Beyond Hope

Chol Ha’moed in Vernon. Which, for those who enjoy geographical puns, is beyond Hope. Yesterday’s adventures included hitting several grocery stores (small and big chains) in search for matzah. None was found. However, the BC Liquor website showed us that one of the locations in town had Manischewitz wine. So we headed over there to procure a bottle, in order to make Manischewitz Mixer Madness. (The name has changed, but it’s still tasty.) While there, the manager showed us the wine he’d ordered in for Passover, even though it seemed none had been purchased. Seeing the wine, however, prompted my father and I to think there might actually be a Jewish community here. Googling hasn’t actually proven our hypothesis.

From the drive up, somewhere along the Coquihalla Highway:

Pesach Plumage

So here I am in Seattle, cleaning, kashering, and cooking. The kitchen is pristine. The rest of the house… not my domain. Because I’m not the one who will be eating in this house post-Passover, I’m allowing my host to have the final word on some of the halakhah. The result is the chometz cupboard and box in the fridge (stuff he’ll want to eat in a week, that’s expensive to replace, and needs to be refrigerated). Thanks to the internet, both the box and the cupboard have been sold. That is, he no longer owns a cupboard in his kitchen, nor does he own the box in his fridge. I had fun with it, drawing on the boxes:

Then we had to find a feather. Despite suggesting to a friend that “tackling a bird” would be a great way to get a feather, I was not about to attempt this method on my own. We went to a dollar store that had a craft section. Alas, no feathers. We checked a K-Mart, alas, no craft section. Then we went to a giant pet store chain. They sell birds and, sure enough, there were feathers at the bottom of their clean-looking cages. While I wandered amongst the cat toys, trying to decide which cat toy could be defeathered the most easily, my friend approached an employee. “I have sort of a weird question… We need a feather for a religious ceremony. And I saw some in the birds’ cages. Could we have them?” The employee found a second employee, who agreed. Minutes later, he was on his hands and knees in the bird cage (while we were both mildly creeped out because, you know, no matter how clean that cage liner was…) grabbing a half dozen colourful feathers from budgies. My friend and I both reached for the nearby hand santizer as a reaction, but it was empty. (Oh, and let’s not forget the smell in there. A customer’s big ol’ dog had decided the floor next to the bird cages was the perfect place to do his business, both businesses.) Hands were washed once we returned home.

And now we have tiny little feathers to sweep for crumbs with.

Roads of the East

Recently, I heard an interview on DNTO with someone who was described as a “professional house guest.” He has some very clear expectations for his ever changing housing: you offer him a place to stay, with a bed or couch, for a minimum of two weeks, and in exchange he has done everything from cooking and cleaning to washing dogs to home repairs and minor renovations. But he doesn’t stop there. He also has rent-free work space, which he got through bartering. He approached an organisation with a bit of extra space and offered up his services in exchange for a place to call his office. For them, he’ll stuff envelopes, do photocopying, and in general help with the tedious things that have to get done around the office but no one really wants to do.

He described his living situation quite positively, and, 14 (or was it 18?) beds/couches and one year later, has no plans to go back to a permanent living arrangement.

When I heard this, I was amazed. By no means have I made formal arrangements with my fabulous friends who are housing me, but I have done a good deal of cleaning, cooking, and other errands (quite happy to chip in!). And, depending on when I start the count, I’ve either been doing this for three-and-a-half months or one-and-a-half, which corresponds to either ten or seven beds (excluding one nighters, such as spending a Shabbos night on a friend’s couch, then returning to my “regularly scheduled” friend’s motzei; Florida’s backyard or concrete floors; and the retreat cabins in Maryland). And I’m exhausted. Despite sleeping longer, and more regularly, than I have in many years, I’m definitely feeling the effect of not having a stable, regular place to call home. I shouldn’t be surprised - after all, only a few weeks ago, in Florida, I taught a lesson on the effects of housing or a lack thereof. But I really didn’t expect the results to be felt so quickly.

And I wish I had more to show for the last few weeks, but I don’t. Well, I do. But it’s not exactly concrete.

These past few weeks, I became intimately familiar with the I-95. Back and forth, Boston, to and fro, New York. It might not have been the most productive use of my time (though I did watch many movies, catch up on my backlog of podcasts, and write many a hand-written letter), but it had to be. I had hoped to be in NY for a couple weeks, visiting friends, interviewing, before doing the same in Boston. But, of course, interviews and social “obligations” in NY waded into Boston time. More time spent on the I-95. I came to realise that on a Sunday night, the Greyhound could leave Port Authority and reach South Station a mere 3.5 hours later. Unfortunately, I also discovered that a random weekday ride could stretch to nearly 7 hours.

These weeks have allowed me to catch up with so many wonderful people, I can’t begin to tell you. Unfortunately, the running around also meant that I couldn’t see as many people as I’d wanted to, nor for as long as I would have liked. But I will be back east, and hopefully with more time to spare. Highlights included beers and bocce in Brooklyn; a hasty retreat from a windy picnic in Portland; getting hooked on the Ultimate Spiderman series; being amongst many queer Jews (this ought to get its own post but, wow, was that great, especially after the long queerless months in Israel), doing Jewishly queer and queerly Jewish things; Paul Simon’s concert in Brooklyn, which made me feel utterly euphoric, happier than I had been in far too long; pastrami and knish adventures in the boros; taking dance tips from the old man at the Klezmatics and Joshua Nelson concert; ice cream; cuddles with Max and Benjamin; and walking to Brooklyn from the Upper West Side.

I’ve been in Seattle about eight hours now, and I’m already missing Boston and NY. I will return… soon. [photos here.]

Sprung!

Greetings from Bryant Park! It’s a beautiful spring day here in NYC, and I couldn’t help but take advantage of the free wifi in the park before continuing with my afternoon. The grass is green; the tulips, crocuses, and daffodils have  bloomed bright pinks, purples, and yellows; the sky is blue; the sun is warm; and the coffee is iced. A fantastic day!

Welcome!

I recently made the decision to leave Livejournal. Basically, I don’t trust the new Russian company, I don’t agree with their censorship policies or attitudes towards various groups (such as clamping down on queer communities), and the new advertisement practice is insulting. A one-day strike may not send a message, but losing clients will.

I’m still working out a few snags, from importing my archive and setting up new categories, but hopefully this won’t be a bumpy transition, and we’ll all settle in just fine.

A note to those reading this as a Livejournal Syndication: Just a reminder to follow the links and comment on my new blog, not on the syndication, if you want me to read and/or respond to your comments. (You don’t need a new account to leave comments, and you can still leave comments under your LJ name if you want to retain a degree of anonymity.)