T'shuvah

For those of you who read my blog and don't know a gosh darn thing about being Jewish, well, sit back and whip out your notebooks, I'm about to get all educational on you.  Well, a little bit.  Hopefully enough to make sense at least. And since I don't usually get all technical in my every day life, hey, maybe I'll teach y'all something. Maybe.

So the other day, my tribe celebrated Rosh Hashanah - the Jewish New Year.  I've always found Rosh Hashanah to be such a great, refreshing feeling - it's a totally different vibe than the "secular" new year on December 31.  Aside from not wearing silly party hats and figuring out what to drink for the night that won't cause a massive hangover, Rosh Hashanah is considered one of the holiest days of the Jewish calendar year.  I've never really been one to subscribe to the "holy" part - but I guess to me I equate the holy part to just being really, truly extra special.  It's the time of year when we can reflect back on the past year and start anew.  Not like "let's make a resolution!! I swear I'm going to start going to the gym!!" - it's more like being able to grasp onto parts of yourself or your life that you want to live differently with, and either accepting that's who you are and learning how to embrace your "you-ness" or making a decision to make some changes.  Because, you're good enough, you're smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like you!! (thank you Stuart Smalley...)  Well, at least that's how I've always liked to interpret it.

What most of my Maine friends don't realize (since you all know, there's um, not a lot of us...;)  ), is that once Rosh Hashanah hits, so does an onslaught of a whole bunch of other holidays, all within a few weeks of each other.  It's like one celebration after another, and surprisingly, it's not like most of the other holidays we observe the rest of the year (the ones where it's all like, hey someone hated us and tried to kill our people and ha ha! we survived, take that! let's eat!!).  The one celebration exception happens starting this Friday night to Saturday night, Yom Kippur - which means "the Day of Atonement."  It's the one day of the year that we're supposed to ask for forgiveness and to give forgiveness - and start the year with essentially a clean slate.

Now I'm guessing you're all realizing that I'm seriously glossing over all of this, and if you really care to know more, ask me.  Or ask google.  That google knows a lot of stuff.  But here's where I get to that part about what I titled this post - t'shuvah.

There's a special title that's reserved for the days in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur - it's called the Days of Repentance or the Days of Awe.  I know, it's kind of a weird thing - because here we are celebrating the new year and starting over and all that good stuff, and then we spend 10 days "repenting" and follow it up with what I can only equate it to - a giant one day confession.  And I'm sure some of you are wondering, why don't we do it the opposite way? It seems backwards.  And I'll admit, when I was a kid, I totally didn't get it.  To be honest, even as an adult, a lot of times I didn't get it.  But this year I'm giving it my best shot.

The word t'shuvah means "repentance" - but I don't really look at it like I'm saying sorry for a whole bunch of things.  Those of you that know me well, you know I don't consider myself very religious.  Spiritual, heck yes.  So I'm crazy open to interpretation here.  I'd like to think of t'shuvah and the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur as a chance to really soak it all in.  Figure out ways to rediscover yourself.  Look at the world around you and decide what - and who - are/is important to matter in your life.  To set the stage for the year ahead.  For me, I'm using it as an opportunity to say ok, I know what the last year's been like - so what can I do to shape the next one?  And if I screwed anything up, be big enough to say "yep, that was me." and figure out how I can either make it better or learn from it.

There's a part of a prayer we usually say during Yom Kippur that has a line something like: "I hereby forgive all who have wronged me, by their words or their actions, accidently or on purpose.  I in turn ask forgiveness from all I may have wronged by my words or my actions, accidently or on purpose."  Think about it people.  How powerful is that to say once a year?  How EMpowering?  Talk about bee-ing positive.  Talk about learning how to let go.  Talk about accepting the things you can't change. 

So as I live in this space, over the remainder of the 10 days, I remind myself that this isn't always easy to do.  This year, I'm finding it a massive, massive challenge.  But that's ok.  Because t'shuvah doesn't mean that I always have to get it right.  It means that sometimes recognizing the inner struggle and learning to deal with it is just as important.  And in the meantime, I have the great joy of looking at my life with so many, many blessings. 

After all, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.

Here's to bee-ing positive in a new year. L'shanah tovah - here's to a good year for ALL of us.

A Little Piece of Good

Some days are just naturally crappy. And no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you try to convince yourself to get out of your own way, and to find a little piece of good in everything...well sometimes you just need to embrace the sucky-ness of how you're feeling and allow it to happen.  Not all days have to be GREAT days.  But I'm thankful for the opportunity to have ones like this, because it means I'm very much alive.

There's this link being passed around on social media sites about a 96 year old man who entered a song writing contest and they ended up picking him and making his song - which he wrote about his wife of 75 (!!) years (she had recently passed away).  I'm not going to post it here, google it if you don't know what I'm talking about (and if you're my fb friend, I already posted it there...).  I've been seeing this story go around for a few days now, and I finally broke down and watched it tonight.  And yes, I totally cried. What a truly amazing gift.

I'm sure in Fred and Lorraine's 75 years, life wasn't always sunshine and flowers.  I bet they had some memorable blowouts that years later would either make them mad or laugh.  I know not a thing about these two people, except that he wrote a song about her, and a generous company decided to record it.  To be honest, I don't really want to know more about them.  Yet that simple song, the quiet words....touched me.  It was love.

I'm still in a crappy mood.  Tomorrow's a new day.  But I feel like I found that little piece of good for the night.  He loved her.  For 75 years, he loved her.  He said so.  And I believe him.  I believe in Fred.  And I believe in love.

Lorraine, thanks for allowing Fred to love you so deeply.
And Fred, thank you for sharing that love.
We should all be that lucky.

Superheroes.

When I was 5, I had a pair of Wonder Woman under roos that were pretty much the BEST THING EVER.  I should be embarrassed that my parents have pics of me posing in my underwear, total muscle shots, so completely unabashed, but I'm not.  Because don't mess with 5 year old AmyBee.  I was clearly really, truly Wonder Woman, waiting for my invisible jet to arrive, lasso in hand.  Crime fighter, do-gooder.  I am woman, hear me roar.  The 5 year old confidence is beyond fierce.

So how is it possible that at 37, I lost my ability to channel my inner Wonder Woman?  And why is it ok for a 5 year old girl to have killer confidence, yet a grown woman who shows the slightest bit of oomph, gets written off as a b*tch?  There's something wrong with this picture, right?

Tonight I watched my kids play some strange version of Ninja Turtles saving Barbie.  Justin Bieber somehow ended up in there, but don't get in Michelangelo's way, he wasn't having it.  I did my best to not laugh out loud watching them (ok, there may have been silent giggles...) and listening to a 6 year old and a 4 year old reason with each other about what each character should or shouldn't be doing.  Yes, there were plenty of Barbies crying "save me Ninja Turtles, there's some bad guys coming," and a few turtles shouting, "Justin Bieber get out of my way," but mostly it was intense confidence that was going on, as the 6 year old told the 4 year old how brave and smart Barbie was and that SHE would save the Ninja Turtles next.  And how the 4 year old told the 6 year old, "lets make everybody be BEST FRIENDS!"  And Barbie left Justin Bieber in the dream house and rode off in the sunset with some guy in a half shell.

Killer.
Confidence.

I think tomorrow we should all find our inner superhero.  Gonna swing my lasso.  My invisible jet just needs a tune up.  With a little love, and a little time, I'm going to get it flying better than before.

Let's play.

Back In Action!

So maybe I don't always follow through with things even when I say I'm going to.

Maybe I get a little lost along the way and forget.

Or maybe I just need time and space to know that the right things sometimes turn out wrong, and that the wrong things, well...maybe I just need to learn how to turn the wrong things right again.

Here I am, Amy Bee.  Recommitting.
Writing.
For the world to see.
I know, it's not really the world.  I've got like 2 followers and if I'm lucky 4 Facebook friends that read my posts when I remember to link it.  ;)  But I'm recommitting nonetheless.

Last weekend was ONE YEAR since my crazy adventure of "Life in Maine" really truly set in.  No more being surrounded by Italian Catholics for this Jewish girl.  Where's a zeppole when you're having a rough day?  Missing those bakeries...

Instead my normal is now acres of farmland. Rural spaces. Trees and woodlands as far as the eye can see.  Comfort of silence at nighttime filled with crickets, loons, coyotes and G-d knows what else, instead of the sounds of fire trucks and police cars zooming by in tight neighborhoods, with houses all on top of one another.

Community.  Small town.  One-ness.  A city filled with not just the food-iest restaurants I've ever seen, but ones where I don't understand what the hell some of the menu items actually are.  A city filled with hipsters, and hippies, and families, and professionals.  And RUNNERS.  I swear all people do around here is run.  And if any of you are my Facebook friends, you all know I am NOT.  Yet they make me want to.  They make me want to go invest in neon sneakers and a Garmin watch and sign up for every 5K just to be part of the action.  And I just might.  As soon as my broken toe heals....I. Just. Might.

The last year has been an incredibly bumpy ride.  Bumpier than I could have possibly imagined.  But in the midst of the bumpiness, I'm finding me. The one who was lost along the way.   I like Maine.  "The Way Life Should Be."  Hmm.  Maybe they're onto something.

Maybe I didn't find Maine.  Maybe Maine found me.  Or we found each other.  Either way, it's now a place, one year later, that has somehow become home.  I'm still pissed there's been no natural moose sightings.  I will not get over this people....

So here's to year two.  Maybe years three, four, and maybe more.  (yep, just wanted to rhyme there.)  It can't be any harder than year one, right? 
Because I'm going to BEE POSITIVE.
Bring it on year two.
Bring it on Maine.
I've got this.

Yotzeir Or: Light After Darkness

It's taken me almost a full week to be able to write about the horrific events of last Friday, which I still can't comprehend and feel so much grief for the 26 families of Newtown, CT.  As a parent of a child the same age, this feels so close to home, and so terribly, terribly scary.  When sending Sprocket off on the school bus each day this week, a lump forms, a hole is felt, an unsettled air.  I know that each day it will seem more natural, more normal, after all - this is what is supposed to be.  Not the unthinkable.

I remember so clearly after 9/11 being completly on edge and freaked out everytime it seemed that an airplane was "too low" or seemingly off it's usual flight path.  I sat with my students at URI for weeks and healed along with them, most of us being from New York and New Jersey, unable to reach family and friends for hours post-attack.  It was surreal and awful, yet there was so much hope and resilance.  Someone had done something awful to our country, yet we banded together and seemed to become one.  I'll never forget where I was, or what I was doing when the events of 9/11 unfolded and changed life as we know it, much like any of you reading this.

Yet life as I know it is forever changed once again by Friday's senseless act of violence.  While I appreciate the power of social media (as I sit here blogging...), it's a painful reminder of innocence lost - and how much our political and religious opinions still divide us.  What I write here might be unpopular, or for all I know you might cheer along.  But they are my words, my thoughts, and my right to have these opinions. 

In time of crisis, it's natural to embrace faith - after all - many of us choose to pray to a higher power, whatever that may be, and look to our religion for an answer.  I'm glad that so many of us have found comfort in the walls of our churches, synagogues, mosques, altars, prayer groups, etc. etc. etc. because to me it means you have community, which I think is so important, regardless of your belief system. Yet what social media has taught me is the general assumption that there is a all-knowing, go to answer in this crisis. I keep hearing over and over how terrible it is that these families have lost their children right before Christmas.  How these angels are now in heaven and Jesus is watching over them.  People have created multitudes of memes being shared with these concepts, and I'm having a hard time with it.  Because not all these families celebrated Christmas.  Some of the kids were Jewish, in the middle of celebrating Hanukah.  The night before they lit their menorah, they likely opened presents, they reveled in family celebration.  Some of these families might not even celebrate either.  But in our society, everyone just assumes, which I'm acutely aware of this time of year.  After all, I'm a Jew who lives in Maine.  Lets face it, there's not exactly a lot of us.  I'm realistic, I am secure in my identity and faith, and my young children are too.  While disappointed that Santa doesn't visit our house, they get it. I try not to push my faith views on others, and am happy to explain Jewish customs, holidays and thoughts when asked (which around here is A LOT.).  Yet I'm feeling strange seeing these assumptions, and am focused on these families, who have a long road of healing ahead of them (if they CAN find a way to heal)...way past any holiday past or future.  For the Jewish families (I obviously can't speak for other traditions here), at the funeral service of their children, they said a prayer that they will say every day for a year, called the Mourners Kaddish.  I'm sharing this link from the Jewish Reform Movement about bereavement in case you want to learn more about concepts *I* grew up with, and what kinds of things happen when a Jewish family mourns.  I mention the Mourner's Kaddish specifically, because what always struck me is that in this prayer, it actually says nothing about death. It thanks G-d.  It blesses G-d. It praises G-d. But most of all, it asks for peace.  Peace to all.  Peace for self. Peace on the world. Amen.

One last thought: Judaism has a morning prayer called Yotzeir Or, which is translated as a prayer for morning sun. The concept of the Yotzeir prayer is thanking G-d (however one might translate what G-d is for them) for creating light after darkness.  It's a prayer that is supposed to be said every day, and holds special meaning for me outside of the Mourner's Kaddish, which I have said every day since the first funeral happened.  The idea that each day, we can find light from darkness...well that's a powerful thought to me.  So today I'll continue to pray.  I'll pray that what divides us can still make us one.  That these families will find peace.  That the kids and teachers that lost their lives on Friday are in a safe place now, whatever that concept/place may be.  That their light will forever live on.  And that we will ALL be able to find light after darkness.

Yitgadal, V'yitkadash...

Charlotte
Rachel
Olivia
Dylan
Dawn
Jesse
Ana
Grace
Anne
Emilie
Noah
Jessica
Lauren
Mary
Victoria
Daniel
Josephine
Madeleine
Catherine
Chase
James
Jack
Caroline
Avielle
Benjamin
Allison

Please click here to visit the Newtown Patch's website on how you can help.
AMEN.

Bring on the Starch!

Everyone knows that on Hanukah, we Jews eat potato latkes.  Ok, maybe if you're not Jewish you have no idea what I'm talking about.  Google it.  Potatoes. Shredded. With onions. Eggs. Etc. FRIED.  Key is fried.  It's not Hanukah until you smell like a latke.  And since I've been there, done that on the first night of Hanukah this year, I'm all set smelling like a potato pancake.  Yet for some reason I'm still craving potatoes.  Obviously I just haven't had enough starch.  What?!

Really it's just because I love potatoes.  All forms. Mashed. Baked. Broiled. Scalloped.  Wait, wait, I'm getting hungry typing this so I better contain myself.  Which brings me to this blog post: potato soup.  As in I wanted more potato-y things this week and didn't feel like frying anything.  So I went to my favorite distraction, Pinterest of course and found myself staring at a potato soup recipe.  And since I don't really follow directions well (hence my baking skills are not quite top notch), I used it as inspiration and decided to make my own recipe based off of a few others I found. 

AND IT'S FREAKING AWESOME.

So awesome that I made lame facebook posts about said soup all day as it was cooking in the slow cooker.  And I promised the recipe if it came out good. Since I'm all about spreading the positivity, there's nothing more positive than YUMMY SOUP.  BRING IT ON!

Why just post the recipe on facebook as requested? Why not share the awesomeness with the world aka the 5 of you reading this?  So I present you my version of a recipe, which I expect you to all immediately start making this soup.  Especially since it's going to snow in a few days.  Really - the weather man said so. And that's the truth.

Amy's Not-So-Famous Slow Cooker Potato Soup

Ingredients:
(gather these up first!!)

• 1 bag of frozen hash browns.  I used the southern style ones.  Which means they come diced in pieces.  If you're not lazy like me, you could actually peel your own potatoes and dice them up in little pieces.  I just don't have that kind of energy people.
• 1 can of cream of chicken soup.  (I used low sodium/low fat)
• 2 cans of chicken broth. (again, low sodium, low fat.  It works out to about 24 oz of broth.  I bought one of those boxes of broth which was 32 oz and used most of it.  I'm a bad measurer.)
• 1 block of cream cheese. The standard size? I think it's 12 oz.  I used full fat.  It's pretty much the only fat in the soup.
• Pepper.  I used straight up from the pepper shaker.  Just shook a bunch in.  Use however much you want.  How's that for specific?
• Optional: bacon bits.  I heart bacon.  I know, I know, it's not very kosher of me.  I heart it anyway.  And in my opinion, good potato soup needs bacon bits.  Use as many as you want.  Again, so specific of me.

Directions:

• Place potatoes in slow cooker.  Poor all soups on top.  Add in pepper and bacon bits.  Mix it all together.  This is complicated, right?

(this is what it looked like.  all watery and non-yummy like.)

• KEEP THE CREAM CHEESE IN THE FRIDGE! You don't need it yet.
• Cook the potato/soup/bacon/pepper concoction on low for 6 hours.  I set my slow cooker on 8 hours so it would go longer for the next step.
• After 6 hours, get that cream cheese out of the fridge, open it up, take it out of that vacuum packed foil wrapper and plop it on top of the what now looks like soup.  Right in the middle.  You might want to stir the soup mixture first, and then plop the cream cheese in.
• Put the cover back on and let it cook for another 20-30 minutes.
• Take the cover off, the cream cheese will be all melty (I promise) and mix it all together.
• Cover back on, cook for another 10-20 mins and restir.
• Eat.  It's good.  I promise.

finished product.  non-watery and totally yummy-like.

See you next time for another episode of Amy's Kitchen! (maybe.)

Feeling Like a Sham.

Hellllllo out there in internet-land!

I had really, really good intentions with this blog.  I was going to let my go-get-'em attitude shine through. Inspire millions (ok, maybe 5 of you.  3 of you?  I'll settle for 1.) to BEE POSITIVE and remind ourselves that the good outweighs the bad. The glass is always half-full! And when life hands you lemons, make lemonade! Shall I cliche some more?

Well, then I moved.

I left everything I knew (for the last 13 years at least) to live a new adventure with our family. YESSSS! We get to meet new people! Make new friends! Experience nature (still haven't seen ONE MOOSE in the backyard for the record...)! Explore new places!! YES YES YES and did I say YES?!?!!?

Except everything isn't always going to be sunshine and butterflies.  And since I'm not super-human, even though I like to pretend I am sometimes, gasp, Amy Bee isn't always positive. Sometimes I'm downright stompy. And can you blame me? I've never hucked a piece of wood into a wood stove. I've never listened to coyotes howl at night when I am trying to sleep. I moved to a place where I have no friends, no connections, and for the life of me can't figure out where anything is in the supermarket.  Cranston Stop & Shop, where are you when I need you?!? (Although there's something to be said about being able to buy my Salted Karamel Stoli right next to the potato chips....)

So for all of you telling me how together you think I am, and what an awesome job I've been doing with this transition, I thank you.  Each day I meet new people, I settle in and hey - I even finally found myself a doctor yesterday (granted it was a necessary visit thinking I had an ear infection....).  I'd consider that a major accomplishment.  And that Target that I found the first week here - yep, still my best friend.

While my connections and network grow, little by little, I know that this foreign land will no longer be so foreign.

And with that I leave you with my Bee Positive song of the day (or week, month, year....):
Phillip Phillips' - Home

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home