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.  

Who Knows Best?

"The Women's Balcony" has been on my to-watch list for quite a while, and then I saw that it was now free on Prime. Chap arein! 

It was a charming movie, but it also made me think. 

The premise (SPOILERS AHEAD, ABANDON SHIP) is about a small, Sephardi (I think) shul in Israel. The film opens with a Shabbos bar mitzvah, and the close community are all trooping to shul, carrying various dishes of food to contribute to the festivities. 

That scene was so lovely. A beautiful, idyllic family of shul members, all uniting in a simcha.

But then the ezras nashim collapses, and the shul has to be closed. As their beloved, elderly rabbi falls into a funk, a young, more chareidi model wiggles in, and the men are initially taken with him. He preaches that the women should be covering their hair. That the women should repent, because after all, it was their section that was destroyed. 

Soon the members are divided. The wives are furious at their husbands. Friends are turning on friends—all in the name of halacha. 

Eventually, the new rabbi oversteps, and he is ousted, and the shul returns to its former tranquility. 

We learned in school, that if you see someone doing wrong you should tell them so—but only if you know they will hear you. Then again, "an imperfect peace is better than a perfect controversy." 

What is supposed to be our focus? To ensure that everyone else is following the law somewhat correctly, or should we hold hands and sing kumbaya?

Ma would oft say, "Your guf, and my neshama," meaning it is not our business where other people stand spiritually. We should only be concerned, at most, for others' physical safety. I'm of the same opinion, that it is not my place to be judge and jury, to decide that others are transgressing and must repent to specifically my ways. 

My vote is with kumbaya.

Information Overload

Trying to stay on top of what's new and happening in the skincare/makeup velt, I'm getting bombarded with social media terminology. 

First: "Slugging." Slugging is when the skin needs some loving downtime, and after applying moisturizer and somesuch, a layer of thick jelly, like Vaseline, is shmeared on top to seal everything in. 

Sounds icky. 

Second: "Skin cycling." This is when instead of applying certain products nightly, there is a rotation instead, to allow for "repair." 

Thirdly: "Gritting." I gotta say, I'm taken with this one, except I don't have the time/energy/patience to properly see it through. It's the idea that oily buildup on the skin will only dissolve with another oil, so if one were to massage the face for 20 minutes with a cleansing oil or regular oil, blackheads and pore-clogging gunk will eventually float up to the surface. 

Sounds like witchcraft. 

I also follow a number of dermatologists, who thankfully clarify what makes sense and what doesn't, as a lot of the people peddling these methods aren't exactly professionals. 

There is a lot of information out there. There are accounts for weight loss advocating no carbs, all carbs, only fruits, all foods but with intuition. There are recipes galore and the developers are constantly "obsessed" with their creations. There are sleep training accounts and anti-sleep training accounts. Then there's the ones with the best way to keep your home clean. The baby-lead weaning ones really freak me out, because I am not making my baby three course meals three times a day. I don't eat that well!

There is a barfing barrage of information spewing out there, and they can't all be right. 

Some of it I read and think, "Sounds ok in theory, but it doesn't work for me." Take the new trend of "gentle parenting." It's all about validating your children's feelings but still guiding them to better behavior. This new way involves so much talking. I kinda prefer Ma's European way of doing things: The Look. Done. 

That's not to say that just because it isn't for me that it's not for anyone else. Meaning: we all have to do what works for us. I am not into charcuterie boards (I can barely pronounce the word correctly) but I am into making my own tomato sauce (from tomato paste, it takes quicker than you think). We each choose our own patchke.

So don't take everyone so seriously. It may work for them, and not for you.

Indian Matchmaking" Reactions IIII

 While doing some googling to see if any of the couples featured in the past season are still together, I came across this TIME article which had some grumblings about the show. 

Let's see . . . does Sima accommodate the men more than women? Oh, yeah, sure, like every other shadchan, nothing new there. She's also more old-world, and she seems to have trouble navigating the new one. She's constantly displayed here as the savior of all, but there's only one couple this season who's met a potential someone because of her. Either it didn't work for everyone else or they met their someone through family, friends, or on their own. 

But the article grumbled how the people coming to her are asking for someone from a similar background, and how bad that is. They make it seem like it's a form of racism. 

Now this is amusing. I'm all for diversity, people, but marriage is a whole other ball game. 

Take me. I had told people that it would be nice if the guy would be heimish (that's HI-mish, not HAY-mish. The latter is a Scottish name). Unless the other person was heimish, they had no idea what I meant. Some thought I meant chassidish, but no, it is not chassidish, and chassidus definitely does not work for me. 

On the show, Viral asked for a man with the same background as her, Gujarati, including fluency in the language. There is something to speaking the same lingo as your life partner. I, for example, am fluent in Yinglish (cough). Along with that are also certain cultural values. 

There are many happy couples in our world who are "intercultural"; Sephardi and Ashkenazi is just one example. I found a divide with boys from American backgrounds. Yes, I am an American born, but I was European raised, and that makes a difference. It just does. 

I was told not to be hung up on it, and I never used it as a reason to decline the date. But when we would meet, conversation would flounder. We weren't able to understand each other's perspective. 

I was one of those people that shared background was important. It's not important to everyone. Some people enjoy such differences, the exoticness of an unfamiliar culture. Cool cool. 

But let's not call such a preference "ethnocentrism."

"Indian Matchmaking" Reactions III

Rejection. It sucks. 

It's also a large part of dating, whether one is the rejector or the rejectee. Either way, it's not pleasant. 

In my dating years, I was beyond stressed about rejecting someone. For the most part, I could tell off the bat that it wasn't shayach and felt no need to go on a second date. It wasn't until I found out from my dating kinfauna that there is an "obligatory" two-date minimum, to which I respond, "Whah?" 

I had thought, that if I knew this wasn't going anywhere, why raise someone else's hopes up needlessly with another date? Because here's the thing: there is no way to make rejection better. A "no" after two dates isn't more palatable than a "no" after one. I'm saying this from the other side, that rejection sucks, plain and simple. 

On the show, there were two examples of people who were both in the position of rejector and rejectee: Nadia and Vinesh. 

Nadia had been seeing Shekar, who is considered to be a nice, steady guy. But then Vishal walks into a mixer, and well . . . let's just say Vishal is striking. He's tall, gorgeous, and has the same cheerful energy Nadia is known for. But he's seven years younger than her.

So Nadia starts claiming that Shekar didn't seem to be that interested, and calls him to break up with him. She even tells him that she felt like he was "rejecting" her. Shekar seems blindsided, and denies it, but ultimately accepts her decision with grace. He then hangs up the phone and cries. 

Nadia is then bouncing along with Vishal, happy as a clam, until he flies out to see her. She is looking at him with excitement and expectation. He does not look at her the same way. He then proceeds to break up with her. 

Nadia, stunned, does not accept his decision gracefully. She snaps and snarls. Initially, I was taken with her sassiness. But then recalled: she rejected Shekar, and hoped he would take it ok. Yet when she is rejected, the claws come out. 

Well well. 

Then there is Vinesh. Vinesh is cheerful, loud, and jokes a lot (his jokes are not always funny). He is first matched with Mosum, who matches his energy, but she's not so focused on appearances. Vinesh asks her for her number after they meet, but then tells the screen that he asked for it to be polite, that he does not intend to date her (he does know that Mosum will hear this, right? This is international programming). 

Later, he's set up Meena, who, dare I say it, is smokin'. From her perfectly blown hair, fake lashes, and low cut cleavage, she is striking. But it's obvious that she does not appreciate Vinesh's humor. Vinesh, smitten with her looks, proclaims that the date went well, while Meena thinks otherwise. 

When told that Meena felt "friendship rather than romance" (this is the show code for "no way Jose"), Vinesh looks stricken. It takes him a few minutes to recover. 

It seems, for both these people, it's perfectly reasonable to be the rejector. After all, if it's not meant to be, if they're not feeling it, they just gotta be honest, y'know? They don't give the other people much thought. But when they're being rejected . . . it's a whole other ball game. REJECTION SUCKS. 

Rejection, in all forms, sucks. It sucks when you try to talk to someone new and they scurry away from you. It sucks when you apply to a school and they don't accept you. It sucks when your credit card gets rejected. It just sucks, overall. 

There are some people who so don't want to reject someone else that they just marry them. That really could have been me, if there wasn't a shadchan to do my dirty work. I would not have survived to have a happy union if I had to tell someone directly "I like you like a friend." 

So while there are times when rejection is necessary, please remember: try to be as kind as possible.

"Indian Matchmaking" Reactions II

Pradhyuman was a problem in Season 1. He was, by all accounts, too picky. Siiiigh. 

He was unrealistic. He was too demanding. He did not understand that he cannot get everything. He rejected 150 suggestions (I think that's less than Han dated).

At the end of the season, he FINALLY goes out with someone who looks compatible, and the music swells hopefully. But as the credits roll, we're informed that it didn't take.

Ay, Pradhyuman. What are we to do with you? Tsk tsk. 

Then, much to my surprise, Season 2 opens with Pradhyuman beaming, gushing about his girlfriend that he met at a party. He's floating on air. 

A few episodes in, he eagerly prepares the engagement setup—with no one shoving him—and of his own free will, proposes to his beloved. 

Huh.

Now, I gotta admit, I had been a nay-sayer. I had also thought that Pradhyuman was one of those really impossible ones that will end up alone with his cats because he's just not being amenable. 

But here we are, with him blissfully committed. 

There are numerous stories like this, about seemingly "impossible" singles, who everyone sighs and moans and predicts doom and gloom and then—the moon hits their eye like a big pizza pie and it's AMORE. 

Maybe they weren't being impossible. Maybe they were just . . . waiting for the right one.