America: May God Have Mercy on Your Soul

Here are some things that I absolutely will not miss from this year's clown car show south of the 49th.

• Memes on Facebook
• Any news story that leads with the word "email"
• False equivalencies of evil
• Discussions of penis size
• Use of the word "pussy"
• The need for fact checking
• Vladamir Putin's half-naked image on a horse
• Wikileaks
• Bernie Bros
• Pepe the frog
• The suspension of Godwin's Law
• Neo-Nazis
• The KKK and the reemergence of David Duke
• The word "rigged"
• Incuriosity
• Ignorance
• Bloviating
• Political surrogates from any party but in particular.....
• Rudy Guiliani and Newt Gingrich
• Pantsuits
• Telling a woman to smile more
• Irony-impairment
• Tic Tacs and Skittles
• Access Hollywood
• The Apprentice
• Bill Clinton's parade of women
• The FBI
• Hypocrites
• The Trump spawn
• "Locker Room Talk" used to explain sexual assault
• Chants of "Lock Her Up"
• Super PACs and their ads
• The need for distractions
• Stupid nicknames. Adios to Crooked Hillary, Lyin' Ted, Little Marco, and the rest
• DONALD TRUMP 

Feel free to add your own. Racism, misogyny, bigotry, xenophobia, and hate have no place in a civil society. Good luck America. May God have mercy on your soul.

I Apologize For Abandoning My Sunny Ways...The Stakes Are Just Too High

I have thought long and hard about whether or not I would post one more thing about this soul-sucking sideshow Americans are laughingly calling an election. As a Canadian peering over the backyard hedge, it is kind of like watching your neighbour dig a sewer near your house without having a say as to where it goes. That said, we Canadians refuse to pretend that this shitshow isn't affecting us. The old joke about when the US sneezes Canada catches a cold has never felt more relevant or true.

I had promised my readers distractions and generally positive posts leading up to November 8th, but the stakes are just too high. Trump's closing campaign ad which was released this weekend has been widely condemned and criticized by Jewish leaders as being filled with classic anti-Semitic tropes and images of Jewish bankers and monetary leaders.
The Anti-Defamation League has decried the ad for "rhetoric and tropes that historically have been used against Jews and still spur antisemitism.” Rabbi Jonah Pesner, the Director of the Religious Action Committee released the following statement:

We denounce, in the strongest possible terms, the use of contemptuous and historically anti-Semitic tropes in the recent campaign ad of presidential candidate Donald Trump. References to 'the establishment' and a 'global power structure,' juxtaposed over images of Jewish public figures, create thinly-veiled allusions to centuries-old anti-Semitic propaganda.  

This latest ad is, regrettably, part of a pattern of the use of such words and imagery that has been repeated by the Trump campaign over many months. There is no place in civil political discourse for the perpetuation of harmful and baseless stereotypes. It is the responsibility of every candidate for elected office to promote the interests of all Americans, without resorting to dangerously xenophobic and otherwise bigoted rhetoric or insinuations.

If you are a Jewish Trump supporter and you don't hear these dog whistles, then nothing I can do or say is going to change your mind or your vote. I can say that I am thoroughly disappointed that you have gotten so complacent and comfortable in your bubbles that you have neglected to recall the lessons of the past.

Last December I wrote the following post during Chanukah from Florida. It was early in the primaries and Florida was just gearing up for their dance. I am reposting it here because my sentiments from that time have not changed, except to say that I am more anxious and fearful for my friends, family, and neighbours to the south. Tomorrow is a crucial day in world history. I beg you all to get out and vote for the America that we the world know you are. Denounce hate. Renounce bigotry. The choice is clear. When we say never again, we mean for anyone.

Demagoguery

Tonight I lit Chanukah candles with a gentleman from my building who happens to be a Holocaust survivor. Since this is South Florida and it has been unbearably humid, he was suitably dressed for the climate in a short-sleeved golf shirt. As we chatted, it was difficult not to notice the numbers tattooed on his forearm. I have had many conversations with this man over the years and I have always marvelled at his strength and fortitude in keeping his horrific experiences alive in the hearts and minds of the next generations through his participation in education programs, speeches, and countless trips back to Auschwitz on March of the Living. But tonight, we were just a group of Jews lighting candles to recall our people's struggle against another tyrant living centuries before the one he survived.

And then I came upstairs and watched Donald Trump's latest foray into demagoguery. I watched as supporters at his rally shouted "Heil Donald Trump-THE ULTIMATE SAVIOUR"  and it sent shivers up and down my spine. Trump's completely fascist call to ban all Muslims from entry into the United States can no longer be dismissed as the ravings of fringe entertainer. Tonight he and his supporters entered a new realm of right-wing jingoism, Neo-Nazism, and totalitarianism that every thinking person in the United States and around the world should vociferously denounce. Usually, I am loathed to evoke memories of or comparisons to Hitler, and I can't ever remember calling up Godwin's law before, but Trump and his  supporters are definitely skirting a dangerous line. When protestors are physically attacked at his rallies; when overt hatred of Muslims is spouted by his supporters; when white supremacist organizations are now a solid part of his base; we can no longer ignore the comparisons.

I have had several conversations recently with Jews who are ardent Trump supporters and I have to admit to being baffled. Now I am just disgusted. It is no longer acceptable for Jews (or anybody else) to support this dangerous fascist bigot knowing what we know and knowing the extreme consequences of actions like the ones he is proposing. Trump's call to isolate and bar Muslims is one step away from the Judenfrei policies of Hitler's Nazis.

Tonight, in response to Trump's announcement, Rabbi Jonah Pesner, Director of the Religious Action Centre of Reform Judaism issued the following statement:

While we take no position on Mr. Trump's candidacy for president, we condemn in the strongest terms his comments calling for barring the entry of Muslims into the United States. As Jews who too often suffered persecution because of our faith, we cannot abide religious bigotry.

Our nation, founded by those fleeing religious persecution, is rooted in principles of religious freedom. The absence of religious tests for entry or for office and the freedom of every individual to practice their religion are sources of national strength, not weakness.

It is time for Jews of all political stripes to speak up and finally suppress Trump and his dangerous rhetoric. Jewish Republicans need to find another candidate and they need to say this man is anathema to everything that Americans hold dear. At this season when we recognize light over darkness, religious freedom over persecution, and rededication over hate, Americans must commit themselves to vanquishing this dangerous hyperbole before innocent people suffer. It is a debt that this generation of Jewish Americans owes to people like the man in my building. 

A Royal Distraction for Your Weekend

Today's distraction comes just in time for the weekend.

I bequeath upon all of my loyal readers the gift of the resplendent new Netflix series The Crown.

A period drama about Queen Elizabeth II's ascension to the throne, The Crown has been advertised as the successor must-view period piece for all of us still mourning the loss of Downton Abbey from our appointment viewing schedule.

I'm here to tell you that it isn't that at all.

It's better. Far better.

Lavishly and lovingly created by Peter Morgan who has mined this material before in the film The Queen and stage play The Audience, both starring Dame Helen Mirren, The Crown takes historical liberties by peering into the private lives and conversations of Britain's royal family, and it attempts to show just how like the rest of us they truly are. They love, loathe, and lose as all people are apt to do but unfortunately, they must do it all under the microscope of public scrutiny. Claire Foy is a revelation as the young princess cruelly and unpreparedly thrown into the abyss of duty, and Dame Eileen Atkins will almost make you forget the Dowager Countess in her spot-on portrayal of the slightly bitter and very acerbic Queen Mary of Teck. And just for good measure, there is John Lithgow, one of my all-time favourite performers, doing a spot-on Winston Churchill. (Spot-on. Get me! Already speaking like a Brit.)

My only complaint as I watched the first three episodes this afternoon is that Matt Smith, who portrays the suddenly emasculated Prince Phillip, looks far too much like a Trump son for my liking. Maybe it's the pomaded hair or maybe it's just the vicious Aryan scowl, but he had me quite unnerved. Anyway, I find it very hard to believe that Prince Phillip was EVER the doting father that he is shown to be in these first installments.

So, if you are desperately searching for diverting entertainment this weekend, I cannot recommend The Crown highly enough. Binge watching has never been better.

You're Welcome.

Shabbat Shalom to all who observe.

The Best Distraction...Possibly EVER.

Last evening I retired to my couch, no snacks in hand due to the unfortunate timing of a medically induced fast, in order to watch Game Seven of the World Series. I did this primarily because I am a baseball fan. The Blue Jays are my lifelong love, but I am first and foremost a baseball fan. There are beauty and poetry on that field. Every pitch of every game is a separate contest within the main. It is the only team sport where the individual battles, those of pitcher versus hitter, have the potential of changing outcomes. It is a thinking person's game. The cerebral player can succeed right alongside the physically gifted. Head, heart, and muscle all combine in one perfect incarnation, the baseball player.

So, settling in to watch the seventh game of the World Series, even though my beloved Blue Birds had been eliminated by one of the final two, was a foregone conclusion. I expected to be swept up in excitement. I expected to be entertained. I expected to hear from friends from both Cleveland and Chicago during the game as to the range of emotions they were feeling. I fully expected a collective experience.

I didn't expect it to be a sui generis moment.

It was rare. A once in a lifetime viewing experience, made even more unique with the involvement of social media. For a split second, it felt as though most of North America was engaged in exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. The Husband was texting me what he was going through from a bar in D.C, as he viewed with election-weary Beltway denizens desperate for a distraction. My Facebook feed was clogged with friends from both sides of the diamond. My Twitter feed, which has been filled with ugliness, misogyny, antisemitism, and hate for weeks, suddenly became all about the beauty of baseball. Casual observers were suddenly transfixed. Rabid fans were hyperventilating. Both teams were equal in their excellence. There was a moment during the unbelievably and most certainly divinely inspired rain delay when I mused honestly about not wanting the game to end, even though it was way past my bedtime. I found myself kibbitzing online with friends, as we all recognized the communal joy. It was singular and beautiful and it can't ever possibly be repeated.

I am not a Cubs fan, but I felt their unmitigated joy. I am not a Cleveland fan, but I was absolutely crestfallen for them. For one night in November, baseball was pure again. The outside shit ceased to exist for just a nanosecond, as we all reveled in beauty together.

Wordless Wednesday...A Chance to Remember That There Is Still Beauty In The World

I promised positive images and stories until the conclusion of the American shitshow. I am finding suitable distractions more and more difficult to come by given how saturated the media coverage has been. Thank God for a seven game World Series. A friend remarked this morning that he wished it could be best of eleven so that it would get us through Tuesday.

In any case, this image comes from our recent trip to Alaska. The excitement I felt seeing these graceful creatures in their natural homes was immeasureable. We humans don't always do coexistence well. Alaskans are a gigantic leap ahead in that regard.

Note: I have decided to blog through November as the mood suits. There will be photos, recipes, and music just as in other years, but the stories will be organic and not pressured. I seem to work better that way. If I manage 30 in 30, great. If not, also great. I promise that there will be enough content for all. Thanks to all who support this space. I look forward to a month of interactions. 

November is the Cruelest Month or..How To Maintain Sanity In An Insane World

It's November and you know what that means, right?

Well, maybe not.

It is November the first and that means the commencement of National Blog Posting Month. Every November since 2011, I have taken on the challenge of thirty posts in thirty days. It is exhausting, emotionally draining, and frankly it plays havoc with my creativity gene. I have tried to maintain a standard of excellence throughout these exercises, but it is impossible to know if I have ever truly succeeded. As I recently looked back on some of those mid-month posts, I noticed quite a bit of cow dung mixed in with the jewels. The Husband is adamantly opposed to my signing up this year mostly out of his own self-preservation. He frustrates easily by my constant whining about source material and he certainy tires of showing up in these missives.

In addition, I promised my single digit of readers that I would put a more positive face on these blogs at least until after the S&M exhibition to the south has reached climax. This added task of NaBloPoMo just might make that more difficult, but I promise to try.

So what to do?

I'll leave it up to you the "not-so-faithful" readers to decide. If I get more than twenty likes or comments on Facebook or in the comment section on this space, I will endeavour to fill your blog-reading needs. If not, I have my answer and I will relax and watch November pass me by like a normal person. So, basically it all rests on your collective shoulders. I promise I won't take it personally should the groupspeak deem it a non-starter.

So, off you go. Yea or Nay? Blue or Red? Sedate or Crazy?

Voting responsibilty is difficulty, isn't it?

Today's relaxing news. I'll see your Basket of Deplorables and raise you a Basket of Gus! Admit it. It made you smile.

NaBloPoMo Happy Dance

It's over!

Another blogging challenge confronted and met with success. I do hope that you all have enjoyed it. It was creatively exhilarating and emotionally exhausting. Thanks for reading. I really do appreciate all of the support.

And now....we dance like an Animaniac!

Dead Blog Post File

We are just about at the end of this gruelling November ritual of 30 in 30.

Good thing too. I am just about at the end of my creative rope. Viable and interesting ideas have become scarce and frankly I just don't lead an interesting enough life to keep you all entertained for another thirty days. This post is a fine example of the fact that I have run out of ideas. I herewith present you with The Dead Blog Post File. These are ideas that I jotted down throughout the month hoping that they might evolve into somewhat coherent thoughts. Obviously they never did. You should all thank me for halting the process before it even began.

• I chose not to blog about politics at all this year. It didn't start out as a conscious decision, but it definitely worked out that way. Frankly, I was emotionally spent after the October Canadian election and the clown convention that is the American primary season is just too sad for rational thought. It seems as if the entire Republican field is attempting to out-asshole each other, and the venom and hate being spewed is just too heinous for rational discourse. It just felt cleaner for me to stay above the fray. It still does.
• I tried on three separate occasions to write about my favourite show on TV these days, The Affair. It is smart, complex, sexy, and so much more than the run-of-the-mill murder mystery that it is being advertised as. The shades of grey involved in the story telling and the various points of view being investigated are unbelievably compelling. If you haven't started watching it, you really should. It requires attention and a substantial time investment, but it is truly worth it. And as an added bonus...the Fiona Apple theme song is the best minute and a half of music on television right now.
• I had a strange experience at the pharmacy a few weeks back when the entire customer base was comprised of dozens of men in their 80s, complete with walkers and caregivers, all lined up for flu shots at the same time. I kept thinking that I was in a scene out of a Mel Brooks comedy, but I couldn't come up with anything else to write about it, and so that was that.
• I really did want to write about where people find complete joy; that is their "happy places". I actually have several, but then I couldn't find a hook to connect the piece, so I abandoned it. I would still be interested in hearing about your "happy places". Maybe for next year. 
• I am still suffering from baseball withdrawal, but really, other than me, who cares?
• The Husband and I went to view the terrific Andy Warhol exhibit that is currently on display at TIFF in Toronto. I was mesmerized and gave great thought to the making of an iconoclast. It still does intrigue me, but again...maybe next year.
• Why are the windiest days of the year only on garbage days, so that I have to chase our blue boxes and cans down the street to retrieve them? (You can see that I was getting a bit desperate.)
• The Husband has been raving about his new Tesla for months now. It is a technological marvel and an incredible gift to the environment, but that's his story, not mine.
• Did you know that A Charlie Brown Christmas turns fifty next week? Do you care? I'm certain that there are plenty of stories in there to tell but damned if I could find them.

These are just a few that never made their way to full blog posts for the month. There are several others, but frankly they don't even merit decent consideration for the dead blog post file. It's been a slice of life all. Hope you've enjoyed the ride. Me? Well...I have eleven months to consider once again if this is a worthwhile exercise.

**I would love to hear from all of my faithful readers. Let me know if this month was a joy, a pain, a distraction, an intrusion or just plain fun. Thanks for the support.

Shabbat Music Break

Our final Shabbat Music Break Broadway Style recognizes one of my favourite theatre going experiences of the last two years. My infatuation with Idina Menzel is well-documented, but seeing her in this incredible production was stupefyingly mind-blowing. If/Then tells the story of Elizabeth, a 40-something who has moved back to New York following the breakup of her marriage. Her life is mapped out for her depending on the choices she makes and the people she meets. The play is a bit like the movie Sliding Doors starring Gwyneth Paltrow, in that it follows the same character on two distinct life paths that are dependent on the options presented. Ms Menzel is always a revelation, and the music has been perfectly tailored to her immense vocal talents. I tend to weep every single time I see her live. It's kind of a thing between her and me. If/Then has begun a national tour and will hit Toronto in the spring, and while Ms Menzel will not be in the cast, it is still an incredible theatre experience. It is not a show for the lazy theatre goer and it is not a show for those expecting big, brassy production numbers. It requires attention, thought, and perspective. It is very adult and very brilliant.

Here is the "11:00" number. I convulsed with tears.

If/Then (2014)
Music: Tom Kitt
Lyrics: Brian Yorkey
Book: Brian Yorkey

Song: Always Starting Over

My Husband The Plumber

There is never a shortage of issues confronting us when we arrive at The Southern Home following our annual eight-month hiatus. This isn't surprising. As with any home ownership, things break and crumble with age and weather. In past years, we have had to deal with washing machines that have walked across the floor locking us out of the laundry room, leaky toilets that have left us puddles on the bathroom floor, a garburator that rusted through causing a lake in the kitchen every time the dishwasher was in use, dead palmetto bugs big enough to saddle, broken light fixtures, a defrosted freezer, hurricane shutters that won't open, and twice we had leaks from upstairs neighbours causing enough significant damage in our unit that we had to re-drywall, re-plaster, and repaint. Ah...the joys of condo life. We have been here long enough to know that there will always be some fresh hell sent to challenge us or just plain aggravate us upon our arrival. Of course, this year was no different.

We arrived in the early evening on Saturday. We really weren't planning on arriving until Sunday morning, but heavy rain throughout our drive in Florida really repressed any notion we might have had of stopping for a meal, snacks, or bathroom breaks. There was a dogged determination apparent in The Husband's demeanour that basically said "Enough of this f***ing drive already. Let's just get there." As a result, we were both quite spent upon our arrival and in no mood for bullshit. But, bullshit has a way of finding us. While I got to the unpacking, The Husband set to the task of attempting to open the hurricane shutters. The first two were no issue, but the main one's lock was rusted through and stuck like a son of a bitch. No amount of brute strength, banging, jiggling, or angry cuss words were going to move it. When after countless attempts he finally broke the key off in the lock, I think his angry epithets were heard down in South Beach. Knowing that this was a lost cause in the dark, he moved on to check the rest of the apartment figuring that he would deal with the shutters after a good night sleep. All seemed well until he turned on the main water. (It is a condo regulation that we absolutely must turn off the water when leaving for extended periods of time. The plumbing in this building can only be described as f***ing crap, and as such we have had major leaks over the years. Turning off the water is supposed to help alleviate some of those concerns.) I heard an odd whooshing sound coming from the bathroom and then a plaintive call that sounded like a cow singing James Brown's "I Feel Good." 

Me: "What the f*** was that?"

The Husband: "The toilet is singing to you."

Me: "I'd prefer it didn't but if it has to, I would prefer James Taylor to James Brown."

The Husband: "I don't think it is offering a choice."

While the toilet kept up it's mournful wailing, I kept the faith that this was a temporary situation akin to the broken key currently jammed into the lock on the shutters. The major difference was that the lock while aggravating, didn't have the ability to keep us up all night bleating like two cats in heat. We were simply too tired to deal with it and we were certainly not about to call a plumber at 9:30 pm on a Saturday night. I had no desire to contribute to some pipe jockey's kid's college fund. We climbed into bed with the sounds of Marley's ghost wailing in the background.

But, I married one of the only Jewish handymen. He is really good at fixing things and refused to be waylaid by a broken key or a melancholy toilet. The shutters were successfully opened the next morning, and while he did manage to remove the offending key, he is succumbing to having a professional come to service them and replace the lock. The toilet was another matter. After ascertaining that the flapper inside the tank wasn't sealing properly, we figured out that the offending noise was being caused by a decreasing water line that in turn caused the toilet to run and sing. The flapper needed to be replaced, but given that we had a myriad of tasks to accomplish on Sunday, like groceries, we decided to leave it for one more day. That was a mistake. On Sunday evening, the moaning increased to levels that would have made Tibetan throat-singing monks envious. At 1:00 am, I arose and turned off the water in the toilet. I had to awaken The Husband (how he slept through it I will never know) in order to tell him so that he wouldn't accidentally make a mess the next morning. By first light, I was at Walmart hunting for a replacement flapper. 

My husband the handyman went straight to work. Five minutes later it was Goodbye James Brown; Hello Sounds of Silence.

The Husband is many things, but never once before have I mistaken him for a plumber. He isn't crazy about getting his hands dirty and toilets are not really his thing. But he is my superhero when it comes to stuff like this and I have nothing but admiration for his myriad of hidden talents. If I had known about this when we first met, I might have encouraged this side of him. There is big money in being a plumber. But for now, I think that he will content himself with today's win. Anyway, my parent's toilet is sounding like Barry White. He is going downstairs to silence that one too. 

 

Happy Thanksgiving American Style

I plan on spending my day marvelling at huge balloons floating through the Manhattan skies and I plan on watching a football game or two. This isn't my holiday, but gratitude is important and should be acknowledged.

For...

• The ability to live and love in the moment
• The small graces bestowed upon me and my loved ones 
• The completeness of the natural world
• The warmth of a good laugh
• The catharsis of a good cry 
• The genius of creative thought
• The wonder of presentation
• The blessing of talent
• The capacity to make choices
• The acceptability of failure
• The emotional release of a well-place F-bomb
• The gift of imperfection
• The potential of continuing education
• For difficult discussions and easy decisions
• For moral clarity
• Understanding of differences and acceptance of similarities

For all of this and so much more, I am grateful.

A song for the day. My all-time favourite non-Hebrew song about gratitude. It's worth spending a few minutes listening to exquisite beauty. Happy Thanksgiving.

Grateful
Music and Lyrics by: John Bucchino
Performed by: Michael Feinstein

Almost Wordless Wednesday

My final Almost Wordless Wednesday for Blogapalooza comes from earlier this year and serves as a reminder as to why I love the Southern Home so very much. This shot was taken while we sat on our balcony. This little guy just kept stopping by for regular visits during the latter part of March. He was fun and frisky and we were in awe. The best experiences in life are the ones you simply can't anticipate.

Road Tripping Redux

The Husband and I have completed our annual pilgrimage to the Southern Home and I must say that every year the drive down is filled with more tedium than excitement. Not that I am looking for excitement, mind you. I had enough of that to last me a lifetime the year that we were waylaid for six days by a massive snowstorm in the midwest with nothing to eat but Pizza Hut. (None of us has set foot in a Pizza Hut in more than twenty years.) No, I am perfectly fine with the mundane. But I must say that even after all the years, I am struck by how the little things on a road trip seem to stick with me. This year was no different and offered up a few choice impressions.

• I have never been in the United States for their Thanksgiving. (Sorry Canada. Ours is a pale imitation.) Not ever. I have always envied Americans and their observance of this most secular of holidays. It is an amazing concept. A holiday that cuts across religious lines, is quintessentially American in its origins, involves an entire nation, and allows for gluttony on a national level. What's not to like about that? Watching Americans prepare for this holiday from afar has always been filled with envy and a twinge of sadness. But seeing it up close, even from the limitations of the Interstates, is a revelation. Our hotel was decked out in harvest paraphernalia. The roads were jammed with college students returning home for the holiday in cars packed to the windows with bags of dirty laundry.Thanksgiving specials and flyers were in the windows of even the tackiest of gas station souvenir shops. (I made do without the two-for-one turkey jerky offered in South Carolina.) But my favourite Thanksgiving interlude on the road came from Canonburg Pennsylvania. By sheer chance, (it is almost creepy how by chance this is) we have stopped in the same small town for four years running. It must be that we come through the same stretch of road at approximately the same time every year, given our penchant for starting out early in the morning, or we are just looking for a Subway so that we might be able to eat something vegetarian that doesn't taste like rubber.Whatever the explanation, we once again stopped in Canonburg in order to eat and pee. This year, the only other patrons of the shop were a father and his young son all decked out in pilgrim costume, complete with hat. (I have to say that the hat made the ensemble.) The boy was talking animatedly about John Alden, Myles Standish, and turkey. It reminded me of those days long ago when my own boys would participate in school productions and chatter incessantly about all they had learned. If ever we question the reasons for making holidays fun, interactive, and filled with family and friends, one need only to have watched this little guy exude excitement for the day. It was truly special.
• The border was quiet when we crossed. We were the only ones in the Nexus line, but the heightened security given the Paris attacks was intense and not surprising. We were grilled for several minutes as to the registration of our car, what we were carrying, our professions, and why we were travelling back and forth this winter. We were asked for dates and about the contents of our belongings. We didn't mind, but this was the Nexus line. One can only imagine what the non-prescreened people went through.
• There was many a deer sighting on the road this year. Some live, many not. Bambi and his extended family were actually quite brazen in their appearances, foraging at the side of the road as if it were a Hometown Buffet. It was almost as if they were saying "Hey, we're not turkeys. We have nothing to worry about at this time of year." Of course they probably weren't thinking about the constant barrage of 40-tonne trucks barrelling down on them at every pass. There were deer parts littering the highway all the way into the Carolinas. I suppose Georgian and Floridian deer are smarter than their northern cousins, and stayed away from the Eisenhower-inspired death trap.
• This must be the week that American snowbirds make their way south en masse. It is migration week. So many RVs. So many campers. So many retirees with absolutely no idea how to drive the monster trucks they have purchased. Some are hauling their entire lives in a bus; others are merely hauling SUVs, boats, bikes, and seadoos. It is a wonder any of them reach their destinations safely given the fishtailing, swerving, and odd lane changes. There were times I hung on and just  quietly uttered the Shema hoping for the best. 
• As per usual, The Husband and I fought over the radio. I am perfectly happy with my Broadway channel, while he just drives and stews until I change to a different station. I don't mind The Bridge, but the playlist is limited and I draw the line at the constant repetition of Eagles and Fleetwood Mac tunes. I mean really? How many times in 24 hours does one need to hear Say You Love Me? I say 4 is plenty. So we switched to The Coffee House, a channel that plays hits reimagined acoustically. But Sting waxing with poetic angst on Message in a Bottle put me over the edge. We returned enthusiastically to Broadway. I was struck by some of the ironic music experiences we had. Carly Simon's Anticipation played as we were stuck in a traffic jam outside of Charlotte, and Carolina Day by Livingston Taylor was on as we crossed the state line between the two Carolinas. Coincidence? Probably, but it was still weird.
• The Sunshine State was definitely not. We crossed into Florida and the rain started....hard....and it stayed that way for the next 5 hours. The only positive is that we had no real impetus to stop so we made it down in two full days rather than two and half. 

It is so nice to be here. Of course there are a myriad of problems in the condo that need to be addressed. Aren't there always? A defective toilet flapper is causing one kimode to wail like James Brown. The storm shutters have a rusted lock, meaning that we can't open one side. A call to the experts is on the docket. But the season has begun. Hello South Florida. Nice to see you again.

Meatless Monday

Sometimes the best recipes are the simplest. Today I offer one of the easiest soups I have ever made and possibly one of the most delicious. It is seasonally timely and would be a perfect addition to any Thanksgiving table that my American friends might be setting this week. Enjoy.

Carrot and Butternut Squash Soup

Ingredients:

2 onions chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
1 butternut squash, peeled and diced
4 carrots, peeled and sliced
2 sprigs fresh thyme, leaves only
Salt and freshly crack black pepper
1.5 litres hot vegetable stock
Parsley or thyme for garnishing

Directions:

In a large pan, fry the onions in oil until translucent and soft. Add squash and carrots and stir, cooking for a further 5 minutes. Add thyme and season well with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Pour over stock and bring to a boil. Allow to simmer gently for 30 minutes, or until vegetables are cooked through.

Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly. Using an immersion blender or a liquidiser, blend to a smooth soup. If too thick, add a little more stock until desired consistency is achieved.


Divide soup into bowls and serve with a dollop of crème fraiche if desired and parsley or thyme.

Multitasking Mayhem

Are you a multitasker or a uni-tasker?

Most women I know tend to veer toward the multitask side of the equation, myself included. But I have begun to wonder if by multitasking I am doing many jobs half-assed rather than one singular chore well at a time.

An example:

This morning I was drying my hair, applying what little makeup I wear, and blogging on my laptop all at the same time. I am a master of dexterity and possessor of a keen mind, right?

Wrong!!

Of course all of that was only possible before the dryer cord pulled all of the hair products into the sink, powder spilled all over the counter, my keyboard became stained with foundation, and I slipped across the wet bathroom floor as I scurried to clean it all up. My great strategy for increasing productivity devolved into a tangled wet mess that left me bruised, dirty, and added at least a half an hour to my morning routine.

Here's another:

Last Friday morning, I needed to run out to pick up a challah for Shabbat dinner. I figured that I could knock a few other things off of my to-dos, so I made a list. (Classic multitasker behaviour.) I headed to the bank, the drugstore, and finally to Sobey's in order to fulfill the items on said list. I came home feeling very self-satisfied only to discover that the only thing I had forgotten to purchase was the f***ing challah. You see, I hadn't thought to write the word challah on my list because I figured that it was the raison d'être of the entire excursion, so why bother? I had to head back out to get the challah, once again adding at least a half an hour to my plans.

It might be easy to dismiss my clumsiness and forgetfulness as age, but frankly I think it is symptomatic of another problem. I am wondering if my mind has become far too cluttered to handle the multitasking I used to achieve with relative ease. I am forever stuck in a latent stress mode over a myriad of chronic issues that cannot easily resolve themselves. No matter how much I meditate, no matter how hard I search for tension releases, no matter how strenuously I exercise, there are and will always be backburner questions that continually invade my subconscious. This isn't unique. We all have some version of the same truth. The decluttering of one's mind is often a much more difficult task than the decluttering of one's physical space. I can't have a garage sale to rid myself of the flotsam and jetsam scattered throughout my psyche.

The Husband is a uni-tasker and has always had tremendous problems handling more than one chore at a time, so he doesn't even try. When I told him of my little mishaps, he took it as validation of his way of being and challenged me to take a step back and slow down the process. I probably can't alleviate all of the stress, but perhaps I can achieve an easier coexistence. At the very least, I can simplify enough so that  I don't end up on the bathroom floor with wet makeup all over my clothes.

Shabbat Music Break

Our Shabbat Music Break today is the Tony Award winner for Best Musical of 2015 Fun Home. Adapted from Alison Bechdel's 2006 graphic memoir of the same name, Fun Home the musical follows her complicated relationship with her closeted father and her coming to terms with her own sexuality. Told through the eyes of Bechdel at various ages and through her own experiences as a comics artist, the play alternates between poignant and heart-wrenching. The music is incredible and the intimate setting at Circle in the Square Theatre perfectly captures the sense of claustrophobia that both of the main characters must have felt as they were locked into their hidden lives. I walked out in tears. Fun Home isn't a classic big ballsy Broadway musical and at times it is difficult to watch. It is, however, a game-changer in the theatrical world and needs to be seen by a wide audience. It elevates Broadway to the next level.

Fun Home (2015)
Music by: Jeanine Tesori
Lyrics by: Lisa Kron
Book by: Lisa Kron

Song: Ring of Keys

10 Movies I Can Watch Over and Over and Over and Over.....

I am travelling today and will be out of touch for chunks of the weekend, but I will try to diligently update this space in order to keep up with my pledge of thirty posts in thirty days. The actual postings may come at odd hours, but I promise that they will be here. Please don't abandon me now. We are so close to the finish line.

Today, I thought that we might play a game so that I have something to occupy me during the many tedious hours I will be spending in a car. Herewith I offer you ten (there are so many more) movies that I can, and have, watched many times over. I'm not talking a mere second viewing, here. I'm talking watching a film so many times that I can actually do the dialogue (and sometimes the musical interludes) along with the actors. These are probably not the finest films ever made, but each one has special significance to me. So in no particular order.....

1. The Sound of Music. I realize that this is probably the weakest of all of Rogers and Hammerstein's musicals, but there is something about this film that just works for me. It could be the remarkable voice of Julie Andrews, the extreme diffidence of Christoper Plummer, the magnificence of the location, the cloying schmaltziness of the kids, or just the easiness of the score, but I watch it at least twice a year. I have lost count as to how many copies of the film I own, and The Husband and my children have given up their protestations whenever I choose to watch.
2. Rocky. The original and only the original. Every other incarnation of Stallone's alter-ego isn't worth mentioning, but that first film is genius. There is an intense vulnerability in the character that I find disarmingly charming, and the awkwardness in his relationship with Talia Shire's Adrienne is painfully real. The ice skating scene is the classic first date; uneasy, tense, clumsy, and filled with sexual tension. Rocky is only a sports movie in part. It is also a great chick flick.
3. The Big Easy. The New Orleans backdrop and musical score is perfection in this cop thriller. The chemistry between Ellen Barkin and Dennis Quaid is as hot as anything ever filmed, and frankly he gives me the vapours. The actual storyline is pretty good too.
4. When Harry Met Sally. The best Nora Ephron script ever and one of the best comedies ever filmed. Enough said.
5. West Side Story. Musicals are a running theme with me, but great musical films are rare. This one holds up well. The supporting characters are actually far better than the leads and Rita Moreno blows everybody else off the screen. When she sings the line "A boy like that, he killed your brother..." my heart just aches for her loss.
6.  It's a Wonderful Life. I love anything with James Stewart, but this one is an obvious classic. Buffalo Gals is a perfectly acceptable earworm and how great is it that the cop and cab driver are named Bert and Ernie? I even love watching this one off-season.
7. The Americanization of Emily. Julie Andrews, in a rare non-singing role, is positively feminism-incarnate in this film. James Garner is a studly rogue, and the black and white patina brings a certain realism to the entire endeavour. I love that all the romantic clichés fall by the wayside in this brilliant Paddy Chayefsky script; heroism, self-sacrifice, loyalty, and fidelity. My favourite line?  "I don't want to know what's good, or bad, or true. I let God worry about the truth. I just want to know the momentary fact about things. Life isn't good, or bad, or true. It's merely factual, it's sensual, it's alive. My idea of living sensual facts are you, a home, a country, a world, a universe. In that order. I want to know what I am, not what I should be." Just an all-around great film.
8. It Happened One Night. The first "runaway bride" film stars an incredibly charming Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. I have to say that I am not a huge Gable fan, but he is at his heart-swooning best in this gem from Frank Capra. This is a film that invented the clichés; The Walls of Jericho, the "how to" guide on hitchhiking, and a shirtless Gable. And honestly, how could I not love a film that has a character named King Westley? 
9. Marley and Me. I first read John Grogan's book about his uncontrollable labrador retriever just months after we had lost our own goofy yellow menace. I devoured the book in less than a day, alternating between heaving sobs of sorrow and heaving sobs of laughter. I had lived John's life. The movie was just an extension of that love and I have seen it countless times, each time stifling tears at the end. Marley's attempted escape through the car window still evokes scary memories of my car trips to the vet with BJ. It all happened just as John described.
10. The Pajama Game. I have a confession to make. I love Doris Day. No explanation for it. I just happen to love her. In everything. But especially when she sings. The movie version of the legendary George Abbott's stageplay is great on so many levels. One is Doris Day. Two is a rare screen appearance from the magnificent John Raitt. (Bonnie's dad and Broadway legend.) Three is Carol Haney who gets a chance to show off her brilliance. Four is the duets. I just love this film.

So there you have it. My ten films that I can and do watch repeatedly. Help keep me occupied on our long road trip. Name yours either in the comment section, on Facebook, or shoot me an email. I have many kilometres ahead of me.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....

It has been a difficult week to be an active online participant. There has been so much hate spewed by so many about so much, that I have honestly begun to question whether or not this great social media experiment that billions of us have signed on for is actually worth it. I am all for the free exchange of opinions and ideas, but I have reservations when that careful, cool, and considered debate turns into something darker and more sinister. It isn't just on social media sites. Check out the comments section of any newspaper, magazine, or blog and you will find a litany of venom spewing from all sides of a dispute. And this crap is just the stuff that has made it through the moderators. Imagine what gets filtered?

I have given much thought to online etiquette and why our discourse has become so very toxic and I have developed my own personal filters to weed out the miscreants. Here are some basic tips for commenting, posting, or sharing online. I am calling it Step Away From the Keyboard If...

Step Away From The Keyboard If....that which you are about to share comes from a blog, "news organization", or media site that you have never heard of before or has no attributable source. The chances are if it has a funky name, it is spewing bullshit.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you might share a meme, photograph, or photoshopped image that has no viable attributable source.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you don't feel comfortable posting under your own name. If you feel that you need a pseudonym or handle in order to feel safe or comfortable with your words, I can almost guarantee that what you are about to post isn't worth it and probably shameful.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you are about to share a meme, photograph, or photoshopped image that comes from somebody with a pseudonym or handle you are unfamiliar with. The chances are, that it emanates from bullshit.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you are thinking about posting on a friend's Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram page with angry, contrary, bigoted, and expletive-laden opinions that are certain to anger your "friend". Discussion and discourse are fine. Hostility and venom are not.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you are thinking about sharing an email that has a chain of hundreds of thousands of names, comes from an undisclosed recipient, or arrives from an address that you are unfamiliar with. Chances are....bullshit.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you would never consider saying the things you are about to post in a face to face conversation.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you have given less than five minutes of thought to that which you are about to post or on that which you are about to comment. Impulsivity is certain disaster online.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....a friend's post makes you so angry that you are tempted to type a diatribe response filled with expletives, hate, and venom. Angry online debates are a waste of time. Civil discourse requires thought and space.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you have only read the headline or title of an article and have only skimmed the contents. Context is everything. Don't comment if you haven't read something thoroughly.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you can't be polite.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you are uninformed or underinformed on the topic presented. Trust me when I say that ignorance can't be easily hidden.

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you feel the need to use euphemisms like "libtard", "Left-wing asshole", "cu**servative", "right-wing nut job", or if you use demeaning nicknames for the leaders of Canada or the United States. For the record, those proper forms of address are Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and President Barack Obama. Whether you like them or not, or agree with them or not, they are the duly elected leaders of our countries. When you demean their names, you demean the offices they hold. Unless you are a satirist (and trust me none of you are) stop with the name-calling. (I must admit that I learned this one the hard way.)

Step Away From The Keyboard If....you can't address the issue at hand without personal attacks.

I am not suggesting that we shouldn't enjoy our time online, nor am I suggesting that it shouldn't be fun. I am suggesting that we be far more careful about the tone that we are setting and far more careful about the content we are spreading and, by default, becoming responsible for. These are just a few gentle reminders. I hope that by following some of them, we can improve the tenor of our discourse.

One last thing on a highly personal note: If anybody ever posts anything on any of my social media sites or on this blog which I deem to be racist, sexist, misogynist, homophobic, religiously insensitive, culturally inappropriate, or just plain mean that person will be permanently blocked. My game, my rules. I have no time nor patience for bullshit.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Today's image comes from our trip this past summer to the Baltics. While in Oslo, we had a chance to visit the Nobel Peace Centre. It is a showcase for the Nobel Peace Prize, the work of Alfred Nobel, and it offers an interactive display of all of the Peace Prize laureates. From their mission statement:

The Centre also acts as an arena for debate about important social issues. Through permanent and temporary exhibitions, guided tours, various events and family activities, we wish to foster reflection and engagement on topics related to war, peace and conflict resolution. 

The Hall of Laureates left me breathless and filled with emotion. While there has been controversy over the years as to some of those honoured, most have been incredibly deserving. In this time of global turmoil, the Centre serves as a living reminder to what can be achieved through communication, understanding, and peaceful coexistence.

Finding Peace in Sadness

**I wrote this last week before the events in Paris, Sinai and Beruit. It's funny that I think it more relevant now than ever.

This is the time of year that The Husband and I start catching up on all of the worthwhile films we missed due to our antipathy toward the modern cinema-going experience. We haven't sworn off movies, but rather going to the movies. Hence our recent love affair with Netflix, pay-per-view, and Apple TV. Last week we finally got the chance to settle in and watch Pixar's latest masterpiece Inside Out. The story follows young Riley as she and her family move from their comfortable Midwest home and relocate in San Francisco. Her emotions--Joy, Sadness, Disgust, Anger, and Fear--are all in conflict as they struggle to navigate Riley through the new situations she faces.

I could sit here and wax poetic about the sheer genius of the film, and trust me it is f***ing brilliant, or I could spend several paragraphs on my unadulterated passion for all things Pixar. But instead I very much want to focus on my favourite character in the movie, Sadness. (By the way, the casting of Phyllis Smith in this role is inspired. She is flat out perfect.)

Sadness captivated me from the very beginning. She is coloured blue. She is short, kind of schlumpy, hunched over, and in a constant state of exhaustion. Her voice sounds chronically depleted. She is an outcast from the other emotions and tends to keep to herself for fear of ruining everybody's "happy girl." Joy is forever trying to isolate her and keep her away from Riley's memory balls for fear that Sadness will tinge every recollection with her special brand of melancholy. In short, Sadness is the emotion that all the other emotions do not want to deal with at all.

And....neither do the other people in Riley's life. Her parents, her teachers, her friends, all want to see the happy joyful Riley. They tend to overlook the moments when Sadness takes over her being because Sadness is often so painful to address and far easier to ignore.

Dacher Keltner, a UC Berkeley psychologist who specializes in emotion, social interaction, power and social perception, and behaviour, and was a consultant to director Pete Docter on the film states:

One, [emotions] are really critical to how we look at the world—our perception and our attention and our memories and our judgment. They guide us in our handling of really important life circumstances, like moves and developmental changes.
The second thing is more subtle to perceive in the movie, and it's something that we've been arguing for in my lab: People in different traditions like to refer to emotions with a social idiom or a grammar of social interactions. Emotions are the structure, the substance, of our interactions with other people. If I'm falling in love with somebody, everything that I do in that euphoria of love—buying flowers, reciting poetry, touching the individual's hair—it's textured by the feeling, and it sets up these patterns of how we relate to each other. Those scenes in particular with Riley's fights with parents and running away and coming back are all about sadness. That's what it really got right. Emotions shape how we relate to other people.

We tend to disregard sadness because we would rather our memories are filled with happy and positive experiences. But our emotions are malleable. Sometimes they are all jumbled together in order to create one single memory. By discounting one and only focusing on the others, we are neglecting the whole picture and all of the individual moments that went into making that memory. Dr. Keltner continues:

You may think your memories are a factual representation of events, but in fact we lose a lot of information. Memory is imperfect, that's OK, and emotions are part of the reconstruction of the past. People say they get it, but once you portray that artistically, then people are crying and struck by the existential truth of that notion.

In other words, Sadness matters. We navigate our way to joy and contentment through a maze of competing emotions. How can we possibly understand or appreciate our euphoria if we refuse to acknowledge and deal with the dolefulness?

I am always underwhelmed by people who are in a constant state of positivity and attempting to impose those emotions on others. You know the type? They're the ones who are filling up your Facebook feed with positive affirmation statements. It isn't that I have a problem with their optimistic outlook, it is that I am suspicious that negativity seems to have been banished from their lifestyles. Life is a balance and from an emotional perspective neither extreme is good. Once more from Dr. Keltner:

One of the things I really resonated with is that we have a naive view in the West that happiness is all about the positive stuff. But happiness in a meaningful life is really about the full array of emotions, and finding them in the right place. I think that is a subtext of the movie: The parents want Riley to just be their happy little girl. And she can't. She has to have this full complement of emotions to develop. I think we all need to remember that. This is a weakness in Western culture and the United States. You need sadness, you need anger, you need fear.

Obviously it is far more complex than can be gleaned from a two hour Pixar movie. What is important is that we learn to recognize our emotions and how they control every aspect of our lives. There is no magic bullet to achieving balance and the journey is complicated and filled with a myriad of pitfalls, but we cannot get to where we want to be by denying a huge chunk of our emotional psyche. Sometimes sadness takes over. Understand it. Own it. Feel it.