(no subject)

Last night, I finally saw that episode of Queer Eye with Adam Zalta (aka "The Jewish Guy.")

And I had fun with it. I don't just mean the normal fun of a QEftSG episode (or even the extra fun of my husband wondering if we could get them to do us - I'm serious. He was.) There was also the fun of "where is Adam on the spectrum." See, people told me that Adam was Orthodox, since his kitchen was kosher.

He's not. I'd place him as observant Conservative. It wasn't that he never wore a yarmulke, although that's suspect. It certainly wasn't that his wife did not cover her hair and wore a rather cute pantsuit in the end. Those could easily place her as Modern Orthodox.

The kosher kitchen could place them anywhere on the spectrum - there are nonreligious and Reform Jews who keep kosher kitchens. The mezuzot on the interior doors put them on the observant side of things, I *think*.

The real clues were that Ted gave them a nonkosher brand of champagne. The Conservative movement, for good and sufficient reasons, has decided that, other than for kiddush and Passover, wine need not be kosher. Or, rather, that all wine is permissible. This is because wine is no longer manufactured for idolworship. The Orthodox movement does not agree, so all wine must be kosher.

But the real telling moment was when Adam shaved. Orthodox Jewish men do not shave with blades. They consider that to be forbidden from the Torah. In earlier days, those men who didn't want beards used depilatories. These days, they use electric razors that mimic the action of scissors, and are thus acceptable. Adam had no problems using a regular bladed safety razor. (Also, and just on a personal note, I think he looked better unshaven. He just would need to shave the cheeks so it looks on purpose, not accidental.)

This, however, is something rather obscure, and not generally known outside the Jewish community.

I'm remember a Starsky and Hutch fic I read where the author gave Starsky a straight-edge razor that had been passed down in his family from the old country, and that's extremely unlikely. Nothing is impossible, of course, but it is unlikely. And it's equally unlikely that the writer of the story would know that, or even think to ask - it's not a reasonble thing for someone to ask.

(no subject)

( Quiz Time! )

11th of September

Which, I believe, should be the name of the day. Or 9/11. Patriot Day - maybe Todd Beamer, etal. on Flight 93, in their astounding act of heroism, were being patriots. The fireman and policemen and rescue workers in New York, and those who came from elsewhere to help - they were being *human*. They were showing the best side of being human after being shown the worst. But they weren't doing it to be patriotic. They were doing it because it was what they did.

And we will not speak of those who hijacked those planes and turned those innocent souls into weapons.

My memories of the day. I feel kinda *odd*. I'm a New Yorker. I spent the day a mile away from the attacks, safely in my office. I didn't pass out water. I did let people use the office phones and bathroom - we're storefront, so people could just walk in.

I didn't see anything. I didn't hear anything. I got my information from the web and radio and TV. I wasn't even awake when the first plane hit. I didn't watch the towers fall.

And I'm glad of all of that. I've seen the videos too many times. I spent the day on IRC, chatting and trying to be calm, and connecting, and making sure the people I knew were all right, and saying psalms because there's nothing else I could have done. Not right then.

It didn't really hit home for me until the next night. Jonathan and I had gone to a favorite restaurant for dinner, one that took us on the F-line, and on the elevated tracks. One of the nice parts of the elevated station on 18th Ave, where the restaurant is, is the view of lower Manhattan.

And instead of the two towers we were used to, there was a great plume of smoke, and that smoke was blowing directly over Park Slope, where we lived at the time. And all I could think was, "There are souls up there." Not all of them Americans (another thing that makes the name "Patriot Day" a joke), but all of them *people* with family and friends and people who loved them.

The fires burned for months afterwards.

There's a hole in our sky.

And mostly, I'm still angry at the men who murdered so many people at once.

(no subject)

I just got a phone call from my mother-in-law - which was basically the opposite of the phone call I got from her last night. Last night, she'd waited all day for the hospital to get a piece of equipment it shares with another hospital. In anticipation of surgery, she hadn't eaten.

By the time they got the equipment, they had to postpone the surgery until today. So they fed her.

A ham sandwich.

Grrr. Insult to injury, right?

However, *today* - today she had the surgery, under a general when the local proved to be ineffective. And it went very well. She's much more comfortable now that the bones have been pinned and she only has a soft cast - and she'll be able to sleep in a bed at home, too. And they gave her a kosher meal, and a nice fruit cup. It's wonderful news.

She should be home tomorrow.

Thank goodness.

Oh.

Tova Batya bat Tzvia, for those who wish to pray.