My Big Fat Imaginary Wedding

I have some plans for my as-yet-to-be-realized wedding. Flowers: Pink and green. Gown: Slight drop waist, exploding into a multitude of tulle layers. Family color theme: None, but there should be a riot of jewel tones, sapphire blues and emerald greens. 

Via sprout-flowers.com

I like to plan ahead. In our world, the time between dating, engagement, and marriage can be a matter of months. Might as well have some idea of what one likes, no? But I don't think of my wedding with any sort of deep yearning; I don't consider a bedazzled do to be imperative. 

When I think about a wedding, I think of it as a separate entity from marriage. When I think of wedded bliss, I picture myself looking like hell in an apartment with too little kitchen space, yelling at my spouse to kindly take out the garbage.

Unless one was royalty, weddings were modest affairs. Couples in old movies would get engaged, then walk around the corner to city hall, wet and bedraggled from the romantic rain they were just soaked in that made them see each other in a whole new beloved light. 

Once two people decided they were for each other, that was it. No party-planning. No gown-shopping. No talk about princess- or emerald-cut. Marriage was . . . marriage. Unglamorous, everydayish, but still special to the couple alone.  Even with the garbage. 

I'm not sure who started the big-wedding-trend—5-year-old girls toting nuptial scrapbooks?—but from reality to reality shows, "the wedding of the century" is in. We are into it, too. 

Abby Ellin reports in "Blame the Princess" of women who have no guy, but wedding plans (oh, like me, gulp). 

Never mind the bleak statistics on marriage (about 45 percent end in divorce). Many women still dream, feverishly, about their wedding, even those with no groom or boyfriend in sight. They pin photos of fantasy event spaces, dresses and flowers on Pinterest; they design their ideal engagement rings on sites like Ritani.com; they turn to MyKnot, Lover.ly and Project Wedding for ideas on invitations, gift registries and seating charts. . .

A 2014 study conducted by Brides magazine found that approximately 25 percent of its readers are not yet engaged. In 2013, 37 percent of the brides who visited TheKnot.com did not have a fiancé.

Not such a problem, I would think . . . until they ask the bummer experts. 

Women are planning the show before the script is written and “before the leading man shows up,” [Dr. Sue Johnson] said. She understands the desire for companionship. Marriage, she said, “speaks to our longing for connection and our fear of aloneness.” But, she added, the emphasis on weddings and marriage is also somewhat dangerous . . . 

“Weddings are moments when gendered ideas become really clear,” [Emily Fairchild, sociologist] said. “A wedding is a coup for women, because they’ve met their gendered expectation. By having a wedding, you prove your worthiness, your womanness, in a way that a man doesn’t need to. A man can be a man by having a job, in ways that aren’t tied to his family.”

But Dr. Patrick Markey is less alarmist. 

“Women tend to be more selective when picking a mate and have a greater desire for monogamy and a stable relationship than men,” he said. “Thus, they are more likely to dream of a wedding, which symbolizes this desire.”

The wedding-minded women in the article are quick to blame Disney. Every girl wants to be a princess, and all Disney princesses married. But Disney didn't invent the fairy tale. They've been around for hundreds of years to keep women meek and biddable (be a good girl and be an unpaid servant, and maybe one day a gorgeous, rich man will rescue you). 

Not so long ago it was the dream of every women to marry, gain social status as a "wife," and run a house of her own with the support of a good provider, as Professor Ruth Bottigheimer observes.

The fuss over marriage isn't new. It's the fuss over weddings. 

Here's the clincher: 

“If I don’t get married, I’ll feel like I failed. I have career goals and my own personal goals, and they are important to me, but on my deathbed, if you asked me whether I wished I’d been on Broadway or had a family, I’d say 100 percent had a family.”

Yeah . . . but you don't need a destination celebration in order to have a family. 

"Thou Shalt Teach Them Diligently"

"Down a sunny dirt road, deep in Bear Country . . ." 

So went the first days of Pesach. I own nearly every The Berenstain Bears book (I recommend classic Stan & Jan over later Mike versions), and was doomed to read them all. 

But how could I be remotely irritated when two cuddly little boys are snuggled into my sides, immobile, rapt? Us three were tucked beneath a down cover (that I thoughtfully fetched) on that chilly day for quite some time. My childhood memories of my siblings' rattling monotone when they would read to me ensured that I availed my voice of inflection; I made sure Farmer Ben was reenacted with a Southern drawl. 

"Lea read us a billion books!" one excitedly informed his mother. 

"A billion and one," I corrected. 

"Lea's so cute," he cooed fondly. 

On the second days, Luke's near-three-year-old discovered the stash of sturdy "board books," and he, too, sagged into jelly on my lap as I read and read and read. 

A few weeks ago there was an Op-Ed piece urging women to donate their breast milk to mothers who are unable to provide it, especially in light of studies showing higher academic achievement amongst those who were breast-fed. But, there was a letter from a pediatrician. She wrote that while it is a nice idea, the financial resources needed to screen and distribute the milk would be better spent encouraging mothers to read to their children. 

With scarce national resources for many families in need, and while recognizing that “breast is best,” increased intelligence and opportunity might be facilitated more effectively by community support of the extraordinary nutritive factors in the close, exploratory contact engendered by reading between mother and child.

There is more than one way to increase a bond and to pump up intelligence. The Berenstain Bears are available on Amazon. I have not yet met a child who didn't like them, mussar regardless.    

Num-num-num-num

There's a new Cookie on the street.

Friday Links

1) As a the only idiot who volunteered to sweep the classroom during lunch, I think that our schools, which tend to hemorrhage money, could kill two Stormtroopers with one laser blast by following the example of this private, faith-based school in Tennessee.

For one thing, students wouldn't make the mess in the first place if they are the ones who have to clean it up.    

2) David Brooks, one of my favorite thinkers/writers, came out with a new book called The Road to Character, which I plan on purchasing in the immediate future. He was interviewed in a number of places, including Charlie Rose. He quotes Rav Soloveitchik, giggle.

  

In the first few minutes of the interview, he talks about moments when one's heart opens up, "when time stands still, when reality overspills its barriers, and you experience a wave of gratitude . . . you become aware of a higher moral joy that is better than anything you get in career." 

For him, it was when he arrived home on a beautiful sunny day and sees his children playing on the green lawn; for me, it was a beautiful sunny day last summer, when I held Luke's son near a fish pond so he could watch the shimmering orange movements beneath the water. 

The sunshine touched his straight golden hair with a tender hand as he, a small toddler, stood enraptured by the surface. My nose pressed against his ear, I felt such happiness, and completion, in that moment. 

I remember it still, and appreciate it.  

Battle of the Bulge: There is No Comfort Here

Pesach is my holiday. Amongst my favorite foods, hent matzah and potatoes are close to the top of the list. Happy happy joy joy as I consume it, idiot idiot idiot as I wobble out the yontif week. 

Comfort food? According to a new study, no such thing ("The Myth of Comfort Food" by Jan Hoffman).

“People have this belief that high-calorie foods are the path out of difficult feelings,” said Kelly D. Brownell, dean of the Sanford School of Public Policy at Duke, who studies obesity and behavior and was not involved in this research. “But the assignment of the word ‘comfort’ to these foods implies there is a relationship between ‘comfort’ and ‘food’ that may not exist.”

I have noticed it myself. Following an atrocious date, I don't find any joy in mindlessly stuffing my face in cake. It doesn't make me feel any better. It's more along the lines of "Why bother watching myself?" If anything, because I'm in a bad mood, my favorite food doesn't taste as good as it usually does. 

But I would see cartoons of weeping, jilted women tunneling through ice cream tubs, and I figured I must be missing out on some sort of magic cure.

The study points out that bad moods tend to end, without the help of the freezer section or candy aisle. 

Dr. Mann said the study’s findings helped demystify the belief that comfort food is uniquely comforting. “Let’s not say we’re allowed to eat something because it will make us feel better about whatever we’re suffering,” she said. “People are looking for a justification to eat something unhealthy. Just eat the ice cream! It’s not magical. But it is yummy.”  

So it is. So it is. 

Two Sides to the Story

Woman 1: She's an intellectual, well-read . . . and I don't think he's her speed. He is very nice, though. 

Woman 2: So send her his information. Let her be the one to choose. You never know. I certainly didn't expect to end up with the type my husband is. 

Woman 1: True. Me neither. 

Woman 3: Same here. 

Woman 2: See? That's what I think the "problem" is. People make the decisions for singles. Let them decide. Let them choose. 

Woman 3: Except . . . except, for some, it puts them in an awkward position. When I was single, I never said no. And I had disastrous dates, because I didn't have the confidence to refuse. Once my neighbor asked to set me up with her cousin, I said, "Ooo-kay," and I could tell from the phone call that it was going to be bad.  And it was. So it's not really fair to singles in making the suggestion in the first place.

I was all for cheering on, if not hugging, kissing, and buying a fruit platter for Woman 3. She understands what it's like. When I get a suggestion, I assume (chances are erroneously) that the other put a lot of thought into this idea, and if I say "Thanks, but no thanks," I am dissing her efforts.  Or, if I say no, then it is proof that I am picky, pedantic, and doomed to die with only cats to my name.

As a result, I have gone on many a horrendous date, emerged angry, resentful, and suffering from PTSD. I have lost faith in mankind (the guy) and womankind (the shadchan), and now bear her a massive grudge for humiliating me via a meeting with an ill-mannered, inconsiderate jerk, or a dim, pitiable nebach. 

However, I never quite saw it from Woman 2's perspective. Yes, stranger things have happened. There are couples out there that not only could I not comprehend, no one else who knew them couldn't, either. Who am I to state, for sure, that he and she could never be we?

I guess . . . I guess I have to take it a little easier on shadchanim. But, in turn, they have to take it a little easier on me.    

"An Ounce of Prevention"

When I would watch the evening news when little, the medical report would usually finish off with: "This condition can be treated with medication." 

In the last number of years, however, the conclusion is different: "This condition can be treated with diet and exercise." 

As Jane E. Brody reports in "Prescribing Vegetables, Not Pills," those struggling financially can get "prescription" produce as opposed to cheaper, unhealthy food. Obesity can launch a laundry list of expensive illnesses, and providing the cure before the disease is a win-win on all fronts. 

It has become an invocation in my household, while consuming delicious vegetable soup or heavenly roasted parsnips or luscious grapes, to moan, "Medicine. Absolute medicine." 

thekitchn.com

Before anyone here rolls their eyes at the idea of scrumptious prevention, there was absolutely no talking at the table during Pesach lunch—and I'm including the 6-year-old here—after the zucchini soup was served. There was only the chime of spoons scraping the bowls.  

Pareve Chocolate Chips

It was a great tragedy (so I hear) the day that the hechsher on Trader Joe's Chocolate Chips changed from OK to OK-D. I was new to Trader Joe's (and chocolate chips) myself when it occurred, so did not realize the seriousness of the switch. 

I was browsing one day on Vitacost, searching for high percentage cacao chocolate bars, when Enjoy Life Dark Chocolate Morsels popped up. Miraculously, it contains not only 69% cacao, it is pareve (cRc) to boot. The Enjoy Life brand markets itself as being allergy-free, which means no nuts, no eggs, and no dairy. 

Ma started adding these to her staple brownie (which does not call for chocolate chips) and the audience is quite pleased. These chips add a satiety factor; instead of binging on cake, one feels satisfied after one or two pieces. The biggest testimony of its yumminess is Luke's acceptance; he tends to be a purist (he hasn't touched the bundtcake since the recipe was altered fifteen years ago).

I've also used these chips in granola bars. The kinfauna did not complain of the lower level of sweetness.  

If opting for a (slightly) sweeter option, there are also Semi-Sweet Mini Chips and Semi-Sweet Mega Chunks.       

Holy Post-Its, Batman!

Guest Post: Brevity is the Soul of Wit

"It is the people that are content with ordinary living that are truly extraordinary." — Eilu v'Eilu/Luke 

But, for the purposes of according proper credit, it should be clarified that he hammered out this concept with Ma's brainstorming.