True Confessions and the Price of Apple Pie

  The most significant thing about my last two posts is what I did NOT write: I gained three kilos over Passover. And while I know from experience that I can loose it quickly, a part of me deep inside is very fearful of backsliding. It would be SO easy to stop being careful, basking in my new thinner wardrobe, the daily compliments I receive… and slowly put unneeded pounds back on.

   Most of this last week I was good—kept my diet faithfully, despite a lot of hunger. But then can the weekend. And I definitely overate today.

   At the onset of Passover we had received (from an organization that we know) three small containers of cooking apples (in addition to a plentiful amount of onions and potatoes). The onions and potatoes were used up, but Thursday morning had me glancing at three boxes of apples, and wondering what to do with them. The easiest way to use them up was obvious to me…..use them to make an apple pie. But I was hesitant to do so, because my mother’s apple pie recipe makes a confection that is hard to resist. In the end, I did make the pie, determined to have no more than two pieces of it. Well, the two pieces became four. As, in my heart of heart, I suspected they would.

   That is the price of baking an apple pie.

 Next time I bake a pie, I need to honestly access that price.

 OK. Now is the time to go forward, get back on track 100%. And get under 80 kilos again….

I know I've been AWOL

   Sorry for being so uncommunicative. Passover was a diet disaster- ate way too much , mostly from lack of sleep. I could tell what was causing me to overeat, but had little self control.
   Now that the holiday is over, I am pretty much back on track, and I am working to try and get into a routine that includes a half-way normal amount of shut-eye....
     Ricki is still struggling to get back into her get-up-and-get-going early morning wake up, and has missed her ride to school every day since school restarted on Monday. Luckily her sister was able to take her by car most of them. Finally tonight I was able to get her to bed at an early hour, so I hope that she will get up on time tomorrow.
   I am still not back up to my usual "walking" levels. Post Passover is also a busy time, and then when that was winding down, I managed to pull my back. (Lugging a heavy microwave back to the kitchen can do that to you......)  However, I had noted to myself that this is the first time that I have had back trouble since after losing my first twenty kilos......
   This afternoon I curled up with a good book and took a "day off" from just about everything. Tomorrow I hope to get back to my 10,000 daily steps (12K would be even better...).

End of the Passover Holidays….

   Thursday evening and Friday day were the last 24 hours of the Passover holiday. But since they were followed by Saturday, for all practical purposes the holiday (and leaven-less eating) continued through and until Saturday evening. (And in actuality, bread will be TABOO in my house until I get my Passover dishes stored away.)

  This is the first year that I did not get my dishes stored away the same evening that the holiday ended, and left part of the big job of getting them away for the following morning….and it is all due to our “adventures” from the end of the week.

   What adventures?

   Well, after staying up most of Wednesday evening preparing for my coming guests, I dove into bed Thursday night, ready to get some decent sleep before continuing cooking and serving the noontime holiday meal on Friday. (After which I would need to finish my cooking for the upcoming Sabbath….)

  Suddenly at about 9:30 am, the lights went out. I opened my front door, and seeing that the lights were off there, I assumed that it was a general power outage that would probably be fixed soon. [I will not go into the details of electricity and Jewish holiday/shabbas (Sabbath) observance, but in general (unless it is a life-threatening situation), we do not fiddle with our electric appliances/lights on the holidays, but use them as they were set up before the holiday or Sabbath starts.] After a while I realized that it was an outage affecting only OUR building, and the reality set in: I was looking at the certainty of the next 36 hours being without electric power: no lights, and more importantly, no fridge!

   But of course I have great neighbors, and whoever I asked gladly took some of my freezer/fridge items in for the weekend. I also changed my menus, making things simpler (ie, flexibility). In the middle I paused to give myself a lecture:  “Rickismom, you are NOT going to worry, nor fret, you will do what you need to, not worrying about the small amount of food that will spoil, etc…..”    Of course this is easier to do than say, but I managed in general to take things in stride.

   I also realized that without electric lights even on Saturday evening, until the electric company would come fix the problem, there was NO way I would finish getting the dishes away. And I decided that it wasn’t so bad, that there is no need to rush….

[Image: hand-made matzah--ie, unleavened bread:]

    Of course Friday evening with not enough candle light to read with, I went to bed on time. And woke up feeling GREAT! And now that Passover is finished I can stop gorging on junk. [It is VERY hard to diet on Passover, because besides having fattening holiday meals, matzah (at MORE calories than bread) just doesn’t fill you up like 2 slices of bread. And in addition there are also many good diet foods not available for the holidays.]

 And I will forgive myself the relapse, as long as I :

1)get back on track RIGHT away

2)start getting enough sleep

A Reminder From Heaven (or at Least the Heavens)

      Yesterday was a blustery type of day. It was supposed to be my last heavy-cleaning day before Passover (which starts Friday evening). I was planning to clean my living room as well as my fridge. That is a lot to do in one day, and I hoped to get an early start. Ricki left at 8 am for school, and I decided to dash next door to her doctor, to get a needed renewal of one of Ricki’s prescription medicines. Then I could buy the medicine early Monday, when I would go for my weekly weighing at the pharmacy. I also wanted to pop over to the bank and pull a bit of money from the ATM machine. The doctor’s office was empty of patients (as it usually is on Sunday mornings), and so within minutes I had the prescription.
     Next stop was the bank. The ATM machine was out of money (as it usually is, and not just on Sunday mornings…), so rather than walk all over town looking for a working computer, I opted for a live teller. I entered the bank and was relieved to see only two people ahead of me. But their business took quite a while. Finally after about twenty minutes, it was my turn, and as I opened the identity card I was holding (having taken it from my purse), I realized that it was Ricki’s. So I started fishing for mine. When I did not find it momentarily, I stood aside and let the next in line take my place. And I then went deep sea diving into the trenches of my purse, until I finally had to admit that my identity card was NOT there. Now not having an identity card is a big no-no in Israel, First of all, you can’t pull cash funds from the bank without one. And I couldn’t get Ricki’s CONCERTA without one (as it is a potentially abusable drug). So I went home and started calling stores where I might have left it during one of my recent purchases….to no avail.
        Finally I gave up, and decided to go order a replacement one, consoling myself that I needed a new one anyway since my ID picture contained therein is 80 kilos over my current weight. So I walked to the necessary office, getting needed photographs on the way, and waited nearly an hour in line. Finally at 11:30 I left with a new identity card in hand, but at least 3 hours behind in my schedule for the day. I was a bit peeved and anxious, knowing full well that it would be neigh-well impossible to finish the day’s work. Passing a store, I went in and bought some halvah. Walking home I was having a mental battle: treat myself (poor, poor me…) to halvah, or stick to my diet. And the halvah side won. I was about to take some, when suddenly I was reminded from heaven (or the heavens) that my actions were not correct: a bird flying above unloaded a tremendous amount of bird shit all over me. I instantly lost all appetite, and had to hurry home to change…. Now I am saving the halvah as a SMALL treat for a day that I REALLY stick 100% to my eating plan……

Yikes!

I weighed myself this morning, even though I usually do that on Mondays. I wanted to see how much damage I did this week. The answer was not good (worse than I expected). OK, back to self control.....

Redemption (A and B)

[This post is part of the pre-passover “blogExodus” at http://imabima.blogspot.com/ ]
INTRODUCTION
     For those regular readers who may have wondered where I disappeared to over the last nine days, I have been at home. Doing my Passover cleaning. For those readers uninitiated to Pesach (Passover) cleaning, the words “spring cleaning” is a mere whiff of what I do before Passover. We are enjoined not to eat, own, or use “chometz” (leavened products) during Passover. And while there are easier ways to clean for the holiday, basically one needs to rid the house of every crumb of bread/cake/etc. And after that, the kitchen counters, stove, etc need to be covered before being used for the preparation of scrumptuous holiday repasts…. So Passover cleaning tends to be a LOT of work. But personally I rather enjoy this, because it does give me an incentive to do some organizing, fixing, and deep cleaning of the house. Yet as much as I try and plan ahead, and to work by a schedule, I invariably fall behind, have less time for walking, and get too little sleep. The usual outcome for me is overeating and weight gain. 
The Post: Redemption (A) :
    Wednesday (ALL day) and Thursday morning I cleaned my kitchen for Passover. For the last few years I have “done” the kitchen before the living room, where we continue to eat non-Passover foods. I prefer to do the heavier work at least a week before the holiday, so as not to arrive to the holiday “seder table” exhausted. In former years I have used “cleaning the kitchen” as an excuse to consume “instant energy”, in the form of fine Swiss chocolate. Even last year, well down the “diet road”, I succumbed to temptation (albeit much less than in previous years), and this year I hoped to do much better. The chocolate I had purchased for holiday baking use I placed along with other groceries for the holiday in sealed boxes. And for several days, even though I was VERY hungry (blame habit and lack of sleep), I was doing GREAT. Then, when emptying out some of the closets in the kitchen on Monday afternoon, I found a stashed-away half bar of chocolate. And as the evening progressed, I slowly and surely polished off the entire 90 grams of creamy smoothness…. Having given in to temptation once, on the marrow I was craving chocolate with my whole soul. But, determined not to gain too much over the holiday season, I decided to allow myself on Tuesday a few high calorie items, but not chocolate. Then on Wednesday, I allowed myself extra calories, but not sweet items. The idea was to allow myself a bit of leeway, but to progress back gradually to a normal eating plan. Now why did I do this? BECAUSE WHEN I FOUND MYSELF NOT FOLLOWING MY EATING PLAN, I TOOK NOTE, AND ANALYZED THE SITUATION, AND DEVELOPED A PLAN FOR ACTION. If we want to redeem ourselves from our bad habits, we need to Think and PLAN. The redemption for Egypt was quick, and given as a gift. Redemption from our evil inclination is not going to be that easy.

  Redemption (B):
      One of my married sons phoned me the other day, offering to come and help me with the pre-Passover work one day next week. I declined, and told him that I didn't really need him to come, that his wife surely needed the help more. He then asked “Is it easier cleaning this year, now that you’ve lost weight?” YES YES YES I can easily bend to clean the floors. I can reach under the closet-table in the kitchen, to clean the floor beneath the closet. I n former years, my arm was too wide to get into the narrow space. It is easier to climb to the top rung of the ladder to reach the upper closets. Yes, losing significant amounts of weight is a redemption…..I truly feel like one who has entered freedom.

I am happy to say that I am under 80 kilos, ie I have lost 70 kilos!

I've posted this before (ages ago), but am doing so again in honor of International Down Syndrome Day.

Something “Interesting”

Several months ago I saw a well thought out on-line booklet (in Hebrew) on the topic “Me and My Family”. I printed it out, and saved it for use this summer. However, one day about a month ago Ricki noticed it, and took possession of it, “Lock, stock, and barrel”….. Yesterday as I was cleaning her drawers out, I came across it, and glanced at the answers she had written. Some where cute, and some were totally off-topic. But suddenly I noticed this: Question: What is something interesting about your mother when she was your age? Ricki’s answer: “She didn’t have Down syndrome.”

There’s a Hole in my Bucket

    Last night on my return from the pool at 23:30, I discovered that the city had turned our water off. (No, I paid my bill…) There was a leak from the pipes in the street, and they were busy fixing it. And they were still busy when I went to sleep shortly before 1 AM.

  This morning the water was still off. At 6am I exasperatedly called the emergency number of the city, and was told (after a LONG wait- I guess I wasn’t the only person needing to wash their hands*) that the water would be on by 7am. I informed him that my special needs teen needed a bath and that her ride to school arrives at 7:15. Even a fountain at seven am just wasn’t going to help much! (And in the end, it was 7:15 before the water was turned on.)

   However, I was in luck. One of my three dear daughters –in-law hates our water, and always requests bottled mineral water when she visits. For once I was truly glad, because in order to accommodate her, I had bought water in the super, and had a bottle and a half of pure H₂O.

    So with the half bottle we washed our hands. And I even had enough left over for another true necessity: my morning coffee.

   Then Ricki chipped in: “With the other bottle I can have a sponge bath>” (“Great problem-solving thinking!” I noted to myself.) “I hope it’s enough” I commented aloud.

   “If not, we can refill it from the tap….” she added.

    As the self-inflated balloon of my pride at Ricki’s logical thinking skills deflated a bit, I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the song from my childhood:

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.

With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, with what?

With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.

The straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,

The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long,

Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it.

With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, with what?

With an axe, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

With an axe, dear Henry, dear Henry, with an axe.

The axe is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,

The axe is too dull, dear Liza, too dull.

Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, hone it.

On what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza?

On what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, on what?

On a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, a stone.

           But the stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,

The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.

Well wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

Well wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.

With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza?

With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, with what?

try water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

try water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.

In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, dear Liza?

In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, in what?

In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,

In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, bucket.

BUT there's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

* Religious Jews was their hands every morning, and until they do so do not touch food items

Purim Lessons #2

[Note to my non-Jewish readers:

         Although this post is related to “Purim”, it is universally applicable. However, in order for you to understand it (if you didn't read yesterday's "note") you will need a bit of information.

    Purim is a Jewish holiday, celebrated by sending gifts of food (“mishloach Manot”) to others, eating a festive meal (“seudah”), and by giving alms. On Purim we also read the Scroll of Ester, which relates the origins of the holiday.]

   So yesterday, after hearing the Scroll of Ester I rushed home and started cutting up the vegetables needed for the meal. Once I had pre-prepared most of the items for the seudah, I set out to deliver the family’s mishloach manot.

   Now in most families, the wives usually stay home preparing the meal while their husband and/or children deliver the gifts of food to neighbors, teachers, Rabbis, etc.  However, my three youngest (non-married) sons were all out of town yesterday, and my husband is not able to physically do the walking needed. And sending Ricki out alone on a day as hectic as Purim would be downright dangerous. (And she anyway didn’t even want to come with me…)

    I realized that delivering mishloach manot to my neighbors would not be difficult, but I did have three destinations that were a bit far away. However, it initially did not bother me: I anyway wanted to be sure to get my daily “10,000 steps” in, and delivering mishloach manot was an excellent option for doing this.

  However, as I walked along, I suddenly realized that instead of enjoying my chance to get out of the house and stretch my limbs, I was inwardly ruminating over how pathetic a situation I find myself in: here I am about the only lady on the street (unless she’s accompanied by her husband or kids), no one is home to help, and I am doing EVERYTHING in this family.

 At least I caught myself in this negative mind set.

    “Ah, Rickismom”, I whispered inwardly, “You want to be like everyone else? Well, it just ISN’T going to be like that, because of __X Y Z___.  So you can be negative, OR you can decide to make the day a happy, positive one, and be happy for the myriad of good things in your life.”

   I choose the second option, and enjoyed the rest of my walk.

  Because happiness is NOT connected to what is going on in our lives, but rather on the internal messages we broadcast to ourselves.

Purim Lessons #1: Flexibility and Empathy

 [Note to my non-Jewish readers:

         Although this post is related to “Purim”, it is universally applicable. However, in order for you to understand it (and the follow-up post tomorrow) you will need a bit of information.

    Purim is a Jewish holiday, celebrated by sending gifts of food (“mishloach Manot”) to others, eating a festive meal (“seudah”), and by giving alms. In Jerusalem, Purim is celebrated a day later than everywhere else, and is called “Shushan Purim”. On Purim we also read the Scroll of Ester, which relates the origins of the holiday.]

The post:

       Before any holiday I wait impatiently to hear from my married sons who (if anyone) will grace our house with their presence.  Their coming is often complicated by their desire to also go to their in-laws, what type of sleeping quarters are available (since on most Jewish holidays driving is not allowed), whether their siblings will be there, etc. Often all these factors make arrangements difficult, and I have often asked them to try and see that SOMEONE will be here for any holiday, rather than them all coming one time, and none the next.

   Purim, however, is usually pretty easy. Because the in-laws of my sons all celebrate “ShushanPurim” in Jerusalem, and I celebrate the regular Purim, they can easily travel both here AND to their in-laws. (And sleeping quarters are not needed, as travel is permitted on Purim.) However, traveling for one without a car can be pretty hectic, as TONS of people travel the same bus route at the same time, and by late afternoon the buses are crammed and thus uncomfortable at best. So lately, some of my sons have had a tendency to pop in on the evening part of the day (the evening before), while my son Josh, who has a car, usually comes for the seudah in the daytime.

     However, unknown to me,  it seemed that this year Josh and his wife were eager to celebrate Purim in their own home, and the three brothers tried to ensure that SOMEONE would be around here in the daytime. But I didn’t know this….

     So my eldest son, Jacob called me, asking if I could make the seudah meal earlier, say at noon. He wanted to come for the seudah. But he was not eager to travel with his children on packed transportation. I was a bit taken aback at the question. Every Purim, after hearing the public reading of the Scroll of Ester, I run home. Then I proceed to send out my mishloach manot, and finally scramble to cook the food for the seudah. I find myself ALWAYS pressed for time, and could not imagine that I could have the festive meal at an earlier hour than our regular 3:00 schedule.  So I informed Jacob of this, and he said he would get back to me about when he would be coming. Eventually he let me know that both he and his sibling “Meir” would be coming in the evening.

     The next morning my daughter informed me that she and her husband would be at home (next to my house) in the morning, but not later in the day for the meal. I suddenly realized that if Josh wouldn’t choose to come for the seudah, my husband, Ricki, and I would be celebrating alone. And I started feeling sorry for myself, a bit bitter at the way things were turning out. (Josh hadn’t told me that he wasn’t coming, but he had hinted that he preferred to come in the evening…)

   Suddenly I realized that I was a bit angry that no one was willing to battle packed busses to see us, when there was a much easier, simpler option of having the seudah earlier. Why should I have expected my sons to do the difficult when I myself was not willing to stretch beyond the range of comfort (by having the meal earlier)???  I obviously needed to make the chances needed to ensure their presence, and THAT meant having the seudah earlier. Once I accepted that I would need to move the timing of the meal, the solution was obvious: I would cook first, and THEN deliver my mishloach manot, finishing in the late afternoon (after the repast) if need be. In the end, that is what I did, and it worked out so well that I think I even PREFER it like this.

   So hopefully I learned a bit of empathy and flexibility……

interesting video

An interesting video about people with intellectual disabilities. (hat tip to Dave Hinsburger) /


   Now let me ask YOU: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would YOU change?  (I'll post my answer in a few days.....)

Promoting Hate vs Expanding Our Internal Eyesight

   About two weeks ago, I wrote a post “TheNext Soldier? (Obsessing over Options)

   And since it was one of my posts which I felt has interest to the non-“special-needs” crowd of readers, I sent it in to "Havel Havelim", a weekly compilation of blog posts relating to Jewish and/or Israeli topics.

     Now a lot of Israeli bloggers are used to getting ugly comments; it seems to come with the territory. But since I rarely post on particularly Israeli themes, I usually am spared that flack.

    [Of course I understand that if one posts stuff on the internet, one has to be willing to receive negative feedback. The internet is a great forum for both promoting our views, and discussing things with others. (Although I have often noted that in public forums, there is a tendency to do a lot of “bashing” of others, without “derech eretz” –manners-, and that people rarely, if ever, change their minds by what they read in such places).]

      But what I find inexcusable, and certainly a waste of time, is when people write hateful things, without really reading the post they are commenting on. Some people are so intent on promoting discord that they jump in to do so, it would seem, with absolute glee…..  

  And one of these commented on the post noted above. Probably few of my regular readers saw the comment (nor my reply to him); it being made a few days after the post appeared.

    But it wasn’t a pro-Arab poster, but an anti-Chareidi* one.

   Someone called “Alan” wrote the following comment:

 I cannot imagine that the Army would NEVER be able to find a suitable job for your daughter. She graduated high school somewhere? She speaks Hebrew fluently?
I also don't buy the narrative that keeping modest girls out of the Army is a good way to do Tikkun Olam on to the Army.
My suspicion is that you don't trust that your worldview-as-transmitted-to-the-kid, can stand up face-to-face with other realities that your daughter would meet. You're a scaredy-cat.
You turned your now-adult daughter into a child again: "because I'm the mommy, that's why!"
Look, you can't have it both ways. You can't run around saying (as Mr EsserAgaroth likes to do) that Army girls dress like zonot; and then claim that it's not your job to set a fashion example for Army girls.
If you claim to be the leadership vanguard of the Jewish people, you can't be picky about who you're going to lead.
If you don't make that claim, then get out of my way while I lead the campaign to cut off y'alls subsidies.
the next step will be to give those Filipinit kids who DO SERVE IN THE ARMY, that money we took away from you!!
Looking at the pages of history, I gamble that y'all will end up in the same dusty footnotes as Shabtai Zvi.

[For my non-Hebrew speaking readers, translations and explanations:

Tikkun Olam – to rectify

Mr EsserAgaroth – a noted Israeli blogger

Zonot - harlots

Filipinit- people from the Philippines (here he would be talking about children of foreign workers  in I.srael, who where born and raised here)

Shabtai Zvi- a false Messiah from the time of the middle ages ]

And here is my answer:

     I must say that I suspect you have a lot of anger and pre-made assumptions here. May I point out that:
My husband worked for a living (until he retired). My husband also served as a combat soldier for several years. I worked as a nurse in a mental hospital, and with elderly patients. We worked to make our living. The subsidies we received are similar to tax breaks given by any normal country for children and those with special needs.
I have 2 sons who serve(d) in the army. (In the Oketz unit  and on the Hermon). 
     Oh, and did you read enough of my side bar (or read my post itself carefully enough) to understand that my daughter is mentally retarded? I am pretty sure that you didn't.
Yes, I am scared that if my very impressionable daughter went to a place where religious moral standards are not kept, she would be influenced, because she does not have the mental reasoning to understand that what others do may not be correct. ESPECIALLY since I refrain from criticizing those who are not as religious as I am.
I would like to add:
I made no objections to my younger sons to serve in the army (even though I realized that they would probably become less religious as a result), because since they were not doing their part in protecting the land spiritually with consistent, full time study, they had a moral obligation to serve. I felt that I could not impose my world-view on them.
     By the way, if anyone is a “scardy cat”, YOU are! On clicking your name one reaches a page with NO WAY to contact you. You don't give me a chance to answer you except here.
I personally think that you owe me an apology.

    I think I understand his anger at the chareidi community, who generally do not serve in the army (although that is slowly changing). But my post had nothing to do with promoting non-service in the army for regular draftees, and personally I would not be opposed to some type of modified  (and carefully planned) non-Army “national service” in their own community for chareidi girls. I also believe that more chareidi men should be working, and that those who do need to serve. (Although if the army keeps pulling stunts like expecting  religious men to listen to women singing, this is not going to happen.) At the MINIMUM, some type of national service could be done.  But Mr. Alan jumped in to spill his hate, without even TRYING to see what I was really writing about. (Which was, incidentally, about the frenzy we often work ourselves into when choosing between two options, a very human pitfall.)

   So maybe we all need to read other people’s posts with the aim to understanding WHERE they are coming from, and try to expand our internal eyesight of others and what motivates them.

* (For my non-Jewish readers: “Chareidi” is the Israeli word for the Jewish “ultra-Orthodox”)

Additional Note on the Pseudo-Tzaddik (Saint):

   Since some readers arrive here when "new posts" appear, they may miss the update that I put into Thursday's post, so I am also posting it here. 

  

 A reader commented on Thursday’s post:

    “ What point is there to be depressed? Depression only makes a person lose hope and blunts an attempt to energetically pursue a resolution instead.”

   This comment shows that I was not fully understood, and the point is important enough that I feel it needs an additional note (or post) to clarify the matter.

     I was NOT talking about being depressed or being "down". This is also not about giving up hope, or trying to rectify things. I am an extremely positive person (I think I owe my mother for that....).  I am talking about letting people learn to live with the reality that that not all problems have simple solutions, and sometimes people need to accept that there is NO easy cure, and learn to BE HAPPY in the situation they are in.  (I was not specifically talking in this case about Down syndrome, BTW. I have a different family member with a different problem.) However, as regards Down syndrome, I once read a quote from a "New" mother of a baby with Down syndrome who on going to a support group thought that she had fallen into a crazy house when all the other mothers were gushing about how lucky they were to have a baby with Down syndrome. Since reading that quote, whenever I am at a meeting and everyone is doing this "Gee I'm so lucky" scene, I make a point to mention something I DON'T like about Ricki's behavior (along with something terrific that she did), so that any new mothers who are still in the "Why in the world did this tragedy happen to me" stage will not feel like she landed on Mars.

     This commenter also writes: "Think good, so it will be good".
    Yes, there is truth to this, and a positive attitude and outlook is beneficial to us, both mentally and physically.

     BUT most of us are not recipients of open miracles, (and I certainly do not believe myself to be on the level to be worthy of one). I agree that we must never give up hope for changes for the better.  But to EXPECT an open miracle, or to deny the reality that one may not merit one, can be counter productive. As much as there is a danger of not actively seeking  positive changes if one accepts this reality, there is an even bigger danger in living in a Pollyanna world where we expect G-d to cure the incurable, or where we assume that He will ensure that we will be in the small number of  those who have a “positive outcome” in situations where this is rare. These are the dangers of this approach:

1) When an individual can not accept that their situation is not normally “cured”,  they may often, in their desperation to find a solution, expend TONS of energy/money searching for that elusive cure. QUACKS LOVE these people, and incurable things are a quacks daydream.

2) People living with the problem meantime, are so centered in finding the cure, with the "I HAVE to correct this!" attitude, that they can be angry and upset at being unable to do so in the meantime.

3)  When a person believes fully that G-d will make a miracle for them, and in the end, that miracle just doesn’t occur, their faith (or the faith of their children, who have been raised on this “G-d will take care of all things” attitude) may be shaken.

 I personally feel that in most cases, learning to BE HAPPY in spite of one's problems, and to not make the "problem" the complete obsession of one's life, is the healthiest thing to do. We need to make a normal amount of effort, and to pray to G-d for His help. But more than that, we need to feel that whatever G-d does is for a reason and that He is with us all the way, NO MATTER WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS. We need to work on our relationship with G-d, to work on improving ourselves, and enjoying the wonderful things that we do have.

The Pseudo-Tzaddik (Saint)

   [The Hebrew word tzaddik is translated generally as “saint”, although the word really means “righteous individual”, without the connotations of being able to do miracles, etc.]

   It happens in almost any support group you attend, no matter what the underlying problems are. There will be at least one individual who will often express his belief in G-d, and his faith that all will be well. That in itself does not bother me. What I DO find grating is the often implied message that if you are not sure that the problem will eventually be resolved to your satisfaction, your faith is weak. [I know of a cancer patient who bemoaned her inability to speak with anyone of her fear of what would be with her children after her death… because listeners would invariably chide her for “talking that way”, or enjoined her to believe that G-d could cure her.]

   I am sorry, but belief in G-d is not a magic-wand cure for all of human suffering. Truly righteous people can also die of cancer, suffer tragedies, and endure problems that are not resolved as they would like. These pseudo-saints with a Pollyanna-view of life and religion who can imply that others are not as religious as they are because of refusal to accept assurances that all will be “OK in the end”, may unfortunately be setting themselves up for a big disappointment.

G-D NEVER PROMISED TO SPARE THE RIGHTEOUS FROM ALL SUFFERING.

   I believe that true faith means that in some way, some measure, the tests that we endure are for our spiritual benefit, and that G-d does promise this: He will be with us all the way.

Additional Note on the Pseudo-Tzaddik (Saint):

   A reader commented on Thursday’s post:

    “ What point is there to be depressed? Depression only makes a person lose hope and blunts an attempt to energetically pursue a resolution instead.”

   This comment shows that I was not fully understood, and the point is important enough that I feel it needs an additional note to clarify the matter.

     I was NOT talking about being depressed or being "down". This is also not about giving up hope, or trying to rectify things. I am an extremely positive person (I think I owe my mother for that....).  I am talking about letting people learn to live with the reality that that not all problems have simple solutions, and sometimes people need to accept that there is NO easy cure, and learn to BE HAPPY in the situation they are in.  (I was not specifically talking in this case about Down syndrome, BTW. I have a different family member with a different problem.) However, as regards Down syndrome, I once read a quote from a "New" mother of a baby with Down syndrome who on going to a support group thought that she had fallen into a crazy house when all the other mothers were gushing about how lucky they were to have a baby with Down syndrome. Since reading that quote, whenever I am at a meeting and everyone is doing this "Gee I'm so lucky" scene, I make a point to mention something I DON'T like about Ricki's behavior (along with something terrific that she did), so that any new mothers who are still in the "Why in the world did this tragedy happen to me" stage will not feel like she landed on Mars.

     This commenter also writes: "Think good, so it will be good".
    Yes, there is truth to this, and a positive attitude and outlook is beneficial to us, both mentally and physically.

     BUT most of us are not recipients of open miracles, (and I certainly do not believe myself to be on the level to be worthy of one). I agree that we must never give up hope for changes for the better.  But to EXPECT an open miracle, or to deny the reality that one may not merit one, can be counter productive. As much as there is a danger of not actively seeking  positive changes if one accepts this reality, there is an even bigger danger in living in a Pollyanna world where we expect G-d to cure the incurable, or where we assume that He will ensure that we will be in the small number of  those who have a “positive outcome” in situations where this is rare. These are the dangers of this approach:

1) When an individual can not accept that their situation is not normally “cured”,  they may often, in their desperation to find a solution, expend TONS of energy/money searching for that elusive cure. QUACKS LOVE these people, and incurable things are a quacks daydream.

2) People living with the problem meantime, are so centered in finding the cure, with the "I HAVE to correct this!" attitude, that they can be angry and upset at being unable to do so in the meantime.

3)  When a person believes fully that G-d will make a miracle for them, and in the end, that miracle just doesn’t occur, their faith (or the faith of their children, who have been raised on this “G-d will take care of all things” attitude) may be shaken.

 I personally feel that in most cases, learning to BE HAPPY in spite of one's problems, and to not make the "problem" the complete obsession of one's life, is the healthiest thing to do. We need to make a normal amount of effort, and to pray to G-d for His help. But more than that, we need to feel that whatever G-d does is for a reason and that He is with us all the way, NO MATTER WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS. We need to work on our relationship with G-d, to work on improving ourselves, and enjoying the wonderful things that we do have.

The Doctor’s Visit

    For two mornings in a row, Ricki complained that her mouth hurt. We had been to the dentist just the previous week for a checkup, so that was one fear less. In addition, she specifically told me that it was her tongue that was bothering her. I looked at her tongue at the first complaint, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The second time, I told her: “OK Ricki, I don’t see anything, but today after school, I’ll take you to the doctor” (which happens to be three buildings away).

   So at 6:20, expecting her home any minute, I went downstairs to await her arrival.

   And waited…. And some more…

   Finally she showed up.

   “Well, I went to the doctor,” she chirped; “He said it was nothing. It’s OK”

   Ricki had taken her nice new health-fund card, and had GONE BY HERSELF TO THE DOCTOR. She told me that she had shown her card to the secretary, and gone in by herself, telling the doctor that her tongue hurt.

     Later I even passed by the office, and checked with the secretary if all had really gone as smoothly as Ricki had claimed. And it had.

YIKES!!!

     Yesterday evening I suddenly noticed that Ricki had a bottle of medicine. I quickly asked her what it was , and why she had it.

   “Oh, I want to take some Acamol (like Tylenol) for my throat.”

“RICKI LET ME SEE THAT RIGHT AWAY!!!!”

   It was a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide!

   I thought she knew that she can’t take medicines on her own.

   I was wrong.

    I have initially repeated (several times) since then that she can’t just take anything. But I am going to have to do better than that. I will need to teach her about non-prescription medicines, the rules involved, uses, doses, limitations…..

The Unwanted Script

   Today (ie, Sunday) was a slightly hectic day. I was raring to start my pre-Pesach (Passover) work, having finally last week decided what work to do each week until the holiday arrives (in a bit under two months). My allotted task for the morning was to buy cleaning supplies, as well as several items which I had noted last year at Passover’s end, as items “needed for next year”. In addition I had to make some routine blood tests in the morning, which meant fasting until 10 AM. That in itself should pose no problem. But I was feeling a little queasy; perhaps I had caught a “bug” after traipsing around in the drizzling rain Friday night. (Well, I HAD to get my steps in……)

   So I decided to take my breakfast with me: a diet yogurt. But on opening the fridge, I discovered that it was missing. (Ricki must have noticed it…) So on the spur of the moment, I decided that I would buy breakfast on the way to the stores, after the blood tests. I HAD calories I could use for breakfast. Since I was fasting, I hadn’t even had my morning coffee….

   The blood tests went easily. (….amazing how much easier for the technician to find a vein now that I weigh less…..) So I set out to have breakfast. I purposely passed the bakery, and went to a new “Italian corner” eatery I ad noticed of late.

   To make a long story short, the menu choices were NOT particularly dietetic, but I ordered a grilled sandwich, instructing them to cut it in half (the roll was huge…). To my dismay, on receiving the sandwich, I could see that they had smeared it with oil. (I could have ordered the salad with “rich cheese” for a lesser calorie count…) But time was passing, and I was hungry, so I ate the half sandwich. But it did put me about 100 calories past where I wanted to be at 11 am.

   On arriving home at 2pm, I had a milk drink, but still felt a bit under the weather. Soon I found myself polishing off a slice (SMALL slice) of cake from the freezer.

   “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” I queried myself. Apparently that old former internal script had reappeared….those lines inside my head that condone overeating as a way to deal with feeling under the weather or tiredness.

   You would think that after two and a half years of eating properly, those lines would have vacated my head, but no, they hadn’t. They had just lain in wait (“sin crouches by the door”) for an opportune moment.

   Of course, once I noted what was happening, I put a stop to it, being a little bit wiser, and a lot more on guard. In the end, I managed to close the day only 200 calories above my plan. Not bad.

   But I learned today that I will probably be “fat” in my mind forever.

He Was Killed Because He Was Fat?

   I was reading on shabbas about the “Mercy Killings” in New Orleans during the Katrina Hurricane. I noted that one of those killed was DEFINITELY not terminal, and did not have a DRN order. Instead, he repeatedly implored the staff to not leave him behind.

   But he was among those murdered. Because he was too heavy to move easily. I can only wonder how much the decision to kill him (for “mercy”) had to do with the prejudice which our society has against overweight people, and the view that those who are not independent have lives “not worth living”.

UPDATE: Please see comments

Miss Conversationalist

   When I am out in the evenings, Ricki is pretty much on her own. Her Dad is always home, but often sleeping, and generally her sister is home, albeit on the second floor. However, we have had no problems with this arrangement in general. Before I leave I make sure that Ricki has had supper, that her bed is made, and that she understands when she needs to go to sleep. (If I can, I also call to remind her.)  I generally also give her some activities to do to keep her occupied and out of trouble. However, Ricki has always, at least until now, complained bitterly whenever I leave.

    Sunday night I had a group meeting with several friends, and I expected to return home a bit on the late side.

   “Why do you have to go?” she asked me Sunday afternoon. I explained that just as she has friends, so do I, and since I am no longer in school (and thus don’t see my friends daily, as she does) I need to meet with them sometimes.

  So that evening as I left I was surprised to hear Ricki wishing me “Have a good time!”, rather than her usual complaints. And the next morning she even asked me if I had enjoyed myself.

   GOSH O GOLLIES, SHE’S GROWING UP!

The Joke Was On Me!

   I had a wedding to go to last night, of the daughter of a former neighbor. I suspected that she would not recognize me, but she did at first glance. (Actually this is not surprising, as she knew me in one of my relative lighter periods, not when I weighed 150 kilos!)

   BUT I DID NOT RECOGNIZE HER!!! SHE has lost a lot herself! I am so happy for her!

Schoolbag Saga, Continued

   This is a continuation from last week’s “school bag” post. I wrote that on Monday evening (came out “Tuesday” on blogger, as I had posted after midnight…).

  The day after I wrote that blog piece, Ricki was quite insistent that I carry her bag for her. As I mentioned in the comments:

“ Tuesday:Unfortunately this morning it was not the reality. It was either I take the bag or she would miss her ride. So I took it, being under pressure. So now there has to be "consequences"(which I told her would come) --which I need to decide on before her return at 6PM today. Probably no apricots tonight (her favorite "TuB'Svat" fruit..  “ 

   I confess that the same evening, I completely forgot about “consequences. The next few days I carried her bag down, letting her know that I was only doing so because I was anyway going downstairs in order to pop over to the grocery store. And if I am anyway leaving the house, I don’t mind helping her out. But I mentioned that on a day that I don’t need to go to the grocery, she will need to take the bag on her own. Thus I was preparing her for the idea that ultimately it IS HER JOB to take the bag.

   Sunday (yesterday) it happened. I was NOT going down to the grocery. When Ricki TOLD me (note, NOT  “asked”) to take her bag, as she was leaving, I informed her that today I was not going to the grocery, and remember, I mentioned that you need to take it yourself…..

  As I shut the door, I smiled, and noted that if she didn’t hurry, she would miss her ride and need to walk to school.

  I shut the door…..and held my breath. I knew darn well that if she missed the ride, the chances of her schlepping to school were in the range of minus ten to zero.

   But she sighed, accepted the decree, and trudged down the stairs. Today she didn’t even ask for help, but took the bag on her own….

The Sale

Once (about two years ago) I was in a big-size clothing store when I overheard a customer complaining about the truly exorbitant prices. The saleswoman noted that big sizes need more cloth, but that excuse was (and is) a flimsy one. The truth is that the store, knowing that their shoppers have few choices as regards where to obtain ready-made clothing in large sizes, can charge whatever they want. (The cloth in a 300shekel blouse, even in size 60, costs at the most 60-100 shekel.) The only option is for shoppers to wait until the end-of-the-season-sale, when they can buy the blouse at a regular (but not regular SALE) price. So this year I had a real pleasure. Finally I am what is considered a “normal” size. A size that appears in the racks of “sale” clothing in normal stores… So I went and tried on a few things, bought a few items that were a bit snug (they ought to be perfect next winter), as well as a few summer items that I found. Losing weight is FUN!!! GRIN.

The Soon-to-be Girl Soldier

    Yesterday, while waiting for the bus from the induction center, I noted a few young high school students waiting as well. These girls were obviously, clutching their induction-center bus passes, finishing a morning of processing at the center.

   One was laughing with her friend, making a TON of noise. She asked the driver of the bus (when it arrived) if her had scissors for the bus pass, which was completely unneeded, as the passes have perforated edges. In short, it was obvious that she was trying with all her might to get some attention.

   I thought to myself “I would love to see her in a year, after she has served a bit in the army. Chances are that she will be quieter, more mature, and more self assured….

Epilogue to Yesterday's Post

     Today I took her papers to the induction center, without the needed stamp (because the court clerks WERE striking), and very quickly (and in a friendly manner) the lady soldier there took care of the entire matter. I KNEW that there wasn't REALLY a problem, so why did I obsess about it........?

Getting Her Identity Card

[image: Israeli ID card.]

   The first step in tackling Ricki’s army deferment was to obtain an identity card for her. All Israelis have one (except children, who are listed on their parents’ card). I had actually filled out an application form with Ricki once, simply to give her experience in working through official papers. But she had been too young then to actually obtain her identity card. But now we DID need one, and so one day last week I set about obtaining the document for her.

   First I printed out from the internet the needed form, and then went to Ricki’s school to take her to the nearby “Internal Affairs” office to make the formal request. It was one of Ricki’s first days at school after her “strike” and I prayed that she would readily acquiesce to the “outing”. She didn’t.   It was windy outside when I arrived, and Ricki’s class had at that moment “break time”.  I explained that the government office was nearby to no avail. So I informed her that I would wait (in the teacher’s chair) until she agreed to accompany me. I sat down and gazed at the ceiling, hoping that the lack of negative attention would work better than hounding her. After five more minutes of unsuccessful waiting, I informed Ricki that I was going to tell the principal.

   The principal rallied to the cause, and managed to get Ricki outside of the building. But when Ricki felt the wind, she turned to reenter the school. However the principal, thankfully still there, informed Ricki that she would lock the door to the school, and wouldn’t it be warmer to go with your mom than sit outside? So Ricki reluctantly joined me, only to be pleasantly surprised by the brevity of the walk to the office.

    We reached the office (on the way we took the needed ID photographs), and took a number for our turn. It looked like we had at least a  half-hour wait ahead of us, and I regretted the half hour or more that I had already lost at the school. So we sat down near the front, opposite one of the clerks. When the clerk next had an opening, she signaled for us to come to her counter. The person who must have been in line complained that there IS a line (quite rightly, actually). But the clerk said “Some things are out of line.” She was obviously giving us preference due to Ricki’s  disability, and for once I went along. (I hope the person who was in line forgives us; I hope they never have the exasperating experience of dragging a 85 kilo teen with Down syndrome somewhere that she doesn’t want to go….).

   As we left the office, Ricki with ID in hand, I informed her that I needed the ID (to get certain papers for her deferment). Ricki started to refuse, but I had come prepared. I fished out the new shinny health fund card that I had obtained for her a few days before, as well as the extra unneeded copies of her new ID photo. She agreed to the swap, and enjoyed the walk back to her school.