Elmo Plates

I can’t even describe how frightened I have been feeling these last few weeks. I am cold and downcast and screaming inside with agita.

I can’t remember anything like this in my very nice and lucky life.

It’s like a squeezing weight coming from above and a freezing hole coming from inside.

Fear is ugly, and once you wake up at 5 in the morning and see it, you can’t get back to sleep.

I’m not sure why building this business is affecting me this way—lots of people get stressed while doing something new and very, very hard.

Maybe it’s the time pressure, maybe it’s the complete new world of it—maybe because I’ve just spent a week in Atlantic City with the titans of the industry and THEY are stressed to boiling point (although the nicest people in any business I’ve ever seen except Math professors) and no one has any answers.

Oh well—I’m trying not to let it get in the way of my day. Really.

We’ve been playing lots of concerts and simchas which has been wonderful and Purim was a highlight:

Sruli and I dressed as each other and went to his Shul where he is the High Holiday Cantor and substitute Rabbi. He in my long black dress and peacock feather hat from Zachary’s Bar Mitzvah and me in his Kittel, Tallis, and white cantorial yarmulke.

We stopped the place. There was a silence—then an eruption. Very cool.

The baby twins, of course, rocked as Thing One and Thing Two.

Purim day we played at this fabulous Jersey shul and then packed up our Crazy Caravan and schlepped to Chabad in the Berkshires. Great party, great original Megillah slide show (Ahmadinejad was Haman—or vice versa) and the Rabbi’s kids were whip smart.

Ok, so they only had dark meat chicken.

What’s really, really important is that my baby twins are going to be two on Sunday.

We’re delaying the party til the following week cos we have gigs and they won’t know the difference but I finally got to do something today that I had been looking forward to for over 2 weeks: bought the paper goods.

Just shopped, leisurely at the dollar store, with happy tears in my over-rubbed eyes.

Elmo plates. Matching cups and napkins. Big red tablecloth. I also got a Pin the tail on the donkey kit and those blow thingies.

And you should see the dress that little girl is going to wear. (He will wear artist’s black as usual, the little cherub, with his blond blond curls.)

I want to celebrate them because they have brought poopoopoo nothing but delight to everyone in our family, our community and all the strange, hilarious and nutso people we meet from Pathmark to Target.

Delight, like nakhes, every single minute.

And I think--Maybe all this pain is for them. I am old and they are very very young. I want to provide for them and power is slipping from my grasp. I don’t know if I will be able to protect them from everything I want to protect them from, including uncertainty, like money uncertainty.

It is almost unbearable. But then I think.

Even if I fail, it was still worth it.

I can’t even describe how frightened I have been feeling these last few weeks. I am cold and downcast and screaming inside with agita.
I can’t remember anything like this in my very nice and lucky life.
It’s like a squeezing weight coming from above and a freezing hole coming from inside.
Fear is ugly, and once you wake up at 5 in the morning and see it, you can’t get back to sleep.
I’m not sure why building this business is affecting me this way—lots of people get stressed while doing something new and very, very hard.
Maybe it’s the time pressure, maybe it’s the complete new world of it—maybe because I’ve just spent a week in Atlantic City with the titans of the industry and THEY are stressed to boiling point (although the nicest people in any business I’ve ever seen except Math professors) and no one has any answers.
Oh well—I’m trying not to let it get in the way of my day. Really.
We’ve been playing lots of concerts and simchas which has been wonderful and Purim was a highlight:
Sruli and I dressed as each other and went to his Shul where he is the High Holiday Cantor and substitute Rabbi. He in my long black dress and peacock feather hat from Zachary’s Bar Mitzvah and me in his Kittel, Tallis, and white cantorial yarmulke.
We stopped the place. There was a silence—then an eruption. Very cool.
The baby twins, of course, rocked as Thing One and Thing Two.
Purim day we played at this fabulous Jersey shul and then packed up our Crazy Caravan and schlepped to Chabad in the Berkshires. Great party, great original Megillah slide show (Ahamadinijad was Haman—or vice versa) and the Rabbi’s kids were whip smart.
Ok, so they only had dark meat chicken.


What’s really, really important is that my baby twins are going to be two on Sunday.
We’re delaying the party til the following week cos we have gigs and they won’t know the difference but I finally got to do something today that I had been looking forward to for over 2 weeks: bought the paper goods.
Just shopped, leisurely at the dollar store, with happy tears in my over-rubbed eyes.
Elmo plates. Matching cups and napkins. Big red tablecloth. I also got a Pin the tail on the donkey kit and those blow thingies.
And you should see the dress that little girl is going to wear. (He will wear artist’s black as usual, the little cherub, with his blond blond curls.)
I want to celebrate them because they have brought poopoopoo nothing but delight to everyone in our family, our community and all the strange, hilarious and nutso people we meet from Pathmark to Target.
Delight, like nakhes, every single minute.
And I think--Maybe all this pain is for them. I am old and they are very very young. I want to provide for them and power is slipping from my grasp. I don’t know if I will be able to protect them from everything I want to protect them from, including uncertainty, like money uncertainty.
It is almost unbearable. But then I think.
Even if I fail, it was still worth it.