By EVAPainting by Pepe Fainberg(photo credit: PEPE FAINBERG)
So. There is a Chinese curse/proverb that says, “May you live in interesting times.”I totally hear that, as life lately has been very, ah, diverting.Although my workaday po ve’sham (here and there) has been of the “no news is good news” variety, the passage of Purim, the advent of Passover and how can we forget – the election – have added a twist to the usual proceedings.Let’s dig in, shall we? FIRST, I need to address my personal elephant in the room – a few angry letters received about my last column.I apologize if I offended your delicate sensibilities, O readers. I’ve striven to present a true picture of what dating is like in this day and age, so I hope you’ll continue accompanying me on my journey to find Mr. Oh-So-Right, even if my verbiage is not always to your liking.WITH THAT out of the way: Ah, Purim.Normally it’s my favorite holiday – what’s not to like? Costumes! Mandated eating and drinking! Gift giving and receiving! Dancing in the streets, hopefully with cute guys! Deep spiritual meaning as to shedding our everyday masks for more fanciful ones! I, of course, planned ahead as to my masquerade, stocking up (ahem) at Max Stock. It was there that I came upon a most lovely sight: genuine Disney Hercules plushies – all for NIS 10! Now, I’ve outgrown playing with dolls, but my own personal superhero, clad in a short Roman-style skirt? I couldn’t resist.I planned my costume around the doll, finding some Aladdin-esque harem girl-hybrid that would allow me to heft Hercules around in the crook of my arm. I was ready for the revelry! But something else was gunning for me: the flu.Normally, I’m super-healthy. I eat right, exercise, the whole nine yards (meters?). Yet the flip-flopping weather from cold to hot and back again proved too much for my constitution. Erev Purim, I suddenly realized I was sick as a dog.It couldn’t be! I had PLANS. I was going to parties (likely stuffed with new dudes I was ready to meet), I had multiple seudot to hop to, I had some serious wine to drink, I had Hercules! But I also had a stuffy nose, fever and a cough. As I hacked my lungs out in bed, I realized that the whole shebang was futile this year – and canceled said plans.I shed the proverbial tear as I remained bedridden. Oh, I managed to haul my wheezing cookies out for an hour or two on the Friday of, even halfheartedly lifting Hercules over the gyrating Nahlaot masses. But I realized pretty quickly that I was still sick and hoofed it on home.It just wasn’t bashert this year.THERE WAS one great benefit to my flu: detox.Oh yeah, baby. I’m a great believer in imbibing all things delicious and fun: foodstuffs, vino, coffee. But my illness forced me to pare everything down.Coffee became tea, wine was out of the question, and I could barely eat (toast and, of course, chicken soup, was as good as it got). When I finally got out of my sick bed days later, I suddenly realized I felt light as a feather.No caffeine crashes! No slight headache from the vino! Some kilograms banished, hopefully never to return (who am I kidding?)! It was glorious. I hadn’t planned it, but suddenly my body felt pure as the driven snow.Though I realized that once I returned to eating normally some weight gain was inevitable, I vowed to be more virtuous in my habits. Less wine, coffee only before the gym or on special occasions, better lunches and dinners.So far I’ve been pretty good about maintaining this resolution. And I’m really glad it happened before Passover.It’s like losing weight before you go on a cruise, with its copious midnight buffets. You need a head start on good habits before you totally give in to the gluttony.SPEAKING OF Passover, it marks the time of my annual visit home to visit the kinfolk.When making aliya, it is essential to recharge one’s batteries with what is familiar, and nothing can be more familiar than sharing Leil Haseder with the gantze mishpucha! This entails sacrifices. For one, upon moving here and joining my fate with the Land of Israel, I boldly decided to take on minhag hamakom. Despite being very much Ashkenazi, I declared that the time had come to eat kitniyot (pulses). No need to marry a Sephardi – I was an Israeli! I could have rice, hummus, the works! Of course my family, mired in New York, does not (yet) do so. So since I do return to the homestead, I have to forgo staples of my regular diet such as chickpeas and coffee that doesn’t taste like oregano (I love you, Maxwell House, purveyor of Haggadot, but oy).Plus, my dear family keeps another minhag of chul: the dreaded (and, to my mind, completely unnecessary) second Seder. As I had become Israeli, my family agreed that I didn’t need to join them for the second go-around. However, I realized that first year back that by not participating, I was taking away from their enjoyment – knowing I was home yet horsing around, watching The Bachelor while they piled on the haroset sandwiches (yum!) and gave endless divrei Torah (erp!). So my second year back, I opted to be a good sport and sit through Seder V2.Oh, I snuck off here and there to check Facebook, but ever since, I’ve been part of the second-night proceedings – and we’re all winners. (This year, my nephew has turned two, so I’m hoping he’ll eke out some version of the Ma Nishtana.) Beyond the quality time, I of course am excited about the shopping. But being that I live in Jerusalem, not exactly a fashion mecca (though the French have certainly classed up the place), I don’t need that many new threads; I think some plaid shirts and Converse sneakers from Tarjay will do.I am also taking the opportunity of my annual visit to come up with one more resolution for the following year: less iPhone usage and laptop TV-watching in bed; more reading.AND NOW: the election. Oh, the election. I think we all were, to put it mildly, surprised by the outcome.While in my view, sanity won out, I know that many others did not feel the same. Though incredibly relieved – heaving an audible sigh after the culmination of literally months of tension – I attempted to contain my glee out of deference to those who were, shall we say, less than pleased by the results.Everyone enjoyed the rare day off – there was widespread agreement on that. Yet I was more than a little shocked by the vitriol I saw on my Facebook feed. Though some took the loss well, many others seemed to forget that we live in a democracy. One “friend” even referred to those who had voted Netanyahu as “Israeli society’s lost souls.”They appeared unprepared to acknowledge that Bibi had been chosen by the system; no amount of finger-pointing, threats or #SourGrapes would change that. I was counting on fewer sore losers, more unity.I fervently hope that at this time, with the coming of spring and its new possibilities, as well as the Festival of Our Freedom – and in light of the horrific, tragic fire in Brooklyn – we throw off old arguments and petty divisions, learn to respect each others’ choices and come together.Wishing everyone a very happy, healthy and matza pizza-filled Passover. Hag sameah!
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