Have you ever heard the tales of the Wise Men of Chelm?
In the great tradition and history of Jewish humour, Chelm is a fictional town located somewhere in Eastern Europe that is said to be inhabited by fools. The tales centre around the "wise men", i.e the deep thinkers, who find and postulate ridiculous answers and solutions to the town's quandaries.
A few examples.
One morning, a young housewife of Chelm noticed that something strange had occurred in her kitchen. After she had buttered her toast, the woman accidentally dropped it on the floor and the bread landed buttered side up. Now, everybody knows that this defied the laws of physical nature. Everybody knows that when a piece of toast is dropped it always falls buttered side down. All the great thinkers of Chelm were called and asked to figure out what had happened. They studied, prayed and fasted for three days. When they finally emerged from seclusion, they had their answer. Of course! The young women had simply buttered the wrong side of the toast.
The town of Chelm had decided to build an new synagogue. They enlisted the help of some of the strongest and ablest young men in the area to go to the mountaintop and gather the largest and heaviest stones for the foundation. The young men put they stones on their shoulders and trudged down the mountain toward the new synagogue location. "Fools," cried the wise men. "You should have rolled the rocks down the hill." Faced with their own stupidity the young men did the only thing that they could. They put the heavy rocks back on their shoulders, trudged back up the mountainside, and proceeded to roll them back down the hill.
I have been regaled with Chelm stories since my earliest days at synagogue religious school. I just never could have imagined that one day I actually might reside in Chelm.
Because that is exactly what Toronto has become. Chelm.
The utter stupidity that has engulfed this city for much of the past three years has been staggering. It probably isn't necessary to rehash the obvious, but for expediency here goes. Toronto has a mayor who has finally dropped his translucent veneer of idiocy. He has been caught with his pants on fire and has been exposed as a duplicitous individual of questionable character with a probable substance abuse problem that has been exacerbated by his cavorting with gang bangers, drug dealers, and others who have been indicted on a myriad of offences. (It doesn't even serve me to provide links to all of his misdeeds. Just click on any news outlet site from anywhere in the world this morning and there is the whole sordid mess.) He has continually denied every accusation, publicly trashed the reputations of those who rightly called him on his shit, bullied his detractors with threats and innuendo, and sicked his attack dog of a brother on anybody who got close to his secret life of drug dens and "drunken stupours." He has lied repeatedly and broken the public trust to which he was elected.
His answer to all of this? "I am sincerely, sincerely, sincerely sorry."
No explanations for the illegal activity. No acknowledgment of his substance abuse. No elucidations of the very public meetings with drug dealers. No mea culpas for his racist and homophobic rants. No justification for the smear campaigns against some very reputable journalists and fellow politicians. No expounding on the almost four hundred pages of police documents that show hizzoner under surveillance for months. No elucidation of the now iconic photograph that displays the mayor of Toronto with his arms around three men in front of a reported crack house. (One of the men has since been murdered and another has been arrested on various drug offences.) Nothing, except blah blah blah....sorry sorry sorry....can't turn back the past....must move forward.
My kids did better with apologies at the age of 6.
And yet, there are those "wise men and women" of Toronto who are still behind the mayor. They've got his back.
"He's doing a great job," they say.
"Who care's what he does in his private life? Isn't he entitled to a private life?"
"Can't you see he's apologized? Enough already."
And then there's my personal favourite.
"Of course I'd vote for him again. He's just a regular guy trying to lowering my taxes."
Chelm bullshit!!
The mayor of the fourth largest city in North America is entitled to a private life when his actions do not directly impact his job. We aren't talking about him taking his wife and kids to the movies, here. He signed up for this life and all its scrutiny. That is part of what being the chief magistrate of Toronto is all about. Being tanked and loaded while in full public view cannot and should never be a part of any mayor's private life. We will never know if he made important decisions for Toronto while bombed and in a "drunken stupour", but the possibility is there and as citizens we should all take tremendous offense at that. Cavorting with known criminals on a daily basis is a breach of his elected office. The city of Toronto is no longer simply grappling with an image problem (although I do believe there is an element to that thinking) but rather a business problem. If the CEO of any major corporation was caught screwing around on company time, he or she would be escorted from the building post haste.
And as for his apology? Well...he's been so very honest before, we should simply take him at his word. (That was sarcasm, Chelmites!)
This mayor has been an unmitigated public disaster and it is time for him to step aside and address his demons. But in typical Chelm fashion, there is no mechanism for his removal unless he himself chooses to walk away from the job. I have no doubt that he will stubbornly stay on and continue to spout his Chelmnian mantras until next October's election, but we here in the Big Smoke should be ashamed of our enabling his ongoing nonsense and particularly of our own stupidity.
So did you hear the latest in Canadian folklore? There are these great stories of the Wise Men and Women of Toronto.....
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Wednesday, 6 November 2013
Almost Wordless Wednesday
Blogging can be an emotional experience as I rediscovered with yesterday's post. Sometimes it just makes sense to stop and admire the wonders and beauty of the world around us. It is one of the reasons that I have decided to include a Mostly Wordless Wednesday into this year's submissions for blogapalooza. (That, and because as I have previously stated I am fundamentally lazy and these visual posts will eat up at least four days.) I thought that I might share some of the most beautiful natural experiences that I have had over this past year.
Today's photo comes from the southern part of the Northern Territory of Australia. We had the privilege of visiting Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock) just as the sun was beginning to set. That said it was still almost 50 degrees celsius. I was moved by the religiosity of the site and the intense manner by which it is fiercely protected by Native Australians. It is so much more than mere sandstone in the Outback.
Today's photo comes from the southern part of the Northern Territory of Australia. We had the privilege of visiting Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock) just as the sun was beginning to set. That said it was still almost 50 degrees celsius. I was moved by the religiosity of the site and the intense manner by which it is fiercely protected by Native Australians. It is so much more than mere sandstone in the Outback.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
PSP is No Game
PSP.
When I first Googled it, a lot of references to video games popped up. An unhappy coincidence to be certain because PSP is most definitely not a game.
Progressive Supranuclear Palsy.
A disease so new and so often misdiagnosed that even the word Supranuclear is challenged by my spellcheck. And yet....so very real and so very frightening.
When my father-in-law first started exhibiting symptoms of "something", we really weren't terribly concerned. He was a relatively young man of sixty-seven, and in spite of his pack to a pack and half a day smoking habit, he was in fairly good shape. Stunning, but true. He was carrying around a few extra pounds, but really....who isn't? He was a busy and still practicing attorney and he went to work every day. When he started to complain of fatigue and eye-strain, he just chalked it up to age.
But new glasses and less work didn't resolve the problems. The exhaustion was incapacitating and the eye movements more laboured. And then....the falls started. At first, they were just a few stumbles. A trip over a curb or a misstep into an elevator. But, he knew that something wasn't right. A trip to his doctor led to a consultation with a neurologist who determined that he must have Parkinson's Disease. All of the symptoms that he was exhibiting perfectly mirrored Parkinson's. But, he didn't have any tremors. Not to worry, said the neurologist. Not all Parkinson's patients present with tremors. He was given the accepted course of pharmaceutical treatment for the condition.
But, the drugs weren't working. There was no relief, no change in his condition, and in fact we noticed an increase in muscle stiffness and of some loss of basic cognitive function. The Husband had asked him to sign some checks, and he simply couldn't. Not because of an inability to write, but because he couldn't remember how. A second neurologist was visited and confirmed the diagnosis of Parkinson's. And then another....and another.
And the falls continued.
With regularity.
And the fender benders.
With regularity.
And then one day, he tumbled in the middle of a busy Toronto intersection at the height of the day. An ambulance was called and he was rushed to hospital. A wonderful geriatrician looked into his eyes and immediately knew the problem. It's always in the eyes. PSP patients' eyes don't track. There is weakness in the eye movements especially in a downward direction. That and some of the muscle weakness explained the constant falls. PSP is often misdiagnosed because doctors simply don't know to look at the eyes.
Orphan Disease.
PSP is a neurodegenerative brain disease with no known cause, treatment or cure. A progressive condition that will rob patients of the the ability to move, eat, track movement, and eventually speak and swallow. A whole host of horrors. And we had already lost so much time to misdiagnosis.
Catastrophic illness affects so many. The patient to be sure, but everybody else who loves and cares about that person. There is so much to do, so much to think about, so little time to grieve.
He is in a care facility now, having lost all ambulatory function. We are so fortunate to have such loving and committed care workers with him. He barely speaks now. Each one-word sentence so labour intensive it often puts him to sleep. But, he is all there....inside. He isn't an Alzheimer's case. He has his mind. He understands everything and his memories are mostly intact. I have often wondered which is worse; trapped in a body without a mind or trapped in a mind without a body. Conclusion? They both suck. My father-in-law is the Tin Man, only without the benefit of an oilcan.
And so we carry on. But it is always there. As we go about the mundane tasks of our daily lives, it is always there...just beneath the surface....waiting for the next shoe to drop.
When a loved one suffers from cancer or heart disease the explanations are uncomplicated. Everybody understands.When a loved one suffers from an "orphan disease" the explanations becoming exhausting. What is clear to all of us as we struggle with this misery, is that PSP, in spite of what Google might think, is no game.
For more information about PSP and other degenerative neuromuscular disorders, please check out http://psp.org
When I first Googled it, a lot of references to video games popped up. An unhappy coincidence to be certain because PSP is most definitely not a game.
Progressive Supranuclear Palsy.
A disease so new and so often misdiagnosed that even the word Supranuclear is challenged by my spellcheck. And yet....so very real and so very frightening.
When my father-in-law first started exhibiting symptoms of "something", we really weren't terribly concerned. He was a relatively young man of sixty-seven, and in spite of his pack to a pack and half a day smoking habit, he was in fairly good shape. Stunning, but true. He was carrying around a few extra pounds, but really....who isn't? He was a busy and still practicing attorney and he went to work every day. When he started to complain of fatigue and eye-strain, he just chalked it up to age.
But new glasses and less work didn't resolve the problems. The exhaustion was incapacitating and the eye movements more laboured. And then....the falls started. At first, they were just a few stumbles. A trip over a curb or a misstep into an elevator. But, he knew that something wasn't right. A trip to his doctor led to a consultation with a neurologist who determined that he must have Parkinson's Disease. All of the symptoms that he was exhibiting perfectly mirrored Parkinson's. But, he didn't have any tremors. Not to worry, said the neurologist. Not all Parkinson's patients present with tremors. He was given the accepted course of pharmaceutical treatment for the condition.
But, the drugs weren't working. There was no relief, no change in his condition, and in fact we noticed an increase in muscle stiffness and of some loss of basic cognitive function. The Husband had asked him to sign some checks, and he simply couldn't. Not because of an inability to write, but because he couldn't remember how. A second neurologist was visited and confirmed the diagnosis of Parkinson's. And then another....and another.
And the falls continued.
With regularity.
And the fender benders.
With regularity.
And then one day, he tumbled in the middle of a busy Toronto intersection at the height of the day. An ambulance was called and he was rushed to hospital. A wonderful geriatrician looked into his eyes and immediately knew the problem. It's always in the eyes. PSP patients' eyes don't track. There is weakness in the eye movements especially in a downward direction. That and some of the muscle weakness explained the constant falls. PSP is often misdiagnosed because doctors simply don't know to look at the eyes.
Orphan Disease.
PSP is a neurodegenerative brain disease with no known cause, treatment or cure. A progressive condition that will rob patients of the the ability to move, eat, track movement, and eventually speak and swallow. A whole host of horrors. And we had already lost so much time to misdiagnosis.
Catastrophic illness affects so many. The patient to be sure, but everybody else who loves and cares about that person. There is so much to do, so much to think about, so little time to grieve.
He is in a care facility now, having lost all ambulatory function. We are so fortunate to have such loving and committed care workers with him. He barely speaks now. Each one-word sentence so labour intensive it often puts him to sleep. But, he is all there....inside. He isn't an Alzheimer's case. He has his mind. He understands everything and his memories are mostly intact. I have often wondered which is worse; trapped in a body without a mind or trapped in a mind without a body. Conclusion? They both suck. My father-in-law is the Tin Man, only without the benefit of an oilcan.
And so we carry on. But it is always there. As we go about the mundane tasks of our daily lives, it is always there...just beneath the surface....waiting for the next shoe to drop.
When a loved one suffers from cancer or heart disease the explanations are uncomplicated. Everybody understands.When a loved one suffers from an "orphan disease" the explanations becoming exhausting. What is clear to all of us as we struggle with this misery, is that PSP, in spite of what Google might think, is no game.
For more information about PSP and other degenerative neuromuscular disorders, please check out http://psp.org
Monday, 4 November 2013
Meatless Monday...The 2013 Edition
We are approaching an anniversary of sorts in our house. We are coming up on the fourth anniversary of The Husband and I adopting a completely vegetarian diet. While I have eaten mostly vegetarian for more than twenty-five years, The Husband took it on as a limited experiment. We both have had some grave moral concerns about factory farming and food supply insecurities over the years, and this was a way to demonstrate our commitment. We decided that this decision was for us and us alone, and that we would not become "preachy" in any way, shape, or form with our friends and family. How and what we choose to eat is our business.
It hasn't always been easy. Our two sons are still stunned at their father's rejection of a carnivore lifestyle and many of our friends feel as though they have lost a partner in their endeavours to achieve "meat sweats". But, we persevere. We have never felt better, healthier, and more aware of what we are putting into our bodies. We aren't perfect. There are still some steps to take, like a move to greater organic awareness and reducing our intake of the so-called "white foods" to even lower levels, but we are happy.
Recipe sourcing has always been a challenge, but it has become a shared activity. As a matter of fact, these Meatless Monday blogs have become some of my most widely read and shared posts over the last three years of Blog-a-palooza. Several friends have asked if they would be making a reappearance this month, because they too are searching for new and delicious vegetarian options for their families.
Catalan Sauteed Polenta & Edamame
This recipe was originally found at Eating Well. I have made a few personal changes like substituting edamame for butter beans to add protein and slicing the polenta and broiling it instead of stir-frying it. I like the way it holds together better.
Ingredients
2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 16-ounce tube prepared plain polenta, cut into 1/2-inch cubes or slices
1 clove garlic,minced
1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1/2 teaspoon paprika, preferably smoked, plus more for garnish
1 cup frozen and shelled edamame
4 cups packed baby spinach
3/4 cup vegetable broth
1/2 cup shredded Tex Mex Cheese (parmesan works as an lighter alternative)
2 teaspoons sherry vinegar
Preparations
1. Slice polenta and spray with cooking spray. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and a bit of garlic powder. Place under broiler until it begins to brown, about 5 minutes and then turn to do other side. Remove and set aside.
2. On medium heat, add 2 teaspoons of oil and garlic to a large non-stick skillet, and cook, stirring, until fragrant, 30 seconds.
3. Add onion and bell pepper; cook, stirring, until just tender, 3 to 5 minutes.
4. Sprinkle with paprika; cook, stirring, for 30 seconds.
5. Stir in beans, spinach and broth; cook, stirring, until the beans are heated through and the spinach is wilted, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from the heat; stir in cheese and vinegar. Serve vegetables over polenta. Sprinkle with paprika, if desired.
It hasn't always been easy. Our two sons are still stunned at their father's rejection of a carnivore lifestyle and many of our friends feel as though they have lost a partner in their endeavours to achieve "meat sweats". But, we persevere. We have never felt better, healthier, and more aware of what we are putting into our bodies. We aren't perfect. There are still some steps to take, like a move to greater organic awareness and reducing our intake of the so-called "white foods" to even lower levels, but we are happy.
Recipe sourcing has always been a challenge, but it has become a shared activity. As a matter of fact, these Meatless Monday blogs have become some of my most widely read and shared posts over the last three years of Blog-a-palooza. Several friends have asked if they would be making a reappearance this month, because they too are searching for new and delicious vegetarian options for their families.
Catalan Sauteed Polenta & Edamame
This recipe was originally found at Eating Well. I have made a few personal changes like substituting edamame for butter beans to add protein and slicing the polenta and broiling it instead of stir-frying it. I like the way it holds together better.
Ingredients
2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 16-ounce tube prepared plain polenta, cut into 1/2-inch cubes or slices
1 clove garlic,minced
1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1/2 teaspoon paprika, preferably smoked, plus more for garnish
1 cup frozen and shelled edamame
4 cups packed baby spinach
3/4 cup vegetable broth
1/2 cup shredded Tex Mex Cheese (parmesan works as an lighter alternative)
2 teaspoons sherry vinegar
Preparations
1. Slice polenta and spray with cooking spray. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and a bit of garlic powder. Place under broiler until it begins to brown, about 5 minutes and then turn to do other side. Remove and set aside.
2. On medium heat, add 2 teaspoons of oil and garlic to a large non-stick skillet, and cook, stirring, until fragrant, 30 seconds.
3. Add onion and bell pepper; cook, stirring, until just tender, 3 to 5 minutes.
4. Sprinkle with paprika; cook, stirring, for 30 seconds.
5. Stir in beans, spinach and broth; cook, stirring, until the beans are heated through and the spinach is wilted, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from the heat; stir in cheese and vinegar. Serve vegetables over polenta. Sprinkle with paprika, if desired.
Sunday, 3 November 2013
Women Of The Wall at 25
I am conflicted.
It isn't all that unusual.
When it comes to the state of Israel, conflicted is a kind expression of my emotions.
Don't get me wrong. I believe strongly in the existence of the state and in its unique position as a haven for Jewish life, thought, education, culture, prayer, and growth. Israel is and always should be.
But, I am also a realist and a progressive. As a Jewish woman and citizen of the Jewish diaspora, I feel it is imperative to challenge some of Israel's more disturbing and misogynistic policies. The fact of the matter is that there are still many ideas and regulations within the state that are anathema to me. It is amazing that for many, these abhorrent laws have crystallized around the Kotel (The Western Wall) and the fight for equal recognition of women's tefillah (prayer) by the advocacy group Women of the Wall.
For twenty-five years this dedicated group, encompassing religiously diverse women and many men who support them, have been gathering at the Wall every month to celebrate Rosh Chodesh, the new month. They come to the women's side of the mechitzah in order to pray their way; draped in tallitot (prayer shawls), covered in kippot, and ready to sing the prayers of Hallel. They read from the Torah and they celebrate as Miriam and the women did at the Sea. But, the orthodox rabbinate that controls the Wall and its plaza has become increasingly threatened by these women. They see them as an affront to all that they hold sacred, and have unleashed a torrent of hateful rhetoric upon them. These brave women have been catcalled. Epithets have been hurled in their direction while chairs, eggs and other projectiles thrown at them from the men's side. And when the abuse was at its very worst, they have been arrested, searched, relieved of their precious religious items, and held without charge. All because they wished to pray at Judaism's holiest site.
And through it all they have persisted. They have shown up every month, rain or shine, to daven. Lately, however their persistence has shown moderate signs of progress. The Knesset has been attempting to work out a compromise between WoW and the rabbis who oppose them. The battle is not yet over, but it does finally seem to be moving in a positive direction.
Today, as we prepare to welcome the new month of Kislev, the Women of the Wall are getting ready to celebrate their 25th anniversary. They will be commemorating this occasion in much the same way as they have every previous Rosh Chodesh over the past quarter of a century, with prayer and reverence at the Wall. I wish that I could be there to join them, but I hope that they take this meagre offering as a sign of my unwavering support and solidarity.
This prayer was written by Rabbi Sue Mauer Morningstar of Ashland Oregon.
To my dear Kotel sisters, on Rosh Chodesh Kislev, 5774,
Although I cannot be with you to celebrate our 25th anniversary, I send out this prayer and my love to you:
May the Holy One who blessed our ancestors Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivkah, Yaakov and Leah, Rachael, Bilhah and Zilpah, bless all of the Nashot Hakotel and our supporters with strength, courage, perseverance and divine grace. In the merit of our ancestors who sang out to God with their full beings in a strong voice, Miriam, Channah, Devorah, Serach bat Asher, the Shulamite and the women who came out to greet King David, in the name of Michal, Bruriah and Rashi’s daughters, in the memory of our Bubbies, many of whom were kept behind the mechitzah and out of cheders and yeshivot and colleges, and in humble recognition of our sisters in repressive religious regimes around the world today who are not free to sing out and to worship God in joy, may all women be free to worship God, each in her own way, because the time for silencing women is over! “Shiru l’Adonai shir chadash!”, sing out to God a new song!
Amen, may it be so.
It isn't all that unusual.
When it comes to the state of Israel, conflicted is a kind expression of my emotions.
Don't get me wrong. I believe strongly in the existence of the state and in its unique position as a haven for Jewish life, thought, education, culture, prayer, and growth. Israel is and always should be.
But, I am also a realist and a progressive. As a Jewish woman and citizen of the Jewish diaspora, I feel it is imperative to challenge some of Israel's more disturbing and misogynistic policies. The fact of the matter is that there are still many ideas and regulations within the state that are anathema to me. It is amazing that for many, these abhorrent laws have crystallized around the Kotel (The Western Wall) and the fight for equal recognition of women's tefillah (prayer) by the advocacy group Women of the Wall.
For twenty-five years this dedicated group, encompassing religiously diverse women and many men who support them, have been gathering at the Wall every month to celebrate Rosh Chodesh, the new month. They come to the women's side of the mechitzah in order to pray their way; draped in tallitot (prayer shawls), covered in kippot, and ready to sing the prayers of Hallel. They read from the Torah and they celebrate as Miriam and the women did at the Sea. But, the orthodox rabbinate that controls the Wall and its plaza has become increasingly threatened by these women. They see them as an affront to all that they hold sacred, and have unleashed a torrent of hateful rhetoric upon them. These brave women have been catcalled. Epithets have been hurled in their direction while chairs, eggs and other projectiles thrown at them from the men's side. And when the abuse was at its very worst, they have been arrested, searched, relieved of their precious religious items, and held without charge. All because they wished to pray at Judaism's holiest site.
And through it all they have persisted. They have shown up every month, rain or shine, to daven. Lately, however their persistence has shown moderate signs of progress. The Knesset has been attempting to work out a compromise between WoW and the rabbis who oppose them. The battle is not yet over, but it does finally seem to be moving in a positive direction.
Today, as we prepare to welcome the new month of Kislev, the Women of the Wall are getting ready to celebrate their 25th anniversary. They will be commemorating this occasion in much the same way as they have every previous Rosh Chodesh over the past quarter of a century, with prayer and reverence at the Wall. I wish that I could be there to join them, but I hope that they take this meagre offering as a sign of my unwavering support and solidarity.
This prayer was written by Rabbi Sue Mauer Morningstar of Ashland Oregon.
To my dear Kotel sisters, on Rosh Chodesh Kislev, 5774,
Although I cannot be with you to celebrate our 25th anniversary, I send out this prayer and my love to you:
May the Holy One who blessed our ancestors Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivkah, Yaakov and Leah, Rachael, Bilhah and Zilpah, bless all of the Nashot Hakotel and our supporters with strength, courage, perseverance and divine grace. In the merit of our ancestors who sang out to God with their full beings in a strong voice, Miriam, Channah, Devorah, Serach bat Asher, the Shulamite and the women who came out to greet King David, in the name of Michal, Bruriah and Rashi’s daughters, in the memory of our Bubbies, many of whom were kept behind the mechitzah and out of cheders and yeshivot and colleges, and in humble recognition of our sisters in repressive religious regimes around the world today who are not free to sing out and to worship God in joy, may all women be free to worship God, each in her own way, because the time for silencing women is over! “Shiru l’Adonai shir chadash!”, sing out to God a new song!
Amen, may it be so.
Saturday, 2 November 2013
Shabbat Music Break
Shabbat is a time of rest, relaxation, and introspection. I can't imagine a better artist to help facilitate that process than Shawn Colvin. I had the pleasure of hearing her perform live a few weeks ago together with her good friend Mary Chapin Carpenter. They did an intimate acoustic concert that gave off an ambience that felt as though they were singing in my living room. Shotgun Down the Avalanche was a highlight that evening. Here Shawn performs it with another of my all-time favourites, Alison Krauss. Enjoy.
Shabbat Shalom
Shabbat Shalom
Friday, 1 November 2013
Welcome Back November...You Are a Cruel Month
November Night
Adelaide Crapsey (1922)
Listen. . .
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.
November can be a cruel month here in the north. The days grow shorter, darker and colder. November doesn't have the flashy beauty of October nor does it carry the festivity of December. It is the middle child of autumn, with a goal of simple survival for many. Seasonal Affective Disorder abounds as cranky citizens strive for a sense of balance. Some exercise. Some load up on vitamins. Some binge eat. Me? I vent. Loudly and openly.
It is why I use November as my annual foray into National Blog Post Month. The discipline of having to crank out thirty posts in thirty days is a welcome distraction from the grey that can be the eleventh month. This is my third consecutive November journey into blogapalooza and once again I dive in with a mix of fear, trepidation, and maybe just a bit of apathy. I will do my best to fill this space on a daily basis, but I should warn all readers that as I have aged I have discovered a hard truth about myself....I no longer feel the overwhelming need to impress. Therefore there will be some cop-out posts such as a return to my Meatless Monday recipes and my absolutely necessary Shabbat Music Breaks on Saturdays. Even NaBloPoMo participants deserve a sabbath. I will also be adding an Almost Wordless Wednesday feature. (I know myself far too well to even pretend that it can be entirely wordless.) A photograph can convey so much that simple words cannot, but mostly I am adding it because I am fundamentally lazy and this feature will eat up at least four more days.
And so...we begin. May this November pass with distinction and may all participants in NaBloPoMo find creativity in the everyday. Oh...and may God have mercy on all of our souls. Too much??
Adelaide Crapsey (1922)
Listen. . .
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall.
November can be a cruel month here in the north. The days grow shorter, darker and colder. November doesn't have the flashy beauty of October nor does it carry the festivity of December. It is the middle child of autumn, with a goal of simple survival for many. Seasonal Affective Disorder abounds as cranky citizens strive for a sense of balance. Some exercise. Some load up on vitamins. Some binge eat. Me? I vent. Loudly and openly.
It is why I use November as my annual foray into National Blog Post Month. The discipline of having to crank out thirty posts in thirty days is a welcome distraction from the grey that can be the eleventh month. This is my third consecutive November journey into blogapalooza and once again I dive in with a mix of fear, trepidation, and maybe just a bit of apathy. I will do my best to fill this space on a daily basis, but I should warn all readers that as I have aged I have discovered a hard truth about myself....I no longer feel the overwhelming need to impress. Therefore there will be some cop-out posts such as a return to my Meatless Monday recipes and my absolutely necessary Shabbat Music Breaks on Saturdays. Even NaBloPoMo participants deserve a sabbath. I will also be adding an Almost Wordless Wednesday feature. (I know myself far too well to even pretend that it can be entirely wordless.) A photograph can convey so much that simple words cannot, but mostly I am adding it because I am fundamentally lazy and this feature will eat up at least four more days.
And so...we begin. May this November pass with distinction and may all participants in NaBloPoMo find creativity in the everyday. Oh...and may God have mercy on all of our souls. Too much??
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)