(43-43) New Beginnings

Tonight is the first night of Rosh Hashanah (The Jewish New Year.)
Rosh Hashanah is one of two High Holidays in the Jewish religion and it
commemorates the creation of the human race. Rosh Hashanah is a time for cleansing and renewal. Jews cleanse their souls and get the chance to start fresh with an unburdened conscience and the intention of doing better in the coming year. It is a chance to receive forgiveness and clear the slate.

As tonight's post is coincidentally the 43rd post of my 43rd year, it seems apropos that I reflect on this holiday and the promise of new beginnings.

 Now I don't want to misrepresent myself.  I'm far from being an observant or educated Jew; but that doesn't mean that my religion and my heritage aren't important to me.  When I was on Facebook today, many of my friends had posted "Happy New Year to my friends who are celebrating" or "Shana Tova" (A good year;) and I have to admit, although it's my holiday; I sadly felt somewhat out of the loop.  You see I attended a Sunday school and religion classes when I was in elementary school; but I never attended a Hebrew school at a temple or had a very religious upbringing.  Growing up in the condo, high holiday services were held in our clubhouse.  They were conducted by a Rabbi, but at the time I was really too young to comprehend the services.  I had a nervous laugh as a child and any time I was called upon to recite a prayer or read out loud, I would giggle uncontrollably; so my parents and I agreed that I wouldn't have a Bat Mitvah and therefore, I never attended a formal Hebrew school.

Growing up Jewish was a lot more about culture for me than it was about religion.  My neighborhood was predominantly Jewish as was my elementary school; and yet I didn't have a lot of knowledge about what being a Jew meant.   My Grandmother kept a Kosher home, and lit shabbos candles on Friday nights; but she never taught me why she did these things; and now that I have children of my own I'm finding that I want the answers to these questions.  I can honestly say that I'm somewhat embarrassed  about my lack of religious education AND in celebration of my 43rd year and this brand NEW YEAR, I am going to make a conscious effort to become more knowledgeable and informed about Judaism; both for myself and for my children.
There have been several times in the past few years where I've turned to Judaism to try to find comfort and understanding, regarding experiences that I'd had in the past and guidance for choices that I needed to make; so I feel that it's safe to say that I have been seeking religious answers for some time now and I am ready to commit myself to becoming a more enlightened person.  Now, do I intend to go to temple every Friday night; NO.  I am going to read the Bible ever day; probably not.  But I am going to make sure that I can answer questions like "What is Rosh Hashanah? and "What do apples and honey have to do with the holiday?"  The truth is that my dear friend, Dawn mentioned apples and honey several times to me in the past few days in reference to Rosh Hashanah and I am ashamed to say that I didn't know what she was talking about.  And so, since there's no better time to start than the present, I looked it up.  The simplest explanation that I found was,  "On Rosh Hashanah, it is traditional to eat apples dipped in honey, to symbolize our hopes for a "sweet" new year."  I like that!  

Whether you are celebrating Rosh Hashanah or not; I welcome you to rejoice with me.  Celebrate the possibility of new beginnings for yourself.  No matter what your religion is; you can always repent for your sins and ask God for forgiveness; but we also need to be able to forgive ourselves and remember that it's never too late to make a fresh start.
Shana tova umetukah (a good and sweet year.)
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

Here we go again...

Hey, Hey Hey (a little "What's Happening" reference for you.) It seems like it's been forever. Part of my distance may have been blogger's block, or maybe I'm just using that as an excuse because it was more like blogapobia: fear of rejection of your blog (things seem to have gone downhill with my blogging since the posting of my Why Disney blog; and by downhill I mean, like 1 comment.LOL) Seriously, I think my blogaphobia meant that I was afraid to disappoint my 4 readers, hahaha. I've given it a lot of thought,(as I always do, being the Queen of Over thinking) and it seems to me that people seem to enjoy the tales of my insanity and ridiculous experiences and by enjoy I mean; they leave comments. Ah yes, tis the fragile ego of this blogging Queen who seeks encouragement and validation in the form of comments on my blog.

I equate enjoying my blog with rubbernecking; you know, what many people do when they see a car accident. Traffic tends to slow down because the drivers are looking at the accident; but instead reading my blog is like peering into an accident. The accident that is the ridiculous and bizarre things that tend to happen to me and not the average Joe or Josie. Well, it is a Bumpy Ride so I say rubberneck all you like; just please let me know that you're doing so from time to time.

So anyway, of course a few things have happened that I have considered blog worthy, but I have been even more crazy, busy than usual and I never made it to the computer to share them with you. But today something happened and I knew, I just knew that I had to share it but I really didn't think I'd find the time; so I opted to call a few friends instead and try to just tell them what had happened. Well, I tried to call 4 friends, that's right 4 friends and one I even tried twice and not a one was home (or at least they didn't pick up the phone - Damn caller ID.) LOL Anyway, I thought this might be a sign that indeed this story needed to be blogged instead and then it happened. I came home and the cable was out. Computer too - Damn Cox. But now I had something that I never have - TIME. SO I got out my notebook and started writing away. Cox got back up (no pun intended) and now I'm typing away.

OK, so I was at my son's soccer practice and after chatting with a few moms in the parking lot, I made my way over to the field. I put my chair in close proximity to the only other mom at the field. Not right next to her; but close enough to have a conversation. She looked very tired and her voice sounded like she had a cold; and even though the only times she's spoken to me were when she responded to me saying hello to her; I still felt compelled to ask if she was OK. Now I don't know her name, but for the sake of this blog, I'll just refer to her as WT (White Trash). OK, so I ask WT if she's not feeling well and she told me that she was exhausted. She said "I've been working; and I'm not a worker." Now there's a statement. That should have told me right away who I was dealing with, but NOOOO; I continue. I asked her what kind of work she was doing and she said "Well, I'm temporarily disabled but I've done child care my whole life, so I'm working in a daycare." She said "It's in Scottsdale and I hate all the skinny, snooty, bitches." (she's a big gal herself.) And then she said "And to top it all off; they're all Jewish." Say it with me people "OH NO SHE DIDN'T!!" OK, so I couldn't believe my ears and felt myself thinking in slow motion. How the hell was I gonna handle this one? Now, admittedly I am NOT the Queen of Jews, not by a long shot; BUT I am very proud to be Jewish and I absolutely despise people who stereotype Jews or make derogatory comments based solely on their own ignorance. OK I said it, I HATE stupid people. Anyway, though I'm not usually the Queen of Restraint, I calmly, and with a big smile on my face replied "I'm Jewish." Though in hind sight I wish that I'd said "What do you mean?" Anyway, WT tried backpedaling and said "Not that that means anything." She said "I mean I think the religion is fascinating." (Yah, sure you do.) When I asked how long she thought she'd work there, she said "Well my boss is really great; I mean I call out at least once a week and I don't work Fri, Sat or Sun."(Can you say Squeaky wheel?) "So I told them I'd stay till Chanukah. I figure I'll get my 12 presents and then have Christmas." And for all my non-Jewish readers; there are only 8 nights of Chanukah,"8 crazy nights" - to quote Adam Sandler, not 12 - but she's FASCINATED by the religion - greedy heffer. She went on to say that these skinny, snoots drop their kids off to go to the gym. And as I said, she's a bigger gal so I suppose she resents them from the get go. She spoke of one skinny, snoot in particular who only spoke Hebrew and only to the director when she goes in to the center. My guess is she's a smart, skinny, snoot and she recognizes that WT would be a a complete waste of her time so she doesn't bother to speak to her in any language.
OK, so I know that you're probably thinking, that's it? Your big response was to say "I'm Jewish" and then have a conversation with her? Now c'mon, you know better than that. What I said was "I know exactly what you're talking about with skinny, snoots because there are these 2 women at my daughter's preschool and 1 is very thin and the other is very fit; well at least to hear her tell it, she is." I then said that I didn't like the "fit" woman because she had a bumper sticker on her car," Wait, wait. And I said "I won't tell you what it said; because you never know who you're talking to; but I know what it means and I don't like her." This tidbit actually is true and I doubt she got my message but hopefully she's smart enough to feel stupid. Should be interesting to see if she ever speaks to me again; or will it be clash of the soccer moms? I'll keep you posted.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

My Disorder...

On Friday night I was talking to my brother on the phone and he asked me if I had blogged about my disorder yet. I laughed and replied, "I don't know that I plan to - it's embarrassing." Then I thought to myself, well, perhaps I will; I mean it's not like I don't write about embarrassing stuff (about myself) all the time. I mean if I can tell you about being a lazy ass and getting a check stub caught in my teeth, I can tell you that 2 weeks ago I had a double skin infection on my abdomen (so to speak) that was both fungal and bacterial; it was painful as hell, required 2 excruciatingly embarrassing Dr's appointments which resulted in me being given 2 different creams, strong antibiotics and instructions to let it air in the air as much as possible. Translation: sit naked under the fan as much as possible, and with that; the Dr. wrote me out of work for a week. OK so I freely admit, this WAS NOT a pretty sight; and I just thank god that my children aren't old enough yet to be completely horrified by the spectacle of their mom sitting half and sometimes totally naked on the couch for a friggin week - OY! One of my worst nightmares. Have I previously mentioned that I DO NOT know how to relax? I am constantly on the go and just don't seem capable of actually relaxing. Don't get me wrong; I often do things that I love and make me happy, it just never seems that I am relaxed while doing them. I love to scrapbook, but then I agonize over how long it takes me to come up with the perfect layout. If I'm sitting on my couch watching TV it's usually because I am folding laundry or paying my bills; so being told to take care of my "disorder" in the manner that it needed to be taken care of, was quite contrary to how I live my life - but I did it, and of course I went back to work earlier than I was supposed to because I am the Queen of Responsibility and I knew that I had too much work to do to be at home. My "disorder" had completely cleared up (which my 5 year old daughter told me was because of her. When I asked how it got better because of her, she explained that she asked God to come and make my "douchie" better. Douchie has evolved into our family word for VaJJ; ) so I went back to work. Well kinda. I worked from home on Monday, went in Tuesday, worked from home on Wed which was the 4th and right before we left for our friend's house, I started to get a wicked sore throat. My sore throat woke me up at 215am at which point I considered going to my office but I thought my bosses would freak when they saw my time clock, so I toughed it out and went in at my customary 530 am. Then, on Thursday night I was giving my daughters a bath and when I went to dry my older daughter off, I noticed that she had a bad rash and dare I say it, a yeast infection? She's five. No five year old should have to endure the agony that is a yeast infection. I called the pediatrician in the morning and she assured me that this was quite common in the summer w/ swimsuits and all and she told me how to help my daughter. Well, I don't know if it was the power of suggestion, or dealing with all of the yeast, but all of a sudden I found myself feeling itchy. It was at this point that I feared I was a hypochondriac and asked my daughter to talk to God about making her douchie better. I told her that God must be wondering what was going on with the Douchies in our house. When the sore throat woke me up at 630 am, I knew I would be paying yet another visit to my Dr's office though I was totally embarrassed to have to be seen again so shortly after my "disorder." I attempted to swallow my pride - but god my throat hurt. I packed up the kids and went in for my appointment. The nurse or assistant or whatever you call them, went to do a throat culture. I panicked for a moment remembering my childhood when it took 3 nurses to hold me down for a throat culture; but as my kids were in the room, I suddenly put my fear aside and became Super Mommy, UNTIL the nurse took so damn long to get the culture that I was kicking and gagging and reached for her arm to stop her. She pulled out (not something you hear often - ha) and informed me that she had to get the culture from my tonsils. I then informed her "I don't have any." OK my confidence in her was a little shaken. She attempted the culture again, which culminated in me gagging like my 8 year old would. I composed myself and asked if they were going to want a urine sample because I NEEDED to go give one. She said "OK, leave it just in case." When my PA - Susie came in; she told me that I didn't have strep; which I thought was a good thing, but she explained "not really; because if it was strep I could give you an antibiotic and for a virus I can't." She then proceeded to look at my throat and I kid you not she looked in, and jumped back (just picture Kramer from Seinfeld in this role;) she said "Oh my god! I don't know how that culture came back negative, but I'm treating you for strep." She said that the rapid test was negative but she was sure that if it was sent to a lab it would come back positive. She then diagnosed a lovely sinus infection in addition to the strep?, and checked the urine screen to confirm a urinary tract infection as well. Although I was dismayed at my luck, I was actually relieved to find out that I in fact was NOT a hypochondriac and I had legitimate, founded ailments. So I won myself a big ole shot in the tush and 2 weeks worth of antibiotics. See what happens when you stay home for a week and do nothing. My body obviously didn't know what to do with itself so it manifested all 3 illnesses. Well since I can't relax, there was no way I was going to let strep?, a sinus infection or UTI stop me; and we kept to our schedule as if nothing had happened. Saturday night we went to my friend Lisa D's and then Sunday, since my husband had taken a rare day off from work,we went up North with our friends David, Jenny and their 3 kids; to beat the heat and spend the day outdoors. Can you say Bumpy Ride? For as long as I can remember, I have held the VERY strong conviction that Jews don't camp. I believe that we probably spent so much time crossing the desert from Egypt to Israel, that an aversion to camping is something that is now passed down in each Jews genes. If any of you are Jews who camp; feel free to contradict me; but I will say that my theory has also been supported by my husband's boss; who is also Jewish. My husband was at work one day and a conversation about camping ensued. My husband said "my wife says Jews don't camp;" to which his boss replied "she's right." Well about a year ago we went up to the lake for my son's Boyscout cookout. Really it was a Boyscout overnight camping trip, but I told the scout leader that my husband would have to work during the day (true) and that we didn't have any camping equipment (true) and that I really didn't consider myself a camper (Damn straight!) I had proposed that we come up for dinner and she said this would be just fine; and that she wished she could just go for dinner too because she didn't really like camping. Well, when we got there, I was truly amazed at what I saw. Tents, nice tents with air mattresses and many comforts of home. There was no sleeping on dirt with bugs crawling on you as I had previously imagined. This actually looked OK. And to my disbelief I found myself saying to my husband "Now, if we could go camping like this - tent, air mattress etc. I think I'd camp." Oh my god - is this the first step to conversion or what? OK, be calm, be calm. That was over a year ago and we have yet to invest in as much as a lantern. Though we have thought about it; especially because we now know a few families who like to camp; and we have said that we would be interested in trying it out. In August we're planning to go to Disneyland with David and Jenny's family; and we were hoping to spend a night or 2 in San Diego while David and Jenny stay there in their camper. They said that they have all kinds of tents and stuff that we could borrow, so I called the campground to find out how much it would be to get a space for a tent, and suffice it to say that $236 is a little too much for me; when I was only thinking of camping as a cheaper alternative to a hotel. Hell no, for $236 I'll take a real bed, a shower, cable and some little shampoos that I can steal from the hotel - thank you. But I digress (back to Sunday...) We took a scenic drive to Prescott, then Williams, had lunch at a really good pizza place worthy of my NY pizza snob palette and headed on to Flagstaff. We had planned to take the sky ride, which is really the ski lift at Snowbowl in the winter. Our destination was what my husband told me was the highest point in Arizona; 11,000 feet above sea level. I was all for it - UNTIL I saw the sign warning that if you were pregnant (not) or had a heart condition (not to my knowledge) you may want to reconsider taking the ride. OK, so I didn't have either of these things to worry about but that didn't stop me from panicking. I almost backed out, using my sinus infection as my excuse - don't ask me what I was thinking. Did I think my nose was going to explode - I dunno, I just know that I got nervous and I had left my asthma inhaler and my Xanax in the car and there was not enough time to go get them because the ride was going to be closing in a few minutes - of course. I agreed to be a trooper instead of Queen of the Wusses, and got on the ride with my 3 year old daughter and proceeded to have a full blown anxiety attack. I remember thinking; I wish that she and I weren't in the last lift of our group. I wish that I was in front of my husband so that if my head blew up or I collapsed, he'd know about it; but unless he was secretly Spiderman and going to be able to throw a web and make it over to my lift - really, what would it matter? I kept telling myself, "relax, take in the beauty "- yah right. My 3 year old wanted to know why there were so many fallen trees. She told me that she thought evil witches had made them fall down. I think it was my sheer delight in having such rare, private moments with her that actually wound up calming me down. All of a sudden I gave in to my fear and relented. I thought if I am going to die here and now, it's God's will. Pretty heavy for a simple ski lift, but alas this is my busy mind at work. My husband kept looking back to check on us and more than 3/4 of the way up he shouted "we're almost there." I sighed with relief as we continued to climb the mountain and then - WE MADE IT!! I was alive! I did it! I was proud and able to really enjoy the beautiful view. I knew that the ride down would be MUCH better than the ride up because I now had nothing to fear and I was riding with my 8 year old son and 5 year old daughter who were not going to shake the lift or climb around as my 3 year old had tried to. I took in the beauty,the quiet and revelled in the sound of the wind blowing. It was a good day; but it wasn't over yet... After we got off the mountain, we headed over to a lake (as if I hadn't had enough outdoors for one day.) My husband had remembered to bring fishing poles for the kids, but forgot to get some hooks. Oh well, I thought, I guess we'll just have to enjoy another beautiful view for a few minutes and get the hell outta Dodge; BUT NOOOO, my resourceful man went scavenging by the lake and found some hooks that people had dropped. Next thing I knew he was digging for some worms so the kids would have bait. There was no turning back now. I knew it was going to be a while so we got out the folding chairs and tried to make ourselves comfortable. My son had made his way onto a rock and was sitting peacefully enjoying the view. He asked if her could take his flip flops off so he could put his feet in the water and I said "OK." Jenny's girls (also 3 and 5 like mine) then asked if they could put their feet in the water, but Jenny said "No." Her 5 year old seemed to take it well, and walked away and got her new shoes caught in the mud. She wanted to rinse off, but it just didn't seem possible. I suggested "in my infinite outdoors/camping wisdom" that she just have her daughter put her foot in the water shoe and all. I guess Jenny didn't think that my idea was so bad because she proceeded to climb out onto the rock that my son had been on, lifted her daughter over, and rinsed off her shoe. Well, I guess it didn't matter to the 3 year olds how or why Jenny's 5 year old got to put her foot in the water, just that she did; and with that, my 3 year old, got herself stuck, and I mean stuck in the mud. Devoted mom that I am; I immediately tried to get over to help her because she had now announced that she had to pee and my husband was convinced that she WOULD NOT make it to the bathroom. In rushing over to my daughter's aide, I too got STUCK in the mud. Now picture this, I'm stuck, can't move and I'm trying to get her underwear off, and help her pee in the water. I think this is when David started taking video on his cell phone. My daughter peed, and I rinsed her off, but I then wanted to rinse myself off; so I dislodged my foot and attempted to climb out onto a rock and ALMOST fell right in - I am NOT the Queen of Balance. I realized that this wasn't a good plan, and stepped back out of the water INTO the mud. I thought I'd give it the old college try one more time and repeated my effort to climb out to the rock and dip me foot in the water; but I still wasn't feeling confident and climbed back out into the mud again. OK say it with me "Jews don't camp." I'm not even convinced that we (I ) shouldn't be banned from outdoor activity altogether. I made it out of the mud and my prince of a husband let me sit in my chair and he took my flip flops into the water and cleaned them off for me; as well as my feet - god do I love that man. Then the man that I love told me that he was surprised that I didn't fall right into the lake and that if that would have happened he would have laughed his ass off. I had to agree, I thought I was going in, and I would have laughed too. I think that David and Jenny might want to reconsider any future outdoor activities with me; as when it comes to "disorders," my dual skin infection may just have been the tip of the iceberg - but hey, I am good for a laugh.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING