.

Mom on a Mission -- accomplished!

For a month or so, I've been meaning to write an entry called "Mom on a mission." A good friend told me that she felt the same way when house-hunting -- absolutely obsessed. And I was. I looked at lots of houses -- some that were really lovely, and much more expensive than the one we are buying. But none of them really felt like "home." I told Jordie that there are lots of plastic-looking beige-box totally-carpeted houses out there, with manicured lawns...for lots of money. NOT us!

Well, I thought for awhile that the house on the corner of Wimbleton and High felt right, but I was mesmerized by the fabulous kitchen. I mean, a really, really fabulous kitchen with a big kitchen island, slide-out pantry shelves, double built-in ovens. I was in love with that kitchen.

However, the house was on the corner of High Street, and Jordie could not envision living there.

But we both loved the Sycamore Knolls neighborhood....and our friends Deb Galyan and Mike Wilkerson emailed me that we should get in touch with their friend Catherine, whose house would be on the market soon. And we did.

At first, I was not in love with Catherine's house. The kitchen is perfectly nice and homey, but not .... well... fabulous. And, only one oven. And the windows in the living room are regular windows, and I am used to huge windows. And, the fireplace in the living room doesn't have a mantle. BUT, everything else about that house is really, really good. Beautiful paint jobs throughout. Walk-out doors from the downstairs family room. Fireplaces upstairs and downstairs. A really nice deck, surrounded by two magnificent pine trees -- it feels magical to be on that deck. And the backyard is surrounded by trees, mostly pines. And the most darling little tube skylights in the kitchen and one of the bathrooms. Two walk-in closets. The carpets are fine, and the living room and dining room have hardwood floors. She really has done a great job taking care of that house.

And the second time we were there, I had kind of gotten over the fabulous kitchen in the other house...and I noticed, while Jordie and I were just looking around there....that it felt like home. I told him that, even though it is a much bigger house than his parents' house in New Jersey, that the feeling of being there was so reminiscent of 21 Walter Avnue.

And he started saying "Did you notice that whenever you look out of a window in this house, you see trees?"

And so we began talking about "when" and not "if."

So, in April, 2033 South Montclair Avenue will be our new home.

Now, there ARE a few things I'd like to do...I'd like to put in dark-green granite countertops, knock out the wall between the kitchen and dining room, put in a kitchen island with dark-green countertop, put a new mantle and fireplace surround in the living room, with tile....and make the two windows in the front living room wall bigger, and casement style...or maybe one really big bay window with a window seat! I'll post some photos of the house below so you can see it.

My car/myself

Five minutes to record this week in my life. My car -- why talk about my car? It's reflective of my life at this point. The wayback has a big trash bag full of metal cupholder things, left behind at our house by Adam. For some reason, he wants these things. I first moved the bag to a spot near the front door to wait for Adam, then, when the pest control people were called to come to nip a flea problem early, I had to clear the floor. (Actually, I think the pest control people thought they didn't even have to come, but I saw it as a preventive measure.) So, the bag came out to the car. Also in the wayback are clothes I have for Salvation Army. Also, several boxes of assorted Adam stuff, which I picked up from the floor in the room formerly-known-as-Adam's and which has now become a TV/family room again. At least now one can walk across the floor! But the stuff is in my car. Also, a little bookshelf which folds, and which has been sitting in our hallway since before Passover last April. I told Adam either he takes it or I will give it to someone at the HT or the Salvation Army. In the back seat, two bags of sweet potatoes, waiting for me to get up at 5 in the morning, when I will make maple mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese and saute some veggies for a pasta dish. Also in the back seat are several sections of last Sunday's New York Times, which, to no one's surprise, I have not read yet. Also in the back seat is a pile of Adam's clothes, which have come out of the dryer and are waiting for him to take them. Also in the back seat is Abby's math book, which she didn't need today, but she might have needed after school when I picked her up to come to the HT after school so that I could take her to her dance class at 5:15.

My desk is piled just about as badly as my car, and it has been so busy that I keep forgetting what I am doing -- in the middle of doing something.

I haven't thought of an "icebreaker" for the potluck dinner tomorrow night -- for which I am in charge. But, I think it will be just as good to circulate and talk to people....

I am exhausted, and nothing seems like much of a problem. Too tired to worry. Just take care of one thing at a time.

My car/myself.

Just common sense, I think

I've seen that MoveOn.org has a website, hurricanehousing.org, for people to offer and search for temporary housing. They recommend within 300 miles of the affected area.

And I've sent this letter to the NY Times, USA Today, and the papers in Atlanta, Montgomery, Jackson, Houston, Austin and San Antonio. I think it's just common sense.

To the editor:

Why on earth doesn't every hotel and/or apartment
complex in Louisana and surrounding states give a
couple of rooms to hurricane refugees for the
duration? Surely the businesses could deduct these
expenses as a charitable donation on their taxes and
they'd still be making a profit. Then people would
have privacy, telephones, a chance to start their
lives over again. Businesses in the area of each hotel
or apartment complex would, I'm sure, gladly help
those beginning over again with some donations of
clothes, supplies, even jobs. Children could go to
area schools.

Having thousands of people grouped together, as they
are doing in Houston, has to be maddening and
difficult, no matter how hard people are trying to
keep it organized.

Finding ways to give the survivors privacy, dignity
and a little tranquillity would be better.

Lynne Foster Shifriss
4420 N. Benton Court
Bloomington, IN 47408

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?

That's the question in the play "Our Town," when Emily, a young mother who has just died in childbirth, is given the opportunity to go back to life for just one day. She chooses her 12th birthday. And she watches as her family is preoccupied with trivial stuff, too busy to even really pay attention to each other. Emily says to her mother (although her mother cannot hear Emily's spirit) "Just for a moment we're happy. Let's look at one another..."

I think the answer that Emily got in the play was that perhaps poets are the only ones who realize life (and, in my words, see the eternity, the goldenness, in normal moments).

Yesterday, Amalia and I went to the urgent care place, to see the doctor who had originally sent her to the hospital for tests, and he is a wonderful guy. Dr. Morris Mesler, I think. Old and friendly and willing to answer questions. We should have gone back to him in the first place, but the hospital nurses had told Amalia to see the doctor who saw her in the hospital. Anyway, he looked at her lab results, explained them (all is well), checked her out, and said "I told your husband on the phone that you didn't need to come out here, but if you heard how she was sounding, I don't blame you a bit for getting on a plane." He even gave her a hug as we were leaving. He explained that she would be weak and tired for a few days, and that was normal-- that being sick like that burns thousands of calories. He told her to drink gatorade and take vitamins and rest.

So, it was a beautiful day, she was feeling so much better, and we drove around a little, looking at some beautiful houses in Larchmont, Beverly Hills. We drove over to Westwood Village, by UCLA's campus, and had ice cream at a little place -- they sell a two-cookie ice cream sandwich for a dollar!

I took her to Target and bought her some stuff. Then, we came home and took naps, then later we ate more vegetable soup and watched a DVD. We talked to Jordie and Abby and my mom on the phone. Adam had called earlier. I left a message for my sister. Amalia's boss at Starbucks told her to only come back to work Monday if she feels up to it -- that they miss her a lot, but she shouldn't push it. (I feel like sending a present to that wonderful woman.)

I am filled with a sense of really appreciating that afternoon yesterday. A sense that I really do understand just how wonderful a normal, trivial day really is. Driving around in the sunshine, eating ice cream, watching a DVD. Talking to our family.

Maybe I can really focus, in the future, on really looking at the people in my life, and, as Emily says, realizing life while I live it. I think I have said this before. I may have even written it before in an earlier post on this blog. But when will I GET it?

I woke this morning with a sense of profound gratitude. That's a start.

Whooping Cough Saga

This week, which I can easily say has been one of the NOT happiest of my life, is a lesson: do not ever, ever, ever let your child be without medical insurance!

In some short-sighted belief that people must do without when they are young and just out of college, we let Amalia's medical coverage lapse. She had a job at a Jewish community center for awhile when she moved to LA, but then was lucky enough to get a job at Starbucks, which is an employer that is great in the benefits it offers. (And actually, in the time that Amalia has been sick, her boss at Starbucks has been great in flexibility and understanding as well.)

BUT, the upshot is that until Sept. 1, Amalia is not covered by medical insurance. And that has only added and multiplied to the nightmare of this week...

Last week, Amalia was diagnosed with whooping cough. She was at urgent care over on Ventura Blvd. A really nice doctor there prescribed antibiotics, which cost $87. After four days, she still was not better. She talked to the nice doctor and he asked her to come back in. He sent her to the hospital for tests. They admitted her, with whooping cough and pneumonia. After just 24 hours on intraveneous antibiotics, she was much, much better. Jordan had to guarantee $5,000 over the phone, and the bill might end up being twice that.

I arrived in LA Tuesday night. I had to come. When I arrived, she was just getting released from the hospital. The nurses there told her to make a follow-up appointment with the woman doctor who had seen her in the hospital for all of two minutes. That woman doctor prescribed some more antibiotics. Amalia called and made the follow-up appt.

When we arrived at the woman doctor's office this afternoon, the doctor's nurse said that the doctor would not see her, because Amalia does not have insurance. She also said that the doctor said that she did not need to have a follow-up appt. I was saying "I have cash. I will pay for this appt." but that was to no avail. The doctor's nurse said that Amalia should not go back to work until all the medicine is gone. Amalia said "Oh, I thought I would be able to go back to work on Monday." So the doctor's nurse did a note for Amalia to give to work, saying that she could come back to work Monday.

We walked to Tarzana Med Center next door to pick up Amalia's lab results, because she does not have a doctor to send them to. But we don't know what they mean. It looks like she is OK, but we're not sure.

So, I am at Amalia's house. It is Thursday night. She is still weak and tired. She called to reschedule an acting showcase that she was supposed to do tonight, because she is not in shape to do it. I am supposed to fly home Saturday afternoon. We are going to the urgent care center tomorrow morning so that we can try to have Amalia see the nice guy doctor. We ASSUME that she is no longer contagious, because she has been on antibiotics for a week and because they told her, as she left the hospital, that she didn't have to wear a mask anymore. We don't know how she should expect to feel. We don't know if she should or shouldn't go back to work Monday.

So, I made vegetable soup for her and got yogurts, which are good to eat when one has been on antibiotics. And I am just wondering what else I can do. I guess I feel that I just want some ANSWERS before I leave. I cannot stand to call and hear her sounding weak and out of it (although that was in part due to being on codeine cough medicine last week). And she is no longer whooping, at least.

So I am one bummed-out mama tonight. I'm so glad that I came out, because, as one friend said "Sometimes you just need your mother." But I wish there were more I could do.

Comforting veggie soup

This is the soup I made for Amalia today. My mom made a beef version, but I make it with boneless chicken or turkey. And it's still filling, comforting, easy and delicious!

Must have:

One jar spaghetti sauce
One cabbage (or better yet, a package of already-shredded cole slaw mix)
One bag mixed vegetables
One package boneless chicken or turkey

Optional:
Salt
Garlic powder
Parsley
Whatever veggies you have sitting around in the fridge and want to use up

Put all ingredients in a big soup pot, half-filled with water.
Cook for a couple of hours.
Take out the meat, shred with two forks, put meat back in.

Of course, this can also be done with a crock pot.

Serve with bread, cheese, salad....or just by itself!

Lynne's chocolate cake!

The easiest cake you could ever possibly make...
also known as...
A Lifesaver for Busy Parents...
also known as...
Lynne’s chocolate cake!


-- Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, then put all ingredients into one big bowl (preferably one that you can throw in the dishwasher).
-- Mix it up (preferably with an electric mixer).
-- Pour into a greased and floured pan, about half full.
-- Bake for 30 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.
-- After the cake has cooled, you can frost it or sprinkle it with confectioner’s sugar if you want, but plain is good, too!

2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
3 tablespoons cocoa
1 cup mayonnaise (or Miracle Whip)
1 1/4 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 teaspoon vanilla

NOTE: From sad experience, I have learned NOT to use fat-free or low-fat mayo in making this recipe. Just eat less and enjoy the real thing! ALSO, you know how kids usually can’t lick the bowl because of raw eggs? Well, since this cake is made with mayo instead of eggs, they CAN! (Or, you can…) This recipe is great for kids learning to cook and it was passed down to me by my mom, Pat Foster.

A warm summer night

Last night was just a night that reminded me of how good it is to live in Bloomington. I finished work at 6:45, (which was pretty good, considering that Rod -- my partner on the editorial pages - and Carol -- my officemate -- were both away). AND I even took time to have lunch with Shirley, which was great, of course.

Anyway, I buzzed across the street and got a sandwich, then up to Third Street Park, where Lee's band, O2R, was to play at 7. I took the folding rocking chair out of the wayback, and went to sit with friends and listen to music. Jordie and Abby were already there, and they moved down to the front to sit with me. Then, as I was WISHING I had the nerve to get up and just start dancing, there were Wendy and Ed Bernstein and Carol Polsgrove, coming to the front to dance in the grass just in front of the stage....and then, we all did! One thing I loved to watch was how Jordie jumped up to dance with Jessie Van Buskirk -- both having a great time. And Bonnie dancing with her little granddaughter, Clara. It felt so, so good to dance...the warm summer night, the smells, the women in pretty, floaty dresses, laughing....yes, very good!

Lee's guitar-playing was great -- he did one solo that was amazing! And Zain, my old friend from United Way days -- she's now at Monroe Bank -- was incredibly fun to watch singing.

I saw a woman who I knew was an old friend of my friend Sandy, so I introduced myself and told her that Sandy is coming for Lotus Festival, for a week! And two other women, who I've known for years, said "I know Sandy! She used to be with Ken Williams!" And, of course that's right -- I remember him the far, far distant past!

Heather and Shane, Sara Irvine and Donna had to move their blanket way back in the park -- the music scared baby Elijah.

I told Fred that I've thought of a wonderful woman with whom to FIX HIM UP! And he likes the idea! (Well, actually, the other night, he ASKED me if I knew any good women for him!)

After the concert was over, Abby and I were to head off to the westside Showplace to see Must Love Dogs, and Kelsey came with us.

What a wonderful evening....Here's the review of Must Love Dogs that I posted on the Herald-Times web site, under the Armchair Critic section:

***********************************
We laughed the whole way through

So what if the reviews say "No?" My friend and I (mid-40s and 51 years old, both women) laughed continuously. The meddling , loving, family? The beautiful, wonderful woman who can't get a date? Divorced men who only want younger women? The awkward fumbling toward some kind of understanding? Imperfect, puzzling relationships? Well, these situations may be cliched, but that's because they are all true to life. The relationships are wonderful, the humanity touching. And the one-liners are great! We thought it was even better than "You've Got Mail," which was charming. If you want to laugh, if you've been divorced or have friends who are, if you have fumbled with love (who hasn't?), you will enjoy this movie.

(And to top it off, Diane Lane's movie house is the Craftsman of my dreams -- I could see it again just for the house!)
***********************************

Actually, my friend said "I can't believe that crap like "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" got good reviews, and this didn't!"

We're both just softies, I guess!

Good night.

Some bat mitzvah photos

Abby's bat mitzvah, June 11, a golden day in my memory. Unfortunately, not allowed to do photos or video during the ceremony, but here are some from the party that night -- also a really fun memory. Israeli dancing first, followed by a wonderful DJ.Kids jumping into the pool to cool off, then back to the dance floor...Also, a photo of Abby, Amalia and my mom Pat, at the luncheon after the bat mitzvah.

This is me

Since I have just figured out how to post pictures, I'll put a recent headshot of myself online....taken by my friend Jeremy Hogan from the H-T (newspaper where I work), when I was desperate for a decent headshot of myself to post on the wall at my synagogue (since I have joined the board there). I just cannot bring myself to do a big, wide smile for the camera, but I can live with this one! And the other is a shot I like, taken by Abby at the zoo in June, when I took her and some of her friends on a visit...I was taking a rest with some cold water and the Sunday NY Times, just mellowing out and delighting in the fact that the girls were old enough to go do one of the rides, while I just sat....

I could do better

I'm feeling low this week, and not just because it was pretty demanding at work...my friend Marilyn Breiter died a week ago, at 55, of breast cancer. And so attending the funeral of someone who was my contemporary and my friend -- well, that is awful enough. But to add to it, I have a nagging feeling that I could have been a better friend.

I know so many people who manage to work, raise children, etc. -- and still manage to do kind things.

I think that I let myself get overwhelmed with logistics, and then sometimes fail to do something that I could easily do, or fail to even see that somethng is in front of me, needing to be done.

For example. Marilyn had emailed me that she intended to come to Abby's bat mitzvah. It was a busy day for me, but if I were more the kind of person that I WANT to be, I would have noticed that Marilyn was not there. I could so easily have taken some of that glorious food of Cynthia's over to Marilyn and Don's house, only five minutes from Beth Shalom. I could have taken one of the bat mitzvah booklets, and a couple of those COEXIST bracelets that we gave out as favors. But, I did not notice. And I did nothing.

Even after our return from California, when Madi emailed around, asking for volunteers to help out with meals for Marilyn and Don, I let myself think "Oh, I'm so busy. And I'm not such a great cook. I can't think of what to make." And I did nothing.

A couple days ago, my friend Marci, a reporter at the HT, brought me flowers because she knew I'd had a stressful week. She's plenty busy, and yet she is the kind of friend who can take time to make a kind gesture. Who THINKS of doing the kind gesture.

I hope that at least this experience leads me to be more that kind of person.

Spinning

Photo of Abby studying with Jordie (for her upcoming bat mitzvah)

My head is what's spinning. Spent this weekend working on Abby's bat mitzvah booklet. And the trip to California. And, hopefully, Jordie and I will still have time for a money talk and a future housing talk tonight (he promised me to talk about housing, and I promised him to talk about money.)

I completely blew my checking account getting tickets for our whole family to see Bill Clinton speak at an Indianapolis synagogue in June (plus, I got a couple of extra tickets as a gift for some very dear friends -- one of whom is having her 80th birthday this month). It was just one of those decisions that had to be made. And it's worth it. But meanwhile, I am so broke!

And, I feel very strongly that I want to move into town within the next three to four years. At the max. I am sick of driving, driving, driving....and thinking it's too much trouble to do something because of driving. Or, not being worth coming home in between things because of driving.

WALKING is what I need to do. And living near the Y.

And we really need to talk. For instance, Jordie says that he very, very much wants to have a garden and work in it. Well, living in a treed lot, you can't. But can Jordie bring himself to give up the forest?

I think if we lived in town, we could work it out to have one car. And that would be great. And I could walk to work.

And, we could design a house (or pick house plans) to suit some of our goals: better kitchen flow (we both love to have people over) for parties. Better energy efficiency. Better floors (wood and tile, not carpet). Better laundry (by the bedrooms, not the garage).

I want to live in that new addition, Renwick. I want to walk to the movies. I want to walk to work. I want to stroll to the little parks.

Well, I can dream.

However, the good parts of this weekend....Jordie made brunch BOTH days, and that was great. He did it Saturday because Abby's friends were over and he had promised pancakes a la mode. (Then, when the girls were practicing the song they plan to sing at Abby's bat mitzvah, it was so beaufiful I got teary-eyed). And then, while I was sitting in my pajamas, listening to them, Adam called and said he would be home soon with his girlfriend, Julia, to drop off his stuff before he drove with her to Louisville. Jordie jumped in the shower right away, and I got dressed. We helped unload Adam's stuff, and then Jordie made more pancakes and eggs for them. And meeting Julia for the first time -- it was great! She is beautiful. Easy to talk to. She has her own style of dressing, and it is charming. I loved her hat. And, although I had to think before every sentence "Will this embarrass Adam?" it was fine. Adam didn't even mind that I showed Julia some of our Europe pictures. And later, when I said to him "DId we totally humiliate you, honey?" he replied "It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been." And that's all a mom can ask for!

Also, Jordie went out and got a beautiful big geranium for my mom. She drove down. We had a nice time hanging out. Adam even gracioiusly showed Mom a photo of him and Julia from the Internet somewhere. Jordie made brunch again, and it was just an easy and fun day.

It only got grouchy when we started working on the CA trip. Too many options. Too many decisiions. And too much pressure to get it done.

The sun is beautiful. I'm going to sit out on the front porch and breathe slowly before I get back to the tasks at hand.

The Yellow String

I just have to say that it's really strange.

Last fall, during the High Holy Days, my friend Sue Swartz said, during one of our Jewish Renewal services, that people could take a piece of the yellow string she offered, tie them around our wrists, and use it to help in our resolve to let go of whatever we needed to let go of....that's a recurring theme during the High Holy Days, which is more of a spiritual new year time....Well, I thought "I will wear this to help me remember that I CAN break old patterns and let go of them...."

And the strange thing is -- that string, now, in April, is STILL on my wrist. I certainly haven't done anything to protect it. It simply refuses to fall apart or fall off.

In a way, it's like the voice of God, saying "Lynne, you really CAN let go of those old patterns!"

Buy a beautiful bracelet and support respect and tolerance and diversity!

PICT0180
Originally uploaded by Lynne Foster Shifriss.

COEXIST!

What a great message these stretchy bracelets send! We love them. We designed them and had them made, and we're giving some as favors for Abby's bat mitzvah in June. The rest, we're selling and giving the profits to charity. (The "c" is the Muslim crescent and star, the "o" a yin-yang symbol, the "e" is "e=mc2" for Einstein's theory of relativity, the "x" is the Jewish Star of David, and the "t" is the Christian cross.)

Send $3.00 and a self-addressed stamped envelope to COEXIST BRACELETS, 4420 N. Benton Court, Bloomington, IN 47408-9501 and we'll mail one to you!

Don't hesitate!

For the last few days, watching the sad soap opera of Terri Schiavo's last days on tv, I've been thinking so much about the death of my dad. Though Daddy and I were of different faiths, I totally admired, no -- revered -- the way that he faced his oncoming death. He had no doubt whatsoever that he would be in God's loving presence. We talked about how maybe, somehow, he would see his father (who died when he was four) and his beloved brother Wayne (who died at 19, in front of my dad, when a small plane crashed on their farm). One day, we went up to visit and Dad distributed some nice bags and cameras to my family. There was no reason to deny it -- he knew he was going. And he handled it so well. And so did we, I think.

Part of the goodness of those last days was Pastor Dave. My parents' minister at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in Greenwood, he has a big heart and a huge amount of tolerence and openness. When we gathered one night around Dad's bed, Pastor Dave prayed and only read from Psalms -- nothing from the New Testament. Later, Mom told me that he had not wanted to hurt our feelings, knowing that we were Jewish. I was astounded at his generosity of spirit.

And those days were sad, they were hard, but they were also so good, because as a family, we really came together. We shared the time of letting-go together.

Everywhere, families face death, all the time. Of course, it is especially sad when a young person dies. But I just can't help but wonder what led that poor family of Terri Shiavo to be so blind? If they could have accepted that she was never going to recover, and shared the grief, it would have been so much better.

I've always felt that it is wrong and selfish to pray FOR something. The only real prayer, I think, is "Thy will be done." Or maybe "Give me the wisdom to see what is right, or the strength to deal with it." To be so deep in denial of Terri Shiavo's condition -- and all those right-wingers proclaiming and grandstanding -- is, to me, a denial of faith.

Now, we Jews don't claim to know what happens after death. We do think there is some kind of afterlife, but we just don't define it, I think.

But I know that whatever happens, I will have learned some lessons from this life and I will return to God's loving embrace.

I think, instead of paying thousands of dollars a month to keep me alive artificially, you should let me go and give the money to people who are hungry, or to something worthwhile. Don't waste it because of some obsessive feeling that the doctors must do everything in their powers to thwart fate. I'll know that you love me enough to be strong for me. PULL THE PLUG!

My worst fault

So. The last couple of days I've been STEAMING MAD, HURT, HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING...and for what? Jordie took Abby away for a couple of days -- a spring break trip, a reward for working really, really hard getting her bedroom cleaned out and reassembled to facilitate installing the new carpet.

Jordie and I had a recent conversation about how he only likes to get calls on his cell in an emergency, and how he often has it turned off.

Of course, I do get calls from him sometimes -- calls rearranging an appointment, wondering where I am, etc. Calls that make life a little bit more convenient.

So I already had an agenda going.

Jordie and Abby get ready to leave Wednesday, and he casually mentioned "We may go to Red River Gorge instead of the Shawnee National Forest." I say "Let me know."

Later that day there was a glitch about money being tranferred into Adam's account for a car repair, and I called Abby's cell phone and was grouchy with them about having to work out that glitch.

That night, when I tried to call both Jordie and Abby's cell phones, they both immediately went to voice mail.

Tried again. Voice mail.

Tried again. Voice mail.

Tried Thursday morning. Voice mail.

Then I got mad.

I ASSUMED that Jordie had said "Turn these damned cell phones off."

I ASSUMED that he cared nothing about whether things were OK at home.

I ASSUMED that he cared nothing about whether I was mad.

I'm walking the dog last night, actually muttering about THAT HUSBAND and HOW COULD HE and HE'D BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON. Even had tears in my eyes. How could he not care?

I left Jordie a message on his phone, a really angry message about what if an emergency happened? And how I don't even know if they're in Illinois or Kentucky?

I talked to Malinda, during our morning walk at the Y. "What if the phones don't work because the car is at the bottom of a lake?"

As I sat drinking coffee and eating a cheese danish at Panera (my life is awful and my husband won't turn on his cell phone and why should i be good -- i deserve that danish!) my cell phone rang. It was Abby.

They were at Red River Gorge. And...the phones didn't work in that area. And they were calling to tell me about the wonderful time they had down there.

Just Wednesday, as I was buying a birthday present for my friend Vicki at Borders, I spotted a little book called The Four Agreements, by a shaman and teacher out west.

One of the Four Agreements (which people should make with themselves, I gather) is to NOT MAKE ASSUMPTIONS.

I need to read that little book very carefully! Because jumping to conclusions is, I feel, my worst fault. I can concoct a whole story so quickly, and convince myself that it is the truth. This one little incident illustrates so well how unhappy I can become, based on a complete fantasy.

Now, I'm going to buy some ice cream to take home and have waiting for my two adventurous travelers, and make a really good dinner for them.

Shabbat shalom.

Being here and now

If I stay up just a few more minutes, I may be a little more tired in the morning, but I WILL have the delight-quotient of watching Jon Stewart's opening on The Daily Show. The delight outweighs the tiredness.

Tonight while Abby was having her Torah tutoring with Amy, Jordie and I went to the new Bakehouse and sat with our hot drinks in front of the fire, talking and planning about Abby's bat mitzvah.

Now THAT was a delightful time -- perhaps all these years we should have been a little better at actually scheduling time with each other. It's so good to be doing it now.

The windchimes on the porch are ringing so that I can hear them even here in the back of the house. A windy night, getting colder, but Sadie is curled up by my feet contentedly. Feels good to have her for company.

I thought, earlier, while I was walking Sadie, that dogs really do know how to live in the moment....how to be really awake to the pleasures in front of them. For Sadie, a leaf blowing across the street is a thrill: "It's a leaf! Got to get it!" I can hear her thinking. She trots out, tail up and wagging, each time we go for a walk. I think that my walks with her are times when I live more in the moment, too. Listening to the trees creak in the wind tonight, breathing slowly, letting Sadie sniff every little thing. Feeling awake about the pleasure of taking a walk.

Yesterday while I was driving to mom's house in Greenwood, I had a moment on 135 that really woke me up. A woman in a minivan was passing -- in my lane -- coming head on for me. I slowed way ahead of time, but she kept coming...I had to slam on my brakes and I was about one second from jerking the wheel to the right and driving through a wire fence to escape a crash. She pulled over. Thank God.

But it did make me think what a truly delightful life I have!

Thank God for a normal day

Called Mom at 7:30 a.m. to make sure she was OK, after spending a couple of worried early-morning hours. She didn't pick up, so I called the front desk of her retirement apartments and the woman said "Oh, she's looking really dressy, so I imagine she's headed for church after breakfast!" REALLY nice to be able to call that front desk!

I think it was Grandma Kruse who used to say something about how lucky we are to have just NORMAL days, and I absolutely did not understand that until the last few years.

Thank heavens everything was OK with Mom, and that she'll give her doctor a call on Monday.

Grateful tonight, too, for the wonderful, warm gathering at Beth Shalom just now....a 40th anniversary dinner for the congregation. Great deli food, and warm and funny speeches from John Applegate, our president, and Rabbi Mira. So many people there that I like so much. Esther Gaber, on Jordie's urging, told some good stories about the early days. I felt so happy, with Jordie having a good time talking to everybody else at our table, and Abby comfortably next to Ruth Goldstein, a warm and generous friend from even before I actually became a Jew (my first Passover dinner ever was at her and Bob's house, the year I moved in with Jordie).

Worrying

Sunday morning, 5:45 a.m.

Last night I called Mom to say goodnight. She was already in bed. She said she'd had a bad time with her blood pressure in the afternoon, but had taken an extra blood pressure pill and felt better. Later, Lee called and said that the person on duty at the desk at mom's retirement apartment complex had called Lee to tell her about the high blood pressure. Lee had a headache and so I called the desk back. The woman told me that Mom's blood pressure had been 223/114 at one point. I just feel so helpless. So, now I'm awake and worrying and I'll call Mom at maybe 7:45 to make sure she's OK.But what can we do, since she will continue to smoke, even though she has trouble breathing and blood pressure trouble.

It occurred to me that maybe my eating cookies and not going to the Y lately is just as selfish and short-sighted as Mom's refusal to stop smoking.

Sunny Saturday

Feeling better about the cat. Two reasons: Jordie called and talked to Michelle, mom of adopting cat family. She told him stories about how the little boys were playing with the cat, how one son was thrilled because cat slept in his bed, etc. Also, told my anxieties to buddy Janice at work, whose mate is a vet, and who is a real animal-lover, and who I respect a lot...and she said "Get over it. Do you know how many cats are killed at the shelter every month?" So at that moment I felt I could move on emotionally from it. The cat needed to be out of here, and now she is in a home where they wanted her and will take care of her.

This morning I woke early, took Sadie for a walk, and decided to get over to the Y. But, I was starving,, so had coffee and a scone at the Encore Cafe first. While sitting there, a very familiar song by Glenn Miller came on and tears came to my eyes, thinking of Daddy dancing with Mom in our living room, many years ago.

Walked and walked around the outdoor track at the Y, felt great.

On the way home, drove around a neighborhood also done by Wininger/Stolberg to see what kind of fences there are, how the houses looked.

I'm really thinking a lot about Jordie and I possibily moving into town in the next few years, and this new development is the place that makes sense to me. www.renwickbloomington.com is the website.

It's "new urbanism" and I really like the sound of it.

Goals a move like that would accomplish:

--- Facilitate getting to the Y, walking to work, taking bus to work, taking bike to work, instead of having to drive everyplace
--- Possibly doing with one car shared between Jordie and me
--- Neighborhood with porches
--- Smaller, but better-designed house possible
--- Treed lots, closeness to movies, grocery store, etc.
--- Very close to several friends' houses, facilitate even more walking with friends

Problems:

--- Jordie not by woods for hikes
--- Would not want Abby to switch high schools (though good possibility she could stay at North)
--- School designation for Renwick development has not yet been determined

Feeling awful about the cat

I gave away one of our cats today. I feel as if my heart has turned to stone. Jordan had been asking me to for months. It was a total mistake for me to bring the cat home without talking to anyone in my family first.

I put an ad in the paper, and the people who called first got lost on the way to our house. So I drove, with Abby, over to theirs. And they were perfectly nice. They were pleasant and friendly. It's just that there were cigarette butts in ashtrays at their house, and it just was...well, I thought, are they going to take good care?

But the only way I would have felt good is if it had been some elderly lady who would treat Lila like a queen.

I mean, what could I say in an ad: "Must be non-smoker, have undergraduate degree, pass credit check."

Well, I didn't and now it's done.

Our house will be quieter and Jordie will feel better. And I won't have to worry about the cat being up on the counter (our other two don't do that) and won't have to worry about the cat messing up the oriental sand garden that Jordan made in our dining room.

I did tell them that if it didn't work out, they could always reach me at my newspaper office, and that I would find the cat another home if necessary.

But I feel just awful. I'm going to drink some wine and try to sleep.

Werewolves of London

OK. Werewolves of Bloomington!

Let me explain: Remember that old song "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon? I love that song. And when Warren Zevon knew that he was going to die from cancer, he was visiting on the David Letterman Show. And Dave asked him something like "So, Warren, you have any words of wisdom?" And Zevon said "Enjoy every sandwich."

In my innermost self, I know that enjoying every moment of life would be a great thing. And appreciating everything good in my life. So why, last night, did I find myself arguing furiously (in hissing whispers, so Abby wouldn't be disturbed while doing her homework) with Jordie over what to do about the living room floor?

It was the moon.

It was full.

Actually, TODAY may be the full moon, but it was close enough.

I always have a fight at the time of the full moon. I find myself arguing and look outside and there it is, full.

That may be crazy, but it's true.

And why argue over the floor?

I want to have a beautiful, clean wooden floor put in to replace the at-least-15-years-old carpet in there. Jordie thinks he may not want to do it, since I'm talking about moving into town in the next few years. But whether we do or don't move, the floor would be a really good thing for our house, and (my argument) would increase the price we would get for the house eventually when we do sell.

I'm going to keep howling till I get that floor!

Sleazy Paris and Robert Novak

Seriously, I cannot figure out why this woman is a celebrity. Her show is mind-bendingly stupid and insulting (and I have ONLY seen it when one of my kids turned it on) and it seems that she is mainly famous for being famous. Oh, that and having her old boyfriend sell a sex video of them together. Whatever happened to shame? And now ... what a scandal ... her electronic organizer has been hacked into and all the private emails and phone numbers posted on the net. The thing is...so what if somebody got a famous person's phone number? What kind of a loser would call up some famous person they didn't even know? Show how much you admire somebody by making his/her life miserable?

And on the NEWS IS BIZARRE theme....I'm trying to figure out what to do to find out why Robert Novak is not included in the court case where Judith Miller and Matthew Cooper are being prosecuted for not revealing their source on the Valerie Plame story. And Novak is the ONLY one of the three who actually published the information revealing Plame's identity and that she was a CIA agent.

I'm supportive of journalists who won't reveal their sources, but in the case of Novak...isn't it a felony to "out" a CIA agent and didn't he do that with his column? SO WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON THERE!

There's an interesting little article on the "Nieman Watchdog -- Questions the press should ask" Web site. (Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard University). A law professor asks some good questions. Here's the url for the site:

http://niemanwatchdog.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=ask_this.view&askthisid=0094&forumaction=post

On the domestic front, we're having new carpet put down in our family room and Abby's room, which fills my heart with joy. Now if we can only do the living room, whether wood floor or carpet, then I won't be ashamed for people to see the house!

Abby has been painting all evening, copying a little photograph of a scene from when we were in Maine. Her painting absolutely blows me away -- it is that good. It's so much fun to watch the kids grow up and do things that I never even dreamed of doing.

My mom told me yesterday that she agreed with a little joke I tell sometimes....I always would tell Oved that our three children are a genetic miracle...two average-looking parents produce three beautiful children!

Actually not feeling too great, so I'm getting some tea and hoping that helps. I've been having chills all night tonight and just feeling generally miserable physically.

Shalom, Lynne

No political opinions here!

Seriously, of course I HAVE political opinions, but I work in the newsroom of The Herald-TImes here in Bloomington, Indiana. It's newsroom policy for employees NOT to go around giving out their personal political views, because that could compromise open communication with all segments of the population....I respect that and if you choose to comment on this blog, I hope that you respect that, too.

Thanks!

Approaching Abby's bat mitzvah

I picked Abby up from her Torah tutoring session today. If Amy, Abby's tutor, weren't such an incredibly kind person, I would be embarrassed that I started to cry when I listened to Abby finish her reading. I said "If only your Saba and Sapta had lived long enough to hear you do this...." and Amy said "They will." And somehow, I do believe that they will know.

Abby's bat mitzvah is not until June 11, and Amy says Abby is doing really well with the cantillation and the chanting....not that I would know! I'm just the driver to the lessons!

This time of life, approaching Abby's -- the last of our kids -- bat mitzvah is emotionally loaded for me, and not in a bad way. In a good way! These big occasions are a chance to look back.

I remember, all the time, Amalia's bat mitzvah, back when we didn't yet belong to synagogue. Three huge tents covered our front yard. So many friends and family sat through the hot morning -- the air was shimmering with heat and joy. When we look at the videotape, there are my dad, Jordie's mom and dad, Daniel's mom Sylvia -- all gone now. A man who used to work at Harmony School -- I've forgotten his name -- loaned me a little Macintosh computer so I could do the book for the ceremony at home.

At Adam's bar mitzvah, we had a telephone on the bima, and Jordie's mom and dad dressed up in their best to sit at the dining room table in New Jersey and listen to the whole service. (Jordie had earlier flown to New Jersey with Adam so that Adam could do his Torah reading for Shoshana and Oved. Shoshana was already sick enough that she could not travel.)

At Amalia's bat mitzvah, none of my non-Jewish relatives, except of course my parents and my sister and her family, came to the service. We realized that we had not really communicated that a bat mitzvah is as important as a wedding in Jewish life.

So when Adam's bar mitzvah came around, Aunt Matilda and Uncle Ray, along with my mom and dad, not only came to the service, but showed up EARLY to see what they could do to help. That memory is especially sweet now that my dad and Uncle Ray are gone. And my sister making a bunch of food for after the service, and her husband Eric running errands for us that afternoon...

I am so grateful, now that the kids are grown, that we gave them the gift of a Jewish community, Jewish ritual, and the gift of wonderful occasions with so many people helping, and being glad for them. I'm grateful for all the times lately when I hear Jordie teaching Abby about Judaism and so much else.

So these months, approaching Abby's bat mitzvah, are like wrapping myself in a tallit made of memories.

Thank you, God, for giving me life and sustaining me and letting me live until this time.

A story about Lynne

This is a profile I wrote about myself for my synagogue bulletin.

It’s very early Sunday morning as I sit at my desk, listening to the hummingbirds outside, already hovering around the feeder on our porch a few feet away. I have already been outside to admire my red geraniums and see if the deer have feasted on any flowers during the night -- and to sit in our hammock and think. I realized, just yesterday, that I had not written a profile for the upcoming Beth Shalom bulletin, and as Libby Katz Hogan reminded me, it would be due Monday. If my husband or children were awake, perhaps one of them would be the victim, er, subject, of this profile, but it will have to be me.

If I weren’t such a last-minute kind of person, I wouldn’t be so comfortable working in a newsroom, where the name of the game is producing under pressure. But more about that later.

I grew up on the south side of Indianapolis, and have one sister, Lee. My parents, Bob and Pat, were high school graduates, but there was never a question, as far back as I can remember, but that my sister and I would be attending college.

My dad’s parents had dreamed, back in the ’20s, of their son and daughters going to college, and bought a farm close enough to Franklin College to bike there. But those plans were put aside when my dad’s father died suddenly in 1931, leaving a widow with a farm and children aged six weeks to 14. My dad dreamed of being a pilot and watched his older brothers go off to World War II, but his eyesight was not adequate. Though he served in the Air Force, he came back to Indiana and after marrying my mom, worked in Indianapolis for many years as a manager for the Coffman brothers out of South Bend. Their Indianapolis properties included six parking lots and a garage downtown.

My mom, Pat, worked for L.S. Ayres for several years before her good buddy there, Matilda, invited her to a baseball game in her hometown, Franklin. My dad met mom that evening (he was playing on a VFW team, as he had served in the Air Force in Alaska, not then a state) and quickly took home the other girl who was his date.

My parents were Lutherans, though we did not go to church much as I was growing up (my parents later found much comfort and community, especially in my dad’s last months, with a warm, open-minded Lutheran church in Greenwood.)

As a child, I read a series of books by Sydney Taylor, called All-of-a-Kind Family. They were about a Jewish family on the Lower East Side in the early 1900s. I was captivated by them, and by the Jewish rituals I learned about.

As I grew up, I searched for the right “spiritual home.” I was not impressed by the Christian churches I saw. My best friend in high school went to a church where the members were in a quandary about how to handle a black family who had started coming. Their solution was to let them attend, but not invite them to be members. In college, I tried out Quaker meeting and Episcopalianism. I liked the people at church in Bloomington very much, but after I graduated and moved home to Indianapolis, found the people at my Indianapolis church very much into how much money people made and who they knew....and, I took an adult education class and just didn’t get it. I really wanted ritual and a spiritual community, but I just didn’t feel comfortable with Christian beliefs. They did not make sense to me, inside.

In my mid-20s, I had moved back to Bloomington to live and I met the director of Harmony School at an anti-nuclear protest. I mentioned that I was looking for a new job and he said that he had a teacher who was going to run a camp that summer and needed to hire people. I called Jordan Shifriss to set up an interview. It took him about two minutes before he told me that I was totally unqualified to teach kids art at his camp. (I tried to persaude him that I was a nice person and that I could “wing it,” but he didn’t buy that.) Howver, some time down the road, he did marry me.

Jordan was Jewish, but his primary spiritual focus at the time was living in an ashram. As many young people did at that time, Jordan found a teacher, Rudi, and studied and lived in his ashram in upstate New York. After Rudi’s death, Jordan moved to Indaina to live in the ashram in Bloomington. A good friend of mine had begun to attend meditation classes at the ashram, and found them very beneficial. I decided to try it out, and eventually moved into the ashram to live with Jordan. There were several Jews in the ashram, and there did not seem to be any conflict with practicing Jewish ritual and doing the meditation. Potato pancakes were served at Chanukah time, and we invited friends from the ashram to share Jewish rituals with us.

At the time, we had good friends, the Olenicks, whose home was kind of a Jewish renewal center here in Bloomington. Reb Zalman Schacter came to stay at their home several times and we celebrated wonderful Shabbat evenings there, with lots of singing and joy. I asked Reb Zalman whether I should convert officially, and of course he said “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” And I thought inside “I’ll decide if I have to or not, and I think I have to!” Later I learned that his response was a traditional Jewish one, and he was encouraging and kind to me. Reb Zalman had been a friend of Rudi’s, the meditation teacher, and he came to visit the ashram and say kaddish for Rudi. (The ashram, which did lots of multi-cultural programming back then, also sponsored a Bloomington appearance of Reb Schlomo Carlebach.) But when we thought that we would have a wedding ceremony that included both our meditation teacher and Reb Zalman, our families were very uncomfortable with the idea. We ended up having a wedding ceremony one morning performed by our meditation teacher, and a big Jewish ceremony later that day in Brown County State Park, which was attended by most of the ashram and most of Harmony School.

We moved to Boston with the ashram, and Jordan got his master’s in education down the street at Harvard, while I got used to being the mom of small Amalia. Later, he taught for several years at The Park School in Brookline and I was very happy working for three geology professors at MIT. (When I interviewed with my future supervisor at MIT, Judith Stein, and we discovered that we were both Jewish feminists and had both graduated from IU-Bloomington, we decided it was meant to be.)

Over the years, I had another child, Adam, and Jordan and I realized that in Boston, we would never be able to own a home. We would emphatically never be able to own a home in Brookline anywhere near where Jordan worked. And we looked at each other one day and said “Let’s get out of here!” As the demands of daily life had increased with becoming parents, I had stopped attending class at the ashram. I had also come to feel that, while I loved being part of a community, that the ashram was not really meant for families. We sublet our Watertown apartment for the summer and took our tent and the kids and traveled to several areas to consider moving there. Jordan really wanted Chapel Hill, N.C., and I really wanted Colorado. As we traveled back home, we stopped in Bloomington to stay with our good friends Daniel and Donna Baron. As we sat in their home, surrounded by friends, we realized that Bloomington had everything we were looking for as a place to raise our family. And so we returned, and Jordan taught at Harmony School for many years (he now works doing conflict resolution classes).

We had another daughter, Abby, and eventually I came to work at The Herald-Times in 1995. In 2004 I was promoted to being assistant to the editor. My favorite part of the job is paginating the editorial pages. “Paginating” means that I take the material that Bob Zaltsberg, the editor, has chosen for the next day’s editorial page, and use a program called Quark to put it on the page and make it fit (and there are lots of fun little tricks to accomplish that).

In the years before we were members of Beth Shalom, I thought that perhaps it would be a place where we might not be comfortable. I thought it might be a place where I could not mention having lived in an ashram. I thought it might be a place where my lack of Jewish background might be embarrassing. (Someone had said to me, soon after I converted in 1981, that I would never really have to mention to anyone that I was a convert...and my reply was “Like that’s not totally obvious!”) And, I was worried that we might dress a little too casually or be a little too loose in our practice of Judaism to be accepted there. Needless to say, for anyone who knows Beth Shalom, it was totally unnecessary to worry.

As I looked around at our congregation while listening to Greg Stone do a beautiful job chanting Torah at his bar mitzvah yesterday, I thought how lucky my family is to have found such a warm home at Beth Shalom. I remembered standing in the kitchen and becoming friends while peeling hard-boiled eggs for Passover. I remember sitting in one of the evening classes that Rabbi Mira started and laughing and learning, and getting to know more friends. I thought of how easy it is to ask Rabbi Mira anything, and of some of the good advice I’ve gotten from her. I thought of how much I have learned from participating in the Renewal minyan, and how much I value having a Jewish community where respect and affection abound between those who practice in different styles. I remembered how so many people at Beth Shalom were really kind to me and my family when Jordan’s mom died in 2000, and then my dad died in 2001 (may their memories be for a blessing.) And I looked at some of the women with whom I have shared being part of the Chevra Kadisha, and thought how deeply I value their teaching, their understanding, and sharing such a profoundly moving experience with them.

I have thought many times that my past spiritual searching had kind of a pastel feel to it, with no depth or excitement, a bland feeling. And I thought again yesterday, as I looked around our overflowing sanctuary, that Beth Shalom, and Judaism itself, feels to me like a beautiful homemade quilt, one full of colors like deep purple and blue and red and gold, one that I can wrap myself in and feel comforted and totally at home.

It's a cat's life

Anyone out there in cyberspace with an idea....our big, white, adorable cat Motek is a hunter and a wanderer. The neighbor is mad, now, because Motek (that means "sweetie" in Hebrew) climbed on top of the neighbor's car and left scratches. Of course, legally, the neighbor is RIGHT. So, for a week we've been keeping this cat totally inside. (And I know that many people do this routinely with their cats, but we DO live in a neighborhood where the smallest wooded lot is two acres and so we have just always figured the cats could wander....)

MY POINT OF VIEW: If we hadn't adopted this cat, he would probably be dead and so whatever life he has with us, even if he's inside a house and can't fulfill his kitty fantasies and leave little dead creatures on our porch for us to admire...well, that's just the WAY IT IS.

MY HUSBAND'S VIEW: We need to spend a lot of time worrying about Motek's lack of fulfillment. This has led to some odd behavior, like my husband insisting that the cat be taken outside on a LEASH.

At this moment, my daughter and her friend are outside our house, holding on to the end of the leash, while the cat has crawled under the porch and won't come out, of course!

I'm so glad I'm not at home to deal with this, because I would be laughing hysterically and being no help at all!

Just blame me

Why IS it....at work I get along fine with people, some of whom are not even remotely connected to me philosophically or by shared affection or shared memories....but I laugh and talk and do what needs to be done and it's fine. It's not like there is never pressure, but there just does not seem to be the taking-it-personally, the pushing of buttons, the verbal jabbing where it hurts.

As there is at home sometimes. With no big reason. With some of the people I love so much.

It's almost as if I feel sometimes that I am more my real self when I am NOT at my home...or at least more the the self I want to be.

No wonder moms in the middle of their lives get fat -- I KNOW that sometimes I eat something after an upsetting encounter at home, I absolutely eat something with a feeling of "I deserve this!"

But right now I'm hiding out with my laptop and MSNBC! And a low-carb yogurt!

Here's my fantasy....

I chose this "harbor" template for a blog because it fits right in with my fantasy about it. In my mind, I'm hanging out on the deck of some fabulous cottage right on the beach. There's a selection of bottles of wine sitting just out of view. Shoes off. Girlfriends sitting around, no schedule, no duties, just looking out at the water and ..... thinking out loud.

In my exercise walks at the Y with my good friend Malinda, we frequently skip from one conversational topic to another, then loop back with another thought about the first one, throw out ideas, clear our minds. And that's what I'd like to do here. No topic too trivial or too heavy, no dissing for honest discussion and opinions. Or maybe, if nobody else posts, it'll just be me letting off steam!