15

I’ve been counting down the days or maybe the years to another dreadful anniversary. Some days, like some years, fly by and others drag, painfully reminding with each passing moment of your absence - of your quick-witted remarks for just about anything, for your unfinished anecdotes, for your love of books, arts and of life, for your enthusiasm in seeing the latest show and finding the best possible deal to do so, for your capacity to be a friend and for the many friends that I know still carry you in their hearts, for all the things I was afraid to share with you and for the multitude of reasons I wish I had. You were right, just about everything and as I’ve come to learn over the years, your advice has always been as spot on, as was your intuition. But, who listens to mom at that age? 

I was 25. I blinked and I was 32, then 40. It took me many years to realize that I buried a piece of myself with you - a piece that I don’t know if I’ll ever get back, nor want back. I wanted so badly to grow up. I thought that things would be easier as an adult. As a teenager, I promised myself that I would never let you or papa worry about me, not knowing at the mature age of fifteen that you would always worry about me, that you would always carry me with you - that I would always carry you with me. I know now how much you worried, because now I worry about my boys. I had no idea then, I wanted to be a good kid - alleviate some stress and inadvertently probably caused a lot more, because kids are supposed to do stupid things, right? I waited until adulthood to do them. I hope that the boys grow up to be good humans in a not so good world. I pray to see them grow up for both of us. I know how much you would have liked to meet them and that there’s nobody in the world who would have been more proud, (even when they do stupid things).

I understood at fifteen that cancer would separate us too soon, but you kept pushing through, helping everyone in the process with everything from doctor recommendations to theater tickets, with one goal in mind - to raise me. How I wish you’d set your sights higher! And to me, you were always just mama. Mama. You asked about my friends and got to know them, told me not to stay out too late, made my favorite foods even when you couldn’t and gave me unsolicited advice that I didn’t want to listen to then. You threw me a sweet sixteen in lieu of a bat mitzvah and at the time, it was epic - your parties always were. 

Fifteen years of milestones, of celebrations, of disappointments, of new friends found, of old friends lost, of weddings, of funerals, of adventures, of memories, of boxes packed, of pictures taken, of children’s laughter, of their tears, of adult problems that never seem to go away, of trauma unresolved. Maybe it’s not supposed to be so hard. But I don’t have your lightness of being, nor can I fake it. You were never just mama, you were extraordinary.

Z"L ❤️

72

It’s April and it is as hectic as ever. There’s at least one birthday to celebrate each day for the next two weeks and on most days, at least two. There are plenty of celebrations but today I miss mom a little more than on the other 364 days. I miss her stories that went on 247 tangents. I miss her stuffed cabbage and her borscht. I miss her laughter as she was in the middle of another anecdote fitting for the occasion. I miss her protectiveness of me. I miss her candor. I miss her book recommendations. I miss her telling me “no” and me actually listening. I miss her newspaper clippings that had information about just about everything from the latest exhibits at the Met, the newest play on Broadway, the best way to make some classic salad, new aphorisms to use at the next occasion or birthday card, and where to buy the latest trends on sale. I miss her unconditional and limitless love. I miss our shopping trips. I miss her hugs. I miss all of her.

My mom loved life and not only celebrated it, she embraced it! She held on to it with both hands even when one was swollen from lymphedema that made her disbalanced. She did it with a full heart as she dished out advice to her friends even when they were halfway around the world. She had an in incomparable zest for life and all of its pleasures and heartbreaks. At seventeen, she, a Jewish girl from Ukraine made it all the way to St. Petersburg Institute of Culture (via Chelyabinsk). She’s told me many stories of her youth and her travels, but I wasn’t old enough to really listen or care too much at the time. I was only 25 when she left and I’d give a lot to hear them now. Sometimes, I get lucky.  Last year, I found an art book with a dedication to mom expressing what a great friend she’s been and was able to connect with the artist’s daughter. This past year, a friend from my mom’s youth travel group found me via Facebook because he saw “Lera’s eyes.”  We spoke for over an hour and I took notes on the stories he told me of their wild trip across the Volga River, all her idea, of course. One of the most interesting things he told me was mom’s innate spirituality and ability to see the true meaning of things. 

I LOVE hearing these stories. If you read this and you remember something, please share.    They give me strength to hold me over for another year. She was brave, intuitive, funny, fun-loving, smart, adventurous well-read, fashionable, resilient, to name but a few. Her life should be celebrated because she was many things to many people and I hope that those that new her keep her memory in their hearts, but only to me, was she mommy. 

HBD mamochka, wherever your soul may roam ❤️

How about a "National Day of Love?"

We may have Valentine's Day, but it's become way too commercialized and polluted by cheap chocolate and overpriced flowers.  I'm talking about a day where we come together and "love thy neighbor." A day where we celebrate our differences and traditions.  A day where we understand that ultimately most people regardless of race, creed, color, religion or any other denomination all want to raise our children under peaceful skies with food, shelter and education. Why is it the fringe that always has the upper hand? Why do they scream the loudest? Why do we listen?

A group of Neo-Nazis has called February 25, a National "Day of Hate." Besides sounding cringeworthy, what kind of moral standards must one have to celebrate hate? Today is also a year since Russia has launched its offensive on my birth country of Ukraine.  There will be no peace for any of us while such grotesque ideologies rule the masses. We must ALL stand up to hate and spread light.  As Jews around the world light candles and gather around the table for Shabbat, let's focus on spreading love and joy.  The world is full of miracles.  As Martin Luther King Jr. once famously said, "I have decided to stick to love. Hate is too great a burden to bear."

Shabbat Shalom! Peace, Love and Light! 🕊💙🕯🕯

Hopeful and Idealistic

Like most 20-somethings, I used to be “hopeful and idealistic”. At the same time, life taught me to plan ahead. One morning, at 22, I awoke to find myself with a nearly completed masters degree, a career path (that at the time I didn’t know wasn’t going to pan out) and an engagement ring. I still remember that morning and I think that on that day, something inside me changed. Perhaps, it was the first time I really took an inventory of my life and decided that I’m meant for something bigger. Almost 20 years later, somewhere deep inside, I think that I still believe this.  

All of this has been layered by the mundaneness of life - of loss, of unfulfilling jobs, of lost friendships, of children being born, of travel, of cooking dinner, of folding laundry, of new friendships, of school drop off, of PTA meetings, of learning, of questioning, of landing back to square one, of starting over, of rereading emails, of new blog posts, of shabbos candle lighting, of all the in-between. As part of my always ongoing self-development, I recently had a natal chart prepared and the astrologer described me as “Executive by day and shaman by night.” Cue song, “I’m a dreamer". As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to fill my life with more than material objects - with causes that speak to me, with books, with plays, with purpose, with interesting people that question the number 42 as much as I do. Don’t get me wrong, I still want the nice shoes, but as predicted, they are less important now (and a lot more expensive)!

So what about those hopes and dreams? They are still there, but they are overshadowed by the future I want to create not just for myself anymore, but for my children. I want to raise them to be smart and kind.  I want them to be fun and inquisitive.  I hope that they will become gentlemen and most importantly I want them to be blessed - blessed with good health and with aging parents, blessed with true friends and meaningful work, blessed with a deep love and family. I wish for them to have many hopes and dreams and to pursue them, always.  Mine have evolved. The steps that I take to achieving many of them have gotten slower, shorter, but more confident.  I'm certain that they will continue to evolve and be intertwined with those of my boys.  For now, I'll try to keep writing, to keep dreaming and to keep working on self-development.  My ideals will remain, for it is hope after all that dies last.

The Importance of Telling People How You Feel...

For My Boys, I love you to infinity and beyond

Today marks 30 years since my parents packed up their lives into several suitcases and moved across the Atlantic - to New York. It's hard to imagine for me the hardships that they had to go through in order to make this journey; it will be even harder for my children to understand.  They didn't just leave jobs or apartments or friends - they left their whole lives. They came to this country with no language, no transferable skills, a few hundred dollars for a family of 4 and a loan to HIAS.  

Through a LOT of hard work, all kinds of work - cleaning houses, delivering business cards, removing asbestos, they managed to put food on the table, buy an apartment and raise me, all the while my mom was battling stage 4 cancer.  As a cancer survivor myself, I can confidently say that treatment and taboos surrounding it have come a very long way in 30 years, but I digress.  My parents' support system here in the states was limited - all of their closest friends either immigrated to Israel or elsewhere. Others remained in the now former USSR. They worked so much with my mom's treatments sprinkled in between that it was hard to make friends, but my mom did anyway.  She made friends in Chemo and with her doctors. She made friends in her NYANA English class and with the owner of the Russian (speaking) store where we shopped. Long distance calling was expensive, so she would always find some deals on calling cards to call her friends all around the globe.  She always called.  She remembered not only birthdays of her friends, but of their children and later their grandchildren.  The weekend before she passed, she literally called everyone. This August, it will be 14 years, and I don't think I've fully forgiven her for not saying goodbye to me.

In a goodbye to my mom, one of the closest friends wrote an article commemorating their friendship and the unique person that Lera, Lilya, Leonora was. Every so often I reread it and find some interesting tidbit, some new discovery. Sometimes the discoveries come from other places like discovering an artist who's the daughter of my mom's friend - and later finding a book of the artist's work with the inscription - 

Удивительной Лере, которая не забывает старых друзей.

To extraordinary Lera, who never forgets old friends.

I have a collection of mom's books that I don't know what to do with, but I'm certain that they contain many secrets that maybe someday, with some luck I can uncover.  Today, I've uncovered a friendship from 50 years ago.  It was Emiliya's birthday yesterday and somehow her article floated up on Facebook (one of the reasons I love the platform) and I was granted with the most flattering comment - 

"It was a remarkable time, remarkable place, remarkable group of young people, having crazy courage and unbelievable fun.  You looking alike Lera. Hope you inherited her spirit, energy and sincerity. My best regards to you."

What do you do with a message like that from someone whose name you've never heard? How does one  react? I cried and then I sent him a message. Today, we spoke for an hour and while much of what he shared with me is much too personal to share here, he described my mom as the fountain of ideas and proceeded to tell me a story that took place on the Volga river in 1978. He described her as full of life and a whole person - the embodiment between the intellectual and the spiritual, something that I myself often find in conflict. She, in her 20s at the time, understood the deeper and inner meaning of things.  It is no coincidence that one of the inscriptions on her monument reads, "She did more than exist, she lived. She did more than listen, she understood." He asked me to put a stone down the next time I go.  I will put two - one for him and one for all the others in the photos that carry this in their hearts. They last spoke some 40 years ago as life (for Jews specifically in the USSR) took everyone scrambling across the globe.  It took 40 years to recount a story of youth with the fondest of memories. The story gave me fuel to hold me over until the next such story appears.  However, I'm lucky.  

I had two friends call me this week to praise me on some of the volunteer work that I do.  An older friend reminded me of who I am.  Last month, a friend got me a cake for connecting certain people in their lives. Those types of little things aren't little.  They give us fire beneath our wings, they allow us to fly.  My firm recently brought in Brene Brown to talk about leadership and one of the things she mentioned was that vulnerability is something that we admire most in others and have the hardest time displaying ourselves - "Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage." It took me as much courage to write this as the speech in front of 100 people I promised to give next week.  I often wear my heart on my sleeve. I try to tell show people what they mean to me. I don't always succeed, but as much of my spiritual training has taught me - you can only meet people where they are.  Maybe in 40 years time, they will find my kids on FB (or some other kind of platform) and tell them what I meant to them then.

This is my resolution, not to wait - to tell people what they mean to me - unknowingly I started to this week. This blog used to be called "Random Thoughts," and today I no longer believe in coincidences.  I believe in the serendipitous ebbs and flows of life - life that often gets in the way and takes us all in different directions.  There are “friends for a time and friends for a lifetime” and if you're still reading this, thank you for being a part of it - your love, friendship and kindness do more than I could ever put into words. Here's to the next 30 years in the "land of the free", with peaceful skies, simchas to celebrate, laughter, good company and stories to tell all of our descendants.

10

Every year has been difficult in its own way. Every year included a milestone, an event or a random Tuesday where I've reached for the phone to dial mama. There was the first year at the end of which I found out I was pregnant with Leor. There were Year 3 and there was 5. There was me turning 32, the age at which my mom had at me and the age at which, I lost my job, was diagnosed with cancer and somewhat found my shaky voice. Each year has had its often more than fair share of good - Leor and Zack were born (as were many of their friends and cousins), I've gotten great jobs, I've made many memories with old and new friends, to name a few. Yet, I've been dreading today for months and planning the day in my head for probably the last year.

The truth is, it's another day where the sun sets and rises and most of us are grateful for another day. It's a day like any other for most. I wish I wasn't as sentimental. I wish dates didn't matter to me. I wish my eyes didn't well up at the thought of it. I don't miss my mom more today than I did yesterday or than I will tomorrow. It's another day for people that knew me since the day I was born, that celebrated every birthday and every milestone until I turned twenty five. With my mom's passing, people have passed me by. I became a reminder - a reminder of who my mom was, what she stood for and how fragile life is. It took a long time for me to forgive them. Some days, I still get angry because I didn't die, because I still celebrate my birthday and plan to for a long, long time. I also know that pain isn't a constant. I know that remembering a person can come about while picking out beets at a farmer's market, because my mom asked me to buy veggies on my trip to Poconos 10 years ago so that she can teach me to make borsch. I know that memories can come flooding in in the midst of an unrelated argument or while brushing teeth. I know that people remember. I wish they understood my need to hear it.

The last 10 years of my life have been filled with both laughter and tears. They've been filled with many happy moments and occasions and many spent nights crying over. During this time, I became a mother, a role that leads me to question my every move and firmly believe that I'm not here to teach my children. They are here to teach me. I wonder if mama thought so too. I wonder what I taught her about herself. There are so many questions I'd love to ask her, not only about being a mom, but about being a human. My mom was an amazing human. She was kind and she was patient. She had the unique ability to listen to everyone's problems without ever sharing her own. She had a book recommendation and a quote or anecdote for every occasion. She also always knew just the gift to buy even as the world we live in became more materialistic and less sentimental. She knew how to live life. Whether it meant at 17 being a Jewish girl in the Ukraine and leaving her single mom alone to go to study in the prominent Saint-Petersburg State University of Culture and Arts via Chelyabinsk or going to see every theatrical performance of interest despite many health limitations and often having nobody to go with. My mom wasn't an extraordinary cook, but everything she cooked was so full of love that it translated in taste. Her signature was whipping up a cake as friends were on the way. Our house always smelled like cake and was always full with guests, even when I couldn't stay up past my bedtime.

My mom loved people. She loved good food and good books. She loved the arts. She loved celebrating. She loved to travel even though she didn't get to do very much of it. She loved life and above all she loved me. For 25 years of my life I didn't have to share that kind of obsessive and consuming love with anyone. And for the last 10 I've had to learn to live without it. I don't think that I will ever stop learning. I'm okay most days and other days, I'm consumed by it because my mom set the bar very high. I've recently started to wonder at what age do we stop idolizing our parents and start to see them as flawed humans. Everyone I've discussed this with concluded, "around adolescence." I don't know that I can ever stop idolizing my mom. She was human, but in so many ways she was superhuman. My virgo perfectionist (i.e. obsessive compulsive) personality strives for those same superhuman qualities and falls so completely short of them. I don't want my children to idolize me. I want them to know me as a flawed human. I hope to be around long enough to explain to them why and more so for them to learn it for themselves.

I digress. People react differently to death. Most of us don't know what to say beyond the basic condolences, paying respects at a funeral or at a shiva call. We become awkward because we are afraid of saying too much or not saying enough. Maybe we don't say anything at all and then too much time passes and it becomes that much more awkward to reach out to say, "hey, I'm thinking of you." I personally wish I had the courage to do it more often. I wish people in my life had the courage to tell me what my mom meant to them or when they think of her while food shopping, watching a movie or seeing yet another picture I post on facebook. I think that as humans, we would all like to make an impact while leading meaningful lives. The depth and breadth of our impact is as individual as each of us. Few of us get to revolutionize the world, but many of us impact lives, one child at a time.

Mind F*ck

As anyone reading my blog probably knows by now, I didn't start my job today, as expected.  The Universe decided to throw another monkey wrench my way.  Patience is a virtue, right? On Friday afternoon at about 5:30 pm, after running around for close to 3 hours like a madwoman to get the necessary paperwork signed & notarized, I was told that despite the fact that it is complete, I still won't be able to start until Tuesday.  The confirmation was one word, "approved," and it came at 10 am this morning.  The inefficiency of corporate America never ceases to amaze me, but back to the Mind F*ck.

As we sat down to dinner on Friday night, my body literally got sick.  I had a scratchy throat, runny nose, general weakness and I "didn't look good." I know my body well enough to know that this is stress related.  I can hear all of my medical professional friends snickering.  I also know enough to be "aware."  On Saturday, I made myself get up and tackle the day.  Sunday, I even made it to the gym, but could barely handle my workout.  As I moped around and "mariekondoed" my kids room today, I got the confirmation and miraculously, my sickness was lifted.  My nose isn't running, my throat isn't scratchy and I feel fine and ready to tackle the snowstorm tomorrow will bring.  If that's not a total mind f*ck, please provide the definition. 

Introduction

At yesterday's inaugural event for JPA's 2019 cohort, we were asked to introduce ourselves through our children's eyes.  It was such an interesting exercise, to share with strangers how we think our children perceive us and what they know and would share about us.  This isn't verbatim, but as I haven't really written much in 10 years, I should probably reintroduce myself...

So, hi.  My name is Leor.  I'm 7 years old and my mom's name is Alla.  I have a younger brother, Zack.  He's 4 and a half and he's really annoying.  He annoys everyone.  He's also really afraid of dogs, especially of Ozzy, my best friend, Alice's dog.  My mom is always yelling at me.  She says she wants me to do better, to be better and that she loves me.  If you love someone, why do you yell?

At some point, when my brother was very small, my mom lost her job and then she got sick.  She had to go for surgery and I told her to be brave, because I had a surgery and it was fine.  My mom is very brave and she's always doing something, reading something and going somewhere.  What are all these meetings she goes to?  When my mom wasn't working, she chaperoned all of my school trips and all my friends would call her, "Leor's mom."  She's not spending as much time in school anymore but she's still my class mom and is on the PTA.  My mom is always pushing me to do better.  She says, I have to read a lot and I think that it's boring.  I already skipped a grade, what more does she want?

I love hanging out with my mom and dad, because we always go to cool places and my mom buys me treats.  When Zacky isn't being annoying, I like to teach him things and play with him.  He always brings me treats from his daycare.  Today, he brought two lollipops and let me pick which one I want. 

Chasing Unicorns

Sometimes in life you have to get off your high horse in order to find your unicorn; or in my case, fall...face down several times.  One begins to wonder about how you can find something that doesn't really exist and the answer is if you can think it, you can create it and ultimately you can manifest it against all universal odds or maybe because of them.

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that my spiritual journey began.  I cannot say that this particular event or that particular person was the catalyst for my asking questions, but I can clearly identify those that have helped me find my voice along the way.  I do not have the answers.  On the contrary, I have a whole lot of questions that are no longer random.  In today's world of our carefully curated lives, there are three kinds of people - those that post the picture perfect, because life is full of garbage without adding things that are not visually or mentally stimulating; those that post everything and I mean everything - I don't care what your kid ate for lunch 7 days in a row to show the reality of life; and those that post nothing, often, only pretending to be invisible.  At different points in my life I've fluctuated between the three, sometimes bearing too much and sometimes nothing at all, always searching for the impossible balance.  For fear of sounding cryptic, let me start at the beginning, "a very good place to start," and try put on paper (computer screen) what's been whirling in my head for quite some time. 

It was Chanukkah 2015 and I had just gotten laid off.  I was in shock and devastated.  It's true that I wanted to look for a new job after the new year. The immigrant, Jewish girl from Brooklyn didn't fit the mold of a waspy hedge fund.  A 6'4" man was threatened by 5'2" me and six short months after receiving the best review of my career to date, I was let go, the job function eliminated, so that I wouldn't sue.  I looked at the world with a new wave of optimism.  After all, I was (am) young, educated, presentable and have a stellar resume, so I'm missing a couple of letters after my name.  It's the new year, I can finally try out that Equinox membership, take a gym class, read a book and find a job that I really love.  There was only one problem - I had no idea what I wanted to do.  I began to apply for job after job and start going to the countless interviews that I would endure over the next two years.  

I meet with many friends and colleagues for drinks, lunch and dinner. I start going to brunch, a practice that became instrumental to my wellbeing, not for the food but for the friendships that developed.  I start experimenting with different gym classes and find a couple of instructors that I go to regularly.  I go to visit mama - a lot.  I schedule the sonogram, the prescription for which has been sitting in my bag since October.  My sister and I decide to go to Israel and my doc recommends that I see a specialist as soon as I return.  On a clear and cold, last Tuesday of March 2016, my neck was biopsied.  I had no idea that I was going for a biopsy.  In the many waivers I signed in Dr. Minkowitz's office that day, something about a needle caught my eye, but I was too busy discussing Leor's school schedule to really pay attention.  I had 4 long needles inserted into my neck without anesthesia.  I didn't pass out.  I was even okay being there by myself, but I remember walking out and feeling violated.  I remember driving home instead of the city and putting on a snug turtleneck and a scarf, a permanent attachment to my body for the next year or so.

The results came back positive.  There's nothing positive about cancer except the way it changes your perspective, for which I'm certainly grateful. Tests, doctors, interviews, playdates, gym were the next several weeks of my life.  The surgeon was selected and the surgery scheduled and I needed to make it to the gym, which I was per my usual modus operandi beginning to neglect.  I decided to try the Equinox at Columbus Circle because I was in the area and for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, I found my voice.  It wasn't anything dramatic, there was no music playing in the background and no voiceover, but something in Mindy's class moved me - perhaps it was her soothing voice or the palpable energy of the room, maybe it was the liquidity and physical difficulty of the flow, or maybe it was being in the right place. Perhaps, it was a combination of all of it that made me get up from my mat and come up to a then stranger and tell her not only that this was the best yoga class I've ever taken but also about my surgery.  There's a saying that "people come into our lives and quickly go and others stay a while and we are never ever the same." I started going to Mindy's classes religiously. Eventually I began to help Mindy with social media and she taught me to meditate and we became friends.  

Meditation became instrumental in my treatment as I underwent Radioactive Iodine (RAI) and had to be isolated for a week and then do several full body scans, which literally had a lid being put on top of you, while laying still on your back and trying not to freak the f*ck out as the doctors made bad jokes.  In under a year and a half, our family went through four surgeries and fully met (and paid) 3 deductibles. I got laid off and then suddenly Danny's contract ended the week of Leor's tonsillectomy.  I remember buying Jello and yogurt in Fairway and getting a call from the doctor's office confirming both the surgery and the copayment.  I remember bursting into tears in the middle of the supermarket.  I remember meditating as my then 5 year old child was in the OR.  I remember feeling grateful for health insurance and asking a lot of moral/ethics questions of the doctors administering my iodine.  

This isn't a story about either pity or survival.  The background is for context only.  It's my story, one that for some reason (or many), today, I feel compelled to share.  Maybe it was reading my blog posts from 10 years ago and maybe today isn't a random Tuesday.  Then, I was 32, the age I was so afraid of and of course, some of the worst things happened and in ways I couldn't have imagined, if I tried.  I should have imagined.  I should have done a vision board of my life.  I should have written about my dream job, I should have set intentions, but I wasn't yet ready.  I wasn't ready to dream of unicorns.  I was grateful for yoga, theater and miscellaneous opportunities that kept springing up out of nowhere.  I got involved in Leor's new school.  I helped a friend launch a grand opening event of his new showroom.  I did a lot of soul searching, whatever that means. I traveled.  I found a job.  I was settling down again.  I went to Israel again, for my cousin's wedding instead of an epic trip to Iceland.  I was learning to let go.  We went to Disneyland and Spain, to Portugal and Napa.  We celebrated Danny's 40th and my 35th.  We welcomed a bunch of babies and celebrated.  I was reading more than usual and less than I would have liked.  I was toying with the idea of taking some sort of an exam to further my career but had trouble deciding on the direction, therefore accepting the status quo.  I was back in the gym.  I was learning to fall in love with my life as it is.  So what's this about a unicorn?

Following dinner and wine at Eugene's, a person who has always helped me in every capacity, who's been a mentor and a friend, a tough critic and confidant, he asks me point blank, "what are you looking for?"  My response? - "I'm looking for a unicorn." I described my concoction, but nonetheless I wanted a unicorn.  Mindy scolded me when I told her.  "You need to know what you want", she said, "if you're looking for something that doesn't exist, you'll never find it." Within a month's time, many phone calls, texts and synchronicities later, I found my unicorn - a unicorn that incidentally, I very clearly defined in a notebook I found from two years ago.  Unicorns, as you may know, aren't easy to catch.  First of all, one must be ready for it and they also come at a steep price.  

They need those damn letters, I need a credential. I have to take an exam.  Neither an extension nor an exception is possible and with less than two weeks left to the year I take a huge leap of faith - I give two weeks notice and in the first week of the new year begin to study for the "easy" PMP exam. There are no more than five people that know that all of this is happening.  I'm afraid to share the news as I don't really have an offer, I'm a nervous wreck and I'm not doing so well on the practice exams.  I fail miserably.  Suddenly, it becomes a lot easier to share.  I start to tell my friends, who are beyond supportive.  I call my future employer and share the grim news.  It isn't exactly pleasant to tell someone you'll be working with that you've failed at a task that's a prerequisite for the job.  I try unsuccessfully to collect myself to start studying again.  I go on another interview for a job that even a year ago would've been perfect, but now I want a unicorn.  I return a bunch of newly purchased shoes and then after hours of discussing the synchronicities of the universe with a childhood friend, I get an ordinary call.  I start next week with 6 months to take and pass my exam.  

I hope you're rooting for me and writing down your dreams.  Our unicorns are all within our reach.  We have to define them clearly.  It surely helps to know the exact shape, size and model - it's not a one size fits most. The truth of it however, we seldom know exactly what we want.  If we haven't got the exact specs, we need to define, most importantly, how our unicorn will make us feel, where this unicorn lives and who do we want to introduce it to.  We must remain positive even when our world seems to be crashing around.  We must remain grateful for the lessons we are learning.  We must ready ourselves and we shouldn't be concerned with the how or the why, which is naturally, the most curious thing of all.  We need to draw this unicorn in our minds and keep adding brushstrokes till the image becomes more and more clear.  We need to visualize ourselves riding the unicorn while being grateful for every obstacle that life throws our way.  I assure you, this is no easy task.  Falling hurts and getting up is extremely difficult, but I want to ride unicorns.  Do you?

alla + daniel (9-10-6)

I haven't posted in forever and this is something worth posting :)

"On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed."

The period Yom Kippur is traditionally the days of Awe. It is time to reflect on the past year and to ask forgiveness for our wrongdoings.  I am sorry for not writing more and for disappearing a little too much and a little too often.  I'm sorry that too many of those I love are no longer with us, but sincerely hope that they are in a better place.  I'm sorry that I am brash and easily irritated sometimes.  I'm sorry that I strongly believe in fairness because things rarely are fair.  I'm sorry for not telling "I love you" to those that I love often enough.  I'm sorry to anyone I have hurt or offended throughout the year.  While it's not excuse, but it was a very tough year for me.  I'm sorry for not being a better wife, daughter, sister, aunt, friend.  I am sorry to all I have hurt.  I promise none of it was intentional.  I am sorry that there's never enough words to explain my feelings and that I have such a hard time explaining them lately.  I'm most sorry that mama is not here with me.  As much as I want to believe that she's not suffering anymore and she's watching over us, I'm sorry that my heart can't let her go.  I'm sorry.

Mama

Because today is real and there are no more words...

This time last year . . .

 "A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen." -Edward de Bono

This time last year I finished watching my 2nd episode of 90210 and posted S&M's wedding photo book on FB.  It is also the time when mama and I decided that we should take her to a hospital.  We spoke to her oncologist's nurse.  We were waiting for Daddy to come home...

I sometimes wish I weren't so sentimental that I could ignore the gnawing reminders of every day, but then I wouldn't be me.  I'd be someone else.  The only person I am and want to be is my mom's daughter.  I couldn't have asked for a better role model, a better mom or a better friend.  

"A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take." - Cardinal Mermillod

 

Zone 3

I am not sure if I ever wrote about my uncle's alarm and a quick search of my blog didn't result in any posts, but nonetheless, when my grandmother passed in July of 2008 my uncle's home alarm system went crazy.  Without delving into the details, Zone 3 is the attic.  It's next to impossible to get on the roof of my uncle's attached townhouse.  Every time something happens in our family since then, Zone 3 lights up.  Today is no exception.  Whatever grandma is trying to tell us, we hear it and know that she's with us in our time of pain.  Call it Esotericism if you want, but lately I believe it more and more.  Things in this world are so interconnected that I don't believe in random chance, anymore. 

28th of Av, 5769 כ״ח באב תשס״ט -

28th of Av, 5770 כ״ח באב תש״ע

Today marks the Hebrew year since my dearest mom is no longer with us.  It is surreal.  It was surreal to light the candle and read the prayer (an excerpt of which is below).  It was surreal to sit with my cousin and go through the pictures.  It is surreal to come to a home without her.  I thought that I was okay until I lit the candle, read the prayer and realized that although I follow the Gregorian calendar, it's a year, (10 days ahead of schedule).  I think that I'm all blogged out, but I can't sleep in anticipation or dread of tomorrow's unveiling.

 

I Love You Mom, today, yesterday, everyday.

GIVE ME THE VISION

Shall I cry out in anger, O God,

Because Thy gifts are mine but for a while?

Shall I be ungrateful for the moments of laughter,

The seasons of joy, the days of gladness and festivity,

When tears cloud my eyes and darken the world

And my heart is heavy within me?

Shall I blot from mind the love

I have known and in which I have rejoiced

When a fate beyond my understanding takes from me

Friends and kin whom I have cherished, and leaves me

Bereft of shining presences that have lit my way

Through years of companionship and affection?

Give me the vision, O God, to see and feel

That imbedded deep in each of Thy gifts

Is a core of eternity, undiminished and bright,

An eternity that survives the dread hours

of affliction and misery.

Those I have loved, though now beyond my view,

Have given form and quality to my being.

They have led me into the wide universe

I continue to inhabit, and their presence

Is more vital to me than their absence.

What Thou givest, O Lord,

Thou takest not away,

And bounties once granted

Shed their radiance evermore.

-Rabbi Morris Adler

ת.נ.צ.ב.''ה 

Thank You

I'm rarely at a loss of inspiration - I was blessed with a mother that inspired me to live each day.  Every day my mom serves as that same inspiration, because today I live not only for me, but also for her.  Last year after my mom's death, I decided to finally sign up for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.  Through the incredible generosity of my family and friends, we were able to raise close to $3,000.  Yesterday, I was invited to a Pink Honor Roll celebration in honor of the top 121 fundraisers for 2009.  The #1 place raised over $113,000 and while I didn't raise anywhere close to that, I'm extremely proud of what we raised in such a short amount of time.  Of course K's dreidel game winnings, doubled by her company was a large chunk of our efforts, but the importance is the goal - as the NYC president, Dara said yesterday, "Our goal is to put ourselves out of business."  My personal goal is to surpass this fund-raising amount in 2010, double our team size and to help save another mother, daughter, aunt, sister, friend, so that another 25 year old girl doesn't have to lose her mom and her best friend to this terrible disease.

I started this post by talking about inspiration and I met a truly inspiring woman, yesterday aboard this cruise around NYC.  JP is a breast cancer survivor and her story hit home because she is a mom of two and was diagnosed around the same time as my mom.  We spoke of different treatments and she kept comparing me to her own kids.  Last year was also her first race.  She decided to learn to run, yes run, in honor of both her 60th birthday and her 15 year survival.  I can't run, but now I am suddenly feeling inspired - IZ may not be the only one from CUREiously PINK running in September.  She was having trouble taking pics and of course I don't take my camera on a trip such as this and I took some pics with my berry that I instantly emailed to her.  Today, of course I googled and found much more interesting facts about her and to quote from her featured surivor story on Komen:

• If I had not had breast cancer, I venture to say I would not have had the courage to take swimming lessons in a chilly lake in springtime to get over my fear of water.
• If I had not had breast cancer, I doubt that I would have had the fortitude to go to law school and become at attorney at the age of 52, which involved commuting three hours round trip to school each day of classes as a single mom.
• If I had not had breast cancer, I do not believe I would have wanted to mark the milestone of my 60th birthday, which is also the 15th year of my survivorship, by learning to run this past winter and spring so I could run in the Susan G. Komen New York City Race for the Cure in September.

This Sunday marks the year anniversary and this cruise really couldn't have come at a better time. 

To my dearest mom, who always found the strength to smile, to get up and to live each day!!! I love you, today, yesterday, everyday.

Reminders . . .

Every day is a reminder of something.  Today is a relative's birthday, yesterday was B&Es 4th Birthday, tomorrow is 8 years without my grandmother.  Am I overly sentimental? Probably. But how can I not be, especially now? Each passing day is a reminder of where I was a year ago today and as bad as things were a year ago, my mom was still alive.  As a matter of fact, mama was home from the hospital and doing better, we thought.  This Sunday will mark the Hebrew year since she is gone.  We will (hopefully) be unveiling the monument on this day as it is due to be up tomorrow.  Monday is daddy's birthday.  I still haven't bought a present. As I write this I realize one thing, for better or worse, life goes on...

I've been trying to look at things a little more lightly and calmly lately.  Everything I read seems to have the same message  - good attracts good, positive attracts positive and anyone that knows me knows that I'm a believer in Karma (and not in the "my karma ran over your dogma kind").  Yet, somehow it's hard to remain positive when everything you touch turns to sh*t.  I am really trying though and here are a few favorites from The Alchemist, which I finished reading recently by Paolo Coelho:

"Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead  their lives but none about his or her own."


"...and when each day is the same as the next, it's because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises."

"'It's not what enters men's mouths that's evil. Its what comes out of their mouths that is."

"One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving."

A year ago today and the meaning of dreams . . .

A year ago today, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room blogging about Health Reform without having the slightest idea that it was the beginning of the end, literally. 

Last night, although falling asleep rather early, I didn't sleep well, being awoken first by my phone then my dreams.  No stranger to dreams and especially after watching Inception this pas week, I'm a bit shaken up by it all.  The Dream Dictionary definitions seem accurate enough, but the reality isn't easier to deal with.


Mother
To see your mother in your dream, represents the nurturing aspect of your own character. Mothers offer shelter, comfort, life, guidance and protection.

To dream that you are having a conversation with your mother, denotes a matter that has preoccupied your mind and you are not sure how to deal with it in your waking life. It indicates unresolved problems that need to be worked out with your mother.

To hear your mother call you in our dream, suggests that you have been negligent in your duties and responsibilities. You are pursuing down the wrong path.


Dead
To see and talk with your dead parents in your dreams, represent your fears of losing them or your way of coping with the loss. You are using your dream as a last opportunity to say your final good-byes to them. In trying to keep up with the pace of your daily waking life, your dreams may serve as your only outlet in coping and coming to terms with the loss of a loved one.

Dot Dot Dot

I've been crying a lot lately.  Random things, randomly bring me to tears.  Today, it was this poem by Анна Ахматова:

ПОСЛЕДНИЙ ТОСT

Я пью за разоренный дом,
За злую жизнь мою,
За одиночество вдвоем,
И за тебя я пью,—
За ложь меня предавших губ,
За мертвый холод глаз,
За то, что мир жесток и груб,
За то, что Бог не спас.

There's many ideas for blog posts brewing and I'm not sure where to begin.  The last few months have been nothing short of torturous, confusing and lacking proper adjectives at the moment.  But I'm tired of talking of the negativity - if I am to practice what I've been preaching and desperately trying to believe - positive attracts positive.  Light attracts lights.  Love attracts love.

No More Tears

This stupid day just kept getting better and better.  I have no more strength and no more tears and with everything going on, I'm ashamed to say I forgot the most important thing.  I didn't even light a candle, but I remember. I always remember.  I even mentioned it in Danik's birthday toast - the three most important things that Grandma taught me -  

Не Откладывать! 

Уметь Праздновать! 

Жизнь Прекрасна! 

I really hope that she knows how much I wish that last statement to be true when everything seems to be in shambles.

Forever in our hearts 02/18/24-07/18/08

I'm with STUPID

o I am totally in love with new (not so new) DIESEL ad campaign. I think it's genius, here's a few I've "collected." What are your thoughts? What's your favorite one?

Kiss Your Life

early morning inspiration . . .

The Ex Factor

I think there was a SATC episode with the same name, but I'm not trying to plagiarize, just make a point. So what is the ex etiquette?
If you are friends with two people who dated, broke up, got married and lived happily ever after, do you invite both? Neither? Take turns?
Or let them decide? Does the equation change if there were hard feelings? Bad break-up? One is un-attached? Does it matter that you grew up with one and know the other for a few years? Months? Weeks? What if the relationship was between your friend and another friend's spouse? While there may be no easy answer to these questions, if you're going to spend your life making others happy, you'll make yourself miserable.

As adults, people can make a choice to be there for their friends and sit on opposite ends of a dinner table, if necessary. I was at quiet a
few events over the last few weeks where I've ran into ex's, flings and other romantic interests. I've taken pictures with them, of them, drank shots with them and celebrated the events that we were both invited to. It's a small world and while you can avoid people,
you're bound to run into them in the most ackward and inopportune of moments. As with everything else in life, there's no perfect answer,as my fave tax professor always used to say, "based on facts and circustances, it depends."

--
Sent from my mobile device

A Sad Kind of Proud

Today is 10 months since mommy is no longer with us and besides all the other craziness in my life now, that is the one that takes precedent over everything.  It consumes me because I miss her so much all the time.  I'm trying to finalize her monument for a week now and everything looks wrong and no words and no slab of stone can ever do her justice.  Looking for a Chai (חי) design is proving extremely difficult as there's not much choice and nothing looks right.

Ironically, yesterday, after a first Girls Night Out (with a smaller turn out then expected, but we all have to start somewhere), I received the following letter from the Susan G. Komen Foundation.  More ironically still, is that August 5 will mark 8 years since my maternal grandmother has passed.  I'd like to that all of you for your kindness and support, whether it be through email, joining me in the race or through your generous donations.  The race doesn't stop however, we have to keep walking until we find a cure.  We have to save every 8th mother, daughter, sister and friend.  I invite you to join us in this year's race and to support our team either through your donation, volunteering your time or having a portrait taken by Lina at Lasting Memories Photography with all proceeds going to support our team.

Thank you again for remembering and for your support.

<3 Me

Boris + Ilona

$$$ versus Sanity - a modern conversation

WorkingGal1 - you know - bad economy shmeconomy...cannot find anything online

WorkingGal2 - i need shoes and a dress and work clothes and some sanity :-)

WorkingGal1  - shoes? what kinda shoes do you need? :) i thought u settled on the dress
sanity sounds good   

WorkingGal2 - [a bunch of stuff that doesn't need to be mentioned here] I'l take some $$$ over sanity at this point too lol

WorkingGal1  - [some more omissions] listen missy, it is  either sanity, or $$$ u have to make up ur mind 

WorkingGal2  - since when is it $$$ or sanity - $$$ can buy sanity or at least therapy :)

WorkingGal1 - well (since we did not marry right) for us working lots gets $$$ = insanity

"My karma ran over your dogma"

Lately, I've become a big believer in karma and positive energy and the whole "what comes around goes around" business. Yet, no matter how hard I try everything I come near turns to sh*t. (I apologize, I'm not a fan of profanity on my blog, but couldn't find a fitting synonym). So anyway, back to The Secret of positive thinking.  For starters, it's really not a secret - think good thoughts, believe your good thoughts and when you have bad thought, turn them around and all good things are yours.  Sounds simple, but to me it's simply impossible.  Don't get me wrong, I agree with the premise and even reading fiction like The Lost Symbol, for example, strengthens that conviction.  In lament's terms - good attracts good, bad attracts bad, but how do you get out of the bad mindset?  My manicurist tells me what works is to just simply concentrate on whatever it is you're doing, typing a blog post, manicure, driving a car, eating, don't get carried away with your thoughts.  It's funny, because only the negative thoughts seem to carry.  We rarely dwell on something positive. 

I'd like to think that I'm a good person that cares deeply around those around me.  I usually put others before myself, but rarely feel the same in return.  I share (or at the very least try) in everyone's (that's close to me) happiness and disappointments.  I always try to go above and beyond, because I believe that you either do it right or you don't do it at all.  Nobody has yet gotten upset at me for not returning a call, text or email.  I remember birthdays.  This is beginning to sound very self-validating and it's my blog so it can be, but why doesn't this positive karma boomerang back? How do you turn it all around?  The ageless wisdom of "do onto others . . ."


I got stuck in my not-so-positive thoughts, so some "wisdom" on the topic:

“Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past, stop planning the future, stop figuring out precisely how we feel, stop deciding exactly what we want, and just see what happens.” - Carrie Bradshaw, SATC

“Sometimes skulls are thick.

Sometimes hearts are vacant.

Sometimes words don't work.” -James Frey quotes

“The human body can bear immeasurable pain and yet recover. Wounds can heal. But once your spirit is broken, everything falls apart.” -Palden Gyatso

“Miranda: Maybe it's time that I stop being so angry.
Carrie: Yeah, but what would you do with all your free time?” -SATC

“Despite the fact that there are over eight million people on the island of Manhattan, there are times you still feel shipwrecked and alone." -SATC

Can you tell I'm a huge fan of SATC? Can't wait for the movie!

"A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take." - Cardinal Mermillod

Some Favorites on a really, really sad day . . .

I miss home, "A little girl, asked where her home was, replied, 'where mother is.'" - Keith L. Brooks

"All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his." -Oscar Wilde

"A mother is not a person to lean on but a person to make leaning unnecessary." - Dorothy Canfield Fisher

"Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not."- James Joyce

"A mother understands what a child does not say." -Jewish Proverb

"A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us when adversity takes the place of prosperity when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts." -Washington Irving

 
"Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes by dozens and hundreds. Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers, and sisters, aunts and cousins, but only one mother in the whole world." - Kate Douglas Wiggin

"The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother." - Theodore Hesburgh
I'm so glad I got to witness this firsthand. I love and thank my parents for giving me a warm and loving home to grow up in.

"Mothers hold their children's hands for a short while, but their hearts forever." -Unknown

Happy Mother's Day / C Днем Победы!

To My Dearest Mommy,

This is my first Mother's Day without you and I miss you every minute of every day. There's so much going on in my life right now and you are the only person that I want to share it all with. You're the only one that can give me real advice and wisdom. "I pray you can see me now and be proud of what I have become because of your example, but most of all I thank you because you loved me so much."

With all my love always,
Alla

From a few Mother's Days ago . . . in Kittichai with overpriced Mimosas.  I would give everything to be there again. <3

 Check out, My Mom The Style Icon for my dedication

An Interesting Idea . . .

Came across this on someone's profile and totally love it:

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life... "