PurlJew

What? She's Back? Really????

Um. Hello. Cough cough. None of you may remember me, but about four months back, I started this here modest little blog. I believe the last entry was the day before I left for Israel. And where am I writing this from? If you answered Cafe Fahza, on the corner of Palmach and Mizva Qadesh, get yourself a cookie and pat yourself on the back for your amazing psychic skills. Yes, I am in Jerusalem, Pardes has started (I am less then enthusiastic at this point, a fact which I promise to belabor ad naeseum), I'm not a nanny any more (thank the good Lord above), I have clearly just found an excellent cafe with free internet (I'm getting a laptop over Sukkot, thanks to the generosity of the parental units), and I'm living and knitting here in Katamon.

It's been 4 months. 1/3 of a year. I am no closer to so many of the goals I set for myself, which would either lead one to the conclusion that one's life is fucked and hopelessly mired in mediocrity, or that said goals were unattainable and wrong-headed in the first place. I've been visiting both places in the past few weeks. Elul has got me all het-up; I'm so looking forward to just getting the holidays behind me, and truth be told, I'm dreading the yomtif, just really not looking forward to them at all. My sage mother points out that this is because I'm trying to control too much and can't relax enough to let what needs to happen happen, but I tell her to shut up and go fix me another drink whenever she gets too uppity, and that fixes everything.

Just kidding. She's very right, I am very not in control and trying to hard to be in control, and Elul, at some basic level, is about returing control of your life and fate to HaKodesh Baruch Hu. Which is some scary shit, yo. And I just don't know how to go about doing that right not, since it feels like my life keeps veering in and out of focus. I'm also not super-thrilled about where I'm davening. I like the minyan--a nice, hippie-ish egal minyan--but I am undecided how I feel about egal davening, especially on the high holidays, when I need to focus and not concentrate on the cute rabbinical student who leads a fierce Lecha Dodi. (Especially since I sort of made a tit out of myself after a few too many l'chaims last night. And sort of asked him out. And he's sort of going out with somebody. Why do I think that ballsiness will ever pay off for me???) Seperate davening, say what you will about egalitarianism, at least forces me to focus on examining all the married women's head coverings and how they get their scarves to go like that...um, I mean, my kavanah. I am beginning to get to the beginning of being able to pray with some kind of focus and kavanah, and it's much stronger when I can focus without thinking about the marital prospects next to me. And also, I am a sucker for good singing. Give me a good Carlebach service and I am a happy little Jew.

Ah, it's good to be writing again! And knitting again; after a too-long hiatus, I've been working slowly on a series of socks (love the KnitPicks merino, btw, so lush) and a possibly-screwed from the start One Skein Wonder. I'm putting in a lace panel down the back, and am not really sure how to account for the constant increasing and keep the lace pattern true. At the very least, knitting has offered me one way to make connections at Pardes, and a craft night will be starting up after the chagim are (finally, I know I shouldn't say that, but finally) over. A catchy, possibly pun-based title will be on its way soon, undoubtedly.

I also want to bless all of you, any of you, with the blessing that you should have all the blessings. It may seem simple, but my teacher brought us a story the other day of a rabbi who, when busy and trying to get from place to place, gave a poor beggar woman a small, dinky little blessing, a blessing that wasn't meant and wasn't heartfelt and was just basically condescending. (Clearly, I am paraphrasing the original Hasidic story just a wee bit. You get the point.) HaKodesh Baruch Hu and the angels up in heaven were so outraged at the general weeniness of the blessing, that they excommunicated the rabbi for three weeks, until he could bring his heart to his blessings. So, for all of you out there, may you bless and be blessed in equal measure. May you receive the wishes of your heart, may you bring happiness to the world, and may this year be a year of joy and light for all of you and your loved ones. Shana tova u'metuka!

So Long, and Thanks for all the Whitefish

While you're reading this, I'm flying over an ocean (the Atlantic? I'm pretty sure it's the Atlantic), in a plane run by insanely bitchy former soldiers-turned-stewardesses, trying to figure out a way to twist my body into a piece of conceptual art in order to find a comfortable way to sleep, and sort of knitting along on some sock or another. In other words, I'm en route to Israel.

With the help of G-d, I am finally fulfilling a long-time dream--changing a stinky nappy three times a day. (Not mine, and yes, I'm kidding.) I look forward to waking up every Friday from now on and realizing that I get to spend Shabbat in Jerusalem; I look forward to chocolate rugelach from Marzipan and accidentally ordering a sock when I really want to order a salad. I look forward to so much, and as soon as I figure out how the hell to get to Hebrew University from Talpiot, I'll try to track down this computer lab and let you know how things are.

And to my father on Father's Day: thank you for being a mentor, an advisor, a comedian, a teacher, a best friend, and a model for all things. I love you beyond words, Abba.

I'm Pretty Sure I'm Not Going To Make It

I have vacuumed today, my children. O, how I have vacuumed. I have become one with the Hoover. We have communed. It has sucked up many things I would rather not have seen, and coated my contacts with a liberal schmearing of dust and lint and detritus. I have sucked up enough cat hair to spin a sweater, and made innumerable trips to the Dumpster. I am communing with the evidence that I am a filthy, filthy girl.

A girl prone to overpacking, too. In one suitcase: contacts, jewelry, gifts for the kids I'll be taking care of, and tops. Just tops. Granted, this includes two jackets, some cardigans, a sweatshirt, and lots of things that can be layered, but that's still a lot. I am trying to channel my inner Kate, who can be completely content with two pairs of shoes and a shirt made out of a vintage nightgown for six months, but I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that I have no inner Kate. Or at least if I do, then I'm packing for her as well.

(Do you think they'll buy that at the El Al counter? That I get to pack my inner child's luggage allowance as well?)

But right now, I don't think I'm going to make my Shabbat deadline. I have a bathroom to scrub down, a kitchen to finish packing away, and all those weird odds and ends one always ends up with over the course of moving. Like, two digital cameras worth of instructions you haven't read but were going to, or four coupons for cat food and coffee creamer that are expired but might be good for something, or random CD covers missing the CD but still too valuable to give away. All that stuff that you thought you needed at some point, but have come to find that it can be tossed away as cleanly and as easily as stepping out of a pair of shoes, as if it's nothing, as if it's all as weightless as dandelion fluff, sifting slowly back down to earth.

Apparently, I'll Fall in Love in July

Really. That's what my astrologer says.

(I don't have my own personal astrologer; my mom's longtime best friend is a professional astrologer and gives me a reading every year for my birthday. Scoff if you will, but they are amazingly accurate.)

So, yeah, love in July, major growth and development for the next year, a sense of freedom, big time illumination re: the whole vocation/ life purpose thingee. All the stars are pointing to good things headed my way.

Except for my haircut, which is Way Too Short. It is Jean Seberg-pixie, but unfortunately I'm a little too...ermm...how shall we say..curvy to pull it off. I do wear it short, but soft short, if you get what I mean. I went to a new hairdresser today, who took me seriously when I said I didn't want to have to get my hair cut for a few months. Granted, there was a serious mullet issue developing in the back, but now I feel we've stepped too far in the opposite direction. Oh well. Hair does grow, and I at least get to avoid the potential nightmare of haircuts in Israel for a little while longer.

My apartment is a leeetle cleaner today. The nasty rug/ cat hair catcher has been taken to the Dumpster, almost everything has a box or will be in a box or given away or something like that. (Or else I'll just chuck it into a box and make my little sister deal with it if she wants to live in my apartment without paying rent. I think that's fair.) The goal is to be done, with everything packed and everything stored or shipped or whatever, by Friday in time for Shabbat, so I can have the weekend to relax and hang out with my family.

And new things came today, too! Robin forced me (well, she told me to stock up on yarn, so you can see how she twisted my arm over at Knitpicks) to order all this:

This, in that nice purpley-stripe color;

Some of this, in New England;

And lots of this, in Star Gazer Lily, Zinnia, and Geranium--really, I love this sock yarn and you should totally try it. Actually, I've loved everything I've ever ordered from Knitpicks. I would call it my personal crack dealer, but last night I discovered Morehouse Merino, and honey, it's all over but the shouting.

Good News, Silver Shoes, Magic Loops and More

Good things that have happened in the past few days:

1. Eric L. came to pick up some furniture and hung out to get a little tipsy on some good red wine and talk about high school and eat pizza;
2. Whitney L. is going to be in Israel, at Pardes, from the 23rd on! Trust me, you are going to want to be in Israel then, because girl and I know how to have fun. It's going to be sick.
3. Got in touch with Kate P., one of my favorite people ever, and someone who I didn't get to hang out with in person long enough. I'm hoping that will change, since her sister made aliyah ages ago and lives in TLV. (Visit her soon, Kate!)
4. Learned the Magic Loop method:

And it's not that hard! And so far, it's a lot less fiddly than DPNs, and I can really see myself using it more--although I haven't gotten to the point of turning the heel or doing the gussets, so this happy chirpy tune may change.

5. Hung out with Nana PurlJew today, getting our nails done and having a nibble.

She may have to use a cane, but she can still kick anyone's ass. (She's ever-so-subtly concealing the double chin in this one. Nice one, Nana.)

Here's what my apartment looks like, with 6 days left:

Not that bad, right? I had to vacuum four times yesterday (I picked up enough cat hair to make four cats), but as of this afternoon, almost everything that needs to be packed away and stored is, which is good, and Eric is coming over tomorrow to get the rest of the furniture.

Frankie and Violet supervised:

Well, Frankie mostly lazed around, but Violet was a real taskmaster.

The silver shoes the post title so cleverly and rhymingly alludes to:

Nice, huh? Now, let's be honest: is bringing three pairs of metallic shoes to Israel (out of a possible 8) is excessive? I've got a pair of silver Chinese slippers, a pair of gold ballet flats (don't even try to talk me out of those) and these silver Birks. And what about self-tanner? I'm not sure if that goes into the silly category, since I look so much less like Miss Junior Death and so much more like someone who's actually been outside, doing healthy outdoorsy things like eating whole grains and gardening. Things that make me look and feel better can't possibly be silly.

6 days to go. Thinking about it makes my stomach clench and flip and do all sorts of uncomfortable things. Thinking about not going is slightly palliative, but actually not going is actually not a possibility. I can't conceive of a short-term destiny outside of Israel, so not taking the chance of going is not happening; all the fears I have (and trust me, I have a lot, from bad highlights to death via pigua/ bus bombing (Hashem yishbor)) have to be seen from that perspective.

(Lord, that sounded horribly mature. I mean it, mostly.)

(I think.)

Too Hot. Waaaayyyy Too Hot.

My grandparents are in the next room, arguing over the correct pronunciation of the name "Menachem"; my granddmother, cursed with the inability to accurately pronounce anyone's name (should she have the chance to one day meet Gandhi, I'm sure she'd instantly nickname him "Mattie" and refer to "that nice Mr. Gaddi in the funny underpants") is like to make anyone really named Menachem wince in agony. It is so hot here in the heartland that I'm constantly sweating--not oozy gym sweat, but that horrible constant moistness (and there's a word to make anyone wince, right?) There was a fierce thunderstorm earlier that made the power go out right in the middle of Guiding Light, and lasted just long enough to make everything hotter and muggier and nastier than it already was.

Not that I should complain. Apparently everyone in the southern half of the US is being blasted wth Tropical Storm Arlene (who names these storms, anyways? Someone with a fetish for diner waitresses?) and since that half of the country is obviously cursed, I'll try to be content with my unbearable humidity.

The packing? It's going well, although Robin has told me to stock up on yarn. I'm already bringing a duffle bag just for that, so maybe I'll chuck in a few skeins of Noro for a boobwarmer or something like that. I figured, cotton and sock yarn for the summer, and then my parents can bring wool when they come for a visit. If I manage to knit 6 complete pairs of socks by Sukkot, it will be a miracle and you should notify the Pope about the first Jewish saint. Right now I have three single socks (well, 2 1/2, since you can't really count the first sock I ever made, which is absolutely repulsive and not worthy of daylight) which seems like a lot. It's just that what's fun and challenging on sock 1 is dull and repetitive on sock 2. And dull and repetitive aren't invited to my party.

Family is here. Shabbat is starting. Good Shabbos to all!

Your friend,

PurlJew

I'm Still Here: the 11-Day Countdown

At 11 days till TBDIWILFAFC-Day (the big day till i leave for a foreign country day; how does the military come up with such clever acronyms? it's really quite difficult, I tell you), here's what's been done:

1. My tickets have arrived. I don't have to kill Dubi from Isram, but I may have to apologize for being such a stressed-out control freak all the time. Or at least think it really hard.
2. Cell phone contract is signed and sent away, and I am only paying slightly exorbitant fees for calling home and other places. G-d forbid I try to text somebody, though, because it's only slightly less expensive than a kidney transplant.
3. Cleaned out 1/2 my kitchen (have learned to love tacky drawer liners, because they dramatically cut down on cleaning time)
4. Gave away 16 pairs of the most amazing shoes I own to a dear friend who has promised to treat them lovingly and give them lots of attention. That was kind of heartbreaking, actually...
5. Knit the first 1/2 of a green striped feather-and-fan anklet sock
6. Gave away an uncountable number of boxes of books, clothes, and everything from bikinis (not much need for them at a yeshiva) to those tank tops that you swear you'll wear even though they barely cover your boobies. (You won't. I'll tell you that right now. But you'll still feel slightly guilty giving them away.)
7. Got a passport photo taken that makes me look like Drunken Daughter of the Unabomber
8. Found out more than I ever wanted to know about my grandmother's breasts
9. Ordered 6 more skeins of sock yarn from knitpicks.com, just in case
10. Got invited to a SnB in Jerusalem by a lovely lady from the knitty boards
11. Am still unable to find the pattern book with Klaralund in it, which spells Clapotis Part Deux to me
12. Realized I have more sparkly shoes than any one human should ever have. My shoes look like a Bedazzler puked.
13. Developed a zit on my chin that looks like it's trying to speak, it's so big.
14. Bought the Truman bio by McCullough, even though, at 25 pounds, it weighs way, way, too much to come on the plane with me.
15. Paid almost $400 for a ticket to Newark (Newark! Not even JFK, which at least has decent duty-free!) and I have to leave the house at 3:30AM for my 6am flight, which means that I'll be traveling for over 30 hours by the time I get to Tel Aviv. I will be pungent, that I can promise.
16. Cannot figure out how I'm going to leave my cats behind. How? How???? My adorable fat spoiled babies! How can I leave them?

Oy. I must stop staying awake till 1am (cannot sleep) and then sleeping till 10:30 (because I'm tired because I can't sleep at night) and then watching a Deep Space 9 re-run before I get going. (Sometimes I watch a Gilmore Girls re-run, but I think my point is made.)

(I bet they don't have either one in Israel. Tell me again what I'm doing?)

Still Alive...I Think

Completely without internet access these days, now that I'm unemployed, that's all.

Yes, unemployed. Left the job-that-was-only-sometimes-from-hell on Tuesday and have been procrastinating not getting anything done in denial about the whole moving overseas thing packing my brains out. And watching General Hospital (haaaate the new Carly and really wish they would just send that whiny Sam to a mental hospital or something soon. Cause lordee, lordee, is she every annnnooyyyying or what?)

Not that I spend all my time watching soaps. I'm been in an Audrey Tatou phase lately, and am in the process of renting all of the movies my local Blockbuster has with her in it (that would be three, but who's counting? Besides me, I mean. I'm obviously counting.) It's my time to knit stockinette, that and Alias season 3 DVD's. I'm working away industriously on a shrug from IK in a horrible cotton tape I will never use again, but is a beautiful watery blue so it passes muster. I added dropped stitches around the sleeves for some interest. It's either going to look cool or I'll look like a reject extra from one of the Matrixes.

I'm getting ready to One-Skein Wonder tonight, too. Do I know how to have a rocking Saturday night or what? First dinner with my 85 year old grandparents, then knitting in front of the telly. Oh, yeah. You all want to be me...

WTF? Moments

Your friend PurlJew? She is seriously rattled today. Well, to be perfectly honest, she's been rattled all weekend and developed the lovely new hobby of listening nonstop to what Anne Lamott calls KFKD, that nasty little voice in the mind that tells you that packing up your life and moving halfway across the world in approximately 20 days is fucking insane and you are insane to even think so.

I mean, I'm moving. To. Israel. I am leaving behind a job that, even if I didn't love it all the time, still meant something to me, two fat and shed-prone cats that spend the night curled up beside me, a vast stash of yarn (and only some of it falls under the 'what the hell was I thinking' category)--not to mention the banal yet comforting certainty of knowing where everything in my life was. So, maybe it wasn't an exciting life, or even a very fulfilling life some of the time, but I'm close to my family, there's a Target almost within walking distance, some really good restaraunts, and everyone at Borders knows me. What the hell am I thinking, packing everything into three bags and nannying for four kids and...

Well, you can see what I mean about KFKD. Those are just the current hits. I haven't even gotten to the rest of the Top 20 Countdown, like, "You'll End Up a Gibbering Mess, Clutching a Half-Finished Sock and Crying in The Corner of a Cafe Someplace," (that's by Tammy Whine-nette, by the way).

I keep trying to focus on the positive things, and the reasons why I'm leaving behind a comfortable yet-way-too-sedate life, a life that, were I in a nursing home in Des Moines, I might find reasonably exciting: because you don't get that many chances to change your life. Because, 6 years ago, I had the chance to do this very same thing, and I turned it down, and took my life on a different path entirely, and now I can't stop thinking: what if this isn't the life I'm meant to have? What if the only way to get the life I want is to take this giant, life-changing, fear-filled leap of faith?

Wouldn't you do it, if those were your reasons?

In knitting news:

Finished the first sock. You could see it if I had remembered to charge my camera over the weekend, but take my word for it: it is an actual sock. It has a lovely heel, some excellent, non-lumpy short rows, a toe that I used a three-needle BO on (which looks fine, by the way, and is so much easier--why aren't you supposed to do that for toes?) and it fits and looks nice. I don't like the yarn colors any more than I did in the beginning, but someone somewhere will like royal blue and purple stripes.

Notice I said sock. I am in denial about the fact that you actually have to knit two to make a pair.

I also finished the front of Klaralund while watching Shaun of the Dead (great movie, I now want Simon Pegg terribly, and you should rent it next weekend). The only issue? I cannot find the damn pattern book in the wreck of my apartment (how can it look worse when I'm throwing away bags of trash and carting the rest to Goodwill every day? it looks like a crack-den) and therefore cannot finish the rest of the damn sweater. I have a terrible suspicion I left it in NYC over Spring Break, since that was the last time I worked on it. If anyone out there has a copy of the Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton book with Klaralund in it that they don't want anymore, I'd be more than happy to swap or pay you for it. I've got two balls of Regia sock yarn in shades of blue, purple and green, and three balls of Rowan ASC in a lovely sky blue, and more--just let me know.

PS: It turns out that KFKD goes away if you eat lots of peanut M&Ms. Ah, yet another excuse...

One Last Note--Something Positive

Ten of My Favorite Things, from The Bookish Girl

(Mostly because I feel like all I've been doing is bitching and moaning and whining, and girl, that is so unattractive.)

1. My family. First, last, and always. They have taught me everything good, they have been my best friends, they have created a circle of love and care for me that can never fade. And they're funny as hell, with dirty dirty minds.

2. My animals. Frankie, Violet, Olive, and Stanley. For adoring me, covering me with more hair than I care to think about, comforting me, and giving me something wonderful to come home to.

3. Reading. My first hobby. (I find myself reading less and knitting more these days, which is something I should probably rectify before I start sounding like an idiot in public...)

4. As stupid as it sound, I really do love being Jewish.

5. Clean sheets. A small thing, but oh! when they come out of the dryer and they're warm and smell so good!

6. Babies. If you are a baby reading this, consider it full warning: I will smother you with kisses and threaten to eat your cute little fingers and smell the top of your head.

7. Coffeemate French Vanilla creamer. I'm not scraping the bottom of the barrel, really--I love this stuff. I can't have coffee without it.

8. Jerusalem. I love Jerusalem with a passion.

9. Laughing. I live for those moments where you laugh so hard you cry.

10. Talking to my sister on the phone. I never get to see her or talk to her enough, and now after one year of being in two different countries (she's in Barcelona and I'm living the lush life here in the Hoosier heartland), we're going to be in two countries again for the foreseeable future. My sister is my best friend and my favorite person ever, and being without her for so long is a hole in the soul.

And you?