Brickhead

THING ONE:
Our city puts on the big poobah fireworks display for the Fourth of July. While it is wonderful to sit in your very own backyard in the summer on your trampoline and watch the display with friends, every year without fail, the show attracts every hooligan in the tri-county area.

To combat this, the city scheduled our dinky fireworks display on the same day as the metro-fire works display downtown, in hopes that seedy elements stay down there and leave us the heck alone.

A few years ago I stood on my porch and watched police on horseback break up a near-rioting group of kids after someone, somewhere fired a shot. My parents insisted we were moving that night, but then rationalized it as an unlikely reoccuring event, so hence we stay...

Last year they canceled the display, but citizens were so disappointed, so disgruntled, so very upset...
...we anyway, they flexed their collective patriotic arm and called the council, the mayor, the fourth of july commission, and we are back with a bang.

THING TWO:
This week we are replacing the walkway in front of our house because our lovely oak tree had been displacing the blocks of pavement with its huge, gnarly roots for the past few years. Considering ourselves extremely fortunate every time an elderly person makes it to our front door without needing a hip replacement, my parents finally decided to do something about fixing the walkway. A crew comprised of a few super strong Mexican men chopped up the old slabs, removed a four foot high bonfire-perfect pile of roots, lay down a bed of gravel and installed the most beautiful brick pathway.

They nearly completed everything today. They only need to insert the larger, decorative bricks along the sides, into the trench they dug on either side.

THING ONE AND THING TWO COLLIDE

Sitting on the counch a few minutes ago, my mom noticed a young woman walk by with her baby in a stroller. The woman leans over, picks up a brick and places it into the stroller. She walks away.

My mom springs up, goes to the front door and bellows, "HEY, PUT THAT BACK!!! I SAW YOU TAKE THAT!" but the woman kept walking...

The end.

DISCUSSION:

We did not call the police. She stole a brick. It was odd. Why steal a brick? Why steal a brick with the owner of those bricks watching? Why give owner a dirty look-- like its none of their business--I mean, come on, owner is interferring with your brick-taking activity.

Kleptomaniac getting a thrill?

Gangmember looking for weapons of the hurlling variety?

Desperate mom looking for a toy for her kid?

Why do I find this so disturbing? The slippery slope theory tells me that she will be back tommorow taking a yogurt out of the fridge, a shower in my shower, and my wet socks and undies out of the washing machine.

Or maybe I only have to worry about this annually.

Parsley Guy

I am up on one of those dating sites. I haven't had much luck, and its sort of a farce, but I certainly get a lot of responses, and every once in a while I contact someone back and we email back and forth and have a phone conversation or two, and then I quickly realise its not for me--and find a polite way to exit.

Well...

Friday I gave this guy my number, I think we had 7 emails between us, and plus, he has an adorable screen name, and a terribly adorable stripey shirt, among other intruiging things...

so I give him my number and we have an awkward but charming conversation, untill he mentions that he was hungry and was therefor going to eat a cracker, which reminded me that I was hungry, so I informed him that I was going to go to the kitchen and find something... and I step into the kitchen and it smells like parsley because my sister is chopping parsely...

...and it smells nice, so I mention it to mr. cute stripey shirt.

"parsely?" he queries,"It smells like parsley? like you can acctually smell it?"

me: um...yeah, I guess....I mean its fresh.

him: fresh? where did you get fresh parsley?"

me: we grow it in our backyard in the garden

him; oh that's wonderful. I don't remember the last time I had parsely

me: (you have got to be kidding) um, yeah! its nice...but its pretty ordinary to get fresh parsely, I mean, when was the last time you entered a grocery, ahem. I mean, if you dont mind me asking?

him: why don't you send me some

me: what?! send you some parsely? but it will go limp, it will be terrible

him: so dry it.

me (thinking how do these conversations get so beyond my control?): wait. just a second. you want me to go all hippy and sundry some PARSLEY for you and MAIL it to YOU? WHY DON'T I JUST SEND SOME HAND DRIED RAISONS, for that matter??

him: no, just parsley, you can leave out the raisins.

me: I am thinking, that that's a bit picky, dude. I mean, I don't KNOW you, and like, that's a lot of commitment for a complete stranger

him (offended): strangers?! I sent you 7 emails

I guess I said it out loud

me: (he's got to be kidding, like, is that his idea of commitment? but this part of the convesation being a total repeat of other conversations when i "broke up with people without ever even meeting them' phenomenon of internet dating) Listen, I cant send you parsely

him: this is my Address. its blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda

me: I jot it down. i tell him, nah, but nice try.

we hang up. I, full of guilt, send him a link to a parsely website. Shabbos starts a few hours later and I daydream during the meal: me going outside, picking parsely, spreading it out on my picnic table, and mailing it in a jar with a gingham lid cover.

Shabbos day I bring this story up to my friends. They think its adorable. "oh, just send him some, its so wacky and cute."

Sunday I tell my mom: "is he cute? because if he is cute, I would definately send him the parsley" she tells me

"but I haven't even met him! doesnt he at least owe me coffee first?"

cuz thats what I'm thinking.
well does he? What do you think?

Confession

I must confess that I never date. I have been on one date in my entire life. When I turned twenty-one I vowed I would, at least, start the process. I truly believed that I was the oldest person who had never been on a date. So a friend set me up with one of her husband's friends. We had a great chat, he was a wonderful guy, I just wasn't attracted to him, and when I broke up with him over the phone (if you can call it that) I told him I could never date him because his life experience, and his angst reminded me so much of myself that being with him made me depressed (huh?).

When I was in high school, talking to a boy would get you kicked out. I have no brothers, and therefore, no brother's friends. I am visually impaired and can't figure out who is standing accross the room, and combined with the strange fact that no guys were in my proximity growing up, I had very, very little interaction.

When I was in seminary talking to a boy would get you kicked out. I was always a pretty good student and kept my rule breaking to a minimum, but then again, boys never really interested me... at least, it was so not worth getting into trouble, and I mean the big kind of trouble where you are targeted as 1. having emotional problems 2. "frying out" or "bumming out," depending on who you ask 3. being the subject of mass-pity, and the unfortunate problem of your friend's moms telling them not to call you anymore. As I said, it just wasn't worth it. In my town, as in any mid or large size Jewish community, hanging out with guys meant oggling each other at the local pizza joint, or 7-11, or at some creepy guy's house (the one with the irresponsible parents), and it just felt so LAME.

But, see, now I am in trouble. :)

When I came back from sem I moved back in with my folks and started college. Not many guys in town, in fact, between 5 of my friends, they have gone out with every single one. and I have never traveled out of town to meet a guy because I don't want to get married, and that sort of thing is just too much freakin pressure. "you better be serious, if I am forking over 200 bucks for the first date," he says.

And then there is the annoying problem of not being sure if I want to be frum. I don't want to be, but then again, I have no intention of relinquishing all of it. I am an in-between, and very much procrastinating on this dating thing. Am I missing it? Yeah, just a bit. but I want it on my terms, and I have never been one to compromise.

Weddings

Just got back from another beautiful wedding! The bride looked great, the guests were happy, and the wait-staff were HOT. (...just kiddng, but I bet you weren't expecting that).

I love weddings. I love happy people and I love well dressed people and I love not having to cook dinner :) I love looking at all of the grandparents who are looking at all of the kids who are crawling under the table, where the women have kicked off their heels...

Weddings have the uncanny ability to make you feel very very single. On one hand, its like, "phew, glad thats not me," but the other part of you is like "whats taking so freak'n long??" My sentiment is dichotomized, I cant help it, I feel both...

Now, for my usual bitchy self to shine through...
Question:
Why are all orthodox Jewish weddings exactly the same? In this city, everyone gets married at the same hall, hires the same caterer, and follows the same routine.

The music is ALWAYS too loud, so when you are eating your apitizer you have to shout your "how's by you" to the person sitting next to you (you can't hear their response, but you could care less anyway). The pictures always take too long, and happen smack in the middle of the wedding, right after the ceremony but before the main party, with guests loitering (or drving home to check on the kids), but nonetheless, a serious timewaster...
and the girls!! They all wear these rediculous satiny dresses that without failure make them look truly overheated and somewhat pinched. The appropriate comment is always, and uttered in a nasal monitone, "wow, you look stunning." or "who did your hair?" --which is, by the way, always up in the same predictable bobbypin-ed, hairspray updo thingie.
I wonder who the first person was, to decide that a patched up/tznius-ized prom dress would be the thing to wear. Turn you into Miss It. Make you look like a million bucks. I wonder if they knew or thought of the aftermath-the oodles of youngsters who would blithely follow this unfortunate trend...

And while I'm on it...why do frum women covet 1980s power suits? and how did that ever become formal attire? I mean, if you wanted to sign me up for Blue Cross Blue Sheild or sell my house, I could understand the solid-color-squareness of it all. Weddings? are you kidding me?

I want to hear it from a guy... do you find the get up attractive, or just a bit puzzling? isn't it perplexing? is it, is it????

Possible answers to the prictability issue (?!)
1. Its just plain easier to do what has been d0ne before. After all, when you are getting married approximately 3 months after he proposes, you have very little time to be creative. In New York, they can acctually put together a grand shebang wedding in 3 weeks- if the hall is free that night, grab it quick.

2. You want to be conventional. Some people like cottage cheese. Others like the color beige. and some people get heart palpatations deciding if the bride's sisters are going to wear navy blue or burgundy. I mean, Puleez Louise, man, how much excitement cant you take?

3. The same argument proponents of school uniforms use to argue their case. "conformity allows one's individuality to shine forth" The oxford shirt and penny loafers don't make the kid, its what he thinks and does. If my wedding is exactly like your wedding, no one is distracted by the trimmings, we can just focus on the wondeful people, the spirituality of the day, blah blah blah.

A bit farfetched, that one...

4. They don't care. No one cares. The parents, grandparents and everyone else just want them to get married already...JUST DO IT...before you get yourselves into trouble. Heck, maybe the bride and groom want to get on with it themselves....so they book the same hall, hire the same caterer...you get the picture.

I do love weddings, I really do, but their predictability is just so astounding. I want to get married on a boat, or in my parents living room, or the zoo, or donate the money to charity. I dont care. I really dont (which is why I will probably do what everyone else does, becuase who the heck really cares anyway?)

Have a good one,
Your very favorite tznius wedding crasher

Hullo 22, Happy Birthday

And so, I am another day older, and everyone makes a big deal out of it. Which is very nice. I know I am truly an adult because I, for the very first time, forgot it was my birthday, and if you cannot remember your birthday, you have truly lost your youth.

Some wonderful things have happened so far, though. My dad bought me a guitar book. My mom got me a birthday hat from the dollar store that is sparkly and says happy birthday, and my sibs drew pictures, which are the best. My friends are getting me a colonoscopy and a lie detector test, and are going out for drinks without me, which is also very nice. At least this is what they are telling me is happening. Still, I admire their creativity, and am moved by their efforts to make my day special. My sister sent me a beautiful package, and my grandparents sung me happy birthday on my voicemail, which is the cutest thing ever(and I discovered my grandpa has a range of two notes).

People renew their vows after years of marriage. They want to reaffirm their commitment to each other. My mom suggested that in honor of my birthday, we reenact my birth.
I think that's a terrible idea, but there's gotta be a market for it.
I am sure the second time around, its a lot less traumatic, you could, for example choose your own obsetrician, and say, opt for a waterbirth. You could choose the people in attendance and select the degree of drama. After all, its your special day.

Last week I saw the most offensive birthday card ever. It was so bad I had to buy it, even though it sreally not funny. On the front is an old couple and a family waving goodbye to them. It reads "Happy birthday, bye bye" and when you open the card it says "You're old, and we wont be seeing you anymore." I mean, like, is that supposed to be funny? Anyway, I am sending it to a friend, but was too disturbed to write in it, so I guess she can always send it on to someone else.... Anyway, this year my resolution is to learn how to dance a bit better, practice my harmonica, and eat really good food. I also promise to be less critical of my mom. Have a lovely day.