A Review of Simcha Leah's

Sometimes the best things come by happy accident. We ended up in Tzfat (Safed) because I saw a picture in "Fodor's Israel" of cobblestone streets flanked by stone houses with blue doors, red tile roofs, and iron balconies, in a little village called Rosh Pina. That single picture demanded an audience, so we rented a car and drove to northern Galilee and a bed and breakfast in a nearby town called Tzfat. Our jelly bean green rental car labored up the winding, twisting road, more often than not, taking the wrong exit at the roundabout.  We stepped out of the car and were completely charmed. The town itself is perched at the top of a hill, overlooking Galilee with layers of green descending to the Sea of Galilee. Tzfat is one of the four holy cities in Israel, along with Jerusalem, Hebron and Tiberias, and is the home to Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism.

Tzfat at sundown

Simcha Leah's was nestled in a corner, it's courtyard opening to a cobblestone street and young Orthodox children who frankly assessed our obviously foreign appearance.

Welcome to Simcha Leah's

The hosts, Dave and Miri, were welcoming and friendly, making us feel instantly at home in our room with bright yellow plastered walls, freshly cleaned sheets and towels that had air dried in the sun. There was the added bonus that they spoke English, having been born in America. The refrigerator was stocked with hard boiled eggs, milk, fruit, and pita bread, and the shower had a seemingly endless supply of hot water.

The view

Breakfast was a feast that our Williams & Sonoma clad host prepared. French pressed coffee, warm pita bread, shakshuska (eggs poached in a tomato and spice sauce), homemade hummus, olives, Israeli salad, tahini sauce and cucumbers.

At night, after walking the old town, the Citadel (ruins of a crusader fort), and alleyways full of shops brimming with locally made artists' wares, we sat in the courtyard and asked questions over hot tea and salted nuts. Dave Bender is an accomplished photographer and journalist who even offered to lend me his lenses.

Tzfat

We did make it to Rosh Pina, and we found the cobblestone streets that demanded my attention, but we found much more. The interactions in Safed we had with the local residents, lent a richness to our adventure that would have been lost to us otherwise. From the Russian Jew who brought us into the Citadel's cave like cistern and sang to us, to the Jew from Los Angeles who sold Aidan a shofar claiming that "it had chosen him", to the man from the archeology department who shared his version of historical events, including his favorite spot to give Iran "the bird", to the café owner who soundly made his point, that it cost more to sit and drink our coffee, we were enchanted.

At a literal level, Kabbalah means, "to receive", and that is exactly what we did in this ancient little town nestled at the top of a hill. Our only regret is not staying longer.

From the Citadel

Simcha Leah's website can be found here.

New York in the Rain

I went for a girl's weekend to New York City with a friend in early December. We had a hotel right off of Time Square. It felt like such a grown up thing to do, like trying on my Momma's shoes. But I was a little disorientated. I've never been the best with directions, until we moved to Colorado and then suddenly I was grounded; with the mountains in my view, I could never get totally lost. And the  wild patches of open space where you can stand and see for miles, with unbroken sky above and the horizon stretching beyond, helps me breathe. Suddenly, I was surrounded by skyscrapers, the sun nowhere to be seen, and I was completely unmoored.

I dearly loved all of the yellow taxis on a rainy Saturday

Near Central Park, after breakfast at Sarabeth's with my oldest brother and sis in law.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

The windows of Bergdorf Goodman

I loved the contrast in this moment when a woman walked in front of me, carrying her blue umbrella, and paused  in front of the red saturated window display.

Yellow taxis and Tracey

We trudged through the steady rain, ducking into every bakery that we saw, filling bags with flaking croissants, pan au raisins, and crumbly buttery cookies, and warming our hands around cups of tea and macchiatos. When the sidewalks filled, walking became a contact sport, dodging umbrellas shopping bags, and jostling people in a hurry to somewhere important. I followed Tracey's bright orange umbrella bobbing through the crowds as she moved through with an ease that was lost to me. I nearly lost an eye to an umbrella coming in low and hard, but it fortunately deflected off my glasses.

But the palette of the rain, the gray, and the bright yellow taxis with light glinting off puddles, made me feel completely happy, like being in the midst of an oil painting.

Sinks & Beans

I'm an eternal optimist and I don't see anything wrong with that, in fact, I think that everyone should be. My husband, bless his heart, is not always as optimistic. He prefers to say that he's a "realist", but what that means is that he's really waiting for the sky to fall. Not me, I'm a silver lining kind of girl. So when our bathroom sink went from draining slow to really draining slow, I decided to fix it this morning. Now, my beloved, still on crutches from knee surgery, suggested that I wait until Friday, because he will be allowed to walk, and also, contort his body into weird angles to fit under the sink. But I figured that I could do it, and I did. I used a couple of doohickies and a wrench, and wrenched that thing apart. Really apart, as it turns out. Sure enough, there was a nasty clog in the drain pipe which I triumphantly held up as evidence of my do-it-yourself awesomeness. At which point my husband calmly congratulated me, and then also pointed out that I had broken something important. I personally don't think that there is anything wrong with this scenario, I did after all, accomplish something amazing, and the fact that the sink is no longer functioning really feels like a side note. And on the bright side, I hated that sink, and this was a perfect opportunity to get rid of it. So I unscrewed some more things, grabbed a door mat to put under that ugly vanity, and dragged it successfully out into the living room. Then I noticed that the sheetrock behind the sink looked weird, and got a little concerned that maybe there was mold back there. So I got a hammer and a razor and pulled it out. The good news is that there wasn't any mold! The not-so-good news is that now the sheetrock needs to be replaced. But, Chris can walk again on Friday, and I'm thinking that I may have helped enough, getting rid of that pesky clog and all. We can just wash our hands in the bathtub, plenty of people have to get by with less luxuries than a bathroom sink, and this can be a great learning experience for the kids, especially when they have to help put in a new sink.

On another note, I'm getting a little tired of cooking. So I have a clever plan, and it involves cooking weird food until I get kicked out of the kitchen! I just thought of this at lunch as I was making breakfast burritos for Chris and Aidan (home sick), only we didn't have enough eggs. (The hens are free loading through the winter again.) So I threw some refried beans in there. (It was really bean soup left over from last night that I blended so it looked like refried beans.) That didn't really look like enough either so I grabbed some of the tomatoes that I had roasting in the oven and added those. (It worked in my mind.) The good news is that I think I'm well on my way to getting kicked out of the kitchen, AND the bathroom. See? Silver linings everywhere!

Black Belt Spectacular

If every picture tells a story, then these pictures tell a story of perseverance.

The Black Belt Spectacular

Signing the certificate

More than 4 years of training, countless hours at the gym.

Introducing Chloe

A grueling final testing process, heaps of stress, sleepless nights, and training 7 days a week.

The black belt candidates

And nobody gets a black belt alone. Chris and I spent countless hours in the car, ferrying her back and forth. Aidan made dinners, and sometimes accompanied Chloe on her bike to make sure she made it safely on days we couldn't drive. I coached her soccer team because then I could choose the schedule. Some days felt like a merry-go-round that strapped you and wouldn't let go. On those days,  friends and family stepped in various ways, taking over portions of the carpooling, bringing dinner,  coffee and chocolate.

Our little warrior

And not because Tae Kwon Do is so important, but because Chloe is. And if she sets her mind to accomplishing something, then we are going to do our darndest to support her.

Forms

There was a whole community to celebrate with her. Grammie flew in from Oregon and spent three days cleaning our house from top to bottom. (Including the oven that caught on fire while roasting tomatillos for salsa. I was shoveling burning chunks out of the bottom with a metal spatula while Chris and my mom looked horrified. Don't worry guys, it's not my first fire. So then Chris recommends dumping baking soda in the oven. Brilliant plan, worked like a charm..and also filled the room with chalky dust. That's the point when Grammie decided that our competency might be a little lacking and took over. )

The knife edge strike

I think I'm going to show this picture to every potential boyfriend, that is, when she's 39 and allowed to date.

Board breaking

Hammer Fist

This is her instructor's daughter holding the boards for Chloe.

The spinning Crescent Kick, which is kind of like Chuck Norris' Tornado Kick

On a side note-Chris is thinking about doing his hair like Master Tran-there on the right

We had a party to celebrate our girl. We made lots of food, chili and hotdogs, bacon wrapped dates, guacamole and salsa (hence the fire), cheesecake, orange spice cupcakes with chocolate ganache, cider, and chai...and our people showed up, crowding our tiny yellow house, bringing more food, (smoked pork and chili, pesto in canning jars, cupcakes and brownies...) and laughter, and the presents of community who wanted to honor Chloe.

There she is

Chloe went to bed wrapped in a cocoon of happiness. She was completely blown away that so many people loved her enough to show up. And that feeling of being surrounded by people who love you, is more empowering even than a black belt.

All the black belt candidates from Muy Thai and Tae Kwon Do

Black Belt Testing

Step Defense

Holds and Soles

Fitness Test (100 jump ropes then 2 laps-x5)

200 Step Ups (+200 burpees+200 push ups+200 air squats)

Review

Hopefully Chloe will get her board breaking stripe this week and then we are done! Four times a week since kindergarten! This kiddo has some perseverance.

Stitches and Teachers

I was supposed to go do a photo shoot yesterday evening for a company, but it got postponed and it was a good thing, because I spent the evening in Urgent Care. (Which should have been more accurately named Take Your Time Care, or Forget About The Patient and Gossip About Your Neighbor Care.) Aidan came home from school covered in blood from a gaping gash in his chin compliments of a post school bike crash. I'm not really squeamish, but I did have to avert my eyes while they were sewing it closed. Some things are better left unseen. Instead, I stared at the walls, but they were such an ugly depressing brown color, with hideous pictures that looked as if someone had pulled them out of the trash in the seventies, that I settled on staring at the white sheet instead. At least it was white with a comforting worn look. Unlike the rest of the room that looked worn, but in a way that made you feel like you might either be really sick or want to hurt someone, it was a toss up for me.



Sunset from the top of the ski run in Telluride

Aidan has this group of friends at school, and often I spend the last few minutes of evening sitting on the edge of his bed as he describes stories of the day's antics. I laugh because I think they are witty and clever and funny. Sometimes teachers call me and share stories in their grown up teacher language which makes everything sound more stern and serious. Sometimes, I still laugh, just a little bit, because it still sounds funny, and then I remember that I'm a responsible grown up and try to think what would my sister do? and respond accordingly. 



Sunset over Telluride





Clint Eastwood was our doctor at the non Urgent Care. He even talked with a sort of drawl, and carried his scissors in a quick draw little holster in the small of his back. I'm also sure he had a horse tied up out back.


They asked Aidan if he might be allergic to anything in the salve and he said, "No, just cats, so I'm pretty sure we are okay, unless that's a cat you are rubbing on my face", which seemed to confuse the nurse who launched into an explanation about it's really the protein in the cat hair that he was allergic to, not the cat. So if they were rubbing a hairless cat on his face, it would be ok?

A 12 Minute Fight

I know every year I go on and on about how much I love Fall. But I can't help myself, really. It's like a weeks long sunset, the earth preparing for a season of rest, and a master Artist has splashed everything in hues of colors that bathe me in joy. I keep hearing whispers to "Stop and Rest...Breathe". And I try. I leave dishes in the sink, and clean laundry waiting on the couch, and I go outside. But then the days strap me in and take me for another ride, and sometimes it's all I can do to keep up.  A few weeks ago, I took the kids out of school and we took an epic road trip to Telluride,  (14+ hours of driving in two days!) because we just needed to.


Yesterday, Chloe had her black belt sparring test. She's only ten, the youngest in her group of candidates, and skinny. Chloe dislikes sparring, and has been so nervous about her testing that she's crawled in bed with me at night to gather warmth and comfort like a blanket. She looked small and vulnerable on the mat, her only protection headgear and gloves. The rules were that she had to fight for 12 minutes straight, facing fresh opponents every couple of minutes, and at the end, two attackers at a time. The opponents were all boys, and two men. The boys danced on the side, chomping at the bit in eagerness, all of them towering over Chloe, wearing full safety gear, and obviously enjoying the idea of sanctioned fighting. And then they started, the boys in turn rushing out onto the mat, all swinging arms and kicking legs.


The two other girls fighting for their black belts took the onslaughts by backing away, and by the end, their nervous grins had turned into unshed tears, and we were all clapping and cheering, and straining for them to finish, to not give up, to keep fighting, whether they were our child or not.


I saw Chloe whispering to her instructor to please let her take her turn early, before I had to leave to get Aidan from cello. Chloe met the boys with a fierce rush of her own. She began spinning and dancing out of the way, dodging their flailing arms, then darting in to counterattack. Twice she nearly knocked a boy down with a hard kick to the chest, and their unbridled enthusiasm turned into a more cautious advance. My baby girl is a fierce little warrior. Her headgear was knocked off multiple times, and her loose hair began to cover her face like a screen, but she kept going, taking shots to the head and ribs, over and over again, but giving it all right back. She would dodge out and then come back in with a spinning back sweep to their legs.


Towards the end, Chris and I were standing, not caring that we were yelling loud enough to hear in Texas, only that we were loud enough for her to hear. As the final countdown began, Chloe ducked and weaved between the two attackers, then grabbed the boy's arm and used him as a shield to absorb the punches from the man. When she finished, standing there red faced and sweaty, she had earned the respect of everyone in the room and high praise from her instructors, who were proud both of her courage, and her physical conditioning. That's my girl.