The chickens are trembling in their coops...

It's been a tough few days out there for every one's favorite fowl.** You know, there must be a million ways to cook a chicken and personally, I'm suddenly having a craving for my favorite, apricot-walnut chicken cutlet. Wouldn't it be cute if some Rabbi somewhere pardoned a chicken, much like the annual presidential pardon of the turkey on Thanksgiving? And that would be so appropriate for the Jewish holiday season!

I've collected some scenes from around the web to show you what this ritual is like:










In my family, we just use money, and give it to some worthwhile charities.

May Yom Kippur be a meaningful day for us all, filled with forgiveness and love.

[**Some background: In the days leading up to Yom Kippur, the most solemn day of the Jewish calendar (in which Jews spend the day praying for atonement for their sins), it is customary to find a surrogate to "transfer" our sins over to. Many people use a chicken. Others give charity as a way to atone for their sins.]

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FYI, Haveil Havalim is up at Write Like She Talks. As always, a great round-up of what's going on around the Jewish Blogosphere.

Birthday

Today is Liat's birthday on the לועזי ["lohahzi"--secular] calendar. She is 15 years old, Thank G-d. We acknowledged the day, but since it is a fast day, we will celebrate her birthday (and Orli's because she was in camp for her big day) on Chol Hamoed Sukkot, her Hebrew birthday.

The phone has been ringing off the hook as Liat's friends from America keep calling her to say hello. And I distinctly heard Liat say that even though school was really, really hard, she really, really liked it.

And I am really, really hopeful that, with G-d's help, she will have a really, really good year.

Really, really.

Rosh Hashannah thoughts

I just got off the phone with my parents. It's hard to think I haven't seen them in over a year. I don't want to lead you all to believe that we have always had the warmest, closest relationship. In the past, I have had a great deal of anger inside of me, toward them, for things to painful to recount here. I think I've said this before, but some time ago I let that go. How could I blame them for doing the best they could, the best they knew how? We are all dealt certain cards in life and we just can't go on living in the past and wishing things were different. As I got older, I also realized that I am not the only one that grew up in a somewhat (maybe that's being kind) dysfunctional home. And, well, yes that makes me feel better (sometimes).

Of course I took my parents for granted back in the USA. If I wanted to see them, I did and if I didn't, well then...Here I have no choice. I just don't see them. Period. Sure I speak to them often on my Great American VOIP Line. But it's just not the same.

I say I speak to "them", but really it's my mom I speak to. She has always been the family communicator. My father is a very quiet man. And more often than not, I tell her to give him my love and he does the same.

Now they are old. My father is not well, and my mother is caring for him. She sounds tired when I speak to her. Tired in that resigned way. I did make sure to speak to my father today, the day before Rosh Hashannah. He has sounded resigned for a long time now. He has been having trouble with his legs and will not be able to walk to shul (synagogue) and so he will daven at home. This makes me feel incredibly sad. My father has a beautiful voice and though he was never formally trained he was a chazzan. He was often not home for Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur as he would travel to another shul, to lead the services there. When he got a bit older, he began to do so in our own shul. It has been several years since he has had the stamina to lead the services, but this will be first time that he will actually not be able to pray with a minyan. He actually sounded completely defeated and depleted. Even though he always says "Baruch Hashem, fine" when I ask him how he is.

I miss them. I wish...what exactly do I wish....? That they were well and happy and could be enjoying this time in their life. How many more times will I get to actually see them? I guess I shouldn't go there. I am blessed to have them here and to be able to hear their voices. So many of my friends can no longer do that.

And so for this New Year, תשס"ט, 5769 I wish you all a healthy year, a sweet year, a year full of joy and family and prosperity. May this year bring us the peace we so yearn for and the ultimate redemption, so we can all really live together in our true home. May we enjoy everyday for the gift it is and have the ability to thank G-d for all His blessings.

Shana Tova...

"You like me, you really like me!"

I won an award!! Leora awarded me in the category of "Late-night mommy bloggers". I'd say it's the first prize I ever won, but that would be a lie. I once won a computer at a chinese auction and the next year, at the same chinese auction won a $500.00 gift certificate the The Wiz (an electronics store).

But this is better, finally having the recognition of my peers! I'm waiting for the designers to start calling me because I'm sure they all want me wearing their couture gowns to the awards ceremony.

Other nominees, (okay they're actually winners) were SuperRaizy, and Juggling Frogs, whom you probably know I read regularly, as well as Hadassahsabo and A Living Nadneyda. The latter are fairly new to me, but they are so good, I'll have to start checking their blogs as obsessively as I check all the rest. My late-nights will be getting later.



And thanks to Sally Fields for inspiring the title to this post (She actually said, in accepting the Best Actress Oscar in 1984 [G-d, was it that long ago???], "I can't deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!" It's amazing what you learn from Google).

Anyhow, it's 12:43 a.m. here in Israel--this late-night mommy blogger is going to sleep so she can be well rested when the paparazzi comes to greet her in the morning.

(Thanks, Leora. You're the best!)

Machane Yehuda Shuk, Jerusalem

Some time ago there was an article in the Jerusalem Post that compared the Shuk HaCarmel in Tel-Aviv, to the Machane Yehuda Shuk in Jerusalem.

I've been to both Shuks [markets] several times during the course of the year, and I gotta tell you, (with apologies to my Tel-Aviv friends) Machane Yehuda wins every time. It's bigger, cleaner and just seems to be more comfortable to shop in.

But both shuks are a joy. The shuk is a place where all your senses come alive. The sights and sounds are dizzying. Splashes of color are everywhere and the cries of the merchants to come sample their wares greet you as you enter. And the smells....there is a certain spice that engulfs me whenever I enter the shuk.

I took some pictures at the shuk. I wanted to take so many more. I wanted to take pictures of people. Of the man slumped over his bags laden with food for the upcoming holidays. He looked so dejected about his burden. I wanted to photograph the old sefardic woman haggling with the vendor over the price of a fish, as the object of their negotiations breathed its last. I wanted to take pictures of the chassidim and the Arabs and the children. But I find that I am nervous about photographing people. I don't want to offend.

So what I offer you here is the bounty of the shuk, in all its glorious color:





These are called חבושים(havushim) in Hebrew. I had never seen them before, so they would make a perfect fruit for the New Year blessing, but you have to cook them, and well, I have enough to cook. I looked it up and they are translated as "quince". Anyone know what to do with them?




Jerusalem artichokes. Don't know what to do with these either.






These guys never stood a chance.

"Where's the beef?"





These are olives. They were all over the shuk. Do that many people still make their own olives?



Dates.

Jars of honey everywhere.









Isn't it a bit early for sufganiyot [jelly donuts]?














And of course, I can't end this post without that holiday favorite, the pomegranate, or רימון[rimon]. This is a luscious fruit that is a tradition amongst many families in their New Year celebrations. Leora gives us more details about this astonishing fruit.





Hmmm...where have you all been shopping for the upcoming Yom Tov?

No particular title today

You can read the full Jerusalem Post interview with Paul McCartney here. Even though I can't [sob] afford to go, he really does seem to be a good egg, in spite of the fact that he is like the richest man on the planet. (Or at least was until that tramp-of-an-[ex]-wife) took half of it).

Anyway, enjoy.

And, Haveil Havalim #183 is up at Jack's Place. So much reading to do, so little time.

P.S. If anyone has McCartney tickets and can't go at the last minute due to some crisis or something (not I wish that on anyone of course, but if it happens...) I will be happy to take the tickets of your hands. I mean, don't let them go unused, okay???

Pick-up?

[Sooner or later, most bloggers who write about their Aliyahs post about "tremping", or hitchhiking, here in Israel. Here's my take on it.]:

As a young girl growing up in America, one of the most life-threatening things you could do was hitchhike, or pick up a hitch-hiker. If you did, your name would probably end up in bold, black letters on the cover of the New York Post, where your untimely demise would be described in excruciating detail.

It's not that way here in Israel. Tremping here is a perfectly legitimate way of getting around.

When I was here for my year abroad after high school, we got the knack of tremping down pat. I never hitchhiked alone, but with a group of two or three it was okay. We got rides easily. It seems that many Israelis don't mind giving a ride to two or three eighteen-year-old young women. Of course, we never informed our parents that this had become our most frequent mode of transportation. We knew that this behavior was completely unacceptable in the states, but in Israel it seemed okay, and we never once got into any trouble doing it.

Thank G-d, we have two cars here in Israel (one Isaac gets from work and one is a jalopy we bought for me to get around in), so I don't have the need to tremp. But I often see people looking for rides on my travels. The Israeli sign for "I need a ride" is the index finger pointed out and downward (as opposed to using your thumb as is done in the US). My heart goes out to these people waiting in the hot sun for someone to pick them up.

On my way home from Kiryat Sefer, where I work, there are many chareidi men looking for a ride. Some of the men pull their hand in as soon as they see I am a woman. Others continue to keep their hitchhiking hand out. I never stop, but wonder if they would take a ride from me if I did. Wouldn't that be improper?

I rarely pick people up. Some of these people are women in long skirts and colorful scarfs, or Ethiopian women, or middle-aged men carrying briefcases. They look like they are suffering in the heat of the day and I know it would be a huge mitzvah to give them a ride, even part of their way home. But I am afraid that these people are not who they appear to be. So I avoid eye contact and drive on, always feeling guilty.

My kids have asked me what I would say if they began tremping. I answer that with a question of my own--is this something you feel the need, or want, to do? At this point in their lives they don't need to do it and I also know they would be afraid to do it. Their Israeli-ness is still very raw. I wouldn't be thrilled about them hitch-hiking. There have been ugly incidents. Soldiers are not supposed to be tremping, although many of them do. You just never know.

But still, I feel guilty leaving a fellow Jew when I could be helping them out. I'd love to hear from you guys what you do about tremping. Do you have any rules for yourselves (for tremping, or picking up trempers)?

Or is this an area where I just have to accept my American sensibilities and live with them?