Today I collected all of the books around the house and put them into boxes to bring to Powells. Probably about a hundred books. Most of them bought by me with the soul purpose of me reading them once. There were a few good books, but I actually owned The Memory Keeper's Daughter. Possibly the worst book ever published. Also a book about conjoined twins. Another bad one. In hard cover! Why, cause I was looking for something to read one day. Ever heard of a little place called the library, Amy?
Anyway I collected the books, and, (drum roll please) found a spot right in front of the Powells on Hawthorne. The guy selling "street roots" opened the door for me and Eli and I both thanked him. (By the way I am looking at the homeless totally differently now. Totally. Or maybe I should say that I am looking at them like they are people. I knew that is what you were supposed to do, but I've never actually done it before).
Anyway Eli and I watched as our friendly neighborhood Powell's clerk turned away 75% percent of my books. We both cheered every time he accepted a book. Apparently Powell's only takes books that they don't have too many of and that they know they can sell. The good news is that even for the few books I sold, I still got $30. Eli and I high fived each other and then he said, "now we can go to free swim today." He has totally adapted.
Later on Mel came over and I told her that we would need a scholarship to Kochavim. She was handled it exactly as I knew she would, just asked me to tell her what we could pay and moved on. We are so lucky to live in the community that we do. Now that I've done it once I'm sure I can do it again. Its not a matter of pride its just is what it is.
After swimming we went to Trader Joe's to buy milk. Just milk. Nothing else.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
wednesday
The one thing about today was that I had to keep asking what day it was. It's like any crisis where the days begin to run together.
It was rainy today and I was really wondering how I was going to get out of taking the kids to see Harry Potter 6. They've only been looking forward to it all summer and today was raining and they had no plans and I was dreading it. But somehow they didn't ask. Nor did they ask to go to any stores. Instead they asked for a play date. The best things in life really are free.
Malaya came over. Malaya is a little girl who at some point had the potential to be a bitchy "it-girl", but turned nice. Her parents got divorced, her mother moved out, and suddenly the little vixen whom I never wanted in my home turned sweet. She likes to help me bake. She includes Eli in their games. She got Mira a stuffed cat for her birthday. Two years ago it was a Bratz doll. Anyway, a few minutes before Malaya was to arrive her dad called me nearly in tears. Malaya needed to rest due to a scuffle with her older brother. Ian, Malaya's brother, from what I've heard, is not a good kid. I'm afraid to imagine want he did to her. The pain in the father's voice was enough to convince me that we are lucky to have the troubles that we do.
I told the kids at the beginning of the week that they could pick out a treat from the pool only once this week. Today was the day they chose. I really had to tell them 50 times that today will be the only day. This is good for all of us. There's no need for the daily pool treat. I told them to each choose an ice cream that cost a dollar. No one complained. I am already seeing that they are going to whether this okay. Thank God for them.
Jeff and I had a big hug this morning. It was the first time we touched each other since Friday. We also gossiped and talked about other stuff today. I think we may get through this. I think even though it sucks it may be good that this happened-- we are entering a new stage of human development.
I talked to Levia today. I don't feel any need to advertise this or to talk it to death but I feel about a million pounds lighter since I talked to her. I got what I needed: a nonjudgmental sympathetic and helpful ear. She's been there and was full of tips and optimism but mostly she listened and didn't judge and some of the heaviness is gone.
It was rainy today and I was really wondering how I was going to get out of taking the kids to see Harry Potter 6. They've only been looking forward to it all summer and today was raining and they had no plans and I was dreading it. But somehow they didn't ask. Nor did they ask to go to any stores. Instead they asked for a play date. The best things in life really are free.
Malaya came over. Malaya is a little girl who at some point had the potential to be a bitchy "it-girl", but turned nice. Her parents got divorced, her mother moved out, and suddenly the little vixen whom I never wanted in my home turned sweet. She likes to help me bake. She includes Eli in their games. She got Mira a stuffed cat for her birthday. Two years ago it was a Bratz doll. Anyway, a few minutes before Malaya was to arrive her dad called me nearly in tears. Malaya needed to rest due to a scuffle with her older brother. Ian, Malaya's brother, from what I've heard, is not a good kid. I'm afraid to imagine want he did to her. The pain in the father's voice was enough to convince me that we are lucky to have the troubles that we do.
I told the kids at the beginning of the week that they could pick out a treat from the pool only once this week. Today was the day they chose. I really had to tell them 50 times that today will be the only day. This is good for all of us. There's no need for the daily pool treat. I told them to each choose an ice cream that cost a dollar. No one complained. I am already seeing that they are going to whether this okay. Thank God for them.
Jeff and I had a big hug this morning. It was the first time we touched each other since Friday. We also gossiped and talked about other stuff today. I think we may get through this. I think even though it sucks it may be good that this happened-- we are entering a new stage of human development.
I talked to Levia today. I don't feel any need to advertise this or to talk it to death but I feel about a million pounds lighter since I talked to her. I got what I needed: a nonjudgmental sympathetic and helpful ear. She's been there and was full of tips and optimism but mostly she listened and didn't judge and some of the heaviness is gone.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
its the end of the world as we know it
its 2:24 am on August 11th.
Officially the world hasn't ended. Officially its still opened for business, but my body is in crisis mode. I recognize it by now, the symptoms are familiar: lack of appetite followed by voracious hunger, emotions ranging from despair to strange euphoria, an eerie calm which so doesn't match what's going on inside, and of course, insomnia. Hence, the 2:00 revival of a blog that's been dead for over a year and feels like it was written by another person.
The symptoms are like when Mom first was diagnosed with the brain tumor, or when she was at her sickest, and when she died. Or when each kid was born, or 9-11 and that ridiculous aftermath. A sense that you are the same person walking around in a new and wholly unfamiliar world.
So what happened?
Saturday:
A trip to the coast with Erica and the kids. Insufficient funds to cover your bread and cherries from whole foods. Why'd you have to go to whole foods anyway? The bank is closed. We can't get online, Jeff never set up our online account when WaMu got bought by Chase. A day of sandy anxiety. Pizza--really the best pizza in the world. Erica offers to pay, I tell her not to be silly. Ice cream afterwards. Turns out that this will be our last meal out in a long time. Glad it was so good.
Being on the coast all day with Erica and the kids is not a bad way to spend the first day of destitution. Really, if I had to pick something to do. We get home at 11:00 and prepare the kids for their joint sleepover.
Jeff and I hash it out until 1:00 am or so. I can't deal with him, I try to push any feelings of anger away. I sleep for 2 or 3 hours. Mostly I get up to pee.
Sunday:
At 6:15 I get out of bed and drive over to the bank. I need to see for myself that its real. Why are we so damn stupid? What kind of grown ups let their money disappear without paying attention? Who are we anyway? In some ways it negates all of the real adult stuff that we do. If we can't manage our money, and really were we even trying, than do we even deserve to be raising these kids? Who are they being raised by anyway?
Our branch is closed (of course) but what I didn't know was that since the ATM is in the lobby, and the lobby is locked I can't get in to check our balance on the ATM. The universe is telling me to go home. I ignore the universe and drive over to the chase ATM and Fred Meyer.
I'm in my pajamas and the parking lot is full even though Freddie's won't open for the next 30 minutes or so. If i'd have known there'd be so many people here I might have gotten dressed. There's someone smoking next to the ATM. I consider bumming a smoke from him. For the next two days, anytime I see someone smoking I'll consider bumming a smoke.
The machine tells me that we have -892 dollars.
Shit.
We get through Sunday in a haze.
Mira and Madeline are at our house, Henry and Eli at Erica's. Jeff tells me that he hasn't had much work in the past few months. Clearly. He hasn't. Nice of him to tell me now. We come up with a tentative plan. There is still money of course, not much left really, but enough to get us by. But this can never happen again. If it does we will lose everything. All of our things will be lost. I can't look at him. Its not his fault that I'm in this situation. Nobody over the age of 18 has any right to expect someone else to take care of them. But still, its more his fault than mine. We both know this. I imagine that this is what it feels like when you find out that your husband is having an affair.
The girls spend the day at our house. Jeff takes the boys to OMSI (we still have a membership). We talk a little but mostly we tiptoe around each other. I eat cold pasta with a can of tomato sauce, straight from the can for dinner with Eli while Jeff drives the girls to their party. Mira will sleep at Madeline's tonight. They are having some kind of strange romance. I know when I look back on this time Erica and her kids will be a big part of what i remember.
Erica is the only person who has the slightest inkling of what is going on with us. I haven't talked to anyone about it which is strange for me. I'm dying to talk to Levia, or Libby, or Beth, but I don't.
I go to bed at 9:30 and I sleep well. Jeff asks if he can kiss me goodnight and I let him. I'm pretty sure but not as positive as I'd like to be that we can survive this together.
Monday
I go for a run. It really feels good. Its the nicest day of the summer so far in this fucking ridiculous summer. Jeff tells me before I go that he's finally manged to get online. I don't care anymore, I mean I do, but right now the only thing that matters to me is lacing up my sneakers and running out the door. I tell him he can show me when I get back but I end up running for an hour. By the time I get home its time to get Eli ready to spend an hour at Erica's while we go to the bank.
We wait a long time to see someone at Chase. Finally a tall bald guy in his early 50's takes us back. He is exceedingly kind and calm, the exact kind of person you want in this situation. He is the wise doctor, the good cop. He gives us a new kind of checking account to match our, ahem, current situation, tells us that he'll try to rush the funds Jeff deposited on Saturday morning into our account. Takes off a few fines we had for going under the minimum for our premier checking account.
We pick up the kids. Mira and Madeline look like lovers preparing to separate. Its time to take Mira home, I need them both at home now.
My two exhausted little ones collapse on the couch in front of Tom and Jerry and I spend the next hour online, bit by bit, meal by meal, trip by trip, camp by camp, examining our financial demise. Our records over the last six months look like something out of a greek tragedy. I can remember spending every single one of those dollars without a care in the world.
Particularly painful to read about is last weekend. Last weekend when the kids spent the night at the Friedmans, and we went to a movie, and drinks, and dinner, and breakfast the next day. Not one dime of what we spent that weekend was real, every bit of it overdrawn. That whole weekend feels like it happened about a million years ago. Or to someone else. Or like I'm looking at it through a cloudy shower door.
I'm going to try to sleep now. More tomorrow.
This is your life Amy Katz or it used to be.
After my depressing plunge into the person I used to be, I finally hear back from Brian in Kansas City. Mom's stockbroker and the person who will rescue us from this mess. Just hearing that Kansas City twang makes me want to cry and hide my head and run. I tell him I need money, he tells me that I'll have it by the end of the week. I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He knows that I'm a fuck up. Here's what he doesn't say: "It's almost gone, Amy."
Bless him for not saying that.
After I talk to Brian I feed the kids lunch. Stale peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Three of them, whole wheat for me and Eli, white for Mira. I'm starving all of a sudden. How long until we can't afford two different kinds of bread? Eli and I are still eating that fatal bread I bought wth my credit card when the debit card was declined. It tases like guilt, but its all that we have.
Which brings me to my next topic.
THE FAMILY TRIP TO WINCO
We are seriously out of food. No milk. No vegetables. We finished the bread for lunch. No cheese. No pasta, even. We are going to have to shop, but today, and only today we decide that we'll have to buy our groceries with a credit card. At Winco. Levia shops there and so does Mel. They sing its praises all of the time. But I'm a snob and I like New Seasons, or at least Trader Joe's. Now I like Winco. Any type of food you can imagine, in bulk, cheap. Really cheap. It looks like a store that I'd hate: big and warehousy. But you know what? I loved it. I felt like I walked into one giant hug. Its okay Amy, the universe seemed to be saying, you can still eat, you can still feed your family. Good wholesome (if not exactly local or organic but I suddenly stopped caring about any of that) food, and you can afford it too. You can even buy Doritos and fake Oreos for the kids. They love it, its a new adventure. Can you believe I used to hate going to grocery stores where you had to bag your own groceries? Who the fuck cares if you have to bag your own groceries when they are so cheap?
Except, well, when its time to pay, we've unloaded everything and I'm sedulously bagging away, we find out that, naturally, WINCO DOESN'T TAKE CREDIT CARDS! Of course they don't. Jeff looks at me. For the first time since this all started we laugh. We are ourselves. We may not get to eat but we still have that. Jeff tries the ATM and it works. So maybe the damn checks from Saturday have cleared? Who knows, the Katzes have food! And we payed probably (remember how I'm not good at paying attention to these things?) half of what we normally do. Go us! And we may be back. Except of course for the car ride home.
Amy: "Are we going to be charged a fee, do you think, for paying for these groceries. Are we still officially overdrawn?"
Jeff: "That would suck! It would negate all of that savings, wouldn't it?"
We are such fuck ups!
When we get home I call Eric from the bank. I tell him that I went to Winco, which is after all, a discount grocery store because my kids have to eat and now I'm worried that I'll be charged a penalty on my groceries. He very kindly tells me that if such a charge pops up he'll remove it. I thank him. I think that I love him.
Jeff is going to use the rest of our cash to buy a pound of coffee at Peets. We agree on this. We need our coffee. Its medical really, or at least it feels this way.
I want to call Levia or Beth but I don't. I'm not sure how long I can go without talking about this.
After the kids go to bed Jeff and I sit outside and eat white bean soup and try to talk about other stuff. We are having a hard time making eye contact. Is it my imagination or does the soup taste funny? Its my imagination, I tell myself firmly, you are lucky to have food.
Later on as we are watching TV and trying to forget I start to get mad again. I haven't really felt anger, but I do now, full blown rancor. I go upstairs, and I don't kiss back when Jeff comes up to say goodnight. Its so hot in our room but we don't dare flick on the air conditioner. I really hope it doesn't get unbearably hot again.
I wake up at 1:00 am in white hot panic.
Tuesday:
There's suddenly so much to do! I must take out student loans and cancel the paper and check on our accounts and see if we can find cheaper health insurance and a million other things. I still have to study too. Today we are supposed to go to meetings at the synagogue, and I promised I'd take the kids to free swim. Mira, whose heard a lot, probably too much of the ongoing conversation in the house offers to "lend" me the money to pay for free swim. I take her up on it since I gave my last $5 to Mel. We were meeting at her house and she had a mattress delivered. The delivery people brought the mattress upstairs and then Mel asked me and Sarah if we had any cash ten bucks or so to tip the guy. I'm an idiot! Can you believe I looked in my wallet, found, literally the last $5 to my name, and, get this, gave it to her. I really suck at this. I'm not sure why I just didn't tell her that I had no cash when she asked. Now, I'm stuck borrowing money from Mira to pay for us to go swimming.
The good new is that on Tuesday Grant pool offers a 2 for 1 discount. Instead of nine dollars for the three of us I pay six fifty. Whoo hoo! I feel a little better about giving Mel the money.
I diligently put my receipts for the pool and scrawl on a yellow note pad $5 Mel and put it in our brand new envelope marked "receipts." The plan is that we'll go through them every Sunday, and do this every week until we are back on our feet. I notice Jeff's receipt from Peets. It includes 1.60 for an iced coffee along with our pound. I try not to be furious. I mean, really, he's been through hell and back too. He feels like death. I can't even imagine how he feels. He deserves his iced coffee. But still, it prickles.
Officially the world hasn't ended. Officially its still opened for business, but my body is in crisis mode. I recognize it by now, the symptoms are familiar: lack of appetite followed by voracious hunger, emotions ranging from despair to strange euphoria, an eerie calm which so doesn't match what's going on inside, and of course, insomnia. Hence, the 2:00 revival of a blog that's been dead for over a year and feels like it was written by another person.
The symptoms are like when Mom first was diagnosed with the brain tumor, or when she was at her sickest, and when she died. Or when each kid was born, or 9-11 and that ridiculous aftermath. A sense that you are the same person walking around in a new and wholly unfamiliar world.
So what happened?
Saturday:
A trip to the coast with Erica and the kids. Insufficient funds to cover your bread and cherries from whole foods. Why'd you have to go to whole foods anyway? The bank is closed. We can't get online, Jeff never set up our online account when WaMu got bought by Chase. A day of sandy anxiety. Pizza--really the best pizza in the world. Erica offers to pay, I tell her not to be silly. Ice cream afterwards. Turns out that this will be our last meal out in a long time. Glad it was so good.
Being on the coast all day with Erica and the kids is not a bad way to spend the first day of destitution. Really, if I had to pick something to do. We get home at 11:00 and prepare the kids for their joint sleepover.
Jeff and I hash it out until 1:00 am or so. I can't deal with him, I try to push any feelings of anger away. I sleep for 2 or 3 hours. Mostly I get up to pee.
Sunday:
At 6:15 I get out of bed and drive over to the bank. I need to see for myself that its real. Why are we so damn stupid? What kind of grown ups let their money disappear without paying attention? Who are we anyway? In some ways it negates all of the real adult stuff that we do. If we can't manage our money, and really were we even trying, than do we even deserve to be raising these kids? Who are they being raised by anyway?
Our branch is closed (of course) but what I didn't know was that since the ATM is in the lobby, and the lobby is locked I can't get in to check our balance on the ATM. The universe is telling me to go home. I ignore the universe and drive over to the chase ATM and Fred Meyer.
I'm in my pajamas and the parking lot is full even though Freddie's won't open for the next 30 minutes or so. If i'd have known there'd be so many people here I might have gotten dressed. There's someone smoking next to the ATM. I consider bumming a smoke from him. For the next two days, anytime I see someone smoking I'll consider bumming a smoke.
The machine tells me that we have -892 dollars.
Shit.
We get through Sunday in a haze.
Mira and Madeline are at our house, Henry and Eli at Erica's. Jeff tells me that he hasn't had much work in the past few months. Clearly. He hasn't. Nice of him to tell me now. We come up with a tentative plan. There is still money of course, not much left really, but enough to get us by. But this can never happen again. If it does we will lose everything. All of our things will be lost. I can't look at him. Its not his fault that I'm in this situation. Nobody over the age of 18 has any right to expect someone else to take care of them. But still, its more his fault than mine. We both know this. I imagine that this is what it feels like when you find out that your husband is having an affair.
The girls spend the day at our house. Jeff takes the boys to OMSI (we still have a membership). We talk a little but mostly we tiptoe around each other. I eat cold pasta with a can of tomato sauce, straight from the can for dinner with Eli while Jeff drives the girls to their party. Mira will sleep at Madeline's tonight. They are having some kind of strange romance. I know when I look back on this time Erica and her kids will be a big part of what i remember.
Erica is the only person who has the slightest inkling of what is going on with us. I haven't talked to anyone about it which is strange for me. I'm dying to talk to Levia, or Libby, or Beth, but I don't.
I go to bed at 9:30 and I sleep well. Jeff asks if he can kiss me goodnight and I let him. I'm pretty sure but not as positive as I'd like to be that we can survive this together.
Monday
I go for a run. It really feels good. Its the nicest day of the summer so far in this fucking ridiculous summer. Jeff tells me before I go that he's finally manged to get online. I don't care anymore, I mean I do, but right now the only thing that matters to me is lacing up my sneakers and running out the door. I tell him he can show me when I get back but I end up running for an hour. By the time I get home its time to get Eli ready to spend an hour at Erica's while we go to the bank.
We wait a long time to see someone at Chase. Finally a tall bald guy in his early 50's takes us back. He is exceedingly kind and calm, the exact kind of person you want in this situation. He is the wise doctor, the good cop. He gives us a new kind of checking account to match our, ahem, current situation, tells us that he'll try to rush the funds Jeff deposited on Saturday morning into our account. Takes off a few fines we had for going under the minimum for our premier checking account.
We pick up the kids. Mira and Madeline look like lovers preparing to separate. Its time to take Mira home, I need them both at home now.
My two exhausted little ones collapse on the couch in front of Tom and Jerry and I spend the next hour online, bit by bit, meal by meal, trip by trip, camp by camp, examining our financial demise. Our records over the last six months look like something out of a greek tragedy. I can remember spending every single one of those dollars without a care in the world.
Particularly painful to read about is last weekend. Last weekend when the kids spent the night at the Friedmans, and we went to a movie, and drinks, and dinner, and breakfast the next day. Not one dime of what we spent that weekend was real, every bit of it overdrawn. That whole weekend feels like it happened about a million years ago. Or to someone else. Or like I'm looking at it through a cloudy shower door.
I'm going to try to sleep now. More tomorrow.
This is your life Amy Katz or it used to be.
After my depressing plunge into the person I used to be, I finally hear back from Brian in Kansas City. Mom's stockbroker and the person who will rescue us from this mess. Just hearing that Kansas City twang makes me want to cry and hide my head and run. I tell him I need money, he tells me that I'll have it by the end of the week. I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He knows that I'm a fuck up. Here's what he doesn't say: "It's almost gone, Amy."
Bless him for not saying that.
After I talk to Brian I feed the kids lunch. Stale peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Three of them, whole wheat for me and Eli, white for Mira. I'm starving all of a sudden. How long until we can't afford two different kinds of bread? Eli and I are still eating that fatal bread I bought wth my credit card when the debit card was declined. It tases like guilt, but its all that we have.
Which brings me to my next topic.
THE FAMILY TRIP TO WINCO
We are seriously out of food. No milk. No vegetables. We finished the bread for lunch. No cheese. No pasta, even. We are going to have to shop, but today, and only today we decide that we'll have to buy our groceries with a credit card. At Winco. Levia shops there and so does Mel. They sing its praises all of the time. But I'm a snob and I like New Seasons, or at least Trader Joe's. Now I like Winco. Any type of food you can imagine, in bulk, cheap. Really cheap. It looks like a store that I'd hate: big and warehousy. But you know what? I loved it. I felt like I walked into one giant hug. Its okay Amy, the universe seemed to be saying, you can still eat, you can still feed your family. Good wholesome (if not exactly local or organic but I suddenly stopped caring about any of that) food, and you can afford it too. You can even buy Doritos and fake Oreos for the kids. They love it, its a new adventure. Can you believe I used to hate going to grocery stores where you had to bag your own groceries? Who the fuck cares if you have to bag your own groceries when they are so cheap?
Except, well, when its time to pay, we've unloaded everything and I'm sedulously bagging away, we find out that, naturally, WINCO DOESN'T TAKE CREDIT CARDS! Of course they don't. Jeff looks at me. For the first time since this all started we laugh. We are ourselves. We may not get to eat but we still have that. Jeff tries the ATM and it works. So maybe the damn checks from Saturday have cleared? Who knows, the Katzes have food! And we payed probably (remember how I'm not good at paying attention to these things?) half of what we normally do. Go us! And we may be back. Except of course for the car ride home.
Amy: "Are we going to be charged a fee, do you think, for paying for these groceries. Are we still officially overdrawn?"
Jeff: "That would suck! It would negate all of that savings, wouldn't it?"
We are such fuck ups!
When we get home I call Eric from the bank. I tell him that I went to Winco, which is after all, a discount grocery store because my kids have to eat and now I'm worried that I'll be charged a penalty on my groceries. He very kindly tells me that if such a charge pops up he'll remove it. I thank him. I think that I love him.
Jeff is going to use the rest of our cash to buy a pound of coffee at Peets. We agree on this. We need our coffee. Its medical really, or at least it feels this way.
I want to call Levia or Beth but I don't. I'm not sure how long I can go without talking about this.
After the kids go to bed Jeff and I sit outside and eat white bean soup and try to talk about other stuff. We are having a hard time making eye contact. Is it my imagination or does the soup taste funny? Its my imagination, I tell myself firmly, you are lucky to have food.
Later on as we are watching TV and trying to forget I start to get mad again. I haven't really felt anger, but I do now, full blown rancor. I go upstairs, and I don't kiss back when Jeff comes up to say goodnight. Its so hot in our room but we don't dare flick on the air conditioner. I really hope it doesn't get unbearably hot again.
I wake up at 1:00 am in white hot panic.
Tuesday:
There's suddenly so much to do! I must take out student loans and cancel the paper and check on our accounts and see if we can find cheaper health insurance and a million other things. I still have to study too. Today we are supposed to go to meetings at the synagogue, and I promised I'd take the kids to free swim. Mira, whose heard a lot, probably too much of the ongoing conversation in the house offers to "lend" me the money to pay for free swim. I take her up on it since I gave my last $5 to Mel. We were meeting at her house and she had a mattress delivered. The delivery people brought the mattress upstairs and then Mel asked me and Sarah if we had any cash ten bucks or so to tip the guy. I'm an idiot! Can you believe I looked in my wallet, found, literally the last $5 to my name, and, get this, gave it to her. I really suck at this. I'm not sure why I just didn't tell her that I had no cash when she asked. Now, I'm stuck borrowing money from Mira to pay for us to go swimming.
The good new is that on Tuesday Grant pool offers a 2 for 1 discount. Instead of nine dollars for the three of us I pay six fifty. Whoo hoo! I feel a little better about giving Mel the money.
I diligently put my receipts for the pool and scrawl on a yellow note pad $5 Mel and put it in our brand new envelope marked "receipts." The plan is that we'll go through them every Sunday, and do this every week until we are back on our feet. I notice Jeff's receipt from Peets. It includes 1.60 for an iced coffee along with our pound. I try not to be furious. I mean, really, he's been through hell and back too. He feels like death. I can't even imagine how he feels. He deserves his iced coffee. But still, it prickles.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
the half-marathon
Some thoughts:
I told myself and anyone who would listen that the best thing about the whole process was becoming the kind of person who can easily run five, six, seven miles with no problem. That was one of the good things, but not the best. The best thing was something I couldn't have predicted while I was training. Like all best things this one came as a total surprise when it should have been quite obvious.
The best thing was crossing the finish line.
I told myself and anyone who would listen that the best thing about the whole process was becoming the kind of person who can easily run five, six, seven miles with no problem. That was one of the good things, but not the best. The best thing was something I couldn't have predicted while I was training. Like all best things this one came as a total surprise when it should have been quite obvious.
The best thing was crossing the finish line.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
eli and god
So today as Mira and Eli were finishing up their snack of Ritz Crackers he announced that he needed to talk to God for a minute.
"God," Eli said.
Silence.
"Why don't you just go ahead and say what you need to say," I suggested. Eli didn't seem totally clear yet that this was going to be a one-sided conversation. Eli continued.
"Did you know that Yesterday you made a rainbow?"
More silence.
At the risk of being a giant a cliche I have to say that this is the most profound prayer I've ever heard in my life.
"God," Eli said.
Silence.
"Why don't you just go ahead and say what you need to say," I suggested. Eli didn't seem totally clear yet that this was going to be a one-sided conversation. Eli continued.
"Did you know that Yesterday you made a rainbow?"
More silence.
At the risk of being a giant a cliche I have to say that this is the most profound prayer I've ever heard in my life.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
the rebbitzen
You would think that with all of the scary books that I have been reading lately this one would not have been the one that killed me.
I read that damn Motherless Mothers book, the Joan Didion, even the one where the main character dies of a glioblastoma stage 4 brain tumor. Nothing. All of these books literary and lyrical, designed especially to make someone like me cry. I appreciated them as art. I learned from them. But I plowed on through, dry-eyed.
But, I can tell you right now I am putting down "The Rabbi's Wife." I am throwing it against the wall as hard as I can, listening for the satisfying clunk. It's not a book designed to make a person cry, certainly I'm sure the author did not intend to ignite any type of fury in her reader. It's an academic study for goodness sake. But it may just be the most heart-wrenching thing that I've ever read.
The author, Shuly Rubin Schwartz, is herself a rabbi's wife. She presents a history. She highlights certain American women throughout the twentieth century who personify to her what it means to be a rebbetzin. One of her recurring themes is that they type of woman who was attracted towards marrying a rabbi was often a fierce intellectual herself. The type of person who liked immersing themselves in books, in study, debate. Women who were passionate about Judaism. Usually women who were the most knowledgeable, fluent in Hebrew, at home in the synagogue. Often they were the daughters of rabbis, and had they been born at a different time, they may have chosen the rabbinate as a profession for themselves.
In other words, Mom. Now I know that she did love being a rebbitzen. I don't know much about it, but I know that she did not unequivocally love her role. She did not love all of the "hosting" elements, nor the constant scrutiny. Most of the women portrayed in the book did not. But how they loved having a chance to shine intellectually. To use their roles to fulfill their own needs to teach and lead and learn and grow. They founded the sisterhood. They taught adult education classes. They wrote articles, books. They were proud of who they were, proud to be the shining female stars of the Jewish world.
Did mom feel this way? She was obviously attracted to Dad because of his mind. There was nothing more exciting to her than intellectual prowess. And, as we all know Mom was fiercely attached to Judaism. It was perhaps her greatest passion in life. Of course she married a rabbi, of course she was a rebbetzin.
But did she love it? Did being a rebbetzin do for her what it could have, what it should have? I don't see how it could have. She never got to really fulfill this dream, did she? With all of the moving, the affairs? Did she ever experience even one drop of the satisfaction that she deserved from being the rabbi's wife? I'm afraid that she didn't. And this is a terrible tragedy. This book reminds me of everything that my mother never had. It is so incredibly sad.
Ironically, I feel like I did get to watch Mom move into that rebbetzin role, although it was several years after the divorce. At Beth Shalom she was on the board, the chair of the ritual committee. She was instrumental in getting that synagogue to include the "imahot" into the amidah. She read Torah, led services, and taught adult education courses. She was invited to participate and help lead a Shabbat afternoon women's study group for the intellectual elite of the congregation. She wrote articles for the Jewish newspaper criticizing the Orthodox synagogue who asked her to remove the tallit she had taken to wearing during services. She got a tremendous amount of satisfaction from her leadership role at Beth Shalom. She was the rebbetzin without the rabbi.
But now I wonder, did she do all of this because she wanted to? And did she want to because she never had the chance to be the rebbetzin that she could have been? This is why I am no longer reading this book. These questions hurt too much.
I read that damn Motherless Mothers book, the Joan Didion, even the one where the main character dies of a glioblastoma stage 4 brain tumor. Nothing. All of these books literary and lyrical, designed especially to make someone like me cry. I appreciated them as art. I learned from them. But I plowed on through, dry-eyed.
But, I can tell you right now I am putting down "The Rabbi's Wife." I am throwing it against the wall as hard as I can, listening for the satisfying clunk. It's not a book designed to make a person cry, certainly I'm sure the author did not intend to ignite any type of fury in her reader. It's an academic study for goodness sake. But it may just be the most heart-wrenching thing that I've ever read.
The author, Shuly Rubin Schwartz, is herself a rabbi's wife. She presents a history. She highlights certain American women throughout the twentieth century who personify to her what it means to be a rebbetzin. One of her recurring themes is that they type of woman who was attracted towards marrying a rabbi was often a fierce intellectual herself. The type of person who liked immersing themselves in books, in study, debate. Women who were passionate about Judaism. Usually women who were the most knowledgeable, fluent in Hebrew, at home in the synagogue. Often they were the daughters of rabbis, and had they been born at a different time, they may have chosen the rabbinate as a profession for themselves.
In other words, Mom. Now I know that she did love being a rebbitzen. I don't know much about it, but I know that she did not unequivocally love her role. She did not love all of the "hosting" elements, nor the constant scrutiny. Most of the women portrayed in the book did not. But how they loved having a chance to shine intellectually. To use their roles to fulfill their own needs to teach and lead and learn and grow. They founded the sisterhood. They taught adult education classes. They wrote articles, books. They were proud of who they were, proud to be the shining female stars of the Jewish world.
Did mom feel this way? She was obviously attracted to Dad because of his mind. There was nothing more exciting to her than intellectual prowess. And, as we all know Mom was fiercely attached to Judaism. It was perhaps her greatest passion in life. Of course she married a rabbi, of course she was a rebbetzin.
But did she love it? Did being a rebbetzin do for her what it could have, what it should have? I don't see how it could have. She never got to really fulfill this dream, did she? With all of the moving, the affairs? Did she ever experience even one drop of the satisfaction that she deserved from being the rabbi's wife? I'm afraid that she didn't. And this is a terrible tragedy. This book reminds me of everything that my mother never had. It is so incredibly sad.
Ironically, I feel like I did get to watch Mom move into that rebbetzin role, although it was several years after the divorce. At Beth Shalom she was on the board, the chair of the ritual committee. She was instrumental in getting that synagogue to include the "imahot" into the amidah. She read Torah, led services, and taught adult education courses. She was invited to participate and help lead a Shabbat afternoon women's study group for the intellectual elite of the congregation. She wrote articles for the Jewish newspaper criticizing the Orthodox synagogue who asked her to remove the tallit she had taken to wearing during services. She got a tremendous amount of satisfaction from her leadership role at Beth Shalom. She was the rebbetzin without the rabbi.
But now I wonder, did she do all of this because she wanted to? And did she want to because she never had the chance to be the rebbetzin that she could have been? This is why I am no longer reading this book. These questions hurt too much.
Monday, May 5, 2008
lost in time
This whole "time" thing: you know; people are born, they are little kids, they are teenagers, they are adults, parents, grandparents, they die, that, all of it has gotten really confusing lately.
When Ben(jamin!) and Ilan were here I just so confused! Who were these half-adult people bunking in Eli's room? Were they Hadara and Eytan? No, they are real grown-ups now. I'm not sure how that happened but it did. They are the first pair of people that I ever watched go from Baby to adulthood. It's astonishing. Shocking, really. But now Ben and Ilan are apparently going to do it too. They are going to grow up, become adults. It used to be that Hadara and Eytan were like a different species from me. They were babies, I was a kid. They were kids, I was an adult. But then they caught up. Now we are pretty much the same. But Benjamin and Ilan! Come on, five minutes ago they were babies. I didn't know that it could happen again. That it keeps happening. But you should see their feet, they are bigger than mine. Also, you can talk to them, it is like talking to very bright and interesting adults. They still seem younger than me but the difference is getting blury,shrinking.
So the really scary thing that you are all telling me is that this is going to happen to Mira and Eli too. It seems beyond belief. Yet there they were, just a week ago playing with their cousins in the same way that we used to play with Benjamin and Ilan; Hadara and Eytan. A pair of children who will not stay that way. Even though these two are mine.
Then of course there are all of the people who are dead and for once I do not mean my parents. They should not be dead. It's the generation before them. They are all gone. Every one of them. The shift is almost surely complete. There are three distinct generations in our family, (except for Jeff's grandma) and we are firmly in the middle. So strange!
I get lost a lot. I almost never really know where I am going. But I didn't know that you could get lost in time. It's just the same as getting lost in space, but scarier.
When Ben(jamin!) and Ilan were here I just so confused! Who were these half-adult people bunking in Eli's room? Were they Hadara and Eytan? No, they are real grown-ups now. I'm not sure how that happened but it did. They are the first pair of people that I ever watched go from Baby to adulthood. It's astonishing. Shocking, really. But now Ben and Ilan are apparently going to do it too. They are going to grow up, become adults. It used to be that Hadara and Eytan were like a different species from me. They were babies, I was a kid. They were kids, I was an adult. But then they caught up. Now we are pretty much the same. But Benjamin and Ilan! Come on, five minutes ago they were babies. I didn't know that it could happen again. That it keeps happening. But you should see their feet, they are bigger than mine. Also, you can talk to them, it is like talking to very bright and interesting adults. They still seem younger than me but the difference is getting blury,shrinking.
So the really scary thing that you are all telling me is that this is going to happen to Mira and Eli too. It seems beyond belief. Yet there they were, just a week ago playing with their cousins in the same way that we used to play with Benjamin and Ilan; Hadara and Eytan. A pair of children who will not stay that way. Even though these two are mine.
Then of course there are all of the people who are dead and for once I do not mean my parents. They should not be dead. It's the generation before them. They are all gone. Every one of them. The shift is almost surely complete. There are three distinct generations in our family, (except for Jeff's grandma) and we are firmly in the middle. So strange!
I get lost a lot. I almost never really know where I am going. But I didn't know that you could get lost in time. It's just the same as getting lost in space, but scarier.
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