Reasons #3721 and #3722 for making aliyah

Warning: The following post may exceed the recommended daily allowance for overt “I-made-aliyah-and-therefore-I’m-so-great” smugness. Proceed at your own risk.

In a hopeless attempt at making it up to you for the long weeks months years that I’ve been shamelessly neglecting this blog, I present not one but TWO (count ‘em! two!) reasons for making aliyah.

The first is fairly prosaic; the second approaches the sublime.

1) Reason #3721 for making aliyah

9:26 PM – Israel time – Motzai Yom Kippur 5775.

At that exact moment, our dear friends and family back in the States were nearing the end of the Yom Kippur Musaf service with visions of, well, just about anything edible, really, dancing in their heads, as Hamlet-like, they were mentally running through their options. (“To go home or NOT to go home during the break – THAT is the question…”)

Meanwhile, half a world away, here in TRLEOOB (=the real life equivalent of our blog), we had not only returned from shul after Maariv, made havdalah, enjoyed a delicious break-fast meal (potato soup and lasagna, thank you for asking), and put up our beautiful succah by that time, but we had even managed to post photographic evidence of said completed succah on the extended Shiputzim family’s WhatsApp group – thereby confirming our victory in the highly-competitive “Who Can Get Their Succah Up First” competition.

2) Reason #3722 for making aliyah

One word: Shmitah.

B”H, this is the third shmitah year since we made aliyah, which means that once again, we have the truly incredible privilege of partaking of peyrot shviit (shmitah produce).

For example, last night’s supper included this:

A package of otzar beit din lettuce from Otzar HaAretz

A close-up of the Otzar HaAretz label

Our custom-decorated shmitah receptacle

“וְהָיְתָה שַׁבַּת הָאָרֶץ לָכֶם לְאָכְלָה לְךָ וּלְעַבְדְּךָ וְלַאֲמָתֶךָ וְלִשְׂכִירְךָ וּלְתוֹשָׁבְךָ הַגָּרִים עִמָּךְ. וְלִבְהֶמְתְּךָ וְלַחַיָּה אֲשֶׁר בְּאַרְצֶךָ תִּהְיֶה כָל תְּבוּאָתָהּ לֶאֱכֹל.”

“And the Shabbat of the land shall be yours to eat, for you and for your servant and for your maidservant, and for your hired worker and for your resident who live with you. And for your animal and for the beast that is in your land: all its produce shall be to eat.”
(Vayikra 25:6-7)

Beep, beep

It seems that I owe you an apology.

I mean, here you are, waiting on tenterhooks for nearly a week to find out what time we finished putting up our succah on Motzai Yom Kippur, and yet I STILL haven’t said a word on the subject.

The thing is that I’ve been embarrassed.

After all, most years – thanks to the combined efforts of the amazing Shiputzim kids as well as various and sundry honorary members of the family, who graciously stick around after Yom Kippur and lend a hand – the work is done by 9:00 PM.

This year, however, our succah wasn’t up until… well, until 10:00 PM. {hangs head in shame}

But the truth is that it’s not our fault.

No, in this case, the blame goes to the country’s legislative and executive powers-that-be.

You see, not content with making both of last week’s fasts that much more difficult, these illustrious politicians also felt the need to mess with the annual “Who Can Get Their Succah Up First” competition.

Apparently, they hoped that by waiting to change the clocks until October, they would somehow burnish their cosmopolitan, citizens-of-the-world reputations.

One can easily picture the scene.

Channeling their inner Wile E. Coyote, they gleefully rub their collective hands and then gingerly open a large crate labeled:

“Acme Kit for Enacting Insufficiently-Thought-Out Laws.
Guaranteed to have unintended consequences, or your money back!”

Because not ones to let past experience get in the way of future expectations, they’re certain that THIS time they’ve finally figured out a way to nab the Road Runner and “prove” that we’re just like any other country on the planet.

“Now the world will finally love us!” they exult as they give each other high-fives. “After all, we’re going to put our clocks back on the very. same. day. AS GREECE…”

!שבת שלום ומועדים לשמחה

May you and your families have a wonderful and joyous Succot!

P.S. Have you seen our succah on wheels? If you missed it, here are some exterior and interior views.

A modest proposal

Shanah tovah!

By a show of hands, who is in favor of the following proposal:

Every one of our illustrious politicians who voted to extend daylight savings time into October – and thereby added a very unwelcome extra hour to today’s fast – should be forced to fast for an additional TWO hours this evening…

And in the meantime, in keeping with a long-standing Our Shiputzim tradition, here’s the requisite fast day food post:

As I’ve noted several times, the dessert situation tends to improve dramatically here in TRLEOOB (=the real life equivalent of our blog) during the summer months, when the talented Shiputzim bakers have some extra time on their hands.

This past summer, one of the aforementioned bakers whipped up these yummy treats:

Chewy Chocolate Chip Granola Bars

Adapted from here.

Ingredients

• 1/3 cup canola oil
• 1 cup brown sugar
• ¼ cup sugar
• 2 TBSP honey
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 egg
• 1 cup flour
• ½ tsp cinnamon
• ½ tsp baking powder
• pinch of salt
• 1½ cups oats
• 1¼ cups rice krispies
• 1 cup chopped almonds
• 1½ cups chocolate chips

Directions

Combine the oil and the sugars. Mix in honey, vanilla, and the egg. Add flour, cinnamon, baking powder, and salt. Add oats, rice krispies, almonds, and chocolate chips.

Spread the batter into a baking-paper-lined 9x13 pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes or until the bars are lightly browned.

Cut into bars and let cool in pan.

!צום קל ומועיל

If only I had time to blog…

If I wasn’t busy shamelessly neglecting my blog, here are a couple of things I’d probably be writing about:

1) With good reason, the Israeli Olympic swimmers’ extremely impressive achievements have been the talk of the country

But as far as the Shiputzim family is concerned, the best part of the Olympic swimming competitions is Moshe Gartel, Israel Television’s colorful and entertaining commentator, whose amusing sayings never fail to crack us up.

For instance, two nights ago, during the semi-finals, Gartel memorably begged an Israeli swimmer’s international competitors to slow down.

“What do you care?” he asked the swimmers (who obviously couldn’t hear him and wouldn’t have understood the Hebrew anyway). “Won’t you let a Jewish boy advance to the next level?”

And earlier in the week, when a different Israeli swimmer entered the arena, he burst into song (yes, on air!) and greeted her with the words, “Ta’aleh v’tavo, ta’aleh v’tavo…”

Many more of Gartel’s gems can be found here.

2) A few weeks ago, we lost power here in TRLEOOB*.

Ever mindful of my civic duty ever reluctant to spend more than a few minutes sans air conditioning, I called the electric company to report the blackout and to check how long it would last.

As expected, I was immediately put on hold.

And that’s when I made a surprising discovery: Apparently, someone over there at the electric company reads Our Shiputzim!

I mean, why else would s/he graciously provide me with a bit of much-needed blog fodder?

You see, as I was waiting on the phone, a recorded voice came on the line and informed me that all the operators were busy.

Then, after apologizing for the delay and thanking me for my patience, the voice suggested that I could save time by heading over to the electric company’s website. (“DAAA-bell-yoo, DAAA-bell-yoo, DAAA-bell-yoo. Nekudah. Aye, Eee, See. Nekudah. See, Oh. Nekudah. Aye, Ell.”)

Normally, this would’ve been very good advice, but under the circumstances (see: the dictionary definition of “electricity blackout”), I could access neither my computer nor our wireless network…

But I certainly appreciated the gesture, and it’s always nice to meet an Our Shiputzim fan – even if that fan is only an automatic voice recording.

 

And so, dear readers, there you have it: the blog post I would’ve written – if only I’d had the time…

________________

*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

Stick ‘em up

Israeli schoolkids tend to mark the passing seasons with new recess pastimes.

For instance, as spring gives way to summer, Israeli boys - with a final, loving glance – put their prized collections of marbles (aka gulot, for the Hebraically-oriented among you) away on the shelf.

Because now it’s time for… apricot pits. (Here in our neighborhood, they’re known as gogo’im, but apparently, they go by other names elsewhere. What are they called in your community?)

Yes, apricot pits.

As is always the case this time of year, elementary school boys across the country spend all their free time kneeling in the dust as they flick, roll, and toss gogo’im. (The objective and precise rules of the game continue to elude me. Please consult your local authority for details.)

<interesting cultural note> This is one of those charming and ironic anachronisms of Israeli life: Seeing as the Tzena (the Austerity period of the 1950’s) has B”H been over for some time, one would assume that most parents can now afford to purchase store-bought marbles – as evidenced by the fact that the boys play with them all winter. And yet, every summer like clockwork, the kids ditch the real thing in favor of the poor man’s ersatz substitute… </note>

Meanwhile, over on the girls’ side of a certain school yard, stickers (i.e. madbeikot  - not to be confused with stickerim, which generally refer to bumper stickers specifically) are currently the latest craze – especially in the younger grades.

Unlike gogo’im, which, let’s face it, are kind of dull to look at, madbeikot come in many different sizes, shapes, colors, and varieties.

Thus, the Our Shiputzim Editorial Board is very proud to present:

The Official Stickers Lexicon

Note: For full accuracy and authenticity, try deliberately mispronouncing each of the following in mileil (i.e. with the accent on the first syllable) instead of in the grammatically-correct milra (i.e. with the accent on the final syllable).

Pushtim: Classic, flat stickers. From the word pashut (פשוט) – i.e simple or plain.

Badim: Soft, almost fabric-like stickers. From the word bad (בד) – i.e. cloth or material.

Boltim: Puffy stickers. From the word boleit (בולט) – i.e. protrude.
According to my sources, boltim can be divided into 3 subcategories:

• Kariyot: Regular puffy stickers. From the word karit (כרית) – i.e. pillow or cushion.
• Klickim: Puffy stickers that make a “clicking” sound when one squeezes them.
• Gulot: Small, rounded stickers that resemble, in the words of one expert, “half a marble.” From the word gulah (גולה) – i.e. marble (see above).

What do the girls do with their stickers?

Well, whether it’s during recess or after school, they can be found poring over each other’s sticker books as they engage in the time-honored ritual known as “trading” in English and “switching” in Heblish…

Have gogo’im and madbeikot made their annual appearance in your neighborhood yet?

_______________

P.S. The latest Kosher Cooking Carnival is available here. Special thanks to Northern Lights for including my ganache-covered brownies.

The Parental Guide to Sherut Leumi

By all accounts, Sherut Leumi (National Service) is generally a rewarding and enjoyable experience for the young volunteers.

But the application process the year before?

Well, that’s a completely different story. An absurd, ridiculous, and downright inane story. A story that often involves disappointment, frustration, and even tears.

A story that begs for a blog post of its own…

And thus, we here at Our Shiputzim proudly present:

The Official Sherut Leumi Lexicon

Shministit (שמיניסטית) – Literally, one belonging to the shminit – i.e. the eighth. Refers to a high school senior (fem.). The term is actually a vestigial throwback to the gymnasia system. The first form was the equivalent of today’s fifth grade, and the final – or eighth – form corresponded to today’s twelfth grade.

Bat sherut (בת שרות) – A Sherut Leumi volunteer.

Agudah (אגודה) – Literally, an association. Refers to one of the Sherut Leumi supervisory organizations. There are currently three primary agudot which cater exclusively to National-Religious young women. Each agudah has a separate catalogue of Sherut Leumi positions throughout the country. (Although three agudot may seem like overkill, competition between the three actually benefits the bnot sherut.)

K’sherit/Megasheret/Mekasharet (קשרית\מגשרת\מקשרת) - Literally, a liaison. (Yes, there are – at least – three different names for the same thing…) Refers to the agudah’s representative who comes to the ulpanot and helps the shministiyot figure out what they want to do during Sherut Leumi. Each agudah sends its own mekasheret, and thus the shministiyot have to meet with all three mekashrot. The mekashrot are often young and inexperienced (our neighbor’s 21-year-old daughter currently works as a mekasheret in a local ulpanah) and tend to come up with rather amusing suggestions for the girls. (I’ll leave it to A Mother in Israel to elaborate…)

Teken (תקן) – Literally, a standard. Refers to a Sherut Leumi position. Different institutions have different numbers of tkanim. In other words, the number of tkanim an institution has is the number of bnot sherut that institution can hire for the following year.

Popular positions – Certain Sherut Leumi positions are considered to be highly desirable. This reputation is largely undeserved and is based solely on hearsay. In practice, this means that shministiyot applying to any of these positions are likely to face rejection…

Sayaret (סיירת) – Literally, a reconnaissance tour. The shministiyot go on sayarot in order to check out potential positions and to be interviewed. Each institution is only allowed to invite a limited number of candidates to a particular sayeret. The precise number is determined by the number of tkanim.

Dirat sherut (דירת שרות) – The apartment where the bnot sherut live during their Sherut Leumi year.

Rakezet (רכזת) - The local coordinator or supervisor who takes care of the bnot sherut and the dirat sherut. The rakezet is employed by the agudah.

Website – Where the shministiyot must register for most of the sayarot (except for the ones that require preregistration, advance registration, and/or special invitation…). Registration begins at a specific time on a specific day. In recent years, it’s been at 6:00 PM on a given Tuesday. Which means that starting at 5:30 PM on that fateful day, girls across the country sit in front of their computers, hands hovering above their keyboards, as they wait anxiously for H-Hour to arrive - so they can quickly register for a sayaret at one of the popular positions before all the spots fill up.

“We upgraded our system, and it won’t crash.”- A statement made by an agudah official to a group of parents at a certain ulpanah earlier this year. Note that she said this without the slightest hint of irony – even though this is exactly what the agudot insisted last year… and the year before that… and the year before that… Also note that this year, out of the three agudot, only one’s system did in fact crash – and was down for over two hours - on that critical Tuesday evening: The very same agudah whose official made the aforementioned claim…

“What a crazy system!” – A phrase uttered repeatedly by, er, a certain Anglo mother of my acquaintance over the past few months…

What would you add to this lexicon?

And in conclusion, this blog’s editorial board and writing staff would like to take this opportunity to extend a hearty mazal tov to our favorite shministit, who recently, um, closed on (sorry, but the English just doesn’t have quite the same connotation as the Heblish…) a very exciting position for next year IY”H.

Best wishes to her and her classmates for continued success in all their future endeavors!

Tu B’Shvat 5772

Leora asked a number of Israeli bloggers – including yours truly - to share some thoughts on Tu B’Shvat. Here’s what I came up with:

Growing up in the States, Tu B'Shvat was simply a day to eat (or, more likely, NOT to eat... :-)) a bit of tasteless dry fruit - typically, the ubiquitous and rather unappetizing "bukser" (dried carob) – and perhaps sing a few listless rounds of “Eretz Chitah U’Se’orah,” a song extolling the Shivat HaMinim (the Seven Species):

“A Land of wheat and barley and grapevine and fig and pomegranate; a Land of oil-producing olives and date-honey.” (Devarim 8:8)

But here in Israel, Tu B'Shvat is so much more than that. </reason #7811 for making aliyah>

On a practical level, according to the Talmud, Tu B’Shvat marks the beginning of the new agricultural year – which has halachic significance for those of us who are fortunate to have fruit trees in our backyards – and in many schools, it marks the beginning of the spring semester.

Tu B’Shvat is also the day when kids across the country head outdoors and plant trees, and it’s the day when many families celebrate lovely Tu B’Shvat Seders.

But mainly, Tu B'Shvat is a time to appreciate Eretz Yisrael and its myriad incredible blessings.

It’s a time to thank Hashem for the privilege of living here in this beautiful Land and having the ability to fulfill the mitzvot hat’luyot baAretz (a special category of mitzvot which can only be observed in Eretz Yisrael).

On most days, we’re so busy living life that we forget to stop and recognize all the amazing wonders which surround us here in Israel.

Tu B’Shvat is a perfect opportunity to do just that.

Happy Tu B’Shvat!

For more Tu B’Shvat reflections, be sure to check out Leora's post. 

Season finale

…And so ends yet another successful (according to all accounts) “early Shabbat” season.

But first, before I get ahead of myself, a bit of background for the uninitiated:

As I noted elsewhere, here in TRLEOOB (=the real life equivalent of our blog), we’re huge fans of starting Shabbat early on summer Friday afternoons, and in addition, YZG has been serving as the gabbai of our local early minyan for many years now. (Check out my original early Shabbat post for further details.)

</bit of background>

Apparently, many (myself included) were somewhat surprised that the season was ending already. After all, we won’t be changing the clock for a while.

But, as YZG explained, it’s a psychological thing.

You see, on a typical week, our community’s early Shabbat minyan boasts about 50-75 congregants.

In fact, some people even walk over from other neighborhoods, where they don’t have their own early minyan.

However, as soon as minchah dips below 5:30 PM, attendance drops dramatically.

Even many regulars, who never miss a single week throughout the entire summer, feel that 5:25 (which is when minchah would have been this coming Shabbat) is simply too early for them.

Which brings me back to the beginning of this post and the fact that this past Shabbat was the early Shabbat minyan’s season finale.

When did/will your community’s early Shabbat minyan go on winter hiatus?

P.S. The latest Haveil Havalim is available here. Special thanks to Ima2Seven for including my Ein Afek post.

Kol oto halaylah

Are you aware that Israel spans two time zones?

{ignores the quizzical looks}

Probably not, but don’t beat yourself up over it.

{smiles condescendingly}

After all, most people aren’t.

Nevertheless, it’s quite true.

{nods earnestly in a hopeless attempt to make the following barefaced lie creative interpretation of the facts slightly more credible}

You see, there’s Israel Standard Time, which covers most of the country, and then there’s Bnei Brak Standard Time, which includes, well, Bnei Brak…

However, since I sense that you’re still somewhat skeptical, the Our Shiputzim Editorial Board sent its roving reporter out to R’ Akiva’s old stomping grounds on two separate occasions to document Bnei Brak’s unique approach to the fourth dimension:

1. Morning: On a burning hot summer day [note to self: from now on, schedule all back-to-school shopping expeditions for January], our reporter noted that as of 10 AM, many of Bnei Brak’s numerous shops (especially the sefarim stores) hadn’t yet opened for business.

2. Night: After leaving a Bnei Brak wedding hall at about 11:30 PM, our reporter observed crowded streets and entire families – including young children – going out for what would elsewhere be referred to as leisurely midnight strolls.

How can we explain these glaring discrepancies between the clocks in Bnei Brak and the clocks in the rest of Israel?

That’s easy.

Obviously, it dates back to R’ Elazar et al, who – as the Haggadah famously teaches – were sitting  in Bnei Brak and stayed awake talking all night.

Coincidence?

I don’t think so…