Times - they are a'changin'

We actually thought about buying a house. I mean, we seriously looked into it with a mortgage broker and stuff. Who would have thought? Six years ago I was Bankrupt, nearly destitute, and living on peanut butter sandwiches.

If I actually look back at things, I am pretty amazed at how I have picked myself up. And boy have I learned the lessons, man.

We decided not to buy right now, because though we can TECHNICALLY afford it, as in, we have the money to cover it NOW, we aren't comfortable with having nearly no margin of error. If one of us lost our jobs, we'd be so up that creek... so we decided that the timing wasn't quiet right.

Then Lehman Brothers and Merril Lynch happened. And you know what? I don't think I trust this whole financial atmosphere right now. Banks are scrambling. Mortgages will be ridiculous so that they cover their butts on the loans. And I don't think we are finished seeing the backlash. My dream is still to own MY OWN place, not an apartment, I am so over that, but a home, a real place where I can paint walls whatever I want, and decorate things according to my own tastes. And to have a large yard attached to said location.

But it is not happening right now, and I am not really sure I'd be comfortable in this market getting involved with that right now. I still have a little bit of a refugee mentality where I need to be mobile enough to pick up and move if need be and not be shackled with things like property bogging me down.

No doubt I will grow out of that at some point.

In the meantime, I am still apartment bound, but feeling quite mature and clever about it because it was a choice.

An open letter to my husband:

Sweetie:

I was thinking of some of the discussions we've been having recently about Fathers. Maybe it is because of Father's Day and the fact that you were the first, and maybe only, son to call your dad. And of course the presence of the controversy and tension that swirls around my dad all the time, and the conflict it creates between us.

I was thinking about my younger siblings, and how I love spending time with them, and being part of their lives. And how much I wished I had a father when I was growing up, and even now, who gave a brass farthing for me and was a real presence in my life. I wonder if you understand that it has been a dear wish for all three of us to have a real Father and that we are all lacking. Even now we all struggle with reconciling He Who is our Father with what our ideal would be in a Dad. I know that you may think I am just asking for my heart to be broken repeatedly, and you know, you are probably right. But I can't help hoping and wishing that I had a father, and that wish keeps me trying to make something out of what is, which in reality can never be.

You don't understand, having grown up with both your parents around, and your siblings all nearby, how lucky and spoiled you are. Not spoiled in a bad way - but in a super lucky, I am jealous of you way. Though of course there were rougher times, and you didn't always get along with everyone, never was your closeness undermined or the love you all had for each other questioned.

One of the reasons I love you so much is because I know that one day you'll be a wonderful father - and the kind of father I had always wanted for myself. I can see how involved you'll be, and attentive. And you will want to give your kids the whole world, not make grand promises and then go back on your word. I can see you teaching them about things you love, not competing with them as they grow in knowledge and experience. I can see you respecting them and their choices, not being negative, critical and small-minded. I can see you appreciating their individual achievements in life, and not compare them one to the other, as if they have to be measured against each other in order to count in the world.

One day, I can see you being everything that our fathers are not. You will be a strong role model where they were weak, each in his own way. And though you don't really get the whole deal when it comes to me and my dad, I love the fact that you'd never put YOUR kids in that kind of situation and the buck stops here, so to speak.

I love that I look at you, and see someone who will be the person I would have wanted as my own dad. And I love that it is you.

Annie and Anniversary...been a busy time

So, our first anniversary passed. And we decided to celebrate it on June 1 instead of May 13 because Chewy is in finals in school.

On June 1 we went into the city, and Chewy pulled a fast one on me! I knew we were going to Broadway, but I had no idea what show we were going to see. And I didn't try to needle him or find out, but finally on the train I decided to ask him. He said to me, "Ok, I will give you a list of 5". So he listed Young Frankenstein, Little Mermaid, Spamalot, Lion King and Jersey Boys. So between you and me, I have major issues with Disney's not so subtle takeover of Broadway, which had long been cherished as having a certain standard of theater. Taking popular animated films and putting them on the same stages that housed "The King and I" with Yul Brenner, or my favorite though short-lived show, "The Scarlet Pimpernel", smacks of disrespect. I find it very commercial consumerism of Disney to try and make money by branching out into this media.

you can imagine that I was less than thrilled about "Lion King" and "Little Mermaid" being on the list. (I actually have already seen Lion King in London). Spamalot I have never been interested in, and Young Frankenstein is a huge No. I don't know much about Jersey Boys, which makes me nervous... especially considering how much money you'd have to put down to see any of these shows nowadays...on the other hand, I didn't want Chewy to think I was unappreciative. So it was a tough struggle.

I said, "What about Avenue Q?" It was a show I had wanted to see, after hearing alot about it. It is with live people and puppets, you have to see it to understand... and Chewy said, "Don't you remember? It went out of theaters." I had forgotten. I was like, "Oh, man, I forgot."

After a little while, I got out of him that we were going to 45th street. WELL!! I know for a fact that Youg Frankenstein is on 42nd across from Madame Tussaud's, so that was out. And I thought that Spamalot was on 44th, so I figured that was out, too.

When we got to 45th street, I saw a huge sign that said "THE LION KING" and my heart sunk. Not only was I against the Disneficatioin of Broadway, but I had already seen this!! I turned to Chewy and said, "Are we going to the Lion King?" and hes was grinning at me, with this little evil glint in his eye... "No" he said, "let's walk down the block."

You'll never believe it.... We walked down the block and all of a sudden, I saw it - "AVENUE Q"

!!!!!!!!

Apparently it had come back to the theater and Chewy had gotten tickets for us to see it~ what a cool surprise and also he totally faked me out!

It was good, though I liked it better than Chewy did, some parts were REALLY inappropriate. But some were super funny.

It was a cool surprise :)

I am involved in Stage Managing ANNIE, the musical, on Father's Day. It is with 35 girls of assorted ages, and things are coming together. We had a horrible dress rehearsal, but that's ok, it means it will be a terrific show. I know these kids can put it together. In the meantime, my car is jammed with boxes of props that I need to sort out :)

1st Anniversary of Love :)

Can you believe today is our first anniversary?!

I can't.

In some ways, it was like, last week or something when we got married. But on the other hand, I feel like it was so far away - I am so different from that person I was then. A short year ago.

I don't mean to be negative, but I feel older. Not necessarily chronologically, but I feel more Whole somehow, like a more complete person, and therefore, an Adult-type person. It's very different but not in a bad way. Maybe the word is not older, but more mature - or aged as in wine or cheese. Ageing implies both a growth in experience and emotional give and take. It implies not just the day-by-day growth of being a eyar older, but also of being a year wiser experientially.

A year is a full cycle of life. Of holidays, deaths and births. Of life-cycle events such as weddings, bar mitzvahs, graduations. It would be silly to assume anything would stay the same over such a ponderous amount of time, but still it amazes me to look back and see how far we've come, how much we've grown and the obstacles we have left behind.

I could not conceivably live without Chewy now. My soul, as I told him, has become entwined in his so completely as to be unable to function alone. My concept of "person" has become "us" and "we", not "I". Though I am still muchly an independant thinker and person, marching still to that lone drum in my heart, I am more guided than I used to be to the rhythms of Our hearts.

I have to say, it is the most comforting, wonderful feeling.

I love the feeling of chewy's strong arms around me, and the musky man-smell when I bury my head in his chest or that little nook between his neck and shoulder where my head *just* fits comfortably. I love the softness of his skin and his loving and liquid brown eyes looking at me in the morning when I wake up.

I love the way he is SO cute and makes me smile even when I am just thinking about him. I catch myself more than I am willing to admit, with a silly smirk on my face, at all times of day!

It's been a whole year. And we have not only survived, but I believe forged something strong, and lasting. And deepend that which was already there.

Here is to many more loving years together.

Israelitis - a Relapse

I find myself missing Israel with an ache that’s hard to ignore. In some ways, my years living there were some of the best of my life. I am fully aware that you can’t go back in time, and about 9 times out of 10 I manage to convince myself that I am not trying to. But I find myself missing the way the light hits the stones in the morning, the smell of the morning air in Jerusalem, the birds migrating through the Hula valley, and the specialness of the country.

I am also painfully and intellectually aware that the political, social and economic situation there has changed for the worse, with no end to the downward spiral in sight. If I were to take a cold, logical look at it, the idea of going back to Israel to live is at best ridiculous. Other words might be irresponsible, risky, HUGE, scary and tremendously difficult.

Just so I don’t completely idealize the country, I also have to say that I *don’t* miss the general Israeli attitude to things like customer service, passing on the highways, Ashkenaz vs. Sefard, Chiloni vs. Charedi, and the anti-IDF sentiment that is brewing all over the country. I have had plenty of frustrating and painful experiences trying to “absorb” into the culture. I hate the pressurized atmosphere of a people who are always on constant guard against enemies constantly seeking their lives. And don’t get me started on the driving and creative parking! I abhor the politics, and the politicizing of just about everything. I hate the bureaucracy which is on a whole new level of teeth-gnashing incompetence. I remember that it can also be totally frustrating to live there. Why do you have to go to the post office to pay certain bills? Why aren’t banks open at normal hours? And forget the medical system - it is enough to drive anyone batty.

I would miss the Yankees and the Food Channel. And I love having Sundays to relax and do things, and an extra day off for Christmas, New Year’s and Thanksgiving. In that, I am very American.

On the other hand, I miss the sweeping and breathtaking beauty of the land. I miss the center of the world. I miss the feeling of brotherhood which binds everyone together when tragedies occur. I miss fresh rolls in the morning and the 10 o’clock mandatory coffee break. I miss the uniquely Israeli experiences and cultural phenomena.

I know that my friends have dispersed or died and that life as I knew it is no longer possible. But I look back with longing on the little cafes in Baka that we used to sit in and gossip. I miss the theater in the German Colony of which I was an integral part. I miss exploring parts of the city that tourists don’t get to with my friends. I miss having people who have lived there for many years guide us around their towns and cities and make them come alive. I miss my adoptive families and watching them grow up, go to army and college, and being part of their everyday life.

I am torn between my hearts desires and my practical logical brain. There are so many hurdles to overcome if I was serious about trying again. I wonder if people make “3 year” pilot trips or something where they don’t actually commit to staying there, so it’s less scary to actually go. I wonder if the changes in the social and political structures are going to prove to be absolutely unbearable for me to live with.

I guess it is all romanticized conjecture anyways, because Chewy and I have more or less decided together that it isn’t realistic or feasible for us to plan to go back.

Still, I can’t help missing it and wondering…

Men are Overgrown Children - and I am Fed Up

Let me tell you about me: I like to come home in the evening, get into pajamas as soon as possible because I hate clothing, and relax in relative quiet, reading or doing my thing. There aren’t many evenings a week I can do that, because Chewy is in school 2 nights a week, and I have errands, food shopping, swimming on Tuesdays, etc. So I cherish and look forward to the one or 2 evenings a week when we can just relax together.

Chewy likes to watch TV or movies with the sound up REALLY LOUD, all the freaking surround sound speakers screaming for attention from various points in the room at the same time, to “enhance” his “entertainment experience”. We have painfully worked out a system where Hubby can watch his assorted uh, stuff, with headphones on, so that I can, in blissful relative peace and quiet, sit next to him and read, and both of us are content and able to chill - together.

I need to add here that we live in a small apartment, with a small communal living/dining area. This is an important thing to mention, because if we are in an argument, or there are too many people around, there is nowhere to go. Someone has to stake out the living room and the other person is exiled in the bedroom. So yeah, it’s small.

I am mentioning this because the crux of my current throw-my-hands-up-in-the-air-and- give-up-exasperating-issue hinges on these 2 facts: 1) I like my quiet time and space in the evening and 2) there isn’t a lot of space to go around.

Now, in my humble (and probably idealistic) opinion, any husband worth his salt would already KNOW this about me, and take it into consideration when opportunities pop up. In our latest example of the childish selfishness of men, Chewy wanted to have 2 people over to watch the opening season Ballgame. It doesn’t matter who they are, (though Chewy thinks it does because he doesn’t trust me and his mind always thinks the worst of me and assumes the most outlandish and offensive motives to me – yet another irritating trait I hope he grows out of one day), my hesitation was SOLEY on the basis of feeling invaded in my sanctuary and being overrun by loud, noisy activity that will exile me to the bedroom for 3 hours.

He asked me can they come over and watch the game Monday night… I said I have to think about it.

Then I made a mistake.

Chewy said – what’s on your mind? And I should have said “World peace, the AIDS crisis in Africa, the rising costs of gasoline and would it be too much to watch all three Pirate of the Caribbean movies in a row?” Instead, I said, “well, you have a doctor’s appointment early Tuesday morning, the game is 3 hours long, and I will be totally displaced, what am I going to do with myself?”

So, though Chewy started with a great communication question – it degenerated into him being in a pet about not getting his way and thinking I am evil. And me being annoyed at his spoiled brat act and his lack of sensitivity to me.

Ladies out there – take it from me, DON’T BE HONEST with your childish, immature men. In cases such as these, the best answer is “I am wondering - do I have enough beer to go around?” and let them run off happily to go play in the mud, where they are happiest and in their element.

The most annoying part of this is that Chewy is now giving me the silent treatment, wasting a whole day of being married to me, and his energy being angry and it was started ALL ON HIS OWN. He created this negativity, not me, and it’s ruining his day. And he will probably come home later and bawl me out for starting it!! Really!

If he hadn’t assumed the worst of me, and gotten impatient and short tempered, then he probably would have ended up with a solution we both can live with. That is the reward of GOOD communication.

If Chewy were more of an ideal husband, he would have either let me think about it and NOT pressure me, or let me talk out what I was feeling and NOT get upset but let me process it, and in general NOT make assumptions and throw a fit when he doesn’t get his way. I might add, that he would have anticipated my hesitation, knowing how I feel at the end of the day and the issue on space, and either offered a solution or prefaced with, “I know it will cramp your style but this is special because it’s opening day, could you make an exception?” or something along those lines. I am not unreasonable; you just have to know how to talk to me. Here’s a hint – show some understanding and respect for how I feel, even if you don’t agree.

Pesach Reconciliation

Okay. For the past couple of years I have been complaining about how much I hate Pesach (Passover) and the laundry-list of issues I face (along with upset stomach and a general feeling of malaise) leading up to this holiday. The part of it that’s a real shame is that I *love* this time of year! My favorite season is Spring, with Fall a close second. I like summer ok, but winter I can do without totally. I keep telling Chewy that we need to move to a location that’s near enough to the equator to mean no winters…

Back to Pesach. So this year, I am once again dragooned into a “family gathering” for the whole week. Last time that happened, 2 years ago, it was absolutely traumatic. I bitterly complained to my siblings, husband and laid the law down to everyone involved who would listen - which will probably be ignored - including all my requests for space and some extra booze.

Now it’s time for tactics. I have tried running away, “forgetting” that’s its Pesach, stocking up on comfort foods to get through, and feigning illness to get out of chol hamoed activities.

This year it has GOT to be different. At the very least, I need a break from the tiring exercise of getting out of spending time with The Family.

However, this year there are other variables which may be changing the situation as well. Extended family is coming, too – grandfather, aunt, uncle and cousins – more people! And this is the first Pesach that Chewy and I are married – so it also means we split meals between the families, which would mean a forced change of scenery.

Also, with nieces and nephews older and more Little People than Little Alarm Clocks, it changes the dynamics of our outings. Can you believe I am actually going to a circus?!

Dare I hope that this year we pass the tolerant mark and even hope for a “good” time?

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I am cautiously optimistic that it will be a decently enjoyable holiday.

Next issue to tackle - we have GOT to work on the food…Ugh.

Gender Issues

After some thought on the matter, I have come to this conclusion: I am a complex feminist.

What I mean by that is that I am not a bra-burning woman who thinks that men are sub-humans and anything They can do, We can do better. However, by the same token, I believe that I too am not a sub-human just because I am a woman. In my opinion, men and woman have different strengths and weaknesses, and sometimes you’ll find a woman who is better at using power tools than a man, or a man who is better at shopping than a woman. Every person is unique in ability, interest and talent. Neither person in the example above deserves to be labeled “fey” or put down for their interests. The situation to me shows terrific diversity, especially since I fall into the category of power-tool loving women.

On the other hand, there are some things which I have very traditional, conservative views on when it comes to gender roles. For example, though I want to have a career and reach the top of my profession, I believe it is the role of the man (in a traditional family structure) to be the breadwinner in the family, to provide security and financial stability to the home, to provide for home and hearth, and to give the family all the creature comforts that are possible, within reason. It was always my paradigm that the man “knew” things – perhaps there was mandatory training for boys once they reached puberty in the following subjects: buying a car, (let’s call that “All about Cars” in general because it also includes Fixing the Car, Maintaining the Car, Pumping Gas and Changing the Tires) renting/buying an apartment/house, planning a vacation, chores that Men do (this one also includes Why Men Love Dogs, taking out the trash and a course in “How to NOT treat my home like a #$%@^% dorm room”.)

*Authors Note - I have heard from many an older woman that it takes time for men to learn to have pride in their homes and stop treating them like dumping grounds, dorm rooms and science experiments. Apparently, it’s a rite of passage that nearly every newlywed couple goes through.

Men, I always thought, were Responsible. To me they should carry a pride along with their sense of responsibility. I felt that a man knew that his place was to build up his family, to plan for the future, to have long reaching goals and ambitions, to be the visionary and the leader. I think that my childish expectations probably stem from not having a male figure in my life to learn from, to model my own home life after, and to use as the blueprint of what a Man does.

Perhaps due to my upbringing, I also feel that there are Womanly roles in the Home; decisions that are entirely in the Woman’s purview and are not to be questioned since these are the tasks of which she is master. For example, should a working woman decide that to keep her house clean to a proper and bacteria-free level, she needs to hire help once every 2 weeks for a few hours, well, in my opinion, that is her decision to make. She is the one in charge of maintaining the health of her home and family and she alone is in the position of assessing how much she can realistically get done. Though others may offer to help, it is not consistent and there are many tasks which need to be done on a regular basis in order to maintain a level of cleanliness and bacteria-free zones in the home. I honestly feel that it is absolutely NOT the business of the Man to interfere with the workings of the home. It is the woman’s responsibility and not subject to questioning or censure.

Additionally, I was raised to understand the subtleties in social situations, to know the etiquette called for in certain circumstances, and most of all, to do the right thing. In general, boys are not trained to appreciate cultivating friendships, strengthening bonds, keeping social appointments, and the ripple effects of these seemingly inconsequential affairs. It is easy to keep the same circle of friends forever, though times change, and people grow apart. But to make new friends and cultivate those relationships takes careful work, building, patience – nurturing like a gardener might do.

Why is it that a few decades ago a man would not question his wife when she made social plans for the couple, yet today I meet with resistance and interrogation? Is there something I have done to earn the distrust or suspicion I get when I propose meeting new people or spending time with them? And don’t get me started on how many social engagements we have made together only to back out at the last minute… it makes me totally embarrassed.

Lately, it feels to me that we seem to be having gender issues. I feel that I am being questioned and challenged about things which I ought to have complete autonomy to make decisions about. It seems that there’s a blurring of the lines. Maybe that’s me being an anti-feminist – some kind of throwback to medieval definitions of gender roles. But it’s confusing to me and frustrating because I am beginning to feel under fire in a realm which I always felt extremely secure and capable of executing my duties as I saw them.

By the same token, I think I have an unrealistic, or perhaps highly romanticized and idealized view of what the Man in the house is supposed to be. I’d like to take a good look around and find a model to work from than my girlish preconceptions. I think that too is adding to the gender confusion.

In any case, I don’t think I need to stop playing with power tools.