why?

Why is the winter sunrise so much more beautiful than the summer one?

Havel Havelim

It's that time of the week again. A new Havel Havelim has been published by Devarim. Take a gander.

And next week is by yours truly. Suggestions of suitable Jewish and Israeli blog posts should be sent to shilohmuse at yahoo dot com by Friday before Shabbat. Include a line of explanation with the link, and indicate if it's about Yom Ha'atzmaut celebration, memorial day mourning or history of the establishment of the state or anything else Jewish or Israeli happening this week. I'm sure bloggers will be busy; the question is how much time for blogging.

And of course a thank you to Soccer Dad for getting the ball rolling!

nice mention

On Shabbat I was surprised to read about myself in Voices, the magazine Sharon Katz of Efrat publishes. She didn't include the link to musing that inspired her, so here it is. Honestly, she's the inspiration who founded the Raise Your Spirits Community Theater. This women only theater group is one reason I have no problem with the morning bracha (blessing from the morning prayer) thanking G-d for making me "k'ritzono," "as He wishes."

The performances are "women only." The entire theater company is by and for females.

counting the Omer, differently

Thanks to Devarim I discovered a new way to count the Omer . It's a "women's count" and each day is symbolized by a different Biblical woman. In principle it's nice, but why did they change the blessing one says before counting? It is nice to study the Biblical women, just as it's traditional to learn Perkei Avot during the Omer. The blessing change seems silly.

This answers some questions

As one who has been the victim of shockingly ignorant journalists, this article in the NY Times answers some of the questions of why. The rubrics for marking essays in the SAT Essay Test reward length over everything. Students aren't penalized for incorrect "facts." "Well-written" and "accurate" aren't even near to being synonyms. As a high school English teacher, it reminds me that if I don't take off for spelling, punctuation and other grammar errors, my students will consider it a waste of time writing correctly.

great little restaurant in Jerusalem

I've been meaning to post this for a couple of weeks. Not long before Pesach I found myself in Jerusalem looking for a reasonable restaurnat for breakfast. I peeked into my usual haunts, but none of them offered just what I wanted, coffee, eggs and salad.

They all had variations on the theme, but something kept feeling wrong. Suddenly I remembered that I had seen an ad for a new dairy/coffee whatever place, and it was on Mordechai Ben Hillel Street, low numbers. So I went searching. If I'm not mistaken, the name is "Cafe au lait." Just outside there was a small table and sign about breakfast. I figured that there was nothing to lose, so I peeked in.

It was larger than I had expected and had to walk down a "hallway" of sorts until I saw a real nice place that extended into the inner courtyard, or back, of the bullding. I asked the person who seemed in charge what their breakfast deal was, and they had a few. There was one that included what I wanted plus a bagel. Just perfect.

I asked where the bagels were from ,and they answered that they baked them. I doubted that they were the genuine item, but figured I'd give the place a chance. I chose a bagel and waited for breakfast.

Breakfast was delicious and freshly prepared. I noticed a worker dumping something in a vat. Behind a glass wall was the bagel bakery. Yes, real boiled, then baked, bagels. You can watch them being prepared; great entertainment for the kids. Sort of like the old pizza places where the bakers spinned the dough in the air.

I'm not sure of their full menu, but for light meals, salads and fresh bagels, this is the place.

nursing mothers

The commercial food industry may not like to admit it, but the best baby food isn't from a factory. There are societies that accept and encourage it, but the U.S. isn't one of them. Recently there was a demonstration of nursing mothers demanding rights to facilitate nursing and pumping at work.

The Israeli 12 week maternity leave from work certainly helps, and many of the colleges and universities have babycare centers so that mothers can have their babies conveniently nearby.

And if you look in some women's "workbags" you'll find breast-pumps and and sterile bags to store milk for baby's next-day's feedings.

The Gantseh Megillah

This week's Gantseh Megillah has a musing of mine among a wide variety of other articles.

easy kneidlach

Mine's the easiest recipe

1/2 cup matzah meal
with a bit of salt, pepper
then add 3 eggs, (if they're enormous only 2, or you may need to add more matzah meal)
1 T water
2 T oil (Pesach we use olive, and during the year, soy)
mix and let sit for at least an hour

Then just dump teaspoon fulls into boiling soup or boiling water.

Yes, we do eat them during the year!

strange dreams

I had strange dreams last night, that I ended up missing my exercise class. There were other peculiar things in the dream. I don't usually have troubled dreams. Either I can't sleep or can sleep and sleep well, until I wake up.

The chicken's still frozen; I should have put it out to thaw much earlier in the day. Still no guests; I'll have to look harder. But I'm not interested in going away for Shabbat, since the yishuv will be having a special guest, Rabbi Yigal Kamenetzy, Rabbi of Gush Katif. His sister is a neighbor of mine and good friend. HaRav Yigal will be speaking, and I'm looking forward to hearing him. His shiur will be instead of our "shiur nashim" which I've been going to for 23 1/2 years.

Seems like the "winter weather" isn't over yet. But like every year, soon we'll be missing it.

now I need bagels

No, I'm not going back to the bagel-selling business. I just bought some lox, smoked salmon. And there's only one way to eat it, and that's on a bagel with cream cheese, so I need some of that, too. In the interum, the package is in the freezer.

A friend discovered that the husband of someone we know is in the fish smoking/salting/pickling (Jewish sushi) business. She began buying from him and suggested that he peddle in the neighborhood. I asked him what could be frozen, and he suggested the lox. So we have some frigidly awaiting bagels and cream cheese.

disappointed, but...

I just called my neighbor about our weekly ride to the Neve Yaakov Pool and discovered that it's closed for repairs. I'm disappointed, but there's plenty to do, and it'll be easier to handle the rest of my day.

So I took a quick look at yahoo news for some interesting items:

First there's a memoir written by one of the "munchkins" in Wizard of Oz . He's 89 years old!

Next the story of a miraculous recovery after what seemed to be permanent brain damage. There's always reason to hope.

Lastly, is food for thought, the type to make you sick. Apparently in many states in the U.S., one can be fired for one's private, personal, political opinions . That's right! Freedom of thought, choice, etc do not really exist in America.

So I'm not missing anything living here in Israel. Though I guess it's good that the "hanhalah" (the bosses) where I work don't read my blogs.

Now for a walk around the block, better than nothing, but I was looking forward to the sauna and steamroom. Ok, soon the pool will be open here.

May 3 T'hilim, Psalms, Kohelet, Ecclesiastes

Yes, I've resumed my studies, and I'll report. But this time I'll just give you the highlights.

During the two hours we study, everything seems to be important, but I don't have the time for a full report. Maybe I'll add more later. Now for one important line from Kohelet, Ecclesiastes.

Chapter 7, line 19
"Wisdom strengthens the wise more than ten rulers who are in the city."
Nissan started by asking me "What's better, democracy or dictatorship?" (I guess he reads my musings.)
Ten rulers are "democracy" and the "wise" is the "dictator" who takes good advice, "wisdom." The ten could be fools; we all know that in democracy not always the best (person/idea) wins. People are stupid. My classic argument is that Hitler came to power in a democratic way. His party was voted into office.
But a wise man who properly analyses good/wise information is a much better ruler.

This certainly not what I was raised to believe, not what I was taught in Social Studies. But "pc" the politically correct is not always right.

back in the saddle

First day back at work after a nice long Passover vacation.

Ok, could have been worse. I'm just exhausted and had to wait 40 minutes in the freezing cold for a ride out of Beit El. Yes, freezing, like winter cold. And even though I had taken a jacket, I'm not a total idiot, it didn't have a hood. Arctic, at least for my neck of the woods.

At least there was a good ride once I got to Ofra.

There are days I wonder why I do this. It's not that bad; the kids cooperated.

I need a rest.

Good night!

Back to Work

I'm a part-time high school teacher, and today my Passover vacation ends. I have to go back to work. It's not as though I haven't worked over vacation. A teacher's work is never done, but returning to the classroom and walking out with blue and yellow chalk all over my hands, clothes and face. Filling out attendence forms, trying to get more English into teenage male minds....

I'm always working. For instance, on the way to the Dead Sea, who should be traveling on the same buses, but one of my students, so of course I reminded him of the assignment he still needed to do. I'm sure he appreciated it. And last night, I had to watch "Serpico" to see if it was suitable to show my students. Unfortunately there's a naked woman being raped in one of the first scenes and later on a bathtub scene that's even worse. I do work hard.

Ok, back to the grind.

Baile Rochel #5 Thank G-d I'm Not a Washing Machine!

Baile Rochel’s Back! #5
The 22nd of Nissan
May 1, 2005

Thank G-d, I’m Not A Washing Machine!

I usually have a very good concept of space, time and numbers. I’m one of those people who takes out just the right container to hold all the leftovers, no wasted space and nothing spilling over.

So when I say, “I’ve lost track of how many washes I’ve done today,” then that washing machine has been abused. And even worse, there’s more waiting in the wings, or should I say “on the floor.” I didn’t even come close to finishing. I still have all the dark washes, black socks and pantyhose clamoring to be laundered, stinking up a storm and competing with more sheets, towels and blanket covers.

Today is the day after Passover, a weeklong holiday. This year was even longer, since Shabbat immediately preceded it. Chol Hamo’ed, or the “intermediate days” of the holiday have some of the restrictions of Jewish Holidays but not all of them. One of the things we aren’t supposed to do is the laundry. I must admit that when I had a full house, I did plenty of laundry.

Please don’t call me a sinner! Would you want to have dirty diapers fermenting in your house? And even if the stink turns you on, do you really think we used to have enough cloth diapers to last over a week? When I first became a mother we still didn’t have a washing machine.

That’s right, I was a young bride washerwoman. Everyday I filled our bathtub with the dirty laundry, let it soak, then I scrubbed and rinsed. We lived in the Old City of Jerusalem, in a historic building that had an open roof, with a terrace just perfect for hanging clothes. I always liked to hang clothes in the sun. In Bell Park Gardens, Bayside, NY, where I spent my childhood, there were special laundry drying areas near all the buildings, set up with rows and rows of lines. All the mothers hung up wash, and I loved to help. When it was too cold and wet, we used the coin-dryers in the building’s laundry room, and I loved to clean the lint out of the filters. As long as nobody expected me to sort, fold and put away I loved laundry. (Nothing’s changed in that department.)

It was a major trauma when a roof was put over my clotheslines. No longer could I hang my dripping wet wash in the warm, dry sun. How were we ever going to get it dry? My husband discovered that there was a place on our picturesque domed roof, near where the neighboring Arab women hung their wash. So I soaked and scrubbed and he schlepped the wash out to the roof to dry.

Everything was fine until spring. Spring in Jerusalem isn’t quite spring in Europe or New York. Yes, it does warm up, but it comes with a price—sandstorms. As a native New Yorker, I had read about sandstorms and seen depictions in movies, but nothing prepared me for the reality. Sand storms meant that the laundry came off the line even dirtier than it started. Image hanging wash on the beach where some kids are having a sand fight. Just ask my husband about it, and he’ll start scratching as the sensation of sandy undershirts returns.

Shhh… don’t let anyone know, but I did something not quite legal. All of our clothes and linens were imbedded with sand, so I really had no choice. A couple of times a week, I’d fill two large bags with our laundry and visit a friend in a “merkaz klita,” “immigrant absorption center.” There was a Laundromat there for the residents, and I rationalized that I was also a new immigrant and deserved the same right to launder. As I became more comfortable with the facilities, I’d even hang out my wash on the lines that reminded me of my childhood. I’d have a wonderful time visiting my friend and her baby, and later in the day, when my wash had dried, I’d take it off the line and go home.

When our first child was born, in the middle of the summer, we moved into our Jerusalem apartment that had the most irresistible clotheslines. Still no washing machine, and the diapers arrived, twice a week from a “service.” In exchange I’d give them the wet and dirty ones. And I was still washing the rest of the laundry by hand. Let nobody call me a “spoiled American!”

Oy, that was a long time ago. We’re on our fourth washing machine, and I treat it like a member of the family. I could never imagine having to launder by hand again; I don’t even do my hand-washing by hand. If it can’t go safely in the machine, then it should be dry cleaned, and if that’s no good, then I’d rather toss it, trash it.

I paid my dues. I scrubbed and rubbed and rinsed and squeezed.

Baruch Hashem, Thank G-d, I’m no longer a washing machine!

Baile Rochel
Copyright©2005BatyaMedad, Contact me for publication permission; private distribution encouraged.

New Opportunities

Even though my salary doesn't come from the Ministry of Education, my job may be in danger. In recent years it has shrunk from full-time plus to just half. English teaching hours were reduced for my classes (5 to 4 per week) and I don't get all the grades I used to. I also have to "tremp" (hitch hike) to and from work, no more "taxi" service, not even part of the way. And there's no public transportation between Shiloh and Beit El. The Beit El buses are only southward to Jerusalem, and Shiloh is north, and the T-Junction (Givat Asaf) is not a regular bus stop. And yes, I love my job, teaching those boys. They usually appreciate my sense of humor. My experiences teaching girls have been less successful; they look at me with dread: "I hope I don't grow old like her!"

My bosses keep reassuring me that my job isn't in danger, but I'm paranoid, just the same.

So it's wonderful timing to get so many comments that I must get "Baile Rochel" into the bigtime of syndication in the Jewish papers. For that reason, I'm asking for specific ideas (including name, editor, email, link) of various papers. And if anyone has any connections, don't be shy, I'm asking you to suggest "Baile Rochel" to your favorite Jewish papers. Or if someone knows an agent who can do the hustling, please make a shidduch.

Thanks,

Baile Rochel

Malka Mishmash replies, again

Dear Baile Rochel,

I am still "kekeling from gelechter" at your Pesach experiences; seems like we are sisters-in-blood" - maybe from the original "put-it-on-the doorpost" days! Could be that some of my socks-and lids are actually kanoodling with some of yours since they seem to be AWOL from here!

Now that Pesach is over and I am at leisure replacing the bread-of-affliction dishes with everyday Melmac I have taken a detour and am looking through some of my cookbooks. Ah,
what delicious chametsdicke dishes I could have converted to Pesach delicacies! (I hope it's o.k. to say 'converted' in the Holy Land; G-d forbid, I should be sinning such a long time before Rosh Hashanah when I can cast my averot to the fish!

Speaking of fish recipes- here's one that my mother (z"l) used to make and I missed it for this year! Now may be the time to write it down and remember it because I am sure to for-get it again if I wait.:

Ingredients: filet of cod -as much as you need
onions - as much as you want
ketchup - as much as you can stand
oil- as much as you should use for the desired results

Instructions: oil in frying pan - heated
sliced or chopped onion - sauteed in oil till golden brown
add ketchup to onion mixture - mish well
fish in baking dish
smother (if fish is not yet dead this will fix it) with onion/ketchup mixture
bake for a while on 350% equivalent (not yet converted in my mind)

Can't believe that I have used 'converted' again. Maybe I don't have to worry since two negatives do make a positive. Well, on that 'positive' note, sister Rochel Baile, I must get back to the real world of bread and bagels. Oh, yeh, and one more matzah brei to finish the last box!

Malka Mishmash
In Jerusalem

p.s. If you should find my sock and pot lid lying low in your house please assure them that all is forgiven - if they come right home!

Baile Rochel #4 Hey, Diddle Diddle

Baile Rochel’s Back! #4
The 16th of Nissan
April 25, 2005

…and the dish ran away with the spoon

When my kids were little, I used to read them a story about life in a toy department of a big department store. When the store was closed and there were neither customers nor staff, the toys came to life.

I think that my possessions have similar powers. We all know about agunah socks, deserted by their partners, cursed to a life either hidden and waiting, or to be used as rags or miss-matched to keep my feet warm. It seems like everyone has collections of socks without partners. I wonder if they have support groups like the veteran “Parents Without Partners.” Some of those found in my home must think it a “shelter,” like for abused wives. My house must have some reputation. Why else would I constantly find new “singles?” Or are they characters in a great romantic drama, giving up everything for their true love, a sexy sock waiting to rendezvous in the sock drawer? I wonder what types of shenanigans go on between socks. Maybe that’s why Israelis, who never quite learn English vowels, pronounce it “seks.”

I get an email newsletter for would-be writers that includes a “prompt” to inspire the inexperienced writer to greater creative heights. Maybe I should send them: “Counting didn’t help; the ten socks, five matching pairs, emerged from the washing machine as nine socks, three pairs and three without partners, because…”

Every year there are surprises of sorts when I take out my Passover dishes, pots and cooking tools. This year I kept searching for pots; I was sure that I had more meat ones. I even climbed up into the attic an extra time and searched among all the boxes and piles draped with old shower curtains. Finally I remembered that I had given one to a son when he was in the army. And where was the other? Or maybe I’m just fanaticizing?

I confided in a friend who then revealed that her Pesach picnic containers weren’t to be found, anywhere, and they had a special cabinet all their own. Suddenly it was clear—they had eloped with my pot. Must be; nothing else makes sense.

And as the cooking for the final day of Pesach progresses, I’m dreading packing it all up again and putting away all the Pesach things. Because that means that we’ll have to find all of the “chametz” things that are used the rest of the year. Last year it took weeks until everything was found. And even though I bought much less matzah than in previous years, there is no way that we’ll ever finish it. Last year’s leftover matzah was dumped just days before this year’s Seder.

Considering all that’s going on in this world, it’s nice to have such norishkeit to fiddle about.

… as the cow jumps over the moon,

Baile Rochel
Copyright©2005BatyaMedad, Contact me for publication permission; private distribution encouraged.

post Pesach progress

First of all, something very unusual happened today. I didn't hear my alarm and slept and hour later than planned. Maybe it was the etrog liquor after some wine, served at the Mamouna, or however it's spelled. Definitely I must have had experienced a post-sugar crash, considering how much sucrose I ate yesterday.

So now, I'm an hour behind schedule.

Two washes on the line and a third in the machine, last stage of laundering. I'm still in my robe and had my water and two large mugs of perked coffee.

Miraculously my husband and I managed to transfer most everything, though the big table is still Pesach, but it's always the last the become Pesach. I have a very simple system. Our kitchen cabinets have two levels, each two shelves high, and their own doors. I clean the counter underneath, empty one level and transfer what's in that to the clean one; then we put what's on the counter to the empty closet. I've even done it on my own, but it's a real effort, between my lack of upper body strength and my lack of height. But when I was younger I could pull an all nighter when necessary.

We also moved all but the Pesach oven and chametz microwave to and from the attic. We'll need help for that. Since I'm useless for things of such bulk and weight.

And then, as planned, we went to our neighbors for their holiday festival. Their son is a professional drummer and another neighbor is a guitarist singer/composer so the music was great. One of their daughters had invited her students who were whispering in awe "That's Yehuda Glantz!" We had such a mix on nationalities and backgrounds. Morocco, France, Brazil, USA, Israel and more. That's what I love about Shiloh, a true in-gathering of the exiles.

Chag Sameach to all!