Tuesday, October 5, 2010

....and we're back

Hello friends and family out there in the blogosphere,
After about a month and some change away from my blog, I have returned fueled with new ideas and musings. But first, an update on my life:
August 31st-The Nativers(These are the participants on the program I am staffing) came.
That long ass ellipses marks the time period between that date and the current date of October. Between those two dates occurred many programs, holidays, late nights, early mornings, tefillot(prayers), complaining, chummus, nasty Beit Nativ food, and most importantly some wonderful kids and friends.
Wooo---deep breath, and now we're back in current time. Life has been really great so far, tiring at all times, but really worthwhile. I've been doing some studying at the Conservative Yeshiva, which has been grand. This time, I think i'll stick it out(:-)) I also have been loving my downtime with the other staff. As a result of said downtime, Aaron, Maya, and I have started another blog about the quest for the perfect chummus in all of the land. Expect that to hit the internet soon. It's going to sweep the nation. Prepare yourselves.
Being in Israel has been great, but i'm really missing the fam more than I remember. Even with the popularity of skype and gchat, I feel like since i'm not distracted like I was when I was a participant, I have more time to think about home. Dare I say it, but I might miss New York a bit. Please don't tell anyone.
Other than that, i've resumed my softball pickup games on Sunday night. Although the game is played on a field paid for by Bob Kraft and I have to run over a New England Patriot logo every time i'm in the field, it is a great group of guys and I get to play under the lights, which is awesome. Plus, unlike the game I play in Riverdale, everyone speaks English here. While I did get to brush up on my Spanish in that game, I felt like I was living in a Telemundo sports sitcom.
In addition to this game and my other weekly sports games with the Nativers, I joined the gym(YMCA). It's a great outlet for me and helps me pass the time a bit(the few free minutes I have, that is). The gym is a truly worldly place, with many different nationalities and religions coexisting peacefully. For that, I think our friends BB and Abu Mazen need to listen up. Here, at the YMCA in Jerusalem, we see strong Palestinians and Israelis((probably steroid-induced) lifting very heavy weights together and resisting the urge to drop said weights on each other. It is truly beautiful. Screw your settlement freezes and acknowledging a Jewish state. All it takes is a little HGH, a few titanium plates, and some sweat. Sounds easy.
Besides that, I have been having a swell time. I just returned from the Visa office where I received my student visa, in what I can easily say was one of the most quintessentially Israeli places I have ever seen. I mean, it was pure chaos. For a country so adept at streamlining technology and military force, its day to day operations are so ridiculously dysfunctional. I mean, create some order in this Middle Eastern oasis. There was a middle-aged religious woman, probably tipping the scales at 350 LB(That's about 159 KG for those of you who are keeping tabs) who was screaming at the top of her already pushed to the limit lungs that it was ridiculous to pay such a price for extending her passport. C'mon lady! You're like 2.5 minutes away from a Coronary. And it's all over about 50 bucks. Now, create some passage in those arteries and sit down. Luckily, a chasidic man came to the rescue and loaned her the money and it shut her up, and no, it was not Sholom Rubashkin and all his dirty money(hey-oh!) I was laughing at the spectacle of it all and thoroughly enjoying the Israeliness of the situation. In the end, I was able to secure my student and now am free of the hounding of the Israeli government(that is, until I leave the country and have to renew the visa...silly rule)
Besides that, Nativ girls football started last night, for which I am the coach. We got some talent and a few athletes and I, at least, hope that we can beat the seminary girls. Because, honestly, if you can't beat girls playing in skirts, then you need to rethink your purpose in life. Seriously though, it should be a great time, and I get to fully my Jewish destiny. Because I was always to short to play organized football(and my mother would have cut of all monetary connection if I chose to play), I now get to pretend like i'm the second coming of Vince Lombardi. Should be a success! Wish me luck.
Hopefully, I will be more punctual in my next update, which should include something about my upcoming trip to Ramallah. WOOOOOOOOOO!
It's T-Shirt time,

Saturday, August 28, 2010

A New Week Begins

Shavua Tov friends and family,
I hope all is well outside of the blogosphere. Here in Israel, I just came back to base after spending a wonderful shabbat at my buddy's house, David Zisquit. As some of you know, we staffed pilgrimage together this past summer and created a great friendship. His family is very warm and kind, the food is delicious, and the conversation is always multi-faceted. His dad particularly enjoys pushing people in their readily accepted views about life. It makes dinners and lunches there much more interesting, in a very good way. He's one of the people who likes to play devil's advocate and it always helps me sharpen my ideas. Last night, we had a particularly heated conversation on the origin of the Torah she'ba'al peh(Oral Torah) that is for another time. Needless to say, we all still ended the conversation as friends :-)
This past week, I began my training for the coming year ahead. We discussed the format of the program, the structure of the schedule and the daily demands of the job. While much of it I had known from my year here, it was still very important to go over everything as i'm sure there will be things I forget throughout the year. The week ended in a very fun way with a trip to Dani Hai, a sort of ropes course/team building complex. We spent about 3 hours there doing various activities within the staff and it was a great way to open up to each other and be active(something that had been sorely lacking over the past couple days. The night ended at Yossi Garr's house(the director) with a BBQ. It was a great way to end the week at his beautiful home with his great family and cat. We played Taboo and Apples to Apples(and I, of course, dominated).
As I return to base tonight, I am super stoked for the week ahead as the Nativers will soon get here and I am afraid my free time will dissipate rapidly. That being said, I had one of those moments that makes Israel a horribly complex place. As many of you have probably seen, today was Gilad Shalit's 5th birthday since his kidnapping. For those who aren't familiar, here is an article explaining the situation. It was a very moving rally with both his parents sharing very impassioned words and other politicians speaking. However, the striking thing for me was happening down the street from the rally. In fact, right outside my window was a group of people holding a sign declaring that we shouldn't pay any price for Gilad's return. Hamas, the terrorist group who has Gilad, has demanded the release of thousands of convicted terrorists who are being held in Israeli jails. Those who were protesting this issue believe that this price is too high for Gilad's release. Separate of my views on his release, their rally seemed a bit ill-timed.
Parents "celebrating" their son's 5th birthday in captivity, I believe, should have their moment of catharsis. However, these folks deemed it necessary to stage a counter-rally where they certainly stole some spotlight. I wonder what they would feel had they been in Gilad's parents' shoes? For a religion that holds the value of one human life as paramount, I can't seem to figure out this collection of religious people. Does the value of one life change based on the demands of the situation? I have to stew on this one a bit more but perhaps you all might have some thoughts to share.
As always, thanks for reading, folks. A great week lies ahead!
All my love,

Sunday, August 22, 2010

The Blog is back, baby!

Hello long lost friends and readers,
No, your eyes do not deceive you. Musings of a Midwesterner is up and running again. I consider this long hiatus I took(nearly 8 months) equivalent to the furlough many journalists around the country are taking. Although there was a slight clamoring for my blog to return, I was never able to find the time to get 'er done, as they say. However, now that I am "free" for awhile, I figured the time was ripe and in thinking of new ideas, I was champing at the bit!
For those who don't know, I just arrived back in Israel for the year to staff Nativ, which is the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism's year program. In fact, it is the same program I went on post-high school. It is a great program and I am really looking forward to being back here for the year(although I will miss my friends and family quite dearly). Look to this blog to discuss my daily goings on and thoughts I have on this country I am living in(which, I assure you, will be plenty). Israel is a crazy place and I look forward to having lots of crazy stories. More on that later.
Anyway, i'll keep the blog post brief as my jet lag and the abhorrent heat of Israel are taking their toll. Before I take a little snooze, I wanted to discuss my travels here. I flew direct from JFK to TLV--good. However, I was placed in a middle seat--disaster of epic proportions. For those who know me, you have an understanding of how awful this was for me. In movie theaters, I refuse to sit anywhere but the aisle. Needless to say, sitting in the middle of a three-rower for 10 hours was torturous.
To make matters worse, I was surrounded by the modern day equivalent of the Cheaper by the Dozen family. A mother, on her own, was surrounded by her five children who didn't shut the hell up the whole flight. The kids were climbing on the seats, running around naked, squeezing the moist towelettes on each other(a real travesty cause moist towelettes are a real treat!). Even with my sleep aids, of which I certainly took too many of, I couldn't sleep through this trainwreck.
Furthermore, the mother of the delinquents was directly in front of me and had her seat reclined all the way back. I find this act on an airplane to be in direct conflict with proper etiquette. Honestly, to already have to deal with the drudgery of the middle row, I know had the winner of the worst mother of the year award in my lap, constantly banging against her chair as she tried to wrangle in her troop. It was trouble. Big, big trouble.
I just plain don't believe in the full incline of the chair on an airplane. Those who practice such a thing should be forced to the bottom of the plane with dogs, luggage, and Cyrus the Virus
Anyway, that is that and we finally made it here where we were graciously picked up at the airport by my main man, David "the Bisquit" Zisquit very early in the morning. We arrived at our home for the year, known around these parts as Beit Nativ, only to found that my room wasn't ready(and we're now 3 hours into this wait and the room still isn't ready)...How Israeli!
I guess I better get used to it.
That's it for now. Expect a more consistent outpouring of blog posts. As usual, keep the comments coming, friends.
Much love,

Friday, November 6, 2009

Subways: Love/Hate Relationship.

According to good friend Tani Cohen, I need to stop apologizing for the hiatuses between my blog posts. He says that it gets annoying every time I say i'm sorry. Well, to that, I say sorry to my readers for the break and fuck you to Tani. Don't tell me how to live my life!(I actually have much love for Tani. He's probably the most intense baseball fan I know besides myself and I am happy that he got to celebrate with the Yankees brass the other night.)
However, on to the blog post for this week, I will be discussing the enigma of the subway. I have a love/hate relationship with the subway. At times, I feel like one of the kids in Narnia after they come out of the wardrobe because I can't figure out how the hell I got to where I am so quickly. It's a fascinating thing, the subway. What truly fascinates me the most is the origin of the subway. I want to know more about the pioneers who helped build these tracks. It must have been crazy for these original workers, digging underground for a good majority of the day, unearthing, I imagine, some crazy shit.
That they were able to complete this monstrosity of a project so long ago speaks to their engineering ingenuity. It's really quite amazing when you think about. A friend told me the other day that during rush hour in NYC, there are as many people underground as above ground. Pretty crazy statistic.
Other things I like about the subway:
Mini-convenient stores: it seems that whenever I see them, there's always some delicious treat to be had. Maybe it's just good marketing because it makes me think I need some sustenance to survive the 15 minute train ride home. Nonetheless, I always find myself saying hey, I could use some sour patch kids right now(BTW, my favorite candy, always delicious, always hits the spot)
Reading on the subway: I've recently found out that I can get a boat load of reading done on the train. Normally, I can't do work without there being total silence but on the train, i'm like a toddler being lulled to sleep by the constant rocking of the car's movement. However, I am a 22 year old man being lulled to work by the groans of the homeless man at the end of the car(we'll get to that later) I don't know how, but I can finish packets of reading on the train in 20 minutes that would've taken me over an hour to do in my room. Perhaps I should become one of those box car children from the books of my youth in order to continue these good work habits.
Musical/Dancing acts: This is, by far, my favorite thing on the train. I love the mariachi bands, tumbling acts, and soul singers. While everyone else looks away/pretends to be listening to music, I remove my headphones and stare straight at these subway versions of Stevie Wonder, Santana, and Keri Strug(sans twisted ankle). I don't get why people don't embrace them more. These people have true talent. In fact, if any TV execs read this, it would definitely be a huge hit on TV(obviously bigger than that "lets send celebrities to the wilderness show where Heidi and Spencer can go crazy). Just remember to credit me when Mumbling Joe from the 4 train hits it beg. I knew you when you were wearing multi-holed slippers and a women's mu-mu man.
And now, for things I hate on the subway:
Really, I hate most things about the subway. All of what I said before happens rarely and most of the time, I find myself cursing out the MTA for their ineptitude. First and foremost, whenever I actually need the train to be on time somewhere, there's some absurd construction going on(like, repainting the tracks, or electrocuted homeless man or something(terrible smell btw) It always works out that when I don't need to get somewhere on time, the trains will be running like the train version of the Concord and i'll get there in record time, but, whenever it's business time for me, the train's late, I am forced to run, and I end up sweating so much that I resemble one of those couples from the biggest loser(we're talking serious sweating, folks).
One other thing that I despise about the train is a phenomenon i'm still looking for a name for. On the way to the Bill Simmons book signing last week with Shai and new friend Rami, we were discussing how annoying it is that when you're standing for the train and it pulls up, you're stuck between two cars and not near any door. I usually aimlessly choose a spot on the tracks and end up fairly close to one of the doors. However, in these moments when I end up in this bermuda triangle of trains, where commuters go to die, I can never decide which door is closer. They both look so far away and by the time you end up picking a door, you're the last one on, squished up against the door, as you get anally probed by the chubby, smelly, charedi(for my non-Jewish readers, these are very religious Jews who tend to leech money off the government and never shower---I added the no showering part in although it's usually true) guy behind you. So, really, my point is that it's terrible when you end up between doors and it totally ruins the rest of my trip. I still need a name for this terrible occurrence. Suggestions are welcome.

P.S. I got two new, shiny things week, a pair or shoes(Air Pegasus, purple and white, so pretty, so fresh)(see picture) and a Mac. T'was an excellent week and i'm loving both new items.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

No Lincoln

First, I would like to comment on the title of this blog post but alas, I am too lazy so instead, check out my friend Nathan's blog for further explanation.
Again,I apologize for the severe decrease in posting. Due to my increasingly depressing Vietnam War History seminar(honestly, how many more times can I read about American troops raping mamasans at An Hao or NVA troops gouging the eyes out of American troops!!!??) and the new novel I am writing, I have been running short on spare time. However, that's all in the past(not really) and I look forward to producing a consistent stream of blog posts! Hoorah!(again, see Vietnam reference before. I really want to be in the marines now)
I am currently sitting at my brother's house in Riverdale, about to eat dinner with my family. This is great for two reasons. One is that I get to eat my mom's home cooking and her culinary delights are a combination of the Barefoot Contessa and Paula Dean...delicious!(If you don't know who these beautiful women are, I feel bad for you and you should begin watching the Food Network). The second, and most important reason, is that I get to see the progeny of my brother and sister in law, my two amazingly beautiful nieces Noa and Maayan. See pictures below. Playing with them makes me want to have kids right now. Don't worry, mom! It's not gonna happen quite yet. At best, i'll buy a kitten...probably some type of tabby. Those things are damn cute!
Back to the heart of this post...being home is great. Whether it's taking the subway home from school or flying across the country, walking through your front door and seeing your family is an unparalleled feeling. I love the smell of my house. I love using my mother's computer because it actually runs, unlike my piece of shit dell, which is nearing its death and needs a severe dose of the whatever the computer version of Dr. Kevorkian has, and I love talking to my dad whose hilarity rivals Bernie Mac(z'l) I don't remember my dad being this funny when I was younger. Maybe I didn't notice it....or maybe with this senility has come an unrivaled sense of humor. Either way, the old adage certainly jives with me...home is where the heart is.
On another note, I got a haircut from my barber, Vinny. He's this dope Bucharian guy who loves to talk to me. I usually pretend to engage in conversation with him while mostly attempting to decipher his pseudo-soviet mumbo jumbo. Whatever, he cuts a mean hair. If you see me on the street, you may think I have enlisted in the Hitler Youth. My hair is a lot blonder when cut and combined with my eyes, I am an embodiment of the Aryan race. Yikes.
Another reason coming home is great is I get to go to my favorite shoe store. If you're a true friend of mine, you know I have a shoe fetish. If you're not a true friend, screw you and try harder(to become a good friend, I recommend purchasing a pair of shoes for me). I have shoes that line my room and my closets. Girls come into my room and make fun of me for having more shoes than they do. For this I am proud and not ashamed. It could be worse. I could be into stockings or high heels. That's some kinky shit, man. The feeling I have when I walk into a shoe store is like my birthday and chanukah combined into one euphorically blissful shopping experience.
My favorite part of Cribs, the awful MTV show, where we, the clueless viewer watches the entertainer show off his myriad of cars, clothes, and harem(which we have purchased with the oodles of money we funnel to them for their terribly produced music) is when we see their shoes . These people have shoe closets, my friends. These shoe closets are my version of a suicide bombers version of heaven with 72 virgins. Except, instead of virgins, substitute in a pair or Nike Dunks, preferably in very bright colors.
When i'm older, I want to have one of these closets. I want to wake up in my bed, surrounded by shoes. Hell, if I could have a shoe blanket that would be sweet. Whenever I deposit a check in my meager bank account, I think about what shoes I can purchase next. I know. I have a problem. My mother tells me every time she sees me. So what! First step is admitting it. Second stop is buying more shoes. Also, for those conscientious shoppers who won't purchase nike products because they utilize kids in their sweat shops, blah, blah, blah, I say go bark at someone else. I'm not reducing my carbon footprint, i'm not replacing my light bulbs with those LCDSHDF(or whatever they're called) lightbulbs which save energy or something, and I sure as hell am not stopping my purchasing of nikes. They are my drugs and I need them. I say instead of yelling at people for buying nikes we should be patting those kids who make the shoes on their backs. For example, "good job, little guy, you make a fine shoe. Now, here's your plate of two cookies and a glass of milk...for the whole day." Lets support these youth and infuse them with a sense of self-confidence. The kids are the future!
pining for a new pair,

Only in New York Moment:
I saw a man carrying a fire extinguisher on the street today, spraying it at random. Honestly, what purpose could this serve? But, it seemed like I was the only one paying attention. Does anything make New Yorkers look twice? Apparently not.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The King of Carrot Flowers

Hello faithful followers! I hope this blog post finds you well wherever you are. I apologize for the delay. It’s been a crazy time here, being in the throes of midterms and all, so I’ve been too busy downing cups of coffee at an epic pace to write in here. I’m so jittery right now. I’m like a coke addict going through his first days of Detox. Yikes! I could be on one of those MTV True Life episodes. Don’t worry though. In my absence I have accrued a long list of things to discuss with you, which will all hopefully be covered this week.
As promised, I am first going to discuss my fear/frustration with grocery stores…more specifically, new grocery stores. When you are familiar with your own grocery store, be it Schnucks in St. Louis, Appletree for those morningside heights residents, or SuperSol for those Israelis/Upper Westsiders, being at your favorite grocery store is like returning the warmth and comfort of your mother’s womb. You know where everything is and you always have a direct supply of nutritious food to keep you energized for the long haul ahead that is birth.
However, when you’re in a foreign grocery store, it’s kind of like being in a foreign country for the first time, when you’re worried you’re going to end up hacked up like those kid’s in Hostel or, worse, like that kid in Eurotrip who ends up sodomized by some sort of Dutch Sex Goddess/dominatrix. But, I digress. It is very frightening to be “out of the womb” and in a “new” grocery store.
This happened to me on Friday, when I needed to purchase a few items for a salad I was making. However, as I’ve come to understand, whenever you need something in a grocery store with which you’re unfamiliar, you will never find such an item. Now, I know it would have been wise to consult with a member of Westside Market’s staff, but I love a challenge so I figured I could find it on my own. However, and I now deem this the Westside Phenomenon, I kept happenings upon items that I absolutely did not need. Honestly, how many cans of wasabi paste and maraschino cherries does a store need??? It was kind of like that scene in National Lampoons European Vacation when Clark Grizwald can’t get out of traffic and keeps repeating, “Hey kids, look! Big Ben, Parliament,” for what seems like a whole day spent circling these landmarks. Except, in my case, insert this mucus-y green concoction and damned red balls of satan for Big Ben and Parliament.
While I had this awful experience at this store, it was redeemed by my experience at Costco, where I am pretty sure a person could live for at least a month off their free samples. In case you’ve never been to Costco, for which you should be ashamed, they have free sample stands all throughout the store displaying their various delicacies. I was fortunate enough to be there when one of the greatest snacks known to mankind(second to dunkaroos, (which is what I imagine the apple from the tree of knowledge tastes like) was on display, Mozzarella Sticks! Oh man. I love these scrumptious, fried sticks of heaven. What is funny about these free samples is the classic Costco look that everyone gives each other.
Because the free samples are, supposedly, there for only a short period of time, a person goes up multiple times in a few minutes to take advantage of this sweet deal. I will admit I partook in said activity. However, there are those who get a bit violent when the food comes out of the oven. It’s kind of like the stampeding animals from the Lion King scene where Mufasa dies(such a sad scene in retrospect. I don’t think I had the ability to fully grieve as a child, but I guess that’s for another post). I think I saw a lady slap her own child out of the way. My friend, Adam Gindea, can attest to this spectacle. Anyway, what makes these encounters so humorous is the I-just-saw-you-here-like-five-times-before-this-but-we’ll-both-pretend-it’s-our-first-time-up-here look. It’s a classic moment where you both admit your gluttonacy(yes, I made that word up). Yet, for the mozzarella sticks, you(read:I) would do anything.
With much love,

Only in New York Moment:
I just took an hour long break from writing this to drive to NJ with a few friends to see this meteor shower, which could not be seen within the lights of NYC. So, in reality, it was an out of NY moment, but nonetheless, it was a pretty sweet break from the monotony of the school week. So, next time it happens, I’m told this is a bi-annual thing, check it out.

Friday, October 16, 2009

young forever

First and foremost, I’d like to apologize to my dear friend, mentor, past chevruta(maybe former) Sarit Horwitz. Yesterday, Sarit texted me telling me that she had checked five times yesterday to see if I had updated my blog. I responded my telling her to not fear, I would update later. While it might say more about the lacking in the social scene in the Chicago neighborhood where Sarit lives that she checked five times yesterday to see if I had blogged, I, nonetheless, feel ashamed that I disappointed this lovely lady. So, Sarit, here’s your apology and I hope this next blog post suffices to fill the giant hole in your heart created by my lack of blogging yesterday.
Yesterday was a fairly mundane day in which I attended my one class(having only one class per day on Tuesdays and Thursdays is what I imagine it must feel like to wake up on Christmas morning, except I get it twice a week! Oh, happy day!) and tutored this delight of a child, Caleb, who is a 9 year old spark plug who loves to learn about Judaism. I, seriously, love this kid. I want to create a little doll version of him and carry him around with me(Creepy? I hope not. I just think this kid’s amazing) However, the dominant part of day was the evil rain that was coming down all day.
I hate rain! I despise, loath, abhor, insert any synonym of those and you can capture my feelings. I’m fairly certain it stems from a childhood in which all three of my older siblings were gone so I loved going outside and playing with neighborhood friends(more likely, playing with myself because all the neighborhood kids were too frum or too busy robbing local convenient stores---basically a microcosm of growing up in U-City). That being said, whenever it rained, I was forced to stay inside. I missed so many little league and high school baseball games because of that damned, God-forsaken, heavenly urine.
I have many dear friends who claim that rain is romantic. What kind of crock of crap is that?! They argue that lying in bed, under the covers, watching a movie while it pours outside makes them feel all warm and cozy. What sort of craziness is this!! Now, I’m all for cuddling in bed, but I’d much rather be outside frolicking in the grass and sunshine. Give me a ball and an open field and occupy myself for hours. I’m especially adept at creating nonsensical games when bored, such as “Foil-Ball,” which my brother and I created by getting aluminum foil, forming a ball, each person on their knees in the den and you have to slap the ball past the opponent and depending on where it lands, you get points. Ah, the fruits of our youth! So young and innocent! I miss those days. Life was so much simpler.
Now, I am still faced with those dreadful pangs of depression that creep in when I first hear those taps on the window. Rain is, in no way, a positive thing. F the Earth! My outdoor time is more precious than it(Yes, I know it’s ironic that I want to enjoy the spoils of mother nature while denying her the rain. Whatever). So, the next time you see the rain, don’t come find me because I’ll probably be locked in my room, curled up into the fetal position while I await the first rays of sunshine to break through my window.
While discussing my rain issues with a friend yesterday, she began singing a song from what I think is the greatest album of all-time. Neutral Milk Hotel . Plain and simple, they are amazing. In the midst of this conversation she begged me not to turn this into a music blog, which I assured her, will not happen. I am not smart enough nor pretentious enough to talk about music like I care that much about it. In fact, I hate those people almost as much as I hate the rain. People who think music is the end all be all and if you listen to some type of pop radio, you are an apostate to good music. So, I say, screw you pretentious music buff. Why don’t you go listen to some more Sufjan Stevens and Rufus Wainright and talk about how they’re the best songwriters of our generation(I’m not quite sure why I picked these two, but I’m sure I’ve heard conceited music lovers discuss their merits before) Nonetheless, I will say this is an album I can always listen to, no matter the time or mood, no matter if I’ve just listen to it before. It is heavenly goodness.
What makes it even better is that it’s all about Anne Frank!!! Everyone knows my love of anything holocaust related. Hell, I’ve been to Poland for the past four summers! I know, I don’t know how I deal either. Anyway, their lead singer just began having dreams about Anne Frank for nights on end and decided they needed to write an album about her. What came out of these dreams? A musical masterpiece, if I say so myself. Check it out. You’ll thank me later.
I’ve decided to insert a new section in each blog post. This happened while walking back from the grocery store today. As mentioned in the first blog post, New York is a crazy place and certain things I see can only happen here. So, with that, I’ve decided to add the crazy the “Only in New York Moment” to my blog. So, today’s “Only in New York Moment”:
A man, walking around in ski gear in the middle of Broadway. We’re talking a big man, about 6’5, 250 LBS with ski pants, ski jacket, ski goggles, ski hat and ski boots. Excuse me sir, could you point me towards the nearest slopes? Well, actually, no my friend because there are no F’ing ski slopes in the MANHATTAN AREA!! What was this guy thinking? What a kook. I chuckled all the way home. Only in New York.
Shabbat Shalom(next post will be about my grocery store fear…excellent!)

P.S. I love women's winter fashion. I know most people prefer the scantily clad ladies of summer, but I saw beautiful women in some knee high boots, a L&V bag, and a striking white coat. I love this look. Women in winter=PureNeeds. Keep it coming, ladies. You all look beautiful.