Saw This On Kingston

Like A Prayer

This song was stuck in my head the last time I went to the Ohel...

770 We're Marching On....

Does Your Third Nipple Throw Off Your Center of Gravity?

The other night my really cool friend and I decided to walk to a Gehzee hotspot on Kingston avenue for some hot cocoa. Not to be critical or anything but eight dollars for hot cocoa...that is whack. Not to mention that it was basically instant hot cocoa and well was not really gourmet. But I am not one to complain, if your off balance how could you possibly make hot cocoa. so lets continue. 

We picked up our Gehzee hot cocoa and decided to keep walking. Now as many of you may know there is this whole thing called the Kingston Avenue shuffle. Basically you walk down Kingston Avenue looking at your feet and slamming into random people because you can’t see them. You see, apparently it is more tznius (modest) for a man to slam into a random woman while walking, than it is for him to look at her to avoid slamming into her. Then again this whole slamming into thing could be caused by lack of balance. In any case, this is  the Kingston Avenue shuffle.

So my friend and I were shuffling down the street trying to avoid being knocked over by the over zealous men trying to catch the last minyan at 770. When she spotted someone we just had to see. Now keep in mind we are both in our twenties and really don’t do that school girl giggle when we see a guy...but for some unknown reason tonight was the night to revert back to our teenage years. Let’s just say this guy is worth getting all hot and bothered over (insert sarcasm here). Now my friend was quite sure that it was him, the man of our dreams, the perfect male specimen. I had my doubts. 

We walked casually behind “him” and his posse continuing to shuffle. UHOH, he walked into a store. At this point I was very well convinced that it wasn’t him, but my cool friend was dead set that it was. Why would he be walking into Nosh World. No one and I mean no one goes into Nosh World unless they are little pishers going there to check out members of  the opposite sex who are also pishers. Keep in mind this means that they all sit at tables and pretend not to look at each other, and they God forbid would never actually talk to each other. In any case if Mr. Awesome was in there...we were going in and we were going to embrace our inner pisher!

We walked in and stood by the door to look and see if it was him. Guess what....IT WASN’T! We giggled and I announced “Oh dear lord, that’s not him.” The Mexican cleaning the windows was cracking up. We ran out of the store, thank God we were next to the door. We laughed and continued our balanced shuffle down Kingston Avenue. Sometimes, its nice to go back in time...be it balanced or unbalanced. 

Imitation is the Most Sincere Form of Flattery

Okay so here I am in California. Yep Im in Los Angeles, more specifically Pico Robertston. The Crown Heights of the West Coast, minus all the dirty looks and unfriendly nature of the the original. Guess what, there is a 770 here! Now for those of you who don’t know, 770 is the holy of holies in the Chabad world. The Rebbes shul and more importantly the headquarters for Chabad. Not only does it house the main Chabad shul, but also the Rebbe’s office, apartment, and a yeshiva. 

Now I always knew that many Chabad communities had replicated this building in their own cities, however I never knew there were so many. I have now learned that there are over a dozen “770’s” all over the world. That’s some kind of dedication and truly flattering. 

Erev Shabbos I was driving with my host, who happens to be one of my favorite people (no sarcasm). We were going to pick up her younger sisters from school. As we drove up the block I was checking out the scenery. All of a sudden I lifted my head and there it was. Just like home. Oh my God IT’S 770!!!! I was so excited I had to take a picture. My friend was amazed by my excitement. As you all know I am no longer religious so why would I care. But according to my friend I am still a very spiritual person so it makes sense that I would be excited. 

I took a picture and we kept driving. To my surprise we were driving behind 770, and then like driving into a holy portal we were driving into 770. Now if you were to do this in New York, at the original, you would find yourself driving into the mens section and would probably now be given such a warm welcome. Who the hell drives into a shul. However, in California it is welcome. Thats right, you can drive into 770 California version. Why you may ask, well because unlike the lower level of New York 770 which houses the mens section of the shul, the lower level of California 770 houses a parking garage and more importantly car pool for the girls school. I was amazed I finally know what’s in the basement of 770. 

As we drove in my friend was telling me how poorly designed the 770 parking garage is. Who cares how it’s designed, I was simply amazed that I felt like I was driving into a mall rather than the Holy of Holies. Do we have to take a ticket? How much does parking cost at the Holy of Holies? Well to my dismay there was no ticket and we didn’t have to pay. But that was kind of cool, we are Jews we love free things. Any way back to the design. Now Jews aren’t really known for making things easy. In fact we can complicate the most simple tasks. Putting on pants make sure you do right before left, going to sleep start on the left and make your way to the right, driving in carpool you must go down before you can go up. Yes that is right you have to drive to the lower level, go around and then go back to the upper level. There is something very Chassidish about this concept. This got me thinking. 

Everything we do has some sort of meaning. We can not just do things idly. Everything has meaning. We do things for a reason, to achieve some sort of spiritual satisfaction. Now, I am sure that when the parking garage was built brachas (prays) were made so that nothing bad would happen during the construction blah blah blah. But, the failure in design, the inconvenient “go down, to go back up” was probably not planned for any specific religious reason. However, it satisfies spirituality in some ways because I am sure somewhere in some Jewish body of knowledge there must be a reference to landing on your ass before you can reach a spiritual high. The point is I now know what the keep in the catacombs of 770, a parking garage.

I'm My Own Grandma

Last night my friends and I decided that in the middle of the snow storm we would trek up Kingston Avenue, for a truly delightful meal at a tres chic Gehzee hotspot. To any normal person this is a simple task. But for me and my friends it takes careful planning. You see one of us has to make sure we have enough tissues. Its cold outside and well we get runny noses. And of course we need aleve for our aches and pains. Oh and then there are the snacks, just in case the stick your finger up your nose diabetes test comes back positive and our blood sugar gets low. Needless to say the preparation for going out ages us greatly. We might as well just start using walkers and canes now. Anyway, we finally made it to the restaurant and sat down for our meal. Now I am not going to critique the service...but we were there for over two hours. None of us minded, but SERIOUSLY two hours all we ordered were salads. Anyway we sat, we shmoozed, and someone sneezed. Then they sneezed again and again and again. The typical reaction ignore it or acknowledge it with the normal dark age response to sneezing, "God Bless You." I say dark ages because the origin of "God Bless You," dates back to a time when the common cold would cause death. Therefore, when you sneeze God should bless you not to get sick, contract the black plague, yada yada yada, and die (poo, poo, poo).
As a child superstition was very common concept in my home. We are Jews, so everything is bad luck. My grandmother was extremely superstitious. You know throw salt over your shoulder, don't step on a crank, and something about seven mirrors or bad luck or something like that. Whatever it was, my grandmother was always trying to make sure that the ayin hara (evil eye) was far far away. Part of her precautionary measures against the evil spirits was to make sure the give us extra blessings every time we sneezed. Yes that is right Grammy was living in the dark ages where if you sneeze, that might mean you have acold, and a cold means the black plague and well the black plague means death (poo, poo, poo). Therefore whenever a sneeze was heard my Grandmother would start "tzugehzunt, tzib laben, tzib voxen, nachamol, nachamol, nachamol." Again this is one of those Yiddish phrases you might just happen to see at Gupta's. This phrase as I have now learned from one of my favorite Gehzee sources (no sarcasm here, this one is really a favorite) means "To heath, to life, and to growth (upward not outward, ie spiritual growth) again and again and again." This is a pretty hefty blessing to give just for a sneeze, but it always made us laugh and so far we are all healthy, living, and growing (mostly outward).
Ok back to dinner. So someone sneezed. And then they sneezed again and again and again. So without even thinking, out came my Grandmother's favorite Yiddish blessing, to your health, to your life, to your growth, again and again and again ( I said it in Yiddish). My friends started cracking up. What in the world did I just say. A simple dark ages "God Bless You," would have been fine. But no, my Grandmother's words flew out of my mouth as if she had it all planned. My friend passed a tissue to the sneezer, and my other friend asked if they had a cold and need some aleve. We finished our salads, bundled back up and made our way out into the frozen tundra. Each one of us like a little old Grandma.

A Story From A Reader...Don't Assume

This story came to me from a friend/reader of the blog. Here it goes....
Just a few days ago a friend of mine was lucky enough to be the recipient of a few free lunches. Now I am not the type to say no to something free...its engrained in me I'm a Jew. This friend of mine is also a Jew...therefore it must be something in our blood. In any case free things are awesome and free food is even more awesome. Anyway back to the story. So, as this friend of mine was picking up her free lunch coupons, there happened to be two Chasidish women standing behind her in line. One woman looked at the other, and said (in Yiddish, which apparently in the real world is some kind of secret language of Jewish espionage)  "די גרויס פרוי אין די הויזן דאַזאַנט דאַרפֿן צו פרעסס." Basic translation, "The fat woman in the pants doesn't need to FRESS (eat like an animal as opposed to the yiddish word essen which refers to how humans eat). Now my friend speaks Yiddish, and these two holier than though women were in for a surprise. My friend heard and understood the statement. She turned around and look at them and said "איך פֿאַרשטיין אַ ביסל מאַמאַ לאָשען." Basic translation, "I can understand your bullshit." Then she called the two now shocked women "שמאַטע פּעדלאַר." Basic translation, "rag seller," which seems mild in context however, us Yiddish speakers know that its much worse. Because in Yiddish saying something like "I hope your hand gets stuck in a pickle jar," is as bad as putting a curse on someones home. Needless to say the women were embarrassed and my friend got the last laugh.
Moral of the story "DON'T ASSUME, IT MAKES AND ASS OUT OF U AND ME!"