For the Commenters

A quick note to those who leave comments: I really appreciate your feedback! I apologize if I am not timely in my responses, as Ben and Anakin make flying leaps for the laptop whenever I attempt to fire it up. 

Thank you for your patience! 

What a Difference a Shade Makes

It's amazing what you'll buy whilst half-asleep when a sale pops up in your feed. 

To clarify: IT Cosmetics (the website, not through Sephora) was having a 30% OFF SALE. Say whaaaaat? 

I can always use another tube or two of the illuminating cc+ cream, but I had not been happy with the shade of the Bye Bye Under Eye Concealer that I had. 10.5 was too light. I should have known better than to purchase the lightest shade; I'm not that fair. 

I pored over the online swatches, and their hefty descriptions of C, N, and W undertones, and got the 11. 

I wasn't sure how it would go; it was only .5 shade difference, right? 

That .5 makes a BIG difference, y'all. 

Now, the concealer (which has yellow undertones, which I need) blended seamlessly into the cc+ cream, instead of starkly contrasting. I squealed in delight to Han, who was very happy for me. 

The devil is in the details, people.

Understanding Vs. Empathy

I've been thinking a lot about the importance of personal experience versus detached observation. 

Example: Before Ma died, I was always awkward in a shiva house. I didn't really know what to say, what to do, and I'm sure my nervousness was obvious. 

Now? I'm part of the club. A shiva call, no sweat! Because, at least, the other person on that low chair knows that I know what it's like. I went to a shiva call for a relative, who had died suddenly. His children were already part of the tribe, repeating the stupidity that other callers came and spewed at them. 

It makes a difference, that shared understanding. 

Take the obvious one, "older singlehood." No matter how much those who married young say they understand, on some level they don't. Heck, I wouldn't have had! If I married at 21 I would have sadly shaken my head at the obviously picky catch who just can't let go of her unreasonable expectations. 

This applies in a multitude of areas.  

Take this one. It's a running joke how militant Ashkenazim can be over baby names. (I say Ashkenazim because Sephardim have a protocol to follow, while we do not.) 

Han and I are big believers in heritage, and we both consider it a great privilege to name our children after our grandparents (both Ben and Anakin are). But some new parents are affronted at any such expectation. "It's my child. How could my parents or in-laws expect me to use their choice of name? How dare they interfere!" 

What those new parents are missing is that they still have their own parents. They don't understand the toll of grief, and how a name can become so important to the one struggling with loss. For them, the name can be a comfort, a balm, to know their beloved's name will continue. 

So I've been concluding that it is impossible to truly understand another's painful journey unless we're in it, too. Empathy goes some distance, but we still don't speak the same lingo.

Tread carefully. And try not to judge too harshly.

Human Error

Recently, I made a pretty bad mistake. 

What was particularly frustrating was that this was the second time I've made this mistake. I had thought at the first incident that, at least, I would never make this mistake again. Well, there goes that theory. 

There are, BH, no epic, lasting consequences. But I have still been berating myself while Han insists that it's ok, to err is human. It could have been worse. Okely-dokely.

His logic was not sufficient for me. I was furious at myself for my carelessness, finding myself unworthy. 

This led me to ponder the nature of mistakes altogether, and whilst in bed, my thoughts unspooling, I had a vague image in my mind of Ben, one day, making a mistake, and what my response would be. 

My imaginary, future self said, "Even the avos made mistakes." 

That jolted me. Wait. Even the avos made mistakes. 

The avos and the imahos. Then Moshe, Aharon, Miriam, Dovid, etc. But they were still beloved by Hashem, and our icons.

While some believe that every action of our foreparents was perfection, I follow the school of many a rabbi that our ancestors were actually quite human, and prone to human error. 

There is a difference between aveiros and mistakes. But they did make boo-boos, which did have long-term consequences. 

They did the best they could at the time. It's easy to look back 2,500 years and nitpick, but I think that's not the point.

We are given the gift of teshuva and mechila in order to rectify our mistakes. Judaism doesn't demand perfection. It knows that's beyond each of us. But what about our gedolim? Some counter. They were perfection! 

Really? How do you know that? Biographers cannot be that honest, because any sort of attribution of humanity on our modern-day sages is considered slanderous (see the banning of "The Making of a Gadol," which Luke gleefully acquired before the price shot through the roof). 

Think a minute. If the ancients messed up, is it so improbable that the contemporaries have, too? 

I recall an interaction I had, close to 20 years ago, when I first started college. A classmate had discovered I was an observant Jew, and breathlessly asked "what happens" if I, say, mistakenly eat non-kosher. 

I shrugged. "Well, what can you do?"

She was puzzled. What did she expect? I would get struck by lightning? Dragged before a tribunal and flogged? 

We are expected to do our best. Even if our best can seem mediocre to others. But our best is our best.  

Another Devoted Fan of Double Cleansing

I had posted about cleansing quite a while back, and a comment gently chastised me I was going about it wrong. "Double cleansing," HH recommended. 

I have to say I was dubious. 

Any previous forays I had had with my face and oil had not ended well. I had once tried moisturizing with jojoba oil and had a terrible breakout. 

So it took some time for me to come around. Like a year or so. 

"Double cleansing" kept popping up everywhere, with stalwart enthusiasts. One of my favorite IG skincare gurus swears by it, and her skincare dragon is acne.  

For those who don't yet know, "double cleansing" is when an oil-based cleanser is used first to melt away the day's grime and makeup, and then once the skin is free of goop, a water-based cleanser comes along and washes away the oily residue. 

Eventually, I bought Palmer's Skin Therapy Cleansing Oil, and then ignored it for a few more months. Until I finally decided I was being ridiculous, what's the point in having it and not using it, and tremulously popped it open. 

Huh. Well, that actually worked.

My one lingering fear is that an oil cleanser will clog up my sink, as other cleansers have, so instead of rinsing it off I gently wipe it off my face with a wet paper towel. Then I follow up with Cerave Hydrating Foaming Cleanser. 

My skin feels wonderful afterward—soft and moisturized, not tight and squeaky. 

However, I once did have a chin breakout and I think it was because I hadn't washed off that area properly. So if prone to blemishes make sure to rinse off the oil-based cleanser well.