A Year in Review of Many Many Pieces

I started this blog in April with the somewhat unsettling name "Pieces of Me" when I was looking to convey myself in a more personal way than my writer 'piece' of my writing blog. It began with writing about dilapidated looking windows on the kibbutz and then became somewhat of a blog in transition as I recorded my fears of settling in Squirrel Hill and unpacking miseries ashamed to admit that perhaps I was moving too quickly for myself.

In this four month period, we've managed to acclimate realizing that Pittsburgh is doable and livable. I've used this blog to vent, share, and become a blog readership which has not fully taken off the ground since I still feel quite unsettled since arriving here but whe I read the first early posts I realize I was quite naive in thinking it's just a 'move'.

This brings me to a case in point: the world is an unsettling place to be in right now. I want our leaders back, I want the truth back, I want old writer and non-writer friends back in my living room of my childhood home so I can feel 'safe' again. (I think about this a lot.) I've also joined a LJ community and the readerships gather a good social networking community.

Writing has become that void I once thought could be severed easily, but is actually representing many pieces of me. I am slowly trying to find the one piece that fits. I've written web articles, magazine articles, blogs, journals, LJ diatribes, stories - all weaving something of a bitter-sweet journey.

After what I am hearing from my teacher colleagues in Israel about the education scene, I don't know if I want to return back after my leave of absence for the upcoming 2008-2009 school year. I don't know if that is my place in my world as much as I miss our dear dear kibbutz home.

But I'm learning from my book proposal, taking yoga classes and writing for children, that I can take control of my own life. And perhaps this is what I was meant to do.

Professional blogging is one option. Writing for magazines is another. As I said, I'm starting to write for children and mustering the courage. But first there's my book proposal, which I must must send out. I take each day at a day. I know I must research before making any decisions and I would like to extend this small community I already have to include those I have not yet 'met'.

What started as a kibbutz blog has emerged as a transatlantic blog reflecting real dreams, aspirations and goals. (I won't bother you with this right now) I know I need to update this blog in terms of more current activity such as my reading nightable, tips, excellent sites, which is actually the main content areas of my writing blog which I started in October of 2006.

But for now, I am taking the rest of today and a bit of tomorrow to relish in the fact that we've survived, Ivry is three years old tomorrow and today is our wedding anniversary of five years.

So, how do you sum up your year in review?

Soup Memories - Hinda Czernick z"l

It is especially during the holiday season, when I can't help but think about Grandma aka. Hinda Czernick z"l. She died in 1995 when I was in Israel. I am dedicating this blog entry to her, as I try to find a 'home' for her and all the memories of her. In "Soup Memories," I describe her habit and predictability of cooking and how important that element is in parenting our own children..

************************************************************************************

She was a short woman who needed some heights. So she cooked in high heeled pumps, back to us in a dark housedress. She hardly talked.

Grandma served the soup in white porcelain bowls always with one thick big matzah ball and heavy chicken broth. We all sipped the soup with gusto. When I wanted to break the heavy silence, I slurped. This irritated my mom and she would say firmly: “Dorit, stop that.” My brother giggled. When my mother collected the soup plates, she would always say: “Ma, this soup is out of the world.”

Sometimes Grandma would add plain white rice to the soup. The broth always left us so full. We could never understand why there were so many meat and chicken courses afterwards.
We never bothered Grandma when she was cooking. The kitchen was her space. When our cousins, aunts and uncles left, we went to the broom closet, then headed afterwards to the bedroom with our magic brooms.

No Guarantees!

There are no guarantees to life. I'm learning that now.

Especially after six - to seven hours writing days and still feeling that maybe nobody is really going to publish about this topic even though it's a real hot one now in the face of literacy especially early ESL Literacy. (my twelve years of work)

But then again, I have to constantly remind myself that I am writing for the experience of getting closer to a dream and in fact, there are always going to be rejection notices.

So what dreams are you pursuing of late? Merry Christmas!

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Good and Important Things that Happened this Week ....

1. I am making deliberate daily progress with the book project. I don't compromise writing daily, and I don't give up even though during the last few weeks I almost felt I wanted to.

2. I am revising a PB "To the Right of the Bridge" and I finally got a chance to revise it and read it aloud to my writing group.

3. I am finding time to be more social ... mainly virtually but hopefully also offline as well.

4. Isn't it time to start becoming more conscious of your goals? I'm finding it hard to visualize mine so I am working on first visualizing myself producing a list which hopefully will help me start somewhere.

5. Ivry had a beautiful Chanukah party at the JCC. The cards I prepared were lovely. I'm glad I found the right words to top off the Chanukah moment - hello Hallmark! I've posted a short video of it and a few pictures to go along.

6. I got an email today inquiring if I was interested in a part-time teaching job at Point Park University.

7. Haim and I are spending more quality time together. He really gives me the support and piece of mind I need in order to write.

8. I am becoming more conscious of how I sit, use my body especially in long sitting positions. Hello again to Yoga.

9. My old high school friend gave birth to a baby girl. I'm looking forward to pictures.

10. Haim's employers are happy with his work.

11. I am visiting and leaving comments on some really nice blogs. There are a lot of talented writers out there.

12. I am finding realizing that it pays to become part of a community of children's writers. I wish I had enough funds for a SCWBI membership... *sigh* maybe next year.

13. I try to do something good for somebody.. whether it's giving flowers, sending an e-card, complimenting the librarian for her fine work or my mother's home attendant.

Bonus: Ivry just loves the stories I brought him from the library. My latest childhood favorite is Caps for Sale.

What good things happened (or are happening) to you this week?

Have a good TT!

Thursday Thirteen - Amazing Snow Things

See my previous post on the snow's first impression. This is simply an addition to the list. My the week has flown by fast. What a beautiful sunny day. Happy TT Everyone!

1. Icicles on metal
2. Watching Ivry make a snowball
3. Finding a fresh snowy path
4. Memories
5. The tired slumber one feels racing to drink a cup of cocoa after trudging through a pile of snow.
6. Reading lots of books and finding amazing images to shoot in the snow realizing they've probably been photographed already.
7. Reading "Froggy Gets Dressed" to Ivry
8. Watching Ivry try and eat the snow
9. Watching this cute website sent by a friend. You'll like it. Guaranteed!
10. Praying
11. Watching the Chanukah lights die low
12. Pretending I'm a child again making snow angels
13. Waiting for Haim to come home so we can share our little 'snow tales'

Happy TT!

Snow! Snow! Snow!

It's a winter wonderland here in Squirrel Hill, Pittsburgh. The wonder of it is the soft purple hues splattered around, then watching Ivry in his just fitting three year old snowsuit watching the tracks his stroller makes in the fresh snow.

I didn't post any pictures of its fresh impression on me; I'm sure you all have your own vivid memories, mine is just another 'image' - simple and pure - baby's first whites second to that of my childhood.

Time to fry doughnuts, make potato latkes along with my nest (nope, I'm not pregnant) reading applesauce recipes, figuring out which books are the best to read and looking forward to another writing day - trudging my suitcase in the dark snow to and from the library. Snowflakes equal progress...the thoughts consolidate and bring out the best in me... and hopefully in you too.

I miss snow angles, lifting my tongue out to catch the snow. I remember the day when I watched Charlie Brown's Christmas and Thanksgiving in one Hodge pie.

In the snow back from the library earlier this afternoon, a Chabad fellow asks me if I'm Jewish and I reply 'yes' and he produces a menorah and a small box of donuts from the heavy laden plastic bags. Knowing me, I take only the donuts. I don't take more than I need - plus I miss when my mom didn't buy me any donuts so I snuck out and bought my own from the money I stole from her deep leather bag. But this Chabad fellow is just doing me a mitzva, and I can only thank him in return and hope that he has a beautiful Chanukah. So I wish him that...again in the snow.

I told that Chabad guy that I have my own menorah since five. I don't go into detail and tell him that Mom bought it when she visited Israel for the last time ... although I want to. And then I'll be forced to take the menorah...

Last night, Ivry and I lit our first candle together in Pittsburgh. I remember him dearly at one, two and now three years old ... and the blessings just keep coming with the next rounds of snows. And I put a series of Psalms of meditative music to keep me in trance with the purple hues, and hope yet for another miracle when my mom and me can be together ... again.

My First Video

I finally realized that there was a video function on our digital camera ... hello??

We are in NYC for an extended Thanksgiving holiday. It is in my mom's Greenwich Village apartment I learned the video function on our digital camera. I am so lame. I guess we all come full circle. Eventually.

This first memorable video is of my husband and my mom dancing to Cole Porter's "I Love Paris." Ella Fitzgerald's voice is just stunning and to embelish the blues, is the ensuing dialogue between Haim and my mom, and then there's little old me waving in the background waving copiously. How silly can one thirty seven year old get?

My mom has Alzheimer's and tonight, she became my mommy again for a brief while. Music is an amazing spiritual healer. Her face lit up like the Christmas tree I saw earlier this evening in Bryant Park. Wow.

A Cloudy Day

Here I am, again at the library drafting out yet another clean sheet of paper for my book on early literacy education.

I left my suitcase of ideologies on a kibbutz just a few months ago – farmland territory under some nebulous looking cloud that frightened even a scarecrow but with lots of pansies to keep you dreaming. I love planting, weed work, watching the clouds move, eating fresh mint, but when those clouds on the other side of the Atlantic got too dark and a bit boring, I knew something was obviously wrong.

It all made of course even better sense when I boarded the plane, taking my redheaded son and husband with me to start afresh writing on the other side of the Atlantic, figuring out our next steps one day at a time.

It’s been raining on the Eastern coast, one straight pour after another and I had one of those flashbacks again…

“left, right, left, right… listening to the marching when I was in the Israeli army twenty years earlier. Hearing the soldiers march while in the bunk always makes you think about all sorts of strange things… and ideas… and ideals…

“left, right, left, right,” … like aunt roses’ clock twenty five years earlier in Far-Rockaway – quick flashback to the one thing I liked to do most – observing the big hand of the twelve and then my own small hand wondering which word I would write, if and where, and when??

When I was young, momma pulled me away from the waves afraid I would get sucked under by the current, I knew she meant years later when she said ‘ don’t go into the arts – ‘it’ll suck you dry.’

It’s always easier to stay close or be the closest one to the shore. Watch the dirty looking clouds. The rainy kinds ones I like the best. But even if you don’t cross your ‘I’ and dot your ‘t’s, at least you know you have to write whatever comes out and that perhaps has also made a difference.

The last page I left my t and I uncrossed, it looked unfinished but that made me feel perhaps a bit better. Oh and I keep on forgetting to bring my umbrella. But I guess that doesn’t count, does it?

**************************

After a bit of a hiatus, I decided to send this post to the Write-Away contest at Michele's blog which I read fervently.

Thursday Thirteen - The Smaller But Important Things

Hopefully, I’ll be up to date with this post. Keeping a schedule of course, is another thing. Here goes:

I see the signs of modern life taking its toil everywhere: the fast and junk food, self-help groups, commercials for prescribed medications,.

Then there is the loneliness described by the faces of anxious and tired women: waiting on or for customers, talking at bus stops, some trying to make conversation. Or closed off from the (working) world, listening to itunes, ipods, whatever. I never knew how lonely it all could be – until now – and especially as a mom.

As adults, we get sucked in by our own thoughts. Almost like furnishing or designing a room – before the wallpaper, there’s the blue print – the rawness of emotion and love, not only with others but within yourself.

The small things in life are indeed free. I’m grateful to have come across most of these in my short lifetime.

Consider these options as useful practices in your daily creative life, as you create the residual yearning of mental, emotional, spiritual and social growth.

1. Write about it. Every so often, I’ll goad the pen (or computer) and dip into time. My characters provide me with the love. I just write about them. It all takes time since writing is also a process of maturity and maturation. Since fiction is lifting characters of my family and friends does not merely mean require writing about them , I wait until they give the love back to me. And they do; For this reason alone, I truly find the creative process therapeutic.

2. Finding the comfort in my husband and son. I spend many hours of the day alone. Writing. Sometimes I enter blank and dark and dusty and unfamiliar corners. I need to share. My husband and child are always there for me. A loving home provides a foundation. (can’t remember – must be from a quote??)

3. Looking through photo albums

4. Playing old videos and tapes. Recently I uncovered some of my mom’s old piano music. Since her Alzheimer’s, she hasn’t been able to play a single note, but the mazurkas remind me of those old ballerina dances when I twirled in front of a full length mirror.

5. Smiling at people – complete strangers. I’m not a smiley person. I keep everything hidden. Very well. However, I’m turning outward. Pittsburghians are a friendly bunch and it’s not hard to practice smiling. On them. NYC – forget it. Well, maybe not.

6. Call up an old friend or family member. Or send a beautiful Jacqui Lawson card. When I came back to the States after my 18 year hiatus from Israel (I visited Israel every few years or so), I immediately got back in touch with a few old friends I had not spoken to in years reminding me why I cared or respected them.

7. Visiting special places that have meaning of significance. For me two summers ago, this meant visiting my Dad’s old art studio atop one of the roofs where I grew up in Greenwich Village, Manhattan, USA. Out of eagerness and desperation to see what was still there after twenty years, I finally got the maintenance supervisor to open it only to find it full of shambles but the rusty ol’ chock-full-of nuts cans of bolts and screws were still there – as if they hadn’t left its twenty year positions.

8. Going through baby books. Reading the words of love. Finding the love and connection all over again. It’s a very meaningful experience.

9. Reading old books – especially children’s.

10. Say old jokes, songs, anecdotes, stories you remember as a child. The things I would do when I babysat years ago, I now do with my son. Coming full circle.

11. Listening to old albums (I still have an old 1970’s stereo system in my mom’s apartment)

12. Help an elderly or frail person – volunteering. (I plan to do this soon)

13. Love thy neighbor….write in your journal… exercise… whatever it takes to find the love again.

HAPPY TT EVERYONE!!

Moving Slowly

At 12:30 in the afternoon, I look at what I have written for the day. I'm afraid I haven't written much. Just a lot of rewrite, research and rewrite on my book project. It's a fully ambitious piece of writing much of it centered on my twelve years of teaching. Only I spend a lot of time moving from web page to another, kitchen, and chair again.

Nope, no writer's block. Just taking my time to feel the day, understand it so it can make sense for me. In essence, I am supposed to be on sabbatical and I'm young, but the feeling is practically weird.. I can take my time waking up in the morning, smell the cement from outside, hear the rain drops frall on the air conditioner, SLOWLY read the words on other peoples' blogs and websites and SLOWLY, try to find a connection with myself, the day, my life.

Nighttime .. and I jumped fast forward to daytime to be by myself, to claim the writing hour of the day. There are certain parts of the day that are my habitual routines, a few fiercely private. Today, I decided to take the day off for again, some serious writing, but this time to be at home. Technically, I'm supposed to be celebrating my birthday with my husband by walking and exploring parts of downtown Pittsburgh, only I can't seem to get up from the chair and leave the computer screen especially since I know I will barely have time for any research and writing and making sense of this book project this weekend.

*sigh* the price for making a cost effective decision

Birthday Wishes - A Very late Thursday Thirteen

Pre-Halloween Reading

Hey, where's my mommy?

It's cool being King!








I'm tired from trick or treating.









Who says Thursday Thirteen can't be a Sunday Thirteen? I have been hibernatin' again, this time beneath the sodden last few unpacked boxes of stuff...like finding the story I have been needing to write or to claim the words and choose them wisely.

Crossing oceans is like making sense of the water, the waves and ... the words that I write. Behind words of course, are thoughts and bundles beneath them are habits stringed through many many years.

I think rushed, try to write in between dishes, laundry, clutter. I need my peace, quiet, sanity. I want to devote myself utterly to this writing project; it symbolizes all that I have become and all I want to be.

My birthday comes on November 10th - a Saturday. I will make a cake from the mix we received from the Squirrel Hill Food Pantry. I have a few birthday wishes I would like to make for myself and my family in order to beat the clock. :)

1. To live a sense of fulness, harmony and balance.
2. To see the bigger vision of writing, not just writing for the day.
3. To have the vision to break certain habits of thought like impulsiveness which seep into my writing, synchronicities of the moments, relationships.
4. To get a contract with a publisher for the book project I am currently writing for my sabbatical.
5. To be able to claim my writing in both its form, art and money. Sticking to a plan of what to write is better than not.
6. To claim my spirituality - practice it gratefully, open to it indulgently.
7. To be a full mommy. Ivry is a very special little boy and he is growing so beautifully.
8. To make more women friends.
9. To develop more of my passions that I have left on the shelf since early adulthood.
10. To hopefully become a better blogger.
11. To enjoy the writing of my sabbatical and enjoy the writing process rather than finding the answers
12. I wish for an career path that will bring me together with the values, goals, ambitions that I am looking for.
13. To live less a life of 'ifs' and more a life of 'here and now' and 'yes!"

Bonus: To always live a life less full than planned {and learn how to catch the moment} so as to leave room for the journey to completeness. (a cup half empty is better than cup that is too full)

Have a great Sunday!

Thursday Thirteen #5 - Hibernation

Well, here I am - doing it all over again at another Thursday Thirteen. I haven't posted much in the last week - the reason? Hibernation. The ideas have been percolating. Well, that's a lame excuse. So, I'll spare you the other if's and why's, although you'll find I'm greatly amused by some.

So let's get it on...since I'm rather late posting this up.

1. I've been observing a lot. Walking around. A lot. All over Squirrel Hill. And taking buses. It's a great place to walk and it's not misty or freezing cold so I don't feel chilled all over again. When you feel you've come to a rusty spot at night or during the day or in your mind, walk. It helps wonders.

2. Trying to reconnect with family and friends, finding it's easier said than done. The culture of voice mail. Woa is me! I think my name is all over the place. Where is everybody??

3. Getting into the fall swing of things. My-my. Halloween is just everywhere I go - from crisp fall collages on doors' to strange icy looking faces to make that superstitious eye again.

4. I've been hittin' the library. Seriously, I'm mad about the Squirrel Hill library. When I can't escape the mind of my ideas, I swamp and vegetate over a book or better yet, there's a book fair this weekend, anybody?

5. We've been digging up dinosaur bones at the Pittsburgh Museum. Walking through Schenley Park. Watching birds in the sky. I know I'm on a sabbatical but it's also fun to be a mom. Especially in the evening when Ivry comes from the JCC. He's hold his little black spider and says, "Mommy, food!" So I know I'm there for him. It pares or rather balances the hours in front of a screen.

6. Exploring Pittsburgh. Beside the Steelers, we need to know and explore the other areas. So we did that today giving me a much needed respite from the computer to put things in perspective. We went to Shadyside to pick up Haim's check (yay!) and then via Penn Avenue down to the Strip district to pick up some wholesome small bag of wheat, hummus, (we miss Osem from back home, but this one was pretty flavorful), a homemade bottle of olive oil, some dried peaches and mangoes, bread, did I mention hummus? (Israelis says 'hoomoos'... I'm telling you the flavor is in the pronunciation!) We also purchased a new cell at the AT and T place in the most desolate and abandoned looking street. Making our way downtown doing some banking stuff before heading back to Squirrel Hill. Pittsburgh's districts are so regional and so close in proximity. So different than NYC .. but I digress.

7. Finding time to be with Hubbie. Need I say more?

8. Doing some reflecting. And researching about second careers. The career counselor gave me some homework to do.. Again, more voice calls. My name's everywhere.

9. Finding time to exercise.. I'm taking yoga twice a week at the JCC. It's about time. Nothing like yoga to help start a mindful, peaceful day.

10. Attending a writing group twice a week and an Israeli's women's group once a month.

11. Talking to strangers. The nice lady downstairs misses her granddaughter and surprised Ivry with a stuffed toy pumpkin with a happy face. I yelped secretly in glee. Ivry responded to her by saying he was going to call his uncle Elan. (He lives out in San Diego) She didn't understand him as he said half of the sentence in Hebrew, but we both ended up introducing ourselves which struck a very short but nice chat.

12. Finding my American side. This is both confusing and interesting. It's weird too. I haven't been able to find the right hide so I'm hibernating until I find the right insides. But no thanks, no junk food, especially Wendy's or McDonald's for me. Ick. Don't know how people live on that stuff.

13. Finding my spiritual side. Every Friday night, I debate whether to go shul shopping. So far, I've attended only one shul. But I have my eye on another... and another... just keep hopping.

Happy TT Everybody!

Thursday Thirteen #4

Thirteen Explanations behind my son's name: "Ivry David"

I think it's high time I got to some serious explanations - especially about my son and his name. I have yet to hear a name like his in Israel let alone in the Diaspora. So, here's a few for starters...

1. David is after my husband's late father who died of a stroke in 1991. He was a charismatic man, very intelligent and worked for the Israel intelligence - the Mossad; it's sad he is in heaven and can't see this adorable little gingy. Haim misses him so.

2. When I returned to work after maternity leave, my students asked me the name of our son and I replied: "Ivry" - their response: "Oh, like Ivry Lider." Many youngsters (my former students) in Israel know of Ivry Lider as the gay musician who is the leading musical voice of this pop's generation, but, many people of our generation in Israel know of a special man named David Ivry. In my opinion, he is the one who should be running the Israeli government. Aside from acting as the Israeli ambassador, he also was the ninth commander of the Israeli air force during the Persian Gulf War. You can read all about him here.

3. Ivry - in Biblical Hebrew, Ivry means 'the first'. - HaIvri.

4. I just love the sound of Ivry. Especially when he was in my tummy. It was just one of those names that had to be. When my husband suggested it, I knew it was a special match.

5. Ivry has the special blend of 'ivory' and 'eve' - two of my favorite words from the English language.

6. We wanted to have an original name; at the time there were two many 'Tomers,' 'Eyals,' and 'Alons' for us to even consider.

7. From a numerological point of view, Ivry has two syllables 'Iv - ry'. This is of special importance when a numerologist at his birth, pronounced his number of 7. She said that great things are in store for him.

8. Back to our David Ivry - he holds special relevance to our name choice as he is Israel's hero, but he is modest. No blog or web site promotion for him. This is how in essence we want our son to grow up. Do the important things for the good of humanity but, from the side drop without any fanfare.

9. Initially, I had wanted to call our munchkin 'David' - so we got the best of both worlds.

10. Since he is the first son - it is appropriate to have something of 'first' nature - thus the Biblical explanation of 'HaIvri.'

11. David the king - was a gingy like our Ivry. Well, not exactly the main reason behind his name choice, but a side bit of information.

12. From the minute I looked at the sonogram, I knew ... Ivry it is!

13. It's simply an enchanting name!

Happy TT!

I Had Forgotten

Now that the boxes are mainly unpacked, and Haim just started his new nifty job and the Jewish holidays behind us, there is room to grow and learn something new every day.. especially with my writing.

Beyond the glare of the computer screen, I had forgotten the candy corn kid in me... many many years back.

Well, today it happened. Of course the stores are decorated with that Halloween theme and fall's crisp in everywhere I look. I see the skeleton's and I remember the boo child who loved the Halloween invitations or the fake cobwebs and rubbery bones at the Greenwich Village House Party Store. (yes, it's there there!) But for some adult torn reason, I had overlooked that that child was also hiding in.. FOOD. Food Glorious Food!

Two nights ago, I almost got so mad at Haim for bringing a sugar one layer cake (which tasted like three layers to me) but ended up eating a few hearty slices myself. I think it was the coconut slices mixed in caramel, full of obvious cane sugar that brought me to it. For a very quick dash of a second, I stepped back into time eating candy corn, feeling the fake wool on my costume and dashed out into the hallways of Westbeth to find my friend Laura, so we could go trick or treating.

I'm very very close to home (only five hours away) but with every bite, of that cake the kid pops out - loud and strong...

Now, if I could only find a taker to finish and nibble off the cake. Too bad I don't have a teacher's room to bring it to, but oh, I'm not worried. Between the three of us, something's bound to happen...

So, what food edibles bring back the child in you?

A Special Moment

Anybody who knows my Ivry, knows how verbal and loving he can be. Ivry isn't really such a newcomer as us and he has adapted after all, to the JCC, Davis Park across from us, the synagogue and Chabad, the bagels we buy - everything. He has a phenomenal memory and doesn't miss a thing.

Today, after participating in a short storyhour at the Squirrel Hill family hour, Ivry met up with Adi. The hug he gave that little boy quickly made me feel at ease; it's different here in Amerca. Truthfully, I don't care if another little boy we don't know hugs Ivry. My feeling is that we don't need to establish invisible physical boundaries so early in a child's life.

Some Updates and Thoughts

Haim returned today from his first day of work. I never thought I would cry so after hearing his first day consisting of cutting vegetables, fish (which he abhors with a passion) aside from giving advice to older diabetics not to eat Halva. I'm crying *NOT* because of his intolerance to fish or standing on his feet all day, but for all that we have done from applying for a greencard to the preplanning before, to walking along the broken sidewalks to find our way around Pittsburgh and saving myself for sake and thought of a broken ankle. (thank god it's just a sprain, just painful at times and annoying to wobble on from time to time especially uphill.)

We are your typical immigrants living out the American dream, just what Hollywood ordered and what Amy Tan writes about. Welcome to America.And I know that he will still to continue to cut fish for the next thirty days for the passion, the dream, the hope and the vision of trying to make it in a country that isn't his.

The family therapist says I have cultural disorder and for the most part, I feel it has subsided a bit with time. But I am so happy when an old friend reminds me of high school moments and I remember I have a past here. Mommyhood and New immigrant syndrome can't take those precious memories away.

Thursday Thirteen #3 - Reminders

Oh my god! I forgot it was Thursday already! Boy, the week passes by so quickly. For those of you who are just learning, this Thursday Thursday is the second of my journey in America. After nineteen years of living in Israel, I've decided to take a year off to try something new. As a bilingual and dual citizen, I take great pride living in both countries. Anyhow...

There are those things that remind me I am in America.

1. The sweet smell of grass, the intentional business of God. It reminds me of laziness, summer camps, hikes in the woods pretending to be Indians, lazy Sundays, picking Queen Ann's Lace in Virginia and a dozen of more other things.

2. Watching Squirrels running across the street.

3. Having 24 access to supermarkets, drugstores, etc and being able to buy whatever I need without having to worry of course the astronomical prices that Israel market is infamous for.

4. Libraries, libraries, libraries! I cannot stress this enough - When a state, country, county what have you does not take stock and pride in its library, that is the ultimate confirmation that something's utterly wrong. How can literacy levels be expected to go up if people irrespective of incomes do not have access to books. The Squirrel Hill Library in Pittsburgh is such a user friendly place. I'm so happy to work here.

5. Wonderful access to the city's Parks - Frick and Schenely Parks to name a few.

6. The fact that there is a 2 day weekend, that for 19 years I had forgotten about and it makes a world of difference in terms of the work week.

7. The 'have a nice day' and 'thank you very much' that Israeli smirk over, is actually a very nice (and important ) ritual. Maybe it is a filler or a distraction, but when you don't have immediate family in the place you live like me, this makes a world of difference in your feeling of well-being. Plus people in Pittsburgh are so nice! It's true what people say about Pittsburghians.

8. It's the little things that help you get by. The fact that your groceries are bagged here in America. I appreciate and like that very much.

9. The American holidays. I miss Thanksgiving and Halloween so much. i love watching the pumpkins glow in the dark and kids yelling: "trick or treat!" It reminds me of the days in Westbeth when we would spread shaving cream on the banisters and my mom (god bless her soul) would tape a pencilled 'take one' sign pointing to a box of Branches' candy corn boxes which we would find strewn all over the hallway before taking off to the famous Ralph Lee's Greenwich Village parade, which was so incredibly popular in the seventies. I am so happy that you can read now all about it in Wikipedia.It gives me such pride as I was a part of it.

10. The Foliage Season that is the beauty of New England. A year ago I pronounced to my husband Haim that I want to see myself walking through a farm or a hill with the true foliage season. I still have time to experience that after 19 years of being on the other side of the Atlantic ocean.

11.The mass amounts of language and cultures all in one nation.

12. The ability to take a plane, train, car anywhere and experience oceans, trails, mountains and fresh water ponds and lakes - the best this country has to offer. The same goes for hoping on back to visit NYC!

And one bonus: the mass amounts of free workshops, services and programs that libraries, community centers and other resources provide. I think this is extremely important. Don't you?

So, what do you take pride in? What journeys do you see yourself planning? What 'does it' for you?

Happy TT!

Thursday Thirteen #2

What Being a New Immigrant (and Jewish) in Squirrel Hill, Pittsburgh has Taught Me

Here is my first Thursday Thirteen from Pittsburgh. I hope it will be a new beginning!

Eating in a rainy succa, shaking my son's newspaper-made lulav, finding the way along broken sidewalks to spend our first Succot are all part of my unexpected adventures. But really they mean something more than just finding my way in an unknown territory. Every bit of experience is part of a whole.

1. The importance of hesed - 'giving'. As a new immigrant (American) living in Pittsburgh I am learning the importance of community. Often I feel alone, but when your community gives to you, you can feel the spiritual and emotional comfort knowing you're not alone.

2. The feeling of togetherness - Beyond the Jewish symbolism, my own personal succa is a Diasporatic recipe for overcoming the unexpected.

3. Honoring my parents. I may choose to feel resentment, but on Hol Hamoed, I choose to feel an inner sense of peace and gratitude for the secret inner love and support even if they didn't know how to show it and even if I am miles away from home.

4. A Jewish home. Even if we don't have a suca, we are able to light the candles, feel the love and find a connection in our prayers, our rituals, our love as family.

5. Lighting the candles. Being in a diaspora after living many years in Israel, I sometimes feel I am in the dark, but my heart has not hardened into something non-earthy and Jewishy.

6. Taking it One Day (or step)at a Time. Each day brings new and unfamiliar experiences. No matter how bad my day is, I will always have a family to go to for Friday dinner, I will always have somebody to talk to, I won't ever be alone. Feeling alone is one thing, being alone is another.

7. The importance of Offline Groups. I joined my first children and adult non-fiction writing group in Pittsburgh earlier this week. I gave feedback to two writers whose work I have never heard, and the feeling was good.

8. The importance of thinking good thoughts. Need I say more?

9. To do the same things I would do back home. I may be miles away from home, but this doesn't mean I can't do the same spiritual, emotional , social activities. They'll just be different. (Oh, that reminds me - I need to call my spiritual teacher)

10. I am slowly finding my niche as a woman. There is a Jewish community in Squirrel Hill, and then there's the Jewish women's community. I realized this when I joined the [Israeli] women's group in Pittsburgh last week. Before I'm a mom, I'm a woman. Actually, I'm a girl/daughter, adolescent, young adult, wife, mommy - all in that order. Welcome to the cycle of life.

11. The importance of blogging. I am steadily climbing to the blogging world - though I'm far from it. I still have reservations in my heart when talking to people. Deep down, I'm a fiercely private person and feel much safer when writing. I've angled with the beast of emotion. Frankly, there are many safe bloggers that I would one day like to meet, but for now, it's just a matter of feeling comfortable with the 'blogging voice' which is so very different.

12. Finding a spot of nature. I can feel really connected to my spiritual, intellectual and emotional nature when I'm surrounded by a nice plot of land. Hopefully, when my ankle god willing heals, I'll make my way to one of those nice trails out on Frick park. But for now, I just need to find my way.

Happy TT! May it be as glorious as you make it to be!

The First Day

In just one hour exactly, H will be starting his new job orientation. I'm right now in the library drafting the first chapter of my book. It's quite quiet here (as libraries should be) and I'm emerging from my shell. (taking a break)

How far have we all come ? In this little bold moment of thought, I realize that we all three are heart set on beginnings.

There are so many people young and old whom I've never seen. They have their own beginnings too. Each and every time they walk into the library. The first book one pulls off the shelves is a beginning. the baby who cries in the aisles alongside me, is a first (of many) consequences remembering I've been there too.

Then there's the...

1.little girl in a uniform following an adult around watching me as I touch type.
2. adolescent who asks the librarian about Palm Reading - she reads sections in whispers in a very smooth undulating voice, but I can hear every word she is harpering on; she's laughing in between sentences.

They face their beginnings as I do mine as I wonder if Haim got the 64 a to take him to Giant Eagle in Shadyside on time or, am I still a lost cause?

Some Thoughts on Yom Kippur in Pittsburgh

I leave you with a small poem of this year's Yom Kippur experiences.
Have an easy fast to all those who are fasting, and G'mar Hatima Tova.God bless.


Against that rabbi's prayer and speech
I concentrate on the forgiven and the last
time I tried to make it and daven without
stepping on the lady's shoes she didn't seem to mind
when I told her I was new in town while she
prayed and looked at me and the last
light I forgot to turn off but it's okay


well, I don't know many people here just the
few who helped me with plates and dishes and
now that I can cook without a problem I can
daven as well isn't it nice to know that without a
former caution but I call the cards now
I'm the mommy and don't know still how to pray
when was the last time I was in a synagogue on Yom Kippur
in the United States I miss my small one inch garden where I
can eat cake and watch the crumbs on his face in the dark
and the kibbutz ladybugs on the leaf while Erick Carle speaks to me
from a 1980 flick

when Grandma told me I couldn't eat and I tried to hold
my tongue and now I just can't stop whenever
my little gingy cries I forget the last ring of the shofar

two handles down I can see the moms parking their
carriages and elegant dresses for service
when it becomes fitting I suppose I'll go down too
when the dark corridor becomes less spooky I'll know
which page to turn and bend my knees to the east or west
oh I forget never got that one figured out perhaps not today
when was the last time I just wanted to eat soup...oh never mind

Beginning to Feel At Home

I daresay it's a small step but an important one. I finally realized what the doctor ordered. I put up an Indian looking spread that instantaneously generated warmth to the drabby cream colored walls. It's amazing what an effect it had upon me. It reverberated the safety signals setting off an inner echoing: "Okay, you can write. It's safe now."

I'm a trooper but I'm tired of sticking it up. Plus, I guess I'm only human. Little Ivry wanted so badly to know what I was up to as I stuck the last of the cotton underneath the Styrofoam. (I don't want to mess around with the walls.) I wish I had the patience enough to tell why 'home' is so important - it's the little things that bring more order to the clutter around us. Plus a little lesson to the redhead wouldn't have hurt.

I wobbled back on my feet and told him to get to bed. He understood what that didn't mean to him at the given moment like all two year olds do!

I was hooked - from one spread to another another table, I felt mystified by this thing called 'home' - what else can I feel other than aiming to feel safe? Inside I'm still a panic bomb, but this spread really does it for me and now, I can perhaps find a friend around here - and then I won't feel so lonely.

Anybody else have experiences and/or advice on how they settled in and 'built' their home?

It's always fitting to hear such 'journey experiences.'

Some Nice News

I had been antsy all morning. Haim went off for a job interview and I had a phone interview as a freelance student evaluator. The interviewer had apparently forgotten the appointment, but I did not. Like a good student, I sat with my recommendations, interview tips, questions ... and no interview..

After receiving an email of apology, I still don't know if there is another schedule.

I hate not knowing where I stand.

So I tried amidst WIFI issues (or lack thereof) to focus on the 'here and now' - or in simple terms, my writing since that is what grounds me and gives me precedence for my day.

However, I couldn't stand the temptation.. Did my dear Haim get the job? I don't like to speak superstitiously of things that have not yet happened (or will happen) but...

Finally, three hours later after his interview time, he told me he had been offered the job. I hope it works out for him - working as a manager of Shadyside's Giant Eagle of the kosher deli department. It's better than working as a security guard; it can open doors for future positions as a buyer or purchaser in the food industry, which is what he wants.

Ah, now I/we can relax a bit and not worry about jobs. It's certainly a load off our minds. After all this time, we might be in a better position after all. Most of all, I'm happy for him. Wish him luck!

Thank you for reading this.

Feeling A Bit Better

I was able to go down to the basement and do a load of laundry. I am always relieved to do laundry; it's a 'load' off my mind. I'm glad the stability ligaments of my left foot are slowly healing. Just a few days ago, I could hardly stand on it and the feeling somehow got me warped in a panic, the kind that instantly kicks off all sorts of unhappy thoughts... would I stay like this forever?

I got there before the dryer finished its cycle. It's not often I stand out waiting it out. Again another series of mundane thoughts: here's one for you - why are basements always painted grey? I never could quite understand...

On the way back up, I could feel myself putting effort in my steps, as the steps were quite steep but I was grateful to know my clothes had dried and my boys hadn't yet come home leaving me extra computer time.

I love quiet Sunday afternoons such as these. sometimes they can be too quiet and then I have trouble finding something that reminds me of childhood.

What part of Sundays do you like?

Hearing the Shofar From My Bed

I had wanted to hear the shofar being that it's our first Rosh Hashana in the Diaspora. My left foot was hurting terribly - Haim just left with Ivry to hear the ram's horn. Two minutes after they had left, there was an incredible knock on the door - I figured it was Haim again. Perhaps he had forgotten his keys? Again, a stronger knock.

"Who is it?" I called.

"Your husband said that you sprained your ankle and you wanted to hear the shofar." a voice said.

It was the Chabad people from the Yeshiva across the street.

"Do you want to hear the shofar?" he asked.

"Yes, but I can't move from the bed." I said loudly. [Actually, I wasn't properly dressed either.]

So he stood from behind a locked door, blowing the ram's horn for a good minute.

"Have a very sweet New Year and feel better." I could hear him well.

"Thank you so much."

As he played, I thought I would probably be the neighbor's enemy after that, but then I remembered... Wait, this is Squirrel Hill - an island of peaceful coexistence between Jews and blacks. I had to remind myself the edginess I would feel in New York City was totally different here. I had nothing to fear.

It was such a blessing to be able to get door to door shofar service. I will remember this moment and the kindness of that man's heart and the Chabad community. I don't think I'll ever feel alone. And thank you hubbie. That was so sweet of you.

My Left Foot

On the day I sprained my left foot I thought I was still in control as my feet had stationed me with a sense of purpose all this time. I had never sprained a foot in my life. After all, I was a newcomer on my way to finding a job, renting an apartment, finding a new life in Pittsburgh, and trying to explain to my husband some of the cultural nuances I even found foreign after an eighteen year absence while living overseas.


And down I came together with my mother's adage: 'Don't be a worry bug, be a happy bug' as I tried to balance my son's stroller yet missed the step and banging my knee in the process.


I am not used to taking ginger steps. I am used to doing things my way, somewhat of an impulsive nature, knowing that my feet will always station me with stability. Well, my left foot was wavering in those first five minutes then the swelling and black and blue marks starting to appear, then emergency room visits, crutches. Yep, I was no longer in control.



First it was my left eye and the erosion and now my left foot. Why is it that when physical mishaps occur, I suddenly start realizing the importance of life?



Well, this is what I am learning:

1. We are a family and we are in this together.

2. Never underestimate the power of a child's love.

3. Watch out where you walk - and in my case, where you step.



Obviously, I am still learning, so that is a good sign as all good learning should be. My toddler son is starting way earlier than me. After dinner tonight, he placed the ice-pack around a towel and guess where? On my left foot.



This post has been submitted to the Write-Away contest at Michele's blog. The subject of this month's theme is about 'learning.'

Taking it "Bird by Bird"

In my former post I wrote about Anne Lamot and taking it "bird by bird."





I move slowly - try one little baby step on a time. Literally. Often I spend time mulling over words, sentences, thoughts. The library's a good place for that kind of introverted sort of research. It's a puzzling mystery, how words ever make it to the paper. They prefer to keep to their own microcosmic universe until I decide to let them free. Only lately, this hasn't been happening.





I can't believe I've taken a full year of sabbatical just to prove to myself that I can write a book: it sounds rather important and purposeful but, in reality, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm a bit scared, guilty that I have all these waking hours of day to fill pieces of paper (or an empty computer screen in this case) and while I've unpacked thirty boxes, there are many more little cubicles of years of experience waiting to be opened.





This is the time when I need help. Or maybe just a few words of soul wisdom, or just somebody who's been there before and knows how to simply do good to others. So, I go now to my favorite writer: I have even gone so far as to try and imitate her style. Many writers starting out do. Let's hear it for Anne Lamott who always knows how to comfort a brave yet wavering writer soul in need.





But what I really need is to take my own advice and join a writer's group. Then I will feel better about all this.

Books and Seagulls, a few Reminders, and My Left Foot

All morning long at the Western Penn Hospital, I hoped and prayed the ankle I twisted yesterday evening after missing the step while carrying Ivry's stroller wouldn't be fractured or broken. I've never sprained an ankle and never needed crutches. Until today. I hopped from room to room, from car to door, from the bathroom to Ivry.

In case you haven't noticed, we're right in the middle of unpacking our overseas shipping. There's nothing more comforting than filling up bookshelves with albums and listening to Ivry say, "Ani [I'm] a seagull," but not when your ankle is sprained. Not fun.

I thought a bit about seagulls. I wish I could fly like a seagull instead of propping my ankle with icepacks. It's such a debilitating feeling, reminding me of the post of "Writing in the Dark." This is one of those reminders that we never have that certainty or illusion of control. My mind thinks quicker than my left foot.

Words become lighter than air when I unpack all of Ivry's books and watch him silently turn the pages as if he's confirming the stories asking, "How do you say this in English?" and pointing to a bulldozer, digger. Signs of literacy. How comforting.

I believe in faith and hope and the spirit of being. But when I loose control, watch out. I become afraid and fear becomes my captive.

Two people who have deeply affected my life are no longer alive. I heard Luciano Pavoratti many times and read Madeline L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time a thousand times over. I no longer live in a comforting world.

Just for the record, I'm not such a great mom when I feel debilitated like this and especially when people I've never met personally enter and leave my life like this. Just like a twisted ankle, I become antsy and edgy especially when surrounded by thirty five unopened boxes. Ivry tries to understand my pain, but I am not such a great communicator as I have difficulty understanding these things myself.

Ivry wants to be in his own control flapping his arms, playing leapfrog with my body and I lie lethargic. It is times like these I turn to writing as an open voice hoping I won't feel under siege and turn to hear my prayers for a speedy recovery, for Haim to find a job, for getting through this period.

So I read Anne Lamot's Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. Every word she writes is faith and spirit. Books can be great friends. I'm glad I got mine. Now, I just need to work on my patience and take it "bird by bird."