Top Ten Laws of Cooking

I used to think this is how brownies were made. 

For the last year-and-a-half, I have made three meals a day. Every day (except times when we were guests somewhere else). This week, it's coming to an end because my husband is no longer coming home for lunch. So, two meals a day. 


 I cooked before marriage, but it was whatever I felt like eating, whenever I felt like it. No oil? Great! On a raw kick? Why not? Being a housewife is a whole different ball game. I also went out to eat a lot as a single person. I was never home so why would I cook that much? 


This recent change made me reflect on the top ten things I have learned in the last year-and-a-half of cooking.


1. Cook double and freeze. 
For first three months of my marriage, we had a mini-fridge with an even mini-er freezer (literally the size of a dictionary). I couldn't save or cook ahead at all. Not to mention, I was new on the job. I would literally prep, serve, clean up, prep, serve, clean up, and repeat. Once we got a regular fridge with a real freezer, my world got a lot simpler. Use your freezer. 


2. Before making dough, spray your mixing bowl with Pam. 
It makes the cleanup much, much quicker, even if you don't get around to it till later.


3. Get a dough scraper.
This is a useful little thingey-doo made of silicon that is straight on one side, round on the other. It's the key to transferring anything goopey from the bowl to the board/other bowl/baking pan. 


4. When in doubt, use a LOW FLAME.
You can always cook more, but you can't un-cook (much as I would have liked to, many, many times). And there are no short-cuts. 


5. Learn how to freeze.
   Some things freeze well, others don't. Don't freeze something until it has cooled completely, and leave space in the container for expansion.


6. Set-up and clean-up is the same amount of effort for a small quanitity as for a large. So make the large. 
This is true for many things, like tuna salad (fry some into balls, put some into a sandwich, use the rest for a tuna casserole). Or chopped vegetables (what recipe DOESN'T require them?). Or cookie dough- double the recipe and freeze in logs. You can have fresh cookies ready in 10 minutes, any time. 


7. Defrost in advance.
This happened to me so many times. 


8. Don't dress the salad. 
It will soon become inedible. An undressed salad (dressing served on side) can last almost 2 full days.


9. Onions don't need to be in the fridge.
Who knew?


10. If you change or sub a recipe, write down what you did. Or else, you won't be able to re-create it (if it comes out successfully). And recipes from people you know always work much better than internet recipes.


Do you have anything to add?

I'm a Quitter.

the most tsnius one I could find (that alone says something)

Once upon a time, I was an avid magazine reader. My mainstays were Self, Lucky, and Allure. Unlike my friend, Alice.


 Alice was a confident, stylish, talented grad student who had spent a lot of time figuring things out. One day, she said to me 'You shouldn't read magazines. They're not good for you.' 
I smiled and nodded while thinking, 'well, Lucky is just shopping, Allure is just makeup, and Self, well, Self is practically therapy! Vogue or Cosmo are the damaging ones, probably. Not that I read them anyway.'
One day, I asked Alice (just for clarification): 'Did you mean...all magazines? What about Self or Shape? They are all about health and self-esteem.' 
She said: 'Even Self and Shape.'
I thought: 'That's a little extreme.'


But Alice was right. I don't deny that women's magazines are fun to read. But I don't feel good after reading them. I feel conflicted. To this day, I never know if I should be eating whole wheat, or avoiding processed grain all together, or if I should be lining my top lid, or bottom, or both, and if that should be in black, navy, or brown liner. Liquid liner, pencil, or powder with a thin, wet brush? 


Why do I hesitate to decide? Because I have been told to go left, to make that right, to drive to the dead end and turn around, and every other direction possible, by some article at some point in my mag-reading years. They vacillated between
 'willowy!' and 'athletic!'
 and 'bangs!' and 'no bangs!' 
so many times, that sometimes (more than I'd like) I do the same in my head when it comes to menial decisions about what to eat, how to exercise (running is good! running is bad!), and how to make myself presentable. 


I never sat there and thought 'gee, I wish I looked like Kate Moss.' The damage wasn't that obvious. It gave me a subtle message that I don't know what's right, but They Do. And that I needed them to tell me. If I could write my own issue now, the headlines would read:


"Makeup Technique: Determined by Your Unique Face! Your face is unprecedented in human history (even if you are an identical twin)!"


"Nutrition Rules: Relative to Your Unique Body and Lifestyle!"


"Wear Clothes That You Love! What Do You Naturally Gravitate Toward?"


That would not be good for sales.

luxury

I am now the proud owner of a dryer. 

Thanks, Dad!

Motzei Shabbos: Space and Action

 It's a time of the week when you return to 'reality' 

and descend out of the spiritual realm, 

 into the weekday realm.

 It's the time to clean up, to prepare,

 to put into action the revelations you had in the past 25 hours. 

Those 25 hours are a gift of space where there is normally congestion.

 Motzei Shabbos is a blend of the space and the action. 

Gradually the space fades and the action expands,  

until the end of the week when the space is prepared and created, 

once more.

'tarbut beyerushalayim'

    I just got a dose of chizuk (inner strength) about being a frum performer.

    I received this random email (I think it was from Janglo?) that had local info including a link for "Jerusalem theatergoers". I was curious, so I clicked it. I was sort of curious about what's going on 'out there', in the world of secular theater in Jerusalem. I guess my real question was, 'what am I missing?'. I know the theater of NYC and chose to leave it behind. Today, I was wondering what the theater scene in Jerusalem actually had to offer (not that I'd go back- it was just a morbid curiosity).

    I read that there is a company putting on a Gilbert and Sullivan Operetta at a theater downtown, in the upcoming week.  And there was a link to a clip from one of their rehearsals. So I clicked that, too. And it showed a very community-theater-style/quality level of show in the making. So I thought, 'Yeah. No thanks.' But then I was curious about the venue they were using- it was conveniently located, and seemed nice from the pictures. I wondered how much they charge to rent it out, and how many people it could seat. So I clicked on a link to the theater's page. There, amongst other tidbits of info, it proclaimed that it was a 'center for the non-religious of Jerusalem to enjoy Western Culture, on days that most cultural centers in the city are off limits to them'. Translation: 'We are proud to be open on Shabbos!!'

    I again thought 'Yeah. No thanks.' Hashem must have felt that I needed the reminder that no, I am not missing anything.

   Meanwhile, our show continues to sell out and inspire. I am so lucky to be a part of my show and NOT a cheesy operetta on Shabbos.

The Baby Gym

this is our exact model (the gym, not the baby)

My baby didn't have a baby gym. I had made a few unsuccessful phone calls, heard a few vague ideas (of people or places to borrow one from), and I had even made a couple of trips out to stores to buy one for her. On the first trip (to Shefa), the store was out of baby gyms. On the second trip (to Malcha), the prices of the gyms almost knocked me over. I had sent my husband, after work, to pick one up from a friend who had offered to give us her extra one, but he couldn't find her address and eventually gave up and came home. A neighbor proclaimed that she had one, and generously drove it down to our house and lent it to us. But only then did I discover that Europeans (this neighbor is from Belgium) have an entirely different item in mind when they say 'baby gym'. It was more of a plastic board with buttons and music that a child could play with when they are old enough to sit up on their own. Sigh.


I told myself, it's not a life necessity. I can dangle toys above her and achieve the same effect. 


Then at my last Tipat Chalav (well-baby clinic) appointment, they said 'she is not advanced enough at reaching things and grabbing things that are dangled above her- these are the muscles that lead to crawling'. 


Bummer. Even though everyone says you need to take Tipat Chalav with a grain of salt (they don't know your baby and they have textbook standards when raising a child is anything but textbook), it's easy to take these things kind of hard when you're a first-time mother. In light of the still-absent baby gym, I felt guilty. 


Last week, someone gave us some money as a gift. My husband's first thought was: let's get a baby gym. So we went together to the baby store and picked out one from Lamaze. The price at this store was much more reasonable than my initial expedition. And the truth is, it is really great for her development. There are toys and mirrors that hang down, it plays music, and it features beautiful colors and images for her to stare at. It's good for tummy time and it keeps her busy and occupied (well, at least for a couple of minutes). And there is something nice about owning a great toy that you know you will use in the future. Next time, I won't wait so long.


In my community, people are more than happy to lend me clothes, toys, bassinets, all the short-term-use items that babies require. But owning certain things and knowing that our subsequent children will one day have them, or that I could one day lend them to someone else, is a nice feeling. 


I just visited my landlady who lives next door. She is a great-grandmother. She pulled out a box of toys for my baby to play with during our visit, and showed me blocks that her great-grandchildren use, that are from HER childhood. Imagine toys being used for 4 generations!

Dear Lauren

I started writing this blog for a few reasons. One of those reasons was my dear friend, Lauren, who is no longer with us. She was the first 'follower' of this blog.

I started writing this 10 months ago after we got back in touch. Although we grew up together in Morristown, through elementary school, middle school, and high school, we hadn't corresponded in years. This was my fault- I had been living as a student in Israel for a few years, with intermittent email/internet/international phone access. Most of my friends from home (especially high-school friends) didn't hear from me on a regular basis.

 I realized that there were so many things to catch her up on-

 why and how I chose to live in Israel- Jerusalem, no less...

why I was going by Shoshana when she'd always known me as Susan...

who I had married and how that had happened...

my baby that I was still expecting at the time..

                             basically, what had transpired in my life in the last few years. It was clear to her that a lot had changed, and I wanted to fill in the gaps. So I started writing. Then I realized that there were many friends and relatives I wanted to do this for. And so I started writing for those people, too. But everyone knows that when you write (same as acting), you need to be speaking to someone specific. Your narrative has to have a clear audience. I always think of it in these terms: in order to reach everyone, speak to SOMEone. So as I wrote my first entries, I decided:

 I am speaking to Lauren.  

This year, towards the end of my pregnancy, the week I started recording my album, Lauren passed away. Suddenly and tragically. To the heartbreak of our entire community. And we are all still in the aftershock. It was, and is, difficult. 

Lauren was always a beam of light. And the only thing that I can guess about why G-d chose to take her and not another, is that she really had outstanding character traits. Generosity, humility, gratitude, poise, intelligence, true inner (and outer- although that's not a character trait) beauty...I could go on. 

How could G-d take someone like Lauren? We won't get the full answer while we are still in this world, but I heard once from Rabbi Chalkowski that G-d sometimes takes, specifically, the righteous people. The purpose of this world is to give us opportunities to perfect ourselves and help us to grow into who we are in potential. If someone is righteous and has already achieved their inner goals, they don't need to be here anymore. So they are taken to the next world to receive their reward. But the rest of us still need to be here, we need every minute here, to reach our inner goals. And G-d, by taking just one outstanding person, forces hundreds of us regular people to vividly remember her strengths, learn from them, and become more like her in some small way.

I always knew she was special, but like everyone else, I would never have sat and thought and cried and conjured up all my memories of her, without this tragic event's occurrence. We're so busy, so occupied, that we don't appreciate people like that on a normal basis, to the degree that they deserve. 

We needed a wake-up call. 

In Lauren's memory, we slowly become better. And she would have wanted that. And now that she is in a place of true clarity, of only clarity, she can see the true impact that she has made on us, in her life and in her passing. 

donate to Lauren's foundation here:

http://www.laurenfoundation.com/

A Rock and a Hard Place

Sometimes there are situations where you are really stuck

 between a rock and a hard place.

I don't want to get too specific, 

but that's just how I feel at the moment. 

I know it will get better.

 I know I will look back on this later with clarity, with the whole picture, 

with the answer to the 'why'.

 But for now, I am in that place.

Every time I've heard that expression, by the way, 

I have had the exact same thought:

"How redundant. A rock IS a hard place."

It's like saying,

 "I am stuck between a pillow

 and something mushy and soft  that you put your head on..."

I am an adult now.

Everyone is sick in my house. Me, my husband, and my baby. And every time the baby wakes up miserable and needing help, and my husband can barely move, and I can barely move, but I'm moving anyway, I think, 

"I guess I'm an adult now". And every time I have to go to work, even though I am sick, because my husband's sicker and not therefore able to work, I think, "I am definitely an adult now". 

I spoke to my friend about this yesterday. She pointed out that I was an adult before I got married. That an adult is someone who can take care of themselves. This is more than being an adult, it's being a mother and a wife. Being someone who can take care of others under all circumstances. This is like, what its all about.

This friend and I were students together in Seminary. There we learned that moments like this are character-defining. That this is when the cameras start rolling on that film which will be played back to you after arriving in the next world. These times of testing, of being pushed to your perceived limits, are why we came to this world. Believe it or not, comfort and satisfaction is not the goal. Growth is the goal.

As such, I am able to know, even when its hard, that this is valuable and I am being challenged, not punished.  

I just need to keep asking G-d for his assistance and healing. It really works, and it's also good for me to remind myself of exactly on Whom I am relying. 

The headlines of right now.

There is a 3-day fruit and vegetable strike in Israel right now. 


And we're still waiting for rain.

And my baby got her 4-month-and-14-day shots today. And didn't cry. 


And I took a ballet class today for the first time in a long time. 


And many people I love are expecting babies in January/February.


And I made macaroni with dill for lunch today.


And I have to go to the pharmacy.


And we have a show this Chanukah.


And I need to fold. 

And I am picking up my (hopefully) repaired tap shoes this afternoon.


And such is life.

Strange. But crispy and refreshing!

The other day, I took two cabs- one in the morning, one in the afternoon (I'm not usually that fabulous- it was just a time thing). 

Two minutes after entering the first cab, the driver asked me in Hebrew, 

"Melafafonim?"

Translation: 

"Cucumbers?"

He was right- I had just downed a whole cucumber before leaving the house (sometimes you just want a cucumber!). I asked "How did you know? Is it on my nose?"

He said, "I smell it!".

Okay...

Cut to the afternoon cab. I get in, tell him my destination, we start the journey, and he starts to snack on...

A WHOLE CUCUMBER!!!

 WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

Headline: Scholastic Puppies Turn Frowns Upside Down

So today was not the greatest of days, and I wasn't in the greatest of moods...

And then I came across this picture:

 So I thought I'd share.

 Does anyone remember Scholastic catalogs that they would distribute monthly in school, that offered a variety of cute puppy-and-kitten posters?

These puppies could be Scholastic puppies. 

The Neverending Story, Part IV

I've been trying to finally complete writing my baby's birth story but it's actually very difficult to recall. I kept a journal in the hospital, and I was waiting to write this until I had unearthed the relevant entries, but alas, they were pretty incoherent- so I could have written this three weeks ago without them. Live and learn. 

Once I arrived in the labor and delivery ward, I was given a robe and a room. I was greeted very warmly by the staff due to to my high level of protexia (the secret to everything in this country). I think they were also happy to deal with a woman who was not in labor (albeit two weeks and two days past my due date already) and therefore could still say please and thank you.


My baby really didn't feel like showing up for her birthday party. I was in that room for 26 hours, and went through two completely unsuccessful inductions before the doctors upped the stakes to a high level of pitocin in an IV overnight (in addition to my regular IV- thank you strep test!). I got to know the staff at Shaarei Tsedek quite well during this odyssey- some of the reception nurses were wearing different outfits when I saw them towards the end of the birth- they had actually gone home, slept, woken up, and returned to work again in the interim. The second method of induction, though ineffective for progressing dilation, had caused me to be in sudden, excruciating pain that I hope to never again experience. I tried to put up with it for one hour before discovering it had caused no progress. I remember thinking that if I were to go through with such a procedure without pain relief, I would never choose have children again. I also remember feeling like G-d was torturing me. Now, these are not thoughts that would ever cross my mind under normal circumstances. But chemically induced, maximum-level contractions with no adrenaline or endorphins to get you through, with no end in sight, can really almost break a person. Before this, I was 'sure' that I would have a natural birth, knowing myself to be a person with a high threshold for pain, and having spent so much time preparing myself. I guess you never know what Hashem has in store, or what you are truly capable or incapable of, until you're there.


So I got the epidural, and the bubble-bath feeling that ensued was really the high point of my delivery-room experience. I started laughing, apologized to my husband for growling at him, wrote in my journal, chatted with my sister-in-law, and actually davened Shacharis when morning came  (okay, I couldn't stand- but there's a hetter to sit in Shemonah Esrai when you have a local anaesthetic in your lower body). It was luxurious- I wondered where that epidural had been for the rest of my pregnancy. I also remember thinking 'so THIS is why people become addicted to drugs!'


As much as I had read and agreed with the books and articles against medical intervention during birth, my birth ended up featuring (as I said before) an IV, propis (an induction drug), some other induction drug, pitocin IV, epidural, a drug to counteract the side-effects of the epidural, pitocin shots, an artificial water-breaking, a whole lot of monitor, and not a whole lot of mobility. This was not due to a lack of conviction on my part, or an over-zealousness on the part of the hospital. This was how G-d wanted my baby to be born and that was clear.

about 4 hours after she was born- don't ask about the hat strings- I didn't style her for this shot. 

She was born the next morning- two weeks and 3 days after she was due. When she was born, we (my sister-in-law and I) heard nothing and saw someone running away with the baby. She wasn't doing so well when she emerged- the labor had been extremely long, and she was much bigger than anyone expected. The umbilical chord had been wrapped around her neck, and she broke her collarbone in the birth canal. There was a nasal obstruction, and once they cleared her nose out, she finally breathed (yes, this was the longest minute or two of my life). Her 1-minute Apgar scores were extremely low, but went up steadily at the 5-minute test. To the hospital's great credit, they gave me no facial or verbal indication that anything was wrong. I only knew because I didn't hear a crying baby and no one placed her on my chest, and I was pretty sure both of those things usually happen. A few minutes later, the nurse presented me with my baby, but did not hand her over. She said 'this is your baby!' and then whisked her off somewhere for further medical attention.
I didn't have much time to reflect on that because I noticed that after I got my two stitches, a nurse walked by me, did a sort of double take, and then removed a shallow bucket full of blood (sorry, this is a little gory). And then another. And then another. And then there was lots of staff around my bed/table pushing my stomach in different places and speaking very rapidly. 

I had experienced a hemorrhage after the birth- they explained that due to the induction, my body didn't 'know' it had given birth and therefore didn't know to close up the open internal wound where the placenta had detached from the uterus wall. All I know is that I felt completely exhausted and disoriented from the blood loss. 


It's funny. My baby's birth was completely rocky, but her babyhood has been quite smooth. She sleeps like an angel, and she has a sweet and friendly temperment. I guess we are all tested in different areas at different times. 


I am sharing all these details to illustrate a few things. 1) I am fortunate to be alive and healthy 2) my baby is fortunate to be alive and healthy 3) sometimes medical intervention is the only way for a baby to come into the world 4) G-d writes the story of our lives, not us, and we don't ever know the outcome of each chapter. I thought about my birth throughout my entire (never-ending) pregnancy. I thought that I had considered every variable. And then I was super-overdue, high risk, induced, had a hemorrhage, and had a 9 lb 6 oz baby with the cord around her neck, respatory blockage, and a broken shoulder. And now we're...fine. As I write this I can barely believe that this all happened, considering how healthy we both are- with G-d's help and infinite kindness. Wonder what G-d has in store for the next time around?

I burned my foot on a chocolate chip, and other adventures

There are so many humorous moments in my life. I want to write down two of them here because they are so easily forgotten.

1) I burned my foot on a chocolate chip this morning. You heard me.

How? Well, isn't it obvious? I was wearing flip flops (okay, slides) in the kitchen and transferring hot cookies from the oven (okay, toaster) tray onto a plate. I was doing so by lifting the baking paper and trying to stabilize the hot cookies on the paper during the transfer.This initiative failed- one went careening towards my partially bare foot. And actually burned me to a noticeably uncomfortable degree. Oh, by the way, I was baking these cookies right before I taught four dance classes. Which you kind of need your feet for.
Who knew that chocolate chips got THAT hot?

2) This made me a happy camper:

 My husband's native language is not English, but Swiss German. So he had an extremely quizzical expression on his face the other day when I told him "well, if such-and-such doesn't happen, I will not be a happy camper". Think about that expression. English is so WEIRD!

Guess what?!?!

Guess what? This disc that I've been mentioning... 

after about a year of planning logistics, rehearsal, recording, editing, engineering, mastering, and manufacturing...


is really ready!! 

Enjoy!! And don't keep it to yourself- maybe your mother/sister/daughter/friend could use a Chanukkah gift... 

www.shoshanarubli.com- for more info and to hear a sample song from the disc.

Astounding.

You've never seen smiles like the ones my baby elicits from...well...everyone. It's so astounding. Men, women, boys, girls, old, young...there is nothing like a beautiful baby who smiles at everyone. You can't help smiling with her!

 As her mommy, I get to see this happening all day long. It never gets boring, and it's truly a lesson in appreciation for all that Hashem has entrusted me with. 

Family Reunion

a family reunion. not mine. 

Living in Israel, lately, is really...intense. And I don't mean intense in a CNN way. I mean because whenever I am with my baby in public, I feel like I am at some sort of family reunion with relatives that don't know me at all, but feel comfortable enough to advise me on many subjects. Yes, it's endearing. But it's intense in the way that only family pressure can be. 

This is what it's like:

I was on the way to the Misrad Ha Panim* this week, on an unfamiliar busline. So in Hebrew, I asked the lady sitting across from me (square seating) where to get off. She answered me in Russian (I can fake it with Hebrew but definitely don't know Russian). Upon reading my puzzled expression, she got a middle-aged male passenger next to her to translate from Russian into Hebrew. He informed me that the bus goes somewhat close. He then added a few sentences that I pretended to understand, even though I couldn't hear him well.

Later, still sitting across from this lady and middle-aged man, I saw an off-duty bus driver standing in the aisle. So I asked him the same question, hoping to get a clearer answer. He said something about getting off at a certain area and waiting there for another bus.

Little did I realize that the Russian man heard every word of this secondary inquiry. Suddenly, I was yanked from my reveries by a shouting match taking place directly above my head. 

"WHY SHOULD SHE WALK WITH THE BABY THROUGH ALL THE CROWDS?? SHE SHOULD WAIT FOR THE BUS TO TAKE HER RIGHT THERE!!

"WHY SHOULD SHE WAIT THERE IN THE HEAT WITH THE BABY?? ITS A 5 MINUTE WALK!!"

"WHY SHOULD SHE GET OFF THERE AND WALK?? SHE HAS A BABY!! SHE SHOULD SWITCH TO THE 55 WHICH GOES TO THAT STOP!!" 

and so on and so on and so on.
I stared at the floor during this argument because I knew that if I looked at either of them, I would be showing partiality to their point of view. And the last thing I wanted to do at that point was to get caught in the crossfire. When the two men stopped fighting about my travel options and the off-duty bus driver walked to the other end of the bus, the Russian man leaned over and said "you should really just get off and walk, it's 5 minutes!"- just to get the last word in about the issue. I did end up taking his advice, but I tried to avoid the disapproving gaze of the off-duty bus driver as I did so. 

That's what I mean by intense. I lived in NYC for two years, and I never witnessed family dynamics between strangers over my travel plans, on the subway. 

*Misrad Ha Panim- Ministry of the Interior

p.s. I could write an entire blog just about my bus rides in this country. They are always pretty action packed!

In a Tap Teacher's Shoes

I have this adorable group of students that make up my Advanced tap class. Most of them have experience in other forms of dance, but this is their second year tapping, ever. They have a very special place in my heart. I saw them all put on their shoes for the first time. They have evolved from having an awkward, tense, and sometimes competitive group dynamic, to becoming a solid troupe that works together and is growing exponentially. 


Last week, I asked them what music they'd like to dance to in the upcoming summer's recital. Okay, I know that the music is always the teacher's choice (in the magical world of dance), but I figured that, well, these are teenage girls. I remember having quite a few opinions on just about everything when I was their age. And I know its October, but you try choreographing for tap- it takes much longer than you think it would. And then, try teaching it to non-professionals. And then, try polishing that into a real routine. And then, try having them do it without you. And then, try that facing AWAY from the mirror!

I needed to start somewhere. So why not hear them out about music?

Well, when I asked, they all gave me blank stares. 


I said, 'Nothing? No preferences??' 
Nothing.


'What about descriptive adjectives?' 
Again, nothing.They all took a sudden, rapt interest in the marks on the dance floor.


Then, the Most Confidant Girl suggested, 'FUN!'
There was a chorus of 'yeah, fun!' 'make it fun!' 'fun. not boring!' in agreement.

So ever since then I have been poring over my music sources in search of fun, appropriate-for-their-developmental-level tempo, recital-ready (meaning a good length or easy to cut) music. Oh, and no words- studio rules. And guess what?


I think I've found it!


How do I know? I know from the way my heart has been soaring whenever I listen to this music. And the way I sometimes have choreographic inspiration at the most inopportune times (like when I am trying to fall asleep and don't have my wits about me, let alone a pen). Most importantly, I can vividly see my students learning and loving this yet-to-be-finished routine, and carrying that collaborative creative effort (and all that they learned through it) with them, for life. And that, I am sure, will be fun. 

Lesson from my former Granny Cart

A month ago, I left my granny cart on the bus. If you're not familiar, this is a granny cart:

These are the Jerusalem version of cars. They are essential for most residents, regardless of age, status, or gender. In other words, they're not just for Grannies. Or so I tell myself.

Anyway, after I left mine on the bus, I didn't rush to the Central Bus Station lost and found because we were in the midst of the holidays, I didn't have time, I wasn't on a normal shopping schedule since we were away so much, and I didn't feel my granny cart's absence until last week when I wanted to shop and didn't want to pay 50 shekels for a cab to drive it all back with me from the store.

So I dragged myself and the baby to the lost and found. When I tried to gain access  (by employee swipe card only) to the staircase that would take me to the offices where the lost and found could be...found..the gatekeeper asked me which busline I lost it on (I didn't remember)- when I lost it (a month ago), and assured me that there was no point in looking for it, and denied me access.

A bit annoying but no big deal. I bought a new cart this week, which was less than the cost of two cab rides from the grocery store. My old cart had been bumped down the stairs too many times, anyway.

There was, however, a valuable lesson here which I had the opportunity to apply today, with great results.

A friend of mine sounded a bit down on the phone yesterday. I asked her what was wrong. It turns out she had lost her monthly bus pass, her siddur (daily prayerbook), and her Teudat Zehut (Israeli ID card- you can't even pick up a package at the post office without this one). Three significantly personal and necessary possessions, gone in one day (at different times of the day. ouch.) To make matters worse, she only realized her ID card was gone when two undercover policemen cornered her on the street for 'looking suspicious' and insisted she produce it. Not the best day of her life.

A very pious person, she told me she was trying to accept that the items were gone, that she was trying to correct whatever needed to be corrected in her which caused this to happen, and that she had donated money to charity and increased her prayer regimen. I asked her if she'd called Egged (the Jerusalem bus company). She had not. Nor did she have time the following day (today) to go and look for her items.

I thought of my former granny cart, and decided to take action. So I went today on her behalf. And guess what?

 ALL 3 ITEMS WERE THERE!! Including her bus pass which is worth hundreds of shekels and could be used by anyone. No, some kind person returned that, too.

Moral of the story: don't wait around. Do things when they need to get done. 

Dear Blog,

Dear Blog,

I miss you too. I will see you in about two days when I can peel my life back off the ceiling from whence it exploded.

Love,
Shoshana

(extremely busy. with good things. including my upcoming disc.)