Jujitsu Rabbi and the Godless Blonde -- a review

Jujitsu Rabbi and the Godless Blonde, by Rebecca Dana.

3 out of 5 stars

Published: 2013, G.P. Putnam’s Sons

Summary: Rebecca suffers from a crappy break-up and moves away from her beloved Manhattan, where she writes about $1400.00 shoes, into a shared apartment in Brooklyn’s Lubavitch community with a not-so-rabbi rabbi.

Review:  Giving Dana’s book only three stars because I thought it was going to include more rabbi comedy smacks of injustice, I know. But, I can’t give it four stars because it didn’t wow me.

She’s a great writer. Her years of journalism allow her to effortlessly sock you with sensory details that the average reader (or writer) wouldn’t even know was missing, until you read her work.

Her humor is self-deprecating, just the way I like it. And the pervading sense throughout her memoir is one of hope, despite – or maybe because of – her seeking and questioning. And she does it with such honesty.

“Everything I knew felt half true. I hated Crown Heights, except the parts I loved. I adored Fashion Week, except that I also loathed it. I lived for my colleagues, worshipped Tina and Edward, was happy writing silly stories about Tiger Woods and stripper heels, but also felt a kind of hollowness in the abstract, that nagging pointlessness pulling at my clothes.”

Who couldn’t relate to that?

I mean, I don’t know Tina, Edward, or Tiger Woods, but I have often felt that conundrum-y pulling of hating and loving something at the same time – and not knowing what to do about it.

Jujitsu Rabbi and the Godless Blonde shares fascinating snippets of Lubavitcher lifestyle (an ultra-Orthodox branch of Judaism), New York City’s Fashion Week, and how to walk the night streets of a dangerous neighborhood in Brooklyn. (Hint: it involves rapping.)

As a lover of memoir (and an author of one), I really liked that she ended her book with how she’d grown as a character in her own life story. I wasn’t left wondering, “Now what was that book about?”  I connected with her, felt myself resonate with her personal trials (even though my life is vastly different than hers), and ended up wanting to have a cheeseburger with Jujitsu Rabbi and his rubber band smile.

Worth reading.

Gardening With Ancient Seed Packets?

To kickstart my suburban homesteading while I anxiously wait to hear if I'm eligible to even apply for a VA loan, I re-read Made From Scratch: Discovering the Pleasures of a Handmade Life. It's inspired me to fix my lawn mower and sewing machine, go to a flea market or antiquing, bake bread, start some tomatos and peppers on my kitchen table, learn to play a strumstick, dig up and transplant raspberry bushes, and start a container garden. Wow! What book have you read lately that inspired you to do that much? (Note* Just because I felt inspired to do all that did not mean that I accomplished any of it. Just felt like clarifying.)

I discovered some ancient seed packets (three years old) and wondered if I could coax them into growing. I divided them all up into when I thought I needed to plant them. I even looked up the last estimated frost day for my region to help me with the estimations. I also bought three rose bushes that I need to put in the ground now. They've been leaning up against the fence in their plastic vendor bags for the better part of a week.

I want to plant my sugar snap peas (February's almost half over!). I don't think containers would be great for peas, but maybe. I'd rather have them in raised beds, but I'm not ready for that. I don't want to put beds in until I know if I can get a loan to buy this house.

Containers it is.

An Ode to Lists (but not in ode format ... if there is one)

When I get overwhelmed, I return to lists. They're just so orderly.

My house is a lovely size for my needs. Maybe a tad too big. But very manageable. Truly, it's the easiest of all the places I've ever lived to clean. Perhaps that might be because of my partial ability to let go (mostly) of my attachment to what my children's rooms look like. Or maybe the kids make less mess as they get older. (Which I don't really believe.) Probably it's that the kids' messes look more and more like mine every year, and I can't really decipher whose mess is whose, and I just imagine it's mine.

Everything is just the right size to easily keep clean. And "out of hand" in this house means two days in a row of not doing the dishes. And even after two days, cleaning the kitchen takes fifteen minutes. So no big deal anyway.

Except.

Except when there are contributing factors that prevent my innate kitchen-cleaning skills to kick in. Or the one that allows me to pick things up and put them away as I walk through the house, heading towards doing something totally different. That skill doesn't kick in either.

Things that slow me down and contribute to small messes piling up into gargantuan mountains (at least in my eyes)?

Not getting enough sleep.
Being cold.
Hunger.
Where I am on my moon cycle.
If I've argued with my children.
If I've argued with my ex-husband.
If I have a deadline looming.
If my kids have a deadline looming.

Or sometimes ... just because it's winter.

It's especially bad when it's ALL of those things at the same time. Like it was the other day.

So I turn to lists.
Somehow creating a list helps me to feel like I'm accomplishing something, doing something constructive. It's a baby step to actually getting the thing done.

I list
therefore
I can accomplish.

Holiday Letter 2012

Talk about cross-posting ...

This is the holiday letter that my kids and I wrote to mail out whenever we bought stamps. (We have decided to call them January Letters.)

***

Greetings!

We are attempting our first ever Holiday Family Letter, especially geared towards those of you we love that are far away. We’d love to catch you up on our shenanigans.

First off WE LOVE YOU and MISS YOU. That’s the main reason we are writing you.

Aubrey has braces now, and started Tae Kwon Do again. She just earned her yellow belt. She’s in 8^th grade and we’re trying to find the perfect high school for her artistic talents, and one where she will thrive.

She’s still taking Japanese lessons, loves anime, manga (her new favorite series is “DRRR!!”), drawing, reading, wearing black, and skeletons. She loves music, but nothing girlie. Case in point: in this year’s school talent show, she’ll be singing either “Leave out all the rest” by Linkin Park, or a Japanese song. She still loves Harry Potter. She’s dreamy, elegant, dark and talented. I love her so much.

Robert says he’s doing “pretty good,” and is fitting in at school, which he says is “very nice.” He loves video games (“Of course, ‘course, ‘course!”). His current fave is Minecraft. If he has to read, his favorite is The 39 Clues series. He’s finished the first whole series and has moved on to the next series (within the series.) 39 Clues: Cahills vs. The Vespers. A Garfield connoisseur, he’s recently moved on to Calvin and Hobbes.

He has a permanent retainer; his braces came off years ago. He’s a 6^th grader at a charter school that has a combined elementary and middle school that keeps the same teacher two years in a row. He’ll get a new teacher for 7^th and 8^th grade. He still doesn’t like to brush his hair and gets only one hair cut a year – a buzz cut during Spring Break. He still likes Legos, and still wants to paint his room grey (it’s bright yellow right now).

He’s funny, curious, quirky, and compassionate. I love him so much.

They both play Dungeons and Dragons with their dad and friends weekly.

~~

We’ve been in our rental house for a year now. It’s a cozy and lovely fit for us. We’re planning to get back to some suburban homesteading this summer: gardening and chickens.

Valerie just got a new job using her massage therapy license finally – at Chi Spa (a place specializing in Chinese massage, reflexology, and detox techniques – like FAR infrared saunas and ionic foot baths.) She’s been building up her editing clientele with Yellow Pen Editing ( http://valeriewillman.com ), and continues to facilitate and co-chair the Mid-Valley chapter of Willamette Writers’ monthly meetings. She also has a work/study position with the Bikram yoga studio in town, and has a weekly yoga and ecstatic dance practice. (She recently treated herself to a blind contour drawing/writing class “just because.”)

Her biggest and most heartfelt news is there’s a new relationship in her life – a Turkish man named Ali who writes for a living, collects art, loves dogs, and has a great laugh.

She’s put money down on an acre of land in Costa Rica, and plans to move there full time after the kids are out of high school. Aubrey says she’s looking forward to visiting on college breaks and Robert said he might live there “if it’s cool.”

Merry Christmas and Happy Solstice. We, today, just hiked to the top of Mt. Pisgah in Eugene, Oregon to watch the sunrise on the shortest day of the year – the beginnings of a new tradition? We’ll see. 

May you find loads of peace and joy this coming year. We’d love to hear from you.

A Time of Transition Requires a New Name

This blog started back in 2008 as a mommy blog. Or, more accurately, a place to compile the insanity of my life -- specifically with my son's undiagnosed PDD-NOS, and the unschooling/homeschooling adventures I had with him, and his sister.

The blog was aptly named Insane Parents Unite!

But now my kids are in middle-school. And you can't even buy parenting magazines geared towards kids that old. Not to mention that both my children refuse to be photographed, and what fun is a blog post about teenage angst, hunting for high schools, or the continual battle of limiting video gaming time when you can't even add a picture?!

Grumblegrumble.

So I changed the blog title to Indian-flavored Everything because I love all things Indian, was dating an Indian man, and I was running out of kid topics. (Which isn't really true, but whatever.) I still want to write about my favorite Bollywood movie, and the trip I'm dreaming up for Kerala with my new guy, but I also want to write about homesteading and reading and parenting older kids and cross-cultural dating. And hopefully in an artful-heartful way so that I may bring some joy to the soul along the way.

So now what do I call the blog?

***

And now for something not-so completely different ... I will be starting a BRAND NEW BLOG within the next month (in addition to this one). Something along the lines of Eco Expat. I've bought some land in Costa Rica at an Eco Village (off the grid, self-sustainable, intentional community) and I want to chronicle my experience of readying myself for life in a foreign country, earning income in a foreign country, learning a new language, practicing my homesteading skills -- plus all the logistical things I didn't anticipate happening but I'm sure will.

Stop by here for a link to the new blog.

Pura Vida!

Missing Ali Already

I'm thinking thinking so much. But breathing and feeling, too. Soaking up the snuggly dogs next to me on the couch (covered by a sheet to cut down on the doggie hair), relaxing in my nightgown and robe still (it's noon), and enjoying an orange and dancing fire in the woodstove. Also, Urdu music from Atif Aslam. I love the sound of spoken Urdu/Hindi.

My boyfriend's only been gone for five days. He's visiting his mom in India. She lives there half the year, and since he hasn't seen her in three years (nor India at all), he's there right now. And I'm so glad he is. I've wanted to visit India for years and years. I have Ganesh statues in almost every room, I burn puja often (but travel with a tasbeeh), and until recently, worked in an Indian restaurant for minimum wage just so I could be around the sights, smells, sounds, and culture of India. So, I'm glad he's there. And I'm also a little sad.

It's been five days since I've seen him. Today is our two month anniversary. During that two months, we've never gone three days without seeing each other, or at the very least, texting incessantly with each other. We already share almost everything. We work together well, we play together well. We get things done, we love, we cook, sleep, talk, dance, party, and rest, and walk our dogs ... all together. It's divine and pure and exciting and lovely and ... everything I want.

So why am I sad? Just because he's not here? My last relationship was a long-distance one. I know how to be apart. For months and months. Ali and I will see each other in T minus sixteen days. He's returning on Christmas. Isn't that the best Christmas present you could think of? Not that I'm really a Christmassy sort of person; I'm more into Solstice celebrations. But still. The significance doesn't escape me.

Maybe my melancholy is precisely because of that past l.d.r. I'm feeling a wee bit triggered without my man here. That's all. Just missing him. I know that he'd love to be here right now with his doggies and his love and this fire. Napping. Or reading.

Actually. Probably if he were here right now, we'd be having brunch somewhere that served Bloody Mary's. (Marys? Maries?) And then walking the dogs in some woodsy or beachy area for a couple of hours.

HEAVEN.

I went to Ali's house to pick up a couple of things I needed, and I just smiled and inhaled his essence throughout the house, and saw evidence of me all over. It was fuzzy and warm and made me think of all the reasons I love him and I'm proud of him all over again.

I'm getting to know his dogs -- my step-doggies -- that are staying with me while he's gone, more and more each day. Casey Jones leans against me and looks at me with soulful eyes. "When's he coming back?" And Banjo. Banjito. He seems the most unaffected by this short-lived transition. My own dog, Humphrey, is becoming excessively neurotic on our walks and harder and harder to handle -- making the walks WAY shorter than I (or the dogs) want them to be.

Casey Jones and Humphrey are growing ... not fond exactly ... but, I catch them licking each other, or wagging at each other. And they are willing to share the couch and the bed with me.

Our little blended family is growing in love for each other, and my kids love the extra dogginess of our days, too.

Have a happy holiday season! And I hope all your loved ones are close by.

Namaste.

I'm Off My Monetary Mo-Jo. Shit.

At what age do you start seriously talking to kids about money? I'm not talking about $15 monthly allowances, and "Well, you'll just have to save up for that Lord of the Rings Lego set," or even the generic, "We can't afford to play miniature golf and order pizza, I'm sorry. What about some homemade soup?" I'm thinking more along the lines of I have $106 in my checking account until the end of the month, and that's not paying my child care bill, or my daughter's school tuition this month. Not to mention gasoline and, you know, food.

I don't want my sensitive fourteen year old to worry and feel guilty for going to the school that she does. Her father and I picked that school because it was the best place for her. It was where we wanted her to go. (The fact that her father refuses to pay any portion of that tuition bill is frankly appalling and really shitty timing for me right now. Also something I'll never tell her.) (Equally annoying is that I don't qualify for any more than $60-$70/month tuition assistance because I make "too much money.")

I am not frivolous with money. I don't have much credit card debt ($2K). I do often splurge on organic produce, chocolate and olives, though -- totally unnecessary purchases -- and when my daughter comes home from school with tears streaming down her face due to homework overwhelm, I am known to cave and volunteer pad thai from Chao Pra Ya and Doctor Who on Netflix. (I haven't decided if that qualifies as an unnecessary purchase at this point. Therapy is therapy. However it works.)

When I was a kid, I knew that our family didn't have as much money as the next one. We always had everything we needed though: Hamburger Helper, Tuna Fish Casserole, hand-me-down clothes, and family dinners at the table. I watched my mom pay bills every month, peripherally, and knew that every month she very carefully chose which ones to pay, and which ones to only send a partial payment to -- knowing that with a partial payment they couldn't turn off services or repossess.

I don't remember my mom and dad ever discussing finances with us kids. And I don't recall ever worrying about food or a roof over our heads. And strangely, I don't remember ever feeling that my friends had it better than me. I just knew that was the way our family was. I didn't begrudge my friends their wardrobes, or big bedrooms. After all, I did get Keds, and huarachees, and Levis. I just got them six months later. When they weren't quite so cool. Nevertheless, I felt well-adjusted, socialized with my friends, and had money in my pocket for after-school chocolate bars. Life was good.

And when I got married at seventeen to my first love, I didn't mess around with a honeymoon or new living room furniture. I knew how it was. We shopped at garage sales, ate our share of Top Ramen, and borrowed family friends' futons, and worked full time.

So how about now? How much is too much information? Do my children understand monetary reality? Do they know we only have a hundred bucks to live on for the next two and a half weeks? (I'm sure they don't, nor do I know if that is the kind of information that 11 year olds and 14 year olds need to know.) Do they see the difference between their father's house and mine? (I'm sure they do.) And while it bothers me a little to see so much money spent on electronics for the kids -- especially when it seems through actions that new laptops and a PS3 are more important than education -- I am grateful that the children are seeing different lifestyles.

What I ultimately want is for them to be prepared for life after school -- when they have their own jobs and apartments. What I ultimately want is for them to understand that our choices around money have consequences. What I ultimately want is for them to know what to do when they only have a hundred bucks in the bank and a lot more month to go.

'Cuz I sure don't.