I’m not politically motivated or agitated, usually. But read this blog post by my friend Joel Schwartzberg in New Jersey who has excerpted Ann Coulter’s interview where she says “Jews need perfecting…” and then tries to backpedal out of it.

Do you integrate Jewish foods into all your secular celebrations? I have found that carrot kugel is a very innocuous and non-threatening way to bring a little flavor to any meal. I started last year by taking an easy version of carrot kugel to Thanksgiving at a friend’s house. Everyone loved it.

KUGEL ALEF

This first kugel has the consistency of cornbread, more than noodle pudding. Add a little butter or margarine and it’s easily eaten as a bread. It’s incredibly easy to make — you need just one bowl — and kids can do it once they get over the idea of using baby food. Serves 12-16.

Ingredients

4 small jars babyfood carrots
1/2 cup canola oil (Want low-low fat? Use 1/4 cup applesauce and 1/4 cup oil)
2 cups sugar (That’s a lot of sugar, you can substitute all or half if you’re game)
4 eggs
2 cups flour (I use whole wheat or a combo)
3 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons vanilla

Preparation

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine all ingredients well, making sure there are no lumps. Pour into 9×13-inch pan and bake for 1 hour. Cool on rack. This is delicious warm or at room temperature.

KUGEL BET

This second kugel is more traditional and often needs to be scooped more than cut. It’s more work than the recipe above — but definitely worth the effort!

Ingredients

3 lbs carrots cooked (I’ll be honest, I use canned. MUCH easier)
6 eggs (feel your arteries clogging? Substitute half the eggs with egg beaters)
1 1/2 c sugar (I plan to risk and use Splenda. I’m a risk taker)
9 T flour (I’ll use whole wheat pancake mix)
3 t baking powder
3 t vanilla
1/4 t cinnamon,
2 t salt,
1 t lemon juice ( or a little more),
2 stick margarine, softened
optional: cornflake crumbs and cinnamon for topping can use nuts (This is the best part Don’t leave it out)

Preparation

Blend carrots in a food processor. Mix in all other ingredients. Bake at 350 in 9 x 13 pan for between 1 hr 10 min and 1 hr 20 min. This kugel freezes beautifully — or so they say — none made in my house has ever made it to the freezer.

I just love Jewish holidays. This time of year is known as the Time of our Joy. I am trying to be joyous. This weekend will be interesting because my son is bringing home one of the birds from his Zoobot (zoology/botany) class. We will put the bird in the basement and hope he does not keep the bunny awake.

When Simchat Torah began last week, of course we lit candles. We placed them on the kitchen table and they flickered beautifully. I left the house for a few minutes and came back to a funny smell. Everything looked fine, just a strange smell, like something burnt but I didn’t know what. My daughter informed me that our obese, geriatic stage, valium laden cat had climbed on the table and got his poor little tail too close to the candles. The tip of his tail got a little burnt, but apparantly this poor cat did not even notice. Valium will do that to a cat. You may ask, “why is your cat on valium?” To which I reply, “because the prozac didn’t work.”

Nonetheless, the cat is fine. The house is fine. Burnt cat fur smells pretty bad. And I may need to take some of the cat’s valium.

The other day my daughter said, “I wish our family was a little more boring.” I think she meant a little less dysfunctional. I would agree. So would our cat.

I am joyous. I am joyous because my house did not burn down. I am joyous because the cat is okay and I did not have to find an ER for stupid, drugged up pets.

I am most joyous because nobody in my house thought that night’s events were anything unusual.

Submitted by Kim, a Jewish mother and blogger in Chicago

I just heard from my sons’ Sunday School teacher that according to Dr. Irving Cutler, legend has it that the Great Chicago Fire occurred on Simchat Torah, 1871.

Since the custom is to stay up the night before studying, all the Torahs were saved because the synagogues were occupied and as the fire spread they carried the Torahs out!

Kim blogs at Hormone Colored Days, Scrambled Cake @ Chicago Parent and Chicago Moms Blog.

Our backyard sukkah has been built and is still standing.

It is decorated beautifully with lights strung across the top so we can eat after dark. The sukkah has a sense of quiet and peacefulness. When I look around I remember a story I once heard. A little, non-jewish boy, upon entering his friend’s sukkah for the first time, said “Wow, it is like walking into a Christmas tree.”

I love Sukkot. It is a happy holiday. Z’man Simchateinu, the season of our joy.

We began putting up a sukkah when our kids were 5 and almost 2. That makes this the bar-mitzvah year of sukkah building. We have built a sukkah in each house, in each state we have lived in. That’s 3 houses, 2 states. Two traditions have evolved, beginning with our very first sukkah. We have not skipped a year yet. We did not intend on these particular traditions, they just happened. But that is the way of traditions–they just happen.

Tradition #1: The Annual Sukkah Argument

This tradition begins sometime before the holiday begins. Sometimes weeks before, sometimes a day before. But we always have it. Sometimes it involves just me and my husband, sometimes our kids get involved. It usually begins with “should we build a sukkah?” I say yes, husband says maybe, kids say-well this changes from year to year. This year: daughter yes, son no. Then the argument moves to “where to build it” As you can see, I always win the first part. This has varied based on what house, how flat the yard is, the proximity to the back door. Then the argument progresses to “how to build it” We have had a few different designs. This year we tried something very new. My son, the one who did not want the sukkah, came up with the design. Go figure.

Tradition #2: Keeping Our Fingers Crossed

This is a tradition I have with my children–my husband is not home most mornings when they wake up. It has made for some very special bonding moments, a mom with her 2 wide-eyed children. Each year, as they grow older and older, every single morning during Sukkot, we wake up, greet each other, run to a window and together look outside, and exclaim, with glee and in complete amazement, “It’s still standing!” Except one day last year, when it wasn’t. Hence the new design.

Chag Sameach and may everyone’s year be filled with the joy of this season.

I don’t have any Sukkot stories.

Do you? Email me and I’ll post it here!

Erev Yom Kippur Conversation with a 15-Year Old

Why do we have to go to services?

Because that’s what we do. And I actually like services.

I don’t. And I never will.

OK.

I don’t believe in any of that stuff either.

OK.

I won’t when I’m an adult either.

OK.

* * *

Later…

* * *

So, you going to fast?

Of course.

Morris died. His will provided $50,000 for an elaborate funeral.

As the last attendees left, Morris’s wife Rose turned to her oldest friend Sadie and said, “Well, I’m sure Morris would be pleased with the service.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” replied Sadie, who leaned in close and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Tell me, how much did it really cost?”

“All of it,” said Rose. “Fifty thousand.”

“No!” Sadie exclaimed. “I mean, it was very nice, but really… $50,000?”

Rose nodded. “The funeral was $6,500. I donated $500 to the shul for the Rabbi’s services. The shiva food and drinks were another $500. The rest went for the memorial stone.”

Sadie computed quickly. “$42,500 for a memorial stone? Oy vey, how big is it?”

“Five and a half carats.”

By Rose, a Jewish mother in Santa Clara, CA

Next Sunday is my goal. My nursing goal that is.

When my second daughter was born, nursing got off to an auspicious start so I needed no extra motivation to keep going.

Nurses changed her and watched over her as she slept. They would call me to let me know she was hungry and I would be ready and waiting by the time someone brought her to my room. I would sit in my comfy magic electric bed, pillows piled high all around me, and nurse my sweet baby while watching hour after hour of bad TV.

Then we went home and the dream ended. Nursing a voracious child is significantly harder when your two year old is begging for attention, your husband is bored, and you’re sore. Hour after hour I sat on the couch, frustrated that I couldn’t play with my two-year-old, annoyed that this new baby would only let get up for minutes at a time, dreading the moment when it would be time to change sides.

Now I needed motivation.

“I can do this until Yom Kippur,” I told myself over and over again. “I can do this until Yom Kippur.”

Yom Kippur; the perfect goal. The baby would be two months old and I’ve always thought that I could tough anything out for two months. But more than just that, it was the perfect reward; if I could make it to Yom Kippur, then as a nursing mom I wouldn’t have to fast. And that?

That my friends, is what has kept me going.

It became my mantra, as I bit down on a burp cloth during painful latch-ons.

But now that we’re almost at my goal, I’m starting to wonder if I can push the nursing deadline out a bit. After all it doesn’t hurt any more and she is nursing faster and faster. Maybe we could go until she’s 14 months old.

Say… next Yom Kippur?

_____

Rose also blogs at It’s My Life.