27 September 2008 4:30 pm

Remember that scene in Ghostbusters when Sigourney Weaver opens her fridge and is blinded by the light (among other things...)? That same scene played out in my kitchen yesterday (sans the appearance of Zul, although nothing much fazes me post-Ike!) when the power (FINALLY!) came back on at 4:30pm. I had scrubbed it to within an inch of its life -I am pretty sure that it wasn't this clean when it was new - once we started seeing power trucks on our street and was fairly blinded by its bright, clean, cool beauty with its beckoning shaft of light at 4:30 pm yesterday. Nothing quite like a natural disaster to get me to clean the refrigerator.

All kidding aside, some 250,000 in the Houston-area still have no power and/or running water and 400 people are still missing. Hoping that most of them have simply been unable to re-connect with loved ones...may they turn up safe and sound.

And, on another sad note, Friday we said goodbye to Paul Newman, a wonderful man who made a difference in so many lives, completely without fanfare. May his family have peace and privacy in this time of loss and grieving.

We will have Mr. Smith's birthday / Rosh Hashanah dinner after all: honey-tasting with challot and apples, baked honey-mustard chicken, baked leeks with olive oil and rosemary, mashed sweet potatoes (Garnet Yams to be precise), spinach, orange and pomegranate salad, and rice followed by a bangin' banana split cake.

Wishing you all a L'Shanah Tovah Tikatevu! May you be inscribed and sealed for another good year.

Post-Ike

Thanks to everyone who's called or written. Really, sincerely, thank you.
I had a good cry early Shabbat morning. There is a Cardinal couple who show up at the bird feeder regularly - the male is the classic showy red and black struttin'- his -bad-self and the female a classy gray with pale red undertones both with Tintin's cockscomb hairstyle. The male was out there feeding and calling his heart out for the female, who I presumed was killed in the storm. This is prime bird migration time along the Texas coast and the losses to wildlife are immeasurable. After I got back from my havurah -(which met in a building without power, so our perpetually over-heated rabbi was schvitzing mightily under his tallit), I checked the bird feeder again. The little gray and red lady had returned to her mate, and I startled my mate with cries of joy.
This is day 11 without power at our home. Life has had a different rhythm for the two media junkies within: playing cards, Scrabble, dominoes, then retiring to read in bed until we fall asleep. Mr. Smith sweetly inquired on Eruv Shabbat if this was what "being Orthodox is like." Life has been unexpectedly sweet, slow, quiet and focused. It took a hurricane to settle my ever-distracted mind and reflect upon what is essential and what is true as the Days of Awe approach.
For now, we are connected to simpler things: the politics that absorbed us 12 days ago is like something from another life, and we've barely been able to grasp the economic horror show now playing in lives near you. Our new fave raves are neighbors sharing ice, finding an open movie theater, kids skateboarding, people walking the neighborhood, cheering when we see a power truck, counting our blessings in the wake of destruction, loss of homes and lives. We (and our loved ones including all dogs and cats) are all just fine. Houston is still in shambles, but is struggling back to life. Galveston is uninhabitable still. It will come back, too.
I'm still channeling my inner-Pollyanna and hoping for the best, here in the land of the haves and the have-nots.

Hurricane Ike

Today will be spent boarding up the big picture window, filling containers with water, clearing the deck and yard, cleaing the house in case MIL needs to stay with us. Cell phones and iPod are charged, we've laid in enough cat and dog food, peanut butter and tuna fish for a week. We have batteries, although I'm not sure if they fit the lanterns or radio... we've had a typical Gulf-coast laissez-faire attitude to hurricane prep, even post-Katrina. There ARE plenty of candles; the supermarket had a close-out sale on Shabbat candles last month, so I stocked up.
Ike is approaching and the latest path projections bring it right through our hometown, so we can't brush it off any longer.
Hurricanes were exciting adventures as a kid. Carla rip-roared through here when I was 10 in 1962, keeping me out of school for days, reading and playing Scrabble by flashlight on pallets in the living room , watching the tall Oaks bending at improbable angles in the gale, wading through two feet deep water in the yard when the eye passed over us and all was still. I was awed by the destruction only later, when we drove down to what was left of the bars and beach houses along Galveston Bay. People searched for the remains of a bar whose walls were rumored to have been papered with dollar bills. The miles of driftwood along the beach hid snakes, Daddy said, so we were careful.
Shabbat Shalom everyone. Be safe.

Right In Front of My Ears

I have agonized, re-agonized, post and pre-agonized for a very long time about what Hebrew name I would choose when I finally formally went through conversion (oh, how I cringe at that very concept, to convert to something I already am and believe I always have been...but there I go again.)
I toyed with Batshere (but cutsy Mr. Smith repeatedly voiced a rude mispronounciation of it; what a wag!), thought about Chana (but "grace" I am not...), and landed on Miriam for awhile (meaning: sea of bitterness, how about that to define myself forever?! Plus, I'm no dancer, although I can resort to rock and roll flailing when the occasion calls for it.)
So. I was downloading some music into my iPod yesterday and saw it.
"Tzena, Tzena, Tzena" made famous in 1950 by the Weavers with Pete Seeger, one of my heros. It's been one of my favorite songs since childhood, one that I always sing fragements of or hum its melody. My name had been right in front of my ears my entire life.
Exuberant, saucy, has many meanings, layers, versions, and interpretations.
Call me Tzena.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyX-Rc8A1cg

First Sukkah Panel!

Weese brought her Sukkah panel with her from Austin, and I'm almost moved to tears by the thought, care, beauty she put onto that white sheet. There are two women - almost life-sized- dancing in the desert. They are Weese and I in our younger years, one dark-haired, one blond. Their clothes are loosely appliqued in gorgeous, luminous sea-green fabric for me and diaphanous black with deep purple flowers for her. Her bare toes peek out from under her gown. This woman has always gone barefoot. At the bottom, she inscribed in beautiful Hebrew: Melek Ha'Olam Eloheinu.
Weese and I have been friends since the 70ies, and I give her total credit for maintaining our friendship. She is one of the most loving, nurturing, forgiving, non-judgemental, surviving lovers of life I have ever known. She has just decided at age 50 to become a nurse. I could kiss those toes.

Twitterpated

I, ahem, just learned to text today. I feel like I just learned to walk or something. I am a big girl now. So text me already. Twitter is next, but I'm gonna make it easy on you. Here's my Twitter for the next 365 days.
4:45 am: stumbling into kitchen to feed cats, then dogs, tripping over several in the process. I saw an article that said if you drop dead in your house alone with your pets, the dogs will wait a decent interval before they chow down on you, feeling guilty even then, but the cats, ah the cats, my beloveds, tuck right in before you cool off.
7am: work, snack, work, work, snack
4pm: back in the nest, slumped on the couch reading and hanging with aforementioned dogs and cats while Mr. Smith naps
5:30pm: Mr. Smith rises and serves a fine cup of coffee to me, the restorative cup, my cocktail. His coffee, like him, is the best in the world. He puts so much thought and effort into it.
6:30pm: ringing the dinner bell
8pm: snoring on the couch. Don't even think about waking me up unless something really trashy - I mean informative- is on TV.
10pm: official bedtime, climb into bed with Molly, Miss Formerly Feral kitty for safe and restful, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Shabbat Shalom, Everyone, shabbat menuhah.

Elul Already??

The High Holidays approacheth. I (she who usually falls asleep instantly every night...) was wide-awake at midnight planning my Sukkot menu. After all, it's only a month and a half away! Now that I'm going to build a sukkah, I'm panicking already at the idea of having visitors - not just the symbolic kind - those I can handle, they'll stay on their brightly-colored poster...but the kind that might have to actually enter Animal House (we live with 6 cats and 4 dogs) to use the facilities or come in if it rains. Oh the humanity! Oh the cleaning!

Between that and fretting about my non-kosher (but cruelty-free) kitchen and possible kosher guests, I'm remembering why I'm such a hermit. Oy.

Here's the week's menu, plotted between 11pm and midnight last night: Butternut Squash soup, pumpkin baked with stuffing, fruit salad, potato/cauliflower/green bean salad with vinaigrette, dates and figs, felafel, Israeli chopped salad, tabouli with pomegranate, roasted pumpkin seeds, roasted garbanzo beans, carob brownies, apple cake and fruit salad. Kosher wine, apricot tea, coffee.