Guest Post

I've been kinda busy this past week as I'm sure all of you have been. And if you haven't, try not to rub it in our faces.

It's not like my fingers haven't been itching to get some words down "on paper." I even started two posts. One of which has become a story which may or may not end up on my blog. Of course, I didn't finish the posts, so they weren't posted. Should I write another sentence or two with the word post in it. Sorry, just a little punch drunk... haven't been getting too much sleep.

So I got an e-mail from a reader offering his services... NO! Not like that!!! Get your minds out the gutter!! He offered to post for me. And of course, I said, "yes." I believe in making my life easier soooo... I would like to introduce you to Yossi and his rant on wooden spoons and Pesach cleaning.



I’ve been thinking about this all day, as I furiously scrub down my apartment ahead of the looming deadline, and I have reached a conclusion: It’s all because of the wooden spoons.

For as far back as anyone can remember, Jews have been buying wooden spoons to use during the b’dikas chametz ceremony, even though they serve no known function. They simply get carried around for a little while, then get burned with the crumbs found. Despite the lack of utility, great effort has generally gone into getting these spoons, and no Passover can be complete without one. Or so it seems.

I trace back the entire genre of senseless, unreasoned, extra-halachic stringencies to this dynamic, all provoked by the lowly wooden spoon.

Why wash off the chametz before putting it away? Why clean in places no rabbi ever demanded? Why spend extra to buy unwashed eggs, so the shell shouldn't touch (non-chametz) soap? Why hire anti-Semitic Eastern Europeans to steal, break, and scratch everything in the house? Why raise the home tension level and blood-pressure to unsafe levels?

Does anyone think that the rabbis of the Talmud did such things? They didn’t even have aluminum foil!

The Ben Ish Chai, Chief Rabbi of Baghdad at a time when that community was very rich and living in huge homes,wrote a “Mussar” letter to the women in the community. I paraphrase: “Don’t be lazy when it comes to Pesach preparation and cleaning. You are privileged to live in large homes, and have plenty of help, so don’t wait until the last minute! Start cleaning two, maybe even three, days before the holiday!”

I rest my case. And my pruny-looking dishwater hands. Excuse me while I go learn Divrei Torah on the Hagada.

I Have Been Writing

...just not posting. But tonight I decided to ramble.

I'm happy. Yes, I am. I know I recently wrote about a relationship I didn't think was going to work out. So, let me explain. I wrote that when I was upset...obviously. I was hurt about something that Cowboy said to me. Instead of acting like an adult and just telling him this, I felt the need to pull away and I also think I was trying to hurt him back. Yeah, yeah, I know. Not the most mature way to handle things. But who said I was mature anyway?

I did end up talking to him, and of course I felt so much better afterwards. Yes, it's another lesson learned, and one I thought I already knew.

Now, it's time to gush for a bit. Yes, I know you're reading this and laughing to yourself that deep chuckle that makes me smile (directed at Cowboy). I like him. I've started to feel more relaxed in our "relationship" or whatever you want to call it. The phone calls last for hours, and I wish they took place more often. That's kind of silly to say considering that we talk about between 4-7 times a day.

This is the thing. I guess what has made me feel more secure or relaxed or whatever, is that I just found out last night that he told a friend about me. Now it's possible that he's told people about me before this point in time, but he didn't let on to me that he's done so.

And then there's the fact that he calls me all different names. Most of my good friends have special names that they call me, and that I call them. I wrote about this before, and I believe that these names connect me to the people who have given them to me. The more names someone calls me the stronger the tie I feel to them. It doesn't have to make sense to you. It's just the way it is for me.

I remember the first time Cowboy did this it was in an e-mail after we had been talking for a couple of weeks. No one had ever called me that name before, and I've been called lots of things. Stop laughing! I'm not talking about those kinds of names.

Wait a minute! I just remembered that even before we ever spoke on the phone, and I think from the first time that we ever corresponded, he called me a name that had to do with my blog. It wasn't Come Running or a diminutive of it, but it showed that he actually read and remembered what I wrote. This was while we were just friends, and neither one of us was interested in a relationship with the other.

Now that things have changed and he actually knows my real name, he's called me by so many different variations of it... not to mention another name that drives me bonkers. He does it to tease me, and it works. But I just can't get angry at him about it and I end up laughing along with him. Of course, now that I've written this he will probably bug me about it even more.

Booty Call

Chassidish and I have been keeping in touch with short "how are you" e-mails when we see each other on Frumster, but last night I got a call from him. I didn't expect it, but it was nice to hear his voice. After talking about kids and joking around for awhile, I finally asked him about why he had stopped calling so suddenly.

I completely understood when he said that he was starting to feel things and since he couldn't relocate he needed some space. He had started off the conversation with, "Are you going out with anyone?" Then he progressed to "Are you still going to be relocating to Kansas?" I answered him no to the first question and yes to the second.

He started joking around and asked me again about relocating. Then he mentioned that he missed me. I was a little surprised at that. Yes, I know men have feelings too. I'm just not usually privy to them especially when they concern me. I asked him how his dating was going and he said he had a few "friends" but no one to date for tachlis. So he's getting some, but wants more from a relationship.

We slipped easily into the flirting and double entendres and I found out he was still at work. It was late, but he usually works late. I told him to go home, but why go home when there's no one there? His voice got deeper (y'all know how voices do it for me), and he said he would go home if I would meet him there. I started laughing and then coughing. My cold got a little worse last night.

"There's no way I'm leaving my bed tonight," was what I said, and he immediately retorted, "That's OK I'll join you there." My coughing started again because the laughter did too. I didn't answer so he tried a roundabout way to get into my bed. He said he couldn't decide if he should head home or to me. I told him to go home, but he finally said he didn't want to and went into specifics which I will NOT elaborate on.

It was kind of flattering and tempting, but I had the feeling that if we started fooling around again it might get hard (pun intended) for him feelings-wise. He's a good guy and I didn't want him to get hurt even though it would've been fun.... a lot of fun.