Hey Whats Your Name!

Please let me preface this post by saying how excited I am to be writing it. I know I’m excited because I get super polite when I’m either drunk, or really really excited. And I’m not drunk, soooo…. Back to why I’m excited.

I have a reader question to answer. A real one, not imagined, solicited or otherwise coerced.  Not that I would do that, but, let’s be honest, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. The question from a real live blog follower, reads as follows:

“ ….Any way, question, sorry if it’s stupid, but why do you leave the O out of G-d?”.

This is not a stupid question. This is a fantastic question. And much like everything in Judaism it has a very serious, long, complicated answer that I’m going to nutshell for you as much as possible.

In Judaism, G-d has a lot of names. There’s the big one, given to Moses at the burning bush, and there’s a lot of other names we call the Divine based on attributes that we notice from past interactions (for a full list of those interactions I suggest starting with Genesis).  The G name that you are referring to is actually a rough translation of one of the Hebrew words for G-d.  Regardless of what name we actually use, since it is still referring to our Divine Creator, we treat it with the upmost respect.  As such, it is never fully written out on anything that might be thrown away, or discarded.

Now you might be thinking, this is a blog post, how is it going to be thrown away. Well you see I have a vivid imagination. And sometimes I like to imagine that someone working for- insert any well known newspaper here- will read this blog, like my writing and ask me to come write a column for said newspaper. In order to do this, that person will need to print out a copy of one of my posts and show it to their boss, who after reading it, might accidentally spill coffee on it before it gets framed. Accidents happen.

More realistically, someone reading this blog might print it out and give it to a friend, who after having their mind blown, tosses it in the trash. As you can see there are a myriad of ways my posts could get printed out and wind up in the “real world”; and I’d rather not risk it.

The only place the name of G-d is written fully (that I know of) by observant Jews is in the Torah scrolls. According to Jewish law, if one of the scrolls is damaged and is no longer usable, it has to be buried and separated from other holy objects as a sign of respect.  Fun Fact- if someone drops one of our Torah scrolls while it’s being carried or passed around our entire congregation is supposed to fast for a month, completed in daily shifts by various congregants of course.

Simply put, it’s for respect of the Holy name of G-d and I don’t want to take any chances.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog! I hope my answer helped. Keep em coming folks!

My Big Head

I have a big head. 

There, I said it.

Chances are, however, you do too. I can say that with a certain level of confidence as I have yet to meet an adult with a head circumference of 18 inches. Which, according to this pattern,  http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/rudensk, should fit most average-sized heads.  Guess what, pattern? It does not.

Although I love knitting Fair Isle, it can be a little tedious at times. So finding a pattern that doesn’t require a gratuitous amount of color changing is something I look for. This pattern was perfect. The Fair Isle chart was easy to read, it didn’t require some crazy expensive yarn, and I actually had the needle sizes for it.  It also knitted up ridiculously quickly. Though now, I know why- because it’s not a very big hat.

Sigh. It was supposed to have been for my mother. Granted, her head is smaller than mine, but it still didn’t fit. You know who it did fit though?

Hershel.

 

And ultimately it wound up fitting my good friend’s eight-year-old daughter. Who, by the way, adores this hat. She even slept in it.

That pleases me.

Uncle Shmuley Wants You!

Knock knock knock

Answering the door, you are greeted by two individuals wearing yarmulkas, a Star of David and holding a Bible.

“Hello,” they say, “ Can we tell you about the Old Testament?”

If this has ever happened to you please stop reading this blog right now, and immediately contact your local Rabbi; they’ll tell you they weren’t Jewish. In fact, I’ll kiss your big left toe if there are members of the tribe coming door to door to convert you to Judaism.  We don’t, to put it simply, roll like that.

Judaism is not a proselytizing religion. In fact, most people aren’t aware one can even convert to Judaism. There are no Bema calls during prayer services asking non- Jews to accept HaShem into their hearts. We don’t leave pamphlets on windshields and I’ve never seen a Jew witnessing to a gentile about how giving up bacon changed their life; at least not in a good way. We refrain from actively seeking converts because, stay with me, ….you don’t have to be Jewish.  You’re ok in the faith you're in. We don’t care. In fact, traditionally, a potential convert is turned away three times by the Rabbi before they are accepted for conversion.  Actually turned away. Just let that sink in for a moment.

(chirping crickets)

Now this is not to say we don’t want you. To the contrary, converts in Judaism hold a special place in both the metaphorical heart of G-d and to the Jewish people.  Mostly because we chose Judaism, we chose to accept all 613 mitzvah’s, we chose to cast our lot in with a people who are, let’s be honest, persona non grata, in a large part of the world.  That takes chutzpah. It also takes time. On average (depending on the flavor of Judaism you’re converting into) it takes about a year and a half. A year of study, a year to go through all of the holidays, a year of being accepted by a community and deciding if you want to be part of a people. At the end you go to the Beit Din (a panel of three Rabbi’s who are going to ask a lot of questions about why you want to be Jewish), then to the mikvah for immersion in a tub that renders one ritually clean. Then it’s mazel tovs all around, welcome to the tribe and would you like a bagel?

It’s a beautiful and life changing process. And it’s not for everybody. But that’s ok. It’s ok, because we don’t believe non-Jews are going to burn in hell when they die, or that gentiles are horrible people or any other ridiculous arguments that are flouting around out there. In fact, there is a strongly held belief found in the Talmud that is just the opposite. All righteous people, of all faiths, have a place in the world to come. So that’s why. You’re a good person? Wonderful, save me a seat.

It’s that concept that removes a lot of the incentive that drives other faiths to actively seek converts. There is no Jewish Hell we need to save all gentiles from and vice versa there is no exclusive Jewish Heaven we need to convert you to so you can join.

You’re ok. I’m ok. Now if only everybody thought that way…imagine the world we would live in.

My First Time...

…knitting Fair Isle. Gotcha! Man, I bet there are going to be a lot of people mad at me.

Back in September, after I was certain I had mastered the knit and purl stitch, I decided I needed something more challenging to work on. I also decided that after nearly a decade of friendship I should give best friend #2 a birthday gift. [Sidenote: Facebook and its ability to remind me of people’s birthdays have made my life a lot easier. If you’re muttering "D’bag" right now I don’t blame you.]I then determined that I would knit her a hat, in Fair Isle and since she is an awesome Navy wife I would do anchors and waves.

It was ambitious and challenging. It fought me, dirty style, with low-blows and there was name-calling. Yet, I prevailed. I won. And wound up with a beautifully knit hat. Observe:

 

 I watched several tutorials on how to hold both strands of yarn and learned quite a bit about dominant colors when knitting Fair Isle. I also promptly disregarded all the suggestions and worked out my own system of managing my yarns. You will need the following to work Shannon’s Fair Isle method:

One Raverly pattern found here- http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/mariners-hat

A super comfy chair placed in your living room

Poor lighting

One small Border Terrier named Lucy. This is essential to the process as one of the skeins of yarn has to be wedged between her and the chair.

One printer that will not print out your knitting patterns

A computer you can download said pattern to and will go to sleep every 15 minutes while you try to follow the pattern

Finally, one boyfriend who will hesitantly suggest every hour that you find a less stressful hobby. Preferably one that his mother doesn’t do.  

Once assembled, wedge your dominant yarn skein between Lucy and the back of the chair. Run the yarn over your right shoulder keeping that tension tight! Place your second color on the ottoman in front of you between your cigarettes, phone (which is doubling as a row counter), 72 remote controls, and a pack of cookies for stress eating when you run out of cigarettes.  Start following your pattern remembering to stick your tongue out between your lips so you can concentrate. 

Three days later, you will have a fantastic hat that is slightly too big, can be photographed poorly in your kitchen and has one mistake in it.

  

I’ve never been prouder.

You Think Darkness is Your Ally

My Chanukiyah (Chanukah menorah) is quite possibly the bane of my existence. Additionally, the holiday of Shavuot is my nemesis holiday, but that’s for a future post. Now, I don’t know if all religiously observant people, regardless of the faith, have religious items that are out to cause their demise (or holidays that have become their mortal enemy for that matter) or if it’s just me, but this year will be the last year I use this Chanukiyah. You win menorah. You win.

Please observe.

Now, what looks like a completely innocent, typical Chanukiyah sitting quietly on my shelf, is actually taunting me on a daily basis. It reminds me that in 11 days or so, I will have to light it. This is an issue because I have been unable to find candles to fit it.  Every year, I search every local store (I mean EVERY store) trying to find candles that will fit in this Chanukiyah. And every year I have failed.

In my quest to find candles that fit I have been the recipient of: inappropriate jokes, some good-natured teasing, confused looks, many questions, anti-Semitism, overzealous individuals who are thrilled at the prospect of helping a Jew (seriously- this part always involves a lot of touching from complete strangers) and the butt of one wild goose chase resulting in me getting laughed out of a store. That last one was my bad though. A cashier at a large chain store assured me that if I went to the local Christian Book store and asked them for candles they should have them. She promised me they always have a Chanukah section. They did not. I really should have seen that one coming. Sigh.

So every year, after exhausting every option, I wind up buying 6 boxes of Manischewitz Shabbat candles and whittling down 45 of them to fit inside the cups on the Chanukiyah. It’s exhausting, sometimes bloody, and just feeds the animosity between me and this menorah.  Not this year though. I found candles that almost fit. Almost. They are going to lean a little, so I’m going to have to pay attention that I don’t catch my apartment on fire. They are also all different colors and I’m not 100% sure they are going to go out when I blow on them, but the point is, they almost fit.

And so this will be the last year I use this menorah. Mostly because the store where I found the candles that almost fit went out of business but also because I’m ready to throw in the towel. I have doggedly hung on, because, well…it was my first one. I bought it with my mother for my first Chanukah. It’s special. Not special enough to keep putting up with this bull crap every year though. So, it will get moved to a high shelf where it can watch my new Chanukiyah (that I haven’t found yet) do what it’s supposed to do. A Chanukiyah I have a much better working relationship with that doesn’t involve cut fingers, wax shavings and being the butt of jokes. Take that, soon-to-be-old-Chanukiyah. Take that.

Post Script

No Chanukiyahs were harmed in the writing of this post. But don’t think I didn’t think about it.

Extreme Knitting

Random Friend: I don’t knit so I wasn’t going to check out your blog.

Me: No no, it’s about my knitting escapades. My escapades. Like right now, I’m writing a post about my knitting injury.

Random Friend: Bwhahahahaha. Oh my G-d, Shannon.

This might have been a dramatic reenactment.

So, I have sustained a freak knitting injury.  It’s not like I fell out of my chair and impaled myself on a pair of my knitting needles (though, to be honest, this is not out of the realm of possibility so if you went there- I don’t blame you).

What actually happened is the tip of my left pointer finger has a blister.  A blister created by the repetitive pushing of my finger on the needle to complete a stitch.  It’s no, "I impaled myself on my needle," story, but still…it hurts like the dickens.  I wondered if this was a thing. I wondered, "Is this a thing that actually happens to real knitters or am I just holding my needles wrong?" So I Googled it and read about a half-dozen threads and articles about knitting injuries.

Apparently, this is a thing. It happens frequently and (upside), I’ll have a callous for my troubles (though I am going to come up with a much better story than the I-gave-myself-a-callous from-holding-my-needles-too-tightly-and-not-relaxing-my-yarn-tension-while-watching-Grey’s-Anatomy-on-Netflix story I've got now).

Going forward, if anyone happens to notice, I will (in all seriousness) explain that this is the only evidence of how I fended off three sharks while scuba diving off the coast of Australia.  I say, "three," because I need to keep this believable. After all, I do have a reputation that I’m trying to create. I mean... keep.

True Story.