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March 2008

March 30, 2008

Until Somebody Calls the Copsen

Man, do you guys rock. I have a bookstore list THIIIIIIS long, and just as soon as I'm over this cold I'll sell my kidney (well, one of my kidneys*) and hand the proceeds over to Barnes&Nobazonowell's.

So, the cold. Sophia seems to be on the other side of it (although the cough is apparently ours to keep), and I'm tired as a mofo with a sore throat of the type one might expect in a novice sword swallower. It's fun; I start the day as a throaty sex kitten and go to bed as a drag queen done up as Bea Arthur. I might call my mother and threaten her with Shady Pines for a while.

I have shit to do, peoples, but the stats homework and the T-Tapp (sorely neglected this week) will go begging. Sophia got a big girl bed today, and she is now sacked out in it, but Sean and I have to deal with the snowstorm of styrofoam beads, the shantytown's worth of cardboard, and the remains of the crib. We won't stop until somebody calls the cops. Or we pass out as though surrounded by an invisible sea of Milwaukee's Best cans. Say, that 'minds me: we were listening to that song in the car, and after it was over and we were into some Peter, Bjorn and John, Sophia piped up from the back seat: "I want the Copsen song!"

"Copsen?"

"Yeah, the copsen song! Somebody call the copsen!"

Ahhh. Yes.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about the other things I did this weekend: namely two articles of clothing sewn by me! Maybe also some recent knitting pictures. Yes. Good times.




*Do you read a lot of David Sedaris?

March 27, 2008

New-ish to Jewish

Sophia is sick, oozing and/or hacking clear mucus products from at least two orifices. She has applied a home remedy of her own device, which involves multiple Band-Aids taping her toes together and palms painted bright turquoise. I know I'm feeling much better.

Commenter B on the last post pointed out that Jewish Grandma might have been providing not an Easter basket, but Mishloach Minot -- a gift of food for Purim. And I would have agreed, if I thought that said Grandma knew about the tradition (and if the basket had not been in the shape of an egg and contained a large chocolate bunny as well as Reese's peanut butter eggs). Oh, and it was also presented at Easter dinner with not-Jewish Great Grandma. Dinner, in case you were wondering, was Chinese takeout. This was Manhattan, people.

Which neatly illustrates my point: our family -- or more precisely, Sean's side of the family -- is a mishmash of religions and traditions. Sean's mother's side of the family is Jewish, all of the Reform variety, many of the atheist variety, and generally of the minimally observant variety. That is, we have a Passover seder, but I have yet to hear a word of Hebrew spoken. Though there is Manischewitz.

And then Sean's father's side of the family was Russian Orthodox (immigrants, y'see) except that his uncle is now regularly attending Catholic services. Uncle's girlfriend, is, I think, Jewish. Maybe. I'm not sure. Sean grew up celebrating Easter, Passover, Christmas, Chanukah, attending some Hebrew school but not church.

Meanwhile, I was brought up Presbyterian, a sometimes-regular churchgoer, even a youth group leader before sin/the devil/utter indifference/awareness of total hypocrisy on the part of my elders kicked in. I am not now a Christian. I've played around with paganism, and while I find celebrating earth holidays meaningful and restorative (equinox, anyone?) and love the fragments of British Isles holidays (Samhain!) that survive, I can't get with the whole pray-to-goddess thing.

Here's what I long for, in addition to a belief system that lines up with mine: tradition. Ritual. A group of like-minded people to engage in same with. A sense of belonging to something ancient yet thoroughly alive. I loved going to one church in Norfolk on Christmas eve, a three-hundred-year-old stone building rendered more majestic by the candlelight and echoing with the King James "And it came to pass in those days..." No matter that I don't think Jesus was the messiah -- I just love that story of a baby born humbly, long ago.

And I want Sophia to have all those things too -- a community, a framework to mark the year and the stages of life, a sense of comfort and belonging. Not the God-will-fix-everything-for- you-if-you-just-ask-nice false comfort that inevitably brings disillusionment, but a we're-all-in -this-together comfort. Life goes on, for someone, somewhere. The essence of the universe is unfathomable, but have a little brisket.

I had the good fortune to come to Philadelphia, epicenter of the Jewish Reconstruction movement, and to meet a woman whose husband was a rabbi in that tradition. The more I learn, the more perfect a fit Reconstruction Judaism seems. But I have a lot to learn. I haven't even managed to get us to the synagogue yet -- we've been out of town for the past three Saturdays, and then some obligations upcoming. (Obviously that sort of thing would have to change, no?)

I want to know more about Judaism (in general -- not limiting myself to any particular movement). I've done some basic reading, but get overwhelmed at the library and the bookstore. And I am afraid I've exhausted Sean as a resource. Here is what I'd love to know:

-Are there any books about Judaism or Jewish life that would be especially useful or helpful or moving?
-Any especially good books for little children?
-If you're Jewish: What traditions do you observe? What are you passing on to your children, and what are you changing?
-Have you converted (to any religion)? What has your experience been?

And finally:
-Do you have a really good tzimmis recipe?

March 25, 2008

The Shock of the New

You may have questions about this new blog. Questions such as, what the fuck? And, why bother? And, is this the blog-torial equivalent of mutton dressed as lamb -- or airbrush makeup on the deceased? Good questions all.

The Leery Polyp began as an infertility blog. Oh, those were heady times, kids -- giants such as Chez Miscarriage stalked the earth (because it wasn't even called the blogosphere yet. At least not by me), and there were so few blogs it was easy to stand out in the crowd, because the crowd had five or six people in it. And two of those people didn't do anything but poke fun at the other four. My point is, a niche appeared, I wedged myself right into it, and things got cooking. The magic ingredients were a heaping tablespoon of angst, a half-cup of subfertility, and a five-gallon bucketful of free time. I had a desk job, no kid, and nothing better to do with my time than blog every detail of the wand-wielding exploits of Dr. Sweetybooty, my inappropriate transference crush reproductive endocrinologist. A lot of people read a lot of things about my vajay. Except that this was before vajayjays. So it was just a plain old vagina. Sure, I'd put up lights at Christmastime and maybe a wreath at the introitus, but it wasn't anything fancy like nowadays. You kids and your vajayjays. Get off my lawn.

I'm sorry, where was I going with that? Right: long story short, now got kid, no got free time. The things I obsess about while picking my scalp until it bleeds are no longer pregnancy-related, but have to do with climate change, peak oil, how the hell I'm going to get through/into/then through again school, knitting and gardening, and, oh yes, the tiny imperious person who informed me that she would be having a show and a popsicle and not a nap anymore. She has a cough and that consumptive look feverish toddlers get, so I said yes to all of the above.

I wonder if my neighbor knows I can hear him taking a leak RIGHT NOW.

God, sorry again, this is going terribly off-topic. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night (see feverish toddler, above) and I mostly want to be eating the pile of Easter candy that threatens to overspill its paltry basket atop the fridge (dude, Jewish grandmas give the BEST Easter baskets!) but sugar=bad feelings for me.

Anyway: New place to discuss new things -- this modern soup of scary and wonderful, things that are pretty much just my problem (school, how often to wax forearms) and things that affect us all (sell your waterfront property now, people). There will still be PCOS -- oh, won't there always -- but there won't be any more REs. There will be plenty of poorly informed strongly held opinions. Maybe a little ranting and railing. Slapdash references to art and literary figures. Some recipes. Neighbors urinating audibly.

Also I was thinking about maybe getting a laugh track.

But you know what I mean, right? About needing a fresh space, a new start?



March 24, 2008

Welcome Mat

Come in, come in! Check out the new digs, y'all! And update your bookmarks while you're at it!

Actual post to follow, later today. Oh, and no, it's not totally together -- I have to tinker with the design, add some search widgets, and update the About page. But it was high time, don't you think?