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.

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.

Meatless Monday

We are not huge fried food eaters, but every once in while we just get a hankering for the stuff. I am a sucker for French fries or, even better, sweet potato fries. Not great nutritionally, but ever so satisfying. I wholly believe in indulging the cravings from time to time.

Which brings me to today's dish. The Husband was curious to see if we could replicate a fried tofu à la some restaurant style Asian dishes. I commenced search. (You just have got to love the internet and food bloggers. Some brilliant ideas and recipes are out there emanating from the kitchens of home cooks. You just have to know how to separate the wheat from the chaff.)

Full credit for today's recipe goes to The Food Lab. I have slightly altered the mixture, but certainly not enough to take credit for their brilliance. This is absolutely delicious.

Vegan Crispy Stir-Fried Tofu with Broccoli

Ingredients:

1 1/2 quarts vegetable or peanut oil
1/2 cup plus 2 teaspoons cornstarch, divided
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Kosher salt
1/2 cup cold water
1/2 cup vodka
1 pound extra-firm tofu, cut into 1/2- by 2- by 1-inch slabs, carefully pressed and dried (wet tofu will splatter in the oil)
1 pound broccoli, cut into 1-inch florets
1/4 cup dry sherry
1/4 cup vegetable stock
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon fermented black bean sauce
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
2 (1-inch) segments lemon peel, plus 2 teaspoons lemon juice
4 cloves garlic, minced (about 4 teaspoons)
1 tablespoon minced or grated fresh ginger
6 scallions, white and light green parts only, finely chopped

2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds, divided

Directions:

1. Heat oil in a wok to 350°F. Whisk together 1/2 cup cornstarch, flour, baking powder, and 1 teaspoon kosher salt. Add water and vodka and whisk until a smooth batter is formed, adding up to 2 tablespoons additional water if batter is too thick. It should have the consistency of thin paint and fall off of the whisk in thin ribbons that instantly disappear as they hit the surface of the batter in the bowl.

2. Add tofu slices and carefully turn to coat. Working one at a time, lift one piece and allow excess batter to drip off. Carefully lower into hot oil. Repeat with remaining tofu until wok is full. Fry, using a metal spider or slotted spatula to rotate and agitate pieces as they cook until evenly pale golden and crisp all over, about 6 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate. Repeat until all tofu is fried. Carefully pour all but 1 tablespoon oil out of wok and reserve for another use.

3. Combine wine, stock, soy sauce, bean sauce, sugar, sesame oil, lemon peel and juice, and remaining 2 teaspoons corn starch in a small bowl and whisk to combine. Set aside.

4. Return wok to high heat until lightly smoking. Add broccoli and cook, stirring and tossing frequently, until lightly charred on several sides but still firm. Add garlic, ginger, and scallions and cook, tossing constantly, until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Transfer broccoli and aromatics to a bowl.

5. Return skillet to high heat. Give the sauce mixture a quick whisk, then pour it into the wok. Cook, stirring, until thick and glossy, about 30 seconds. Return broccoli and tofu to pan. Add 1 tablespoon sesame seeds. Remove from heat. Turn with a wide spatula until all pieces are evenly coated. Season to taste with more salt as desired. Transfer to a serving platter, sprinkle with remaining sesame seeds, and serve immediately.

Serve with brown rice or rice noodles.

Happy eating.

Shabbat Music Break

In order to have a bit of a respite on Shabbat, I will continue my tradition of Shabbat Music Breaks. This year, I have decided to introduce you to some of my favourite Broadway musical performances of the past several years. (I plan on writing much more about Broadway throughout this month of blogging hell. Stay tuned.) Today's instalment comes from the 2014 Tony Award winner for Best Musical, A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.  A wonderful and clever farce in the tradition of Oscar Wilde, Gentleman's Guide follows the antics of our hero Monty Navarro and his interactions with the upperclass D'Ysquith family. We recently had the opportunity to catch the show, but it is unfortunately closing in New York in January. A tour has already been announced and it will be making its way to Toronto in the spring. Run, don't walk to see it. Shabbat Shalom.

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder

Music by: Steven Lutvak

Lyrics by: Robert L. Freedman & Steven Lutvak

Book by: Robert L. Freedman

Song: I've Decided to Marry You

I'm No Bob Ross

Have you started colouring yet?

There is an obsession afoot and it is taking over the free time and apparently saving the sanity of Boomers and GenXers everywhere.

The rise of adult colouring books and sheets like these has exploded on the scene like paint-pigmented water balloons, and many of my friends and acquaintances have sipped the Kool-Aid. They are budding Picassos, each and every one of them, armed with markers and coloured pencils, worrying whether it looks strange to hue an elephant chartreuse, and whether or not their styluses are bleeding through to the subsequent page, thus spoiling the garish pink lion on the flip side.They display their completed work as if they had an upcoming show in SoHo, and they talk of stress-relief as if they had just swallowed a handful of Xanax.

And me? Well, I sit forlornly on the sidelines, politely and jealously nodding my head.

"Gorgeous," I exclaim with a tone of envious derision. "Your colour palette is stunning."

"I never would have imagined an octopus in a fairy castle looking like that." (Who would?)

Why haven't I joined in the mania? Because I am simply incapable. I'm what my seventh grade art teacher used to call "Artistically Challenged." Those are the exact words he used on my report card, whereupon he gave me the only D I ever received in school. The grade was actually overly generous and more indicative of the fact that I managed to hand in every assignment on time no matter how shitty the final product. (The fact that I still have nightmares about this some forty years later should act as proof positive of my ingrained Type A sense of order.)

It isn't that I don't love and appreciate art. I do. I am an eager student and a budding connoisseur. I love to meander through galleries and shops, and I have as great an affinity for the local artist as I do for the established. I have spent hours dawdling in some of the great art museums of the world and I always leave rejuvenated and awestruck. But as much as I appreciate the skill and technique, I am one of those poor souls who can't even draw a stick-figure. Mine look like disjointed railroad tracks with boobs. I'm not talking mere piss-poor ability. I'm talking the extreme; a middle-aged woman who cannot, no matter how hard she tries and concentrates, colour within the lines. I have a colouring disability. An artistic affliction. I used to break out into a cold sweat and shake profusely at those kid-friendly restaurants where they'd give the boys crayons.

"Wouldn't you rather play Hangman?" I'd croak.

Of course Hangman involves stick figures, so the horror that I might be introducing my children to soft-core porn at an all-too early age was always in my thoughts.

I am the lonely soul who cannot colour. I have the artistic equivalent of tone-deafness. I cannot be taught and I cannot learn no matter how much I yearn to. I am like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I can't join in your colouring games. Friends look at me with baffled expressions, disbelieving my protestations.

"Everyone can colour," they exclaim.

And then...once they view my demos, that familiar look of pity descends, followed by that inevitable sad, silent, knowing shake of the head that can only mean "Oh, I'm so very sorry for your troubles."

It really does stress me out to my core being. The idea that I might have to be alone with doodles and markers sends cold chills up my spine. You see, I require neatness and order. When my red marker skids outside of the definitions of the elephant's trunk, I actually get the dry heaves.

Relaxing?? Ha!! I'll take a glass of chardonnay and some Luther Vandross instead.

I accept that we've all been bestowed with strengths and weaknesses. I realize that I have been blessed with special and unique talents and gifts, gifts that few others possess. I'm not complaining at all. But, I am still incredibly envious of all of you who have found zen through colouring. It certainly beats many of the meditative remedies out there, and it won't land you in an orange jumpsuit. But please....stop pretending that it is the easiest thing in the world to do. There are some of us out there for which it is simply an ulcer in a pencil box.

Old Folkie

My father raised a folkie.

It was embedded in utero. Instead of traditional lullabies, my dad sang me the songs of Woody and Pete. I was cradled with a proverbial hammer in my fist and was rocked to sleep by the gentle lilts of a hobo. I sang the entirety of Stewball at two,(verses and chorus) and by the time I was six Dad had already taken me to my first Peter, Paul, and Mary concert. (My first of many.)

I would spend hours playing Dad's extensive vinyl collection until the records were pitted and grooved. Woody, the Weavers, PPM, Harry Belafonte, The Kingston Trio, Joe and Eddie, The Christy Minstrels, The Serendipity Singers, Pete, Dylan, Dave Van Ronk, and of course Tom Paxton. Dad would always sing along in his deep and lustrous baritone. (I would always giggle when he tried to mimic the sound effects Tom made on The Marvellous Toy.) These artists were the soundtrack of my youth. Their music stirred my passions, my politics, my social conscience, my inner being....my faith. I was and still am, a disciple.

The Husband also shares my passion. We've happily doled out much cash over the years to add to and upgrade that original collection, and we've spent many a happy hour in dark clubs listening to our favourites perform live. So when it was announced that Tom Paxton would be returning for a final farewell this fall at Hugh's Room, we were amongst the first to snag tickets.

We have seen Tom countless times over the years and he never fails to disappoint. His voice and his stories are mellifluous, and his easy demeanour with an audience makes me feel as though he were singing just to me in the living room. He his consistent and constant, and his songs return me to an era of social involvement, collective protest, community involvement, and loving importance. At the youngish age of 78 and with more than sixty albums to his credit, Tom still wields a commanding charisma onstage, and his pathos when he speaks of old friends and loves is sincerely moving.

Tom's new songs (yes he is still actively writing and recording) mix easily with old favourites. His acerbic wit is biting and his short shelf-life songs are still ironically relevant. He has promised to keep writing and maintain his strong internet presence, but he has decided to retire from the road. He said he is tired and I suppose that after more than fifty years in the trenches he has earned the rest.

I didn't expect to be so emotional at Tom's Toronto swan song. As he tuned his Martin for a final performance of Ramblin' Boy, I realized that this was truly the end of an era. Somewhere around the second verse I was misty, and by the final chorus the tears were copious. I had a chance to shake his hand after the concert as he signed a CD for me, (a remix of his very first recording) and I thanked him for the music. It seemed like so little to say to a man who has given me so much.

My dad is presently out of town and unfortunately he missed this special evening. It seemed almost a loose end that he wasn't there with me. When I see him in a few weeks, I will share the CD, tell him the stories, and we will listen like old times. Maybe I'll even giggle when I hear The Marvellous Toy. What could be better than that?

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Once again, my Almost Wordless Wednesday posts for NaBloPoMo will be special images from my own experiences during the past year; some exciting and adventurous and some rather mundane. Today's photo comes from our recent weekend jaunt to New York. A beautiful autumn day in Central Park was captured with spectacular colour. There is so much to love about NYC, but a leisurely stroll through this urban oasis is one of my favourites. (I am an average photographer at best. This image was taken with my iPhone 6.)

And...We're Back!

Hello November

I would say welcome, but you and I both know that we share a historically tortured and labourious relationship, and offering you kindness and glad tidings would be tantamount to The Titanic offering hospitality to an iceberg.

November is a difficult month. It lacks the colour of October and it enjoys none of December's festivity, at least for us Canadians. It is saddled with shortened daylight, plunging temperatures, grey skies, and Arctic winds.

November is the month when I finally give up whatever pretence I ever had about fashion (which assuredly isn't much) and instead acquiesce to the comfort of utilitarian warmth. Can anybody honestly say that they would rather wear a poncho sweater and leggings instead of jeans and polar fleece? Those leather boots with the three-inch heels that looked so great in October are suddenly no match for slippery frosty mornings, and last year's Uggs are retrieved from the back of the closet.

November is when my morning grooming effort is defined by a personal mantra of "this will do". My hairbrush needs to be covered in a Bounce sheet in order to be effective, I purchase body lotion by the litre, and the sallowness of my pallor can only be matched in its apathy by the effort I make shaving my legs. (November is the month for the "only to the knee" shave and even then it doesn't occur nearly often enough.)

November is when all those wide-eyed idealistic notions about exercise tend to disappear into a haze of excuses most often defined by exhaustion, darkness, cold, or depression. The hauling of my carcass onto a treadmill requires almost as much exertion as the run itself. Still...I manage to persevere, only to be upended by the hormonal calling of comfort food in order to maintain whatever equilibrium is left.

Ah....November. You are the flaming dung pile that pollutes our calendar.

And yet...

For the past five (yes I said 5!!) Novembers, I have found a way to navigate through this minefield of a month. National Blog Posting Month has offered me a lifeline, a creative umbilical cord to sanity. As odd as it may sound, the burst of imagination necessary in attempting to post every day is my personal flotation device. There is life in these posts and I jump at the chance to reverse the effects of Seasonal Affective Disorder. In these posts I find renewal and energy.

It isn't easy. At times it can be gruelling. Thirty posts in thirty days. The task is daunting (I apologize in advance for the clunkers that will inevitably come) and I am fundamentally lazy. As such, old favourites (mine perhaps, if not yours) such as Meatless Mondays, Almost Wordless Wednesdays, and Shabbat Music Breaks will return. No matter how I manage to fill these days, please know I will complete the task. The Type A in me wouldn't have it any other way.

You, dear readers (all 10 of you) can help. Feedback is my sustenance. Comments and "likes" are like crack to a blogger.  Please do so...comment, I mean.... either here or on my Facebook page. (You can even "like" the page itself. I need a few new followers. Yes, I am that needy and starved for affection.) I would love to hear from you and it actually helps with the process. Nobody likes to write in a vacuum. I also wouldn't be averse to the odd share or two. If I can increase my readership by at least two, it's donuts for everybody.

So here we go...into that great abyss we call November.

Blog Elul Day 29-Return

"I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery, and death...I think...peace and tranquility will return again."~Anne Frank

We return to that place of peace and tranquility when we return to our authentic selves. May the coming year find us all in a place of beauty, truth, and peace. שנה טוֹבה ומתוקה

Begin Again (2013)
Directed by: John Carney
Written by: John Carney

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca 
**My favourite movie and musical of the past two years. This movie is brilliant. Rent it or Netflix it. You will not be sorry. 
***Looking Back through this Elul list of movies, I am not surprised at all to discover that each and every one is wonderfully written, impeccably directed, and intelligent. There isn't a single one that is ridiculous or mindless and even the comedies have smarts. They are my personal favourites, but I do beg my readers to be more selective in viewing choices. We as audiences deserve the best.

Blog Elul Day 28-GIve

"Success is finding satisfaction in giving a little more than you take."~Christopher Reeve

We take so much without thought. We give so little with much thought. That trend needs to be reversed.

Toy Story 3 (2010)
Directed by: Lee Unkrich
Written by: Michael Arndt (screenplay) Lee Unkrich, John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton (story)

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.com
**Always exciting to watch old friends create beauty. I can always say that I knew Lee "when.."

Blog Elul Day 27-Bless

"Every blessing ignored becomes a curse."~Paulo Coelho

Each day on this earth is a blessing. Cherish it all and with every connection may we all find ourselves closer to the Divine Spirit.

The Frisco Kid (1979)
Directed by: Robert Aldrich
Written by: Michael Elias, Frank Shaw


**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca

Blog Elul Day 26-Create

"The delicate balance of mentoring someone is not creating them in your own image, but giving them the opportunity to create themselves."~Steven Spielberg

We must continually re-create and redefine our souls in order to live fully and authentically.

The Fisher King (1991)
Directed by: Terry Gilliam
Written by: Richard LaGravenese


**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca 

Blog Elul Day 25-Intend

"I believe every human has a finite number of heartbeats. I don't intend to waste any of mine."~Neil Armstrong

When we live with intent, we live with honesty.

Citizen Kane (1941)
Directed by: Orson Welles
Written by: Herman J Mankiewicz, Orson Welles

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.com

Blog Elul Day 24-Hope

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."~Martin Luther King Jr.

Even in our darkest moments, hope shines a light through which we might be able to emerge.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
Directed by: Frank Darabont
Written by: Stephen King (based on his short story) Frank Darabont

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca 

Blog Elul Day 23-Begin

"The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing."~Walt Disney

We begin with our dreams, we move forward in our realities.

The Muppet Movie (1979)
Directed by: James Frawley
Written by: Jack Burns, Jerry Juhl

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca 
** I have always identified with The Muppets. The dreams of one man expressed in a simple felt frog.

Blog Elul Day 22-End

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."~Seneca

We begin where somebody else ends.

Casablanca (1942)
Directed by: Michael Curtiz
Written by: Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, Howard Koch (Based on a play by Murray Burnett and Joan Alison)

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.com
**One of the greatest endings in film history. 

Blog Elul Day 21-Love

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."~Lao Tzu

Love can be complicated and messy, but it should never be delayed because of our selfishness.

When Harry Met  Sally (1989)
Directed by: Rob Reiner
Written by: Nora Ephron

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca 
**I am attracted to brilliant writing and Nora Ephron was one of the best.This story is one of the most realistic love stories ever filmed.

Blog Elul Day 20-Dare

"To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself."~Soren Kierkegaard

There are no lost causes, only lost people. Dare to upend the comfortable.

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington (1939)
Directed by: Frank Capra
Written by: Sidney Buchman, Lewis R. Foster

**Blog Elul is the brainchild of Rabbi Phyllis Sommer. Her blog and various links can be found at http://imabima.blogspot.ca