46 posts categorized "Thought for the Day"

The Adventures of Princess and Cray-Cray

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Seriously?? 

Of all the pictures I could have posted of our return to Miami, I chose this?? 

Just in case you were wondering, David is Princess and I'm Cray-Cray. And believe me, it doesn't make a difference if we're hungry or not. 

So.... we're heeerreeeeee!!!! I can't believe it. I feel like I landed on another planet. Everything is so different here!

All week I've been yo-yo-ing from, "I'm so happy to be back!" to "OMG what have I done??

But who cares about my fragile and overwhelmed self? Let's talk about COSTCO!! Oh, Costco, how I've missed you so! I'm not going to lie. I really did miss Costco. And I can't believe how many things are kosher at my Costco! Kosher meat, chicken, all kinds of salads, cheeses, dips, snacks, good Heavens! 

And ADIDAS CLOTHING FOR $9.99??? Somebody pinch me. 

I just can't get over the selection and variety of food here! What am I going to do?? I walk around the stores in a slack-jawed daze, taking pictures, just in awe of everything. 

Another majorly shocking experience was Walmart. O.M.G. The crazy prices! The crazy selection! The crazy people! It was unreal. But my favorite part was seeing a guy driving his electric wheelchair up to the register next to us. He was playing Kenny G. so loud, he could have DJ'd for a club on South Beach. So I was checking him out and then I noticed he's got a Magen David, a cross, and about 4 other large gold religious symbols on his necklace. And his fingers were decked out with rings galore. Maybe he really was a DJ. Fascinating.

Oh, you know what else was shocking? Lowriders. Horrible. Forgot how horrible they were. Can anybody explain the logic to me? Does the fact that your head is vibrating and your eardrums are rupturing make that driver popular? Does a bouncing car really attract the "ladies"? What is attractive about this?? Horribly fascinating.

Here's another shocker. Miami is GORGEOUS! There seems to be a competition between developers to see who can get the top names to put on their buildings so they can charge top prices. Armani, Fendi, Lagerfeld, Reckles... I can't believe how over-the-top these places are! Infinity pools on the 50th floor?? An elevator for your car?? How do so many people have so much money? And more importantly, how do I get them to share some of it with me?

Miami has certainly turned into one of the world's premier locations for materialism. I can see by the looks of this city that our wise sages were right. Wealth is certainly a greater test than poverty. It's so easy to get distracted by the pursuit of wealth and all the fabulousness that comes with it. It's too easy to forget that it is Hashem that is the Source of all of this wealth and the potential blessings that it can bring. 

I suspect being poor is more likely to cause a person to cry out to Hashem, because they're in a position to need help. I don't think that's necessarily the case with rich people. I wonder if anyone's called out to Hashem while shopping at Cartier: "Hashem! Help me! I have too much money and don't know which platinum and diamond watch to buy!" Hmmmm. 

In other news, it's great to see so many people being obviously Jewish. Miami has several strong Torah-observant communities, and I'm looking forward to meeting lots of great people. 

In the meantime, wish me luck as I try to stay strong and not devour those ridiculously delicious and toxic Entenman's chocolate-covered donuts.  

BTW, if you haven't read my article this week, The Lost Check, read it now! It's one of my favorites! 

And could you do me a favor? I'd love to know which one of these Snickers bars you are when you're hungry! Send me a comment! 

~Racheli

And don't forget to check out Rav Brody's weekly emuna class! Details below. 

 


Just Be Real!

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It seems that humans aren't the only ones having identity issues these days. 

This little house cat self-identifies as a killer carnivore, one of the most dangerous predators in the world, the Bengal/Siberian/Malayan/Sumatran/I could list ten more types (of) Tiger. 

OMG did I just insult the cat by calling it little? Or a house cat? What if it thinks it's an outdoor cat or a stray cat? Could it sue me in court? Are these questions even allowed anymore?

So I was talking with a person I had paid to listen to me rant close friend about the whole fake issue. Okay, so she's a therapist. And she's one of my closest friends. You know, I'm starting to wonder if she really likes being around me, or she just finds me such a fascinating case study because I'm so not like other people here. 

It's funny that I said that because it happens to be a perfect lead-in to my point. 

Why so many people be so fake? I understand that some level of fakeness is good, like when you have to be cordial with someone that you secretly (or not so secretly) want to kill, tell off, kick off a cliff, or all of the above. It's great to learn to control your emotional urge to lash out at someone who upsets you. Racheli. Yeah, gurrl, I'm talking to you! 

Aside from proper etiquette, why is it so hard for people to be real with each other? Why is it always, "Baruch Hashem," when I ask people how they're doing? Like, I know that we're supposed to thank Hashem for everything, but where is it forbidden to say, "You know, my day really stinks. I overslept, the kid's not feeling well, and I'm up to my ears in dishes and laundry. Plus I ate a few too many carbs yesterday and now I'm all bloated and gross." 

Would it be so bad? Would someone stop being friends with you if you just told them how you felt about something?

What, exactly, would happen if you let your real feelings out? I mean, without insulting or hurting another person's feelings, of course!

But for some reason, we continue to act one way on the surface and another way behind closed doors. If you're like me, hopefully the windows are closed too, because if not, half the street can hear my kids' yelling and screaming.

But seriously, being spiritual and religious doesn't mean you have to deny your feelings and try to act as if you have no problems and no emotions. If you're worried that people won't accept you into their exclusive inner circle because you had the nerve to say you're having a bad day, or some issue is really bothering you, then you don't want those people as friends anyway.

So c'mon folks! You can do it! Who knows? Maybe you'll be an inspiration to others!

And while you're all busy getting all real'd up for me, don't forget to check out Rav Brody's shiur TONIGHT! Info is in the post below!

Have a great, rizzle-ed out day!

~Racheli


Yanny or Laurel?

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So I just found out about the latest internet insanity called "Yanny or Laurel." I ignored my friends' attempts to drag me into their immature nonsense because I'm like, sooo totally beyond that kinda stuff. 

Well. After two days of resisting their back and forth debates about utter stupidity, I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to find out what in the world they were talking about. 

And... I was right. It's utter stupidity. People! You should be ashamed of yourselves! This is what you're using your precious G-d given brain cells for? This is what you're wasting your limited time here on Earth with? 

But in all seriousness, tell me the truth...

Did you hear Yanny, or Laurel?

I just have to know! 

Oh, and what about the words mixed together? Which name did you see?

I saw both, and very easily. But I only heard Yanny. If you heard Laurel you need to get your ears cleaned out. 

Oh, and here's something important you should know! As embarrassing as it is, I'll proudly admit that I'm a HUGE Yanni fan. That means I not only know and play his music, but I also know how his name is spelled. 

It's Yanni. Not Yanny.

Now there very well could be a Yanny out there, but since I don't know him he doesn't really exist. 

Number two: there is a point to this post. 

It turns out that this great human experiment in time-wasting actually has a deep spiritual significance.

You see, you see what you want to see. You hear? You hear what you want to hear.

In other more coherent words, your reality is what you perceive it to be. 

Anything that you experience through your five senses, which is everything, is subject to your perception, your biases, your background, your morals (0r lack thereof,) etc. 

Therefore, each person's reality is completely different and unique. This has so many implications. And this is why we must always take into account another person's point of view, especially when we're having disagreements with each other. To that other person, they are right because that's the way they view the issue. Their reality is all they see, and sometimes it's very hard to get them to see beyond that.

Which is also why we should take things with a huge grain of salt when we hear others talking about things that we didn't personally experience. Again, their perception of whatever happened was real only to them. It does not mean it really happened the way they said it did.

Amazingly, this is why the Torah demands two kosher witnesses when a person is being accused of a wrongdoing.

Even more amazingly, I managed to turn a complete waste of time into something we can learn from. 

But honestly, doesn't it beat listening to the news?

Have a great day!

~Racheli

And don't forget to check out Rav Brody's weekly emuna talk below! 


WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE?!

CandlesAfter the horrific mass murder of 17 innocent children in a place that was supposed to shield them from the outside world, a place where parents shouldn't have to worry about whether or not their child will return home alive from school that day, the American People are outraged.

They are outraged that people like Nikolas Cruz are able to acquire guns and simply walk into a school and start a killing spree. 

I'd just like to elaborate on a question that David, one of our dear readers, asked regarding my last post: "WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE??" His point: When the Jews do something, anything to defend themselves against terrorists, the world is outraged.

We all know the story line. How dare we protect and defend our land and our People from insane terrorists whose mission in life is to run people over, blow them up, and stab them to death. How dare we even refer to them as terrorists! 

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE when the bomb-loving terrorists kill our innocent people and then hand out candies to celebrate? 

Let's switch our focus back to this latest tragedy. Yes, people are outraged. 

But at what?

Some are outraged at the fact that Cruz was able to acquire firearms and ammunition. So they're outraged at the Second Amendment. While I don't want to get into a debate about the Second Amendment, I'd just like to point out that making it illegal or very difficult to buy guns just makes it harder for the good people to defend themselves, which, by the way, everyone still has the right to do. We have this little thing called a Constitution, which gives Americans some rights that most people with common sense actually appreciate. 

Others are outraged at President Trump, though I really don't understand why. Their outrage is so misdirected that we end up with morons telling a poor father who was looking for his murdered daughter that he had it coming to him because he wore a t-shirt that showed he was a Trump supporter. 

While everyone is outraged by this absolute nightmare of a tragedy, Hashem have mercy, I have my own set of outrage questions:

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against Big Pharma, criminal drug pushers who are responsible for putting MILLIONS of people and children on dangerous, unproven drugs whose side effects are usually worse than the diseases themselves?

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against all of the pedophiles, rapists, and molesters that are allowed to hold high positions in office and run the country?

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against men who leave their wives and children because they couldn't control their libidos?

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against abusive spouses, parents, and guardians?

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against leaders of countries who are committing rape, child trafficking, civil war, and genocide on a mass scale?

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against the soul-destroying agenda of the Transgender movement, who is setting up innocent children for a lifetime of self-hate and confusion - and possible suicide?

WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE against the UN and all anti-Semitic countries who are doing everything they can to make the State of Israel go bye-bye?

I'll tell you where the outrage is.

It's in Facebook, where people are so busy insulting each other, cutting each other down, and trying to show the world that they're the wisest prophet to have ever walked the Earth. Seriously?! What is the meaning of getting into conversations, arguments, and revealing your darkest secrets with total strangers? Am I missing something here?

Is life so much more exciting when you don't know who you're talking to?

We've become so numb to reality, it seems we're living more in our phones than in real life. Even people sitting in a restaurant at dinner, in the elevator, even at home with their kids - most have their faces about 12 inches from the screen of their phones. 

Instead of being outraged by nonsense, let's be outraged by the fact that we're losing precious time on social media and online activities that don't serve any constructive purpose. People, we can never get that time back!

How much time have we lost by having arguments with total strangers on social media? Time that we could have used to make our families' dinner a bit earlier, have the house straightened up by the time the kids got home, or even have all of our work finished - at work? 

Stop and think...

The world is getting more insane by the minute.

What do we want to do with the precious few moments we have with our loved ones? With our lives? 

Will we continue to throw them into the social media sewer?

Or will we decide to put that phone down and spend real quality time with the ones we love?

The choice is yours.

~Racheli  


MAZAL TOV, YEHUDA!!

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OMGGGGGGGG it's really here!

TODAY is my oldest son's 13th birthday! Yay!!

I mean, NOOOOOO!!

How can it be that 13 years have already passed since he was born? I can't even imagine what happens to a parent when his kid gets engaged.... YIKES!!

On one hand, I'm super excited because tonight we're gonna tear the house down at his bar mitzvah partayyyyy!! RIGHT, TZIPPY??!!

On the other hand, I'm feeling like I should go get some dentures or orthotics made. 

Well I certainly ain't wearing no orthopedic shoes to this party! I'm gettin' all glamified, glamorized, glitterized, and gluttonized.

What does that even mean??

My mind is so distracted with this disaster of a house, so I'd just like to say the following:

Life. Is. Short.  

Seriously. Appreciate every minute. Live every minute. Even during painful times, thank Hashem that you're alive and can spend time with those you love and care about. You can even thank Him for being able to spend time with those you love and hate, because, hey, we all have a spiritual correction to do, right?

Before you know it, poof! Life will be over before we know it and we'll all go back to Never Never Land. G-d what a depressing thought. I'm sorry, I can't help it.

It's a bittersweet moment for me, my son's bar mitzvah. 

I can't thank Hashem emough for this tremendously special soul He brought into my life, at a healthy 9.1 pounds and 10 days late 13 years ago. With no epidural. Thank You for the traumatic great birth. At least I didn't have a c-section or suffer any complications, B"H.

I hope the fledgling little Good Inclination that just entered him will be able to sprout and help him turn into a kind, considerate, confident, wicked smart, tzaddik who manages to get through teenagerhood without having driven his mother into one of those fancy hotels reserved for mothers of teenagers who manage to drive them to special hotels that only serve people who have lost their minds.

Because their teenagers drove them crazy.

Yehuda, I love you so much and hope Hashem gives you every blessing in this world and the Next, Amen!!

Love,

Your Iraqi Mama whose bark is much louder than her bite. Except when she's hungry.

Oh, and one more thing! Today is a super important day, where we read Parashat HaMann for sustenance! Scroll down for Rav Brody's full explanation and links! 


Party at the Car Wash!!

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As if the most exciting thing in Bet Shemesh wasn't exciting enough. 

They went and made my car wash look like a New Year's Eve party by making the foam glow-in-the dark colors. How cool is that?! Now I can dance in my car as I drive through the Ultimate Party Wisshitty Wash. I'm thinking about suggesting to the gas station manager that they put in some extra large super duper powerful speakers with Bluetooth that'll connect with your phone, so when you go through the car wash you and the rest of Bet Shemesh can listen to your music. I also think that this setup would be so cool if there were cash bills being shot out along with the radioactive foam. Can't you just see it?

Oh, and I just got another great idea! The, um, what do you call those tracks that the car rides on? I dunno. Anyhow, those conveyor belt thingies will be hooked up with hydraulics so the car will bounce to the beat on its way through the car wash. Then everyone can sue the gas company for giving them whiplash.

GENIUSSSS!!! 

So I've got tons of car drama these days. It's like Kapparot every day of the week lately, baruch Hashem. For those of you who don't know what Kapparot is, it's the day before Yom Kippur when we put all of our sins on a chicken and then sacrifice it so our looooonnnnnggggg list of transgressions between man and Hashem disappears. The sacrificed animal is called a kapparah. 

Israelis love to use this word at least three times during a conversation, preferably twice per every 2 1/2 sentences. They love to refer to each other as "kapparah" though I have no idea why. It's an affectionate term 'round dese dere parts. Now I'm wondering if it's a passive-aggressive expression of love. Like, I love you but I really want to roast you over an open fire because you're gettin' all up in my business with your well-meaning advice that no one asked you for. 

Whoah. Sorry.

Let's talk about this car of mine. I took it for the annual test and of course it failed. I was sooo mad! So what if my front bumper has a fog light hanging off and half the grill missing? Is it really such a problem that it's so dented that a piece of the bumper is actually pointing outward? Like it's cut in half in one part. Shame I don't have a picture. But really, is that a good reason to not pass my car?? 

Why am I so mad about this? Because I have to replace the entire front bumper, which costs thousands of shekels! And since it's so expensive, I have to go through my insurance, which will obviously raise my rates G-d knows how much. 

As if that weren't enough, during the same week I failed the car test, my car gave me all those problems with starting. Remember I wrote about it a few weeks ago? Or was it last week? OMG what day is it?? 

So it turns out the fuel pump went to a better place and took some electrical wiring with it. That's another several thousand shekel, and it's not covered by my warranty! What a bummer!!

I had the mechanic give me one of their cars, and of course that was another set of problems. First the rear tail light wasn't working. Then I noticed the left rear view mirror was cracked and made everything look deformed. Then I couldn't figure out where the door lock button was, because it wasn't on the door. I mean, why should they put it on the door? They put it on the dashboard, next to the hazard light button, because doesn't that make so much more sense? 

As if that weren't ridiculous enough, when I took the car to get gas, I couldn't figure out how to open the little gas door! For twenty minutes I was standing at the pump, trying all kinds of tactics to get that door to open, looking around for a hidden lever or button somewhere, but found nothing. I called two different guys over and no one could figure it out!  

Finally I had to call David who actually had to look it up online. And boy, is it complicated! You have to click the unlock button on your key twice while it's in the ignition and then tap your heels together six times while repeatedly chanting, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."

And the worst part is last week I bought a new pair of sneakers that were a size and a half too small!! 

BARUCH HASHEMMMMM!!!!  

I still can't get over it. How could I make such a massive mistake?? I tried the shoes on, for G-d's sake! They felt fine! But the rest of the week I had such terrible foot pain during Zumba that I couldn't even jump by the end of the week. But I jumped anyway, 'cause I'm no quitter. So what if my feet felt like they were breaking? 

I asked David to take me to see if I could exchange my shoes. He thought I just wanted to spend one-on-one quality time with him, but what I was really doing was bringing along a chaperone to make sure there would be no "altercation" at the sports store. He gave me a pep talk the entire way there, saying nonsense like, "You wore the shoes for a week and the store doesn't have to take them back," and "It's all from Hashem," and on and on. He also made me smell some lavender oil before I walked into the store. 

I didn't even consider the fact that my shoes were too small until David mentioned it to me. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that MY WORST NIGHTMARE HAS COME TRUE...

He... was... r-r-r-ight!

Oy, my head hurts now. I'm actually crinkling my nose.

The shoe disaster was the icing on the cake. Hashem apparently decided that it wasn't enough to deal with all of the car and shoe balagan (mess.) He wanted me to know that sometimes, rarely, almost never, I can make a m-m-mis-ttttake. 

All in all, it was a tough couple of weeks.

But, Kapparah! Mechanic bills are better than medical bills, right? It's better than being sick or getting in an accident, right? I mean, at least I still got to go to Zumba every morning! 

Every time I called Rav Brody to complain about one thing or another (which was a lot!) he reminded me that all of these aggravations were Hashem just wiping away my transgressions. Then wipe away, I say!

So it's all good! Hashem gave me the money, and hopefully He'll give me some more because I need a new pair of shoes. And a new dress. My oldest son's bar mitzvah is coming up in less than two months! YIKES!!

That's a whole 'nother crisis that I'll write about another time. In the meantime I've got to make invitations! 

Enjoy the rest of your day!

~Racheli


BACK AT THE BUFFET!!!

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YEAH, BABY!!!!!

While all you turkey killers were recovering from your gluttonous food fest (which I wish I could have enjoyed too,) I was mentally preparing for a gluttonous food fest of my own. Dat's right - pancakes!!!

For TWO LONG WEEKS I've been dreaming about Cafe Rimon's Friday morning stuff-yer-face buffet. I hope the fact that I just gave them a nice plug will get me some free food. I'm totally serious. If any of you out there know any management at Rimon in Bet Shemesh, tell them to hook a sista' up! 

So here's the lowdown. 

The Yetzer knew that I had big plans for Friday morning, and he started messing with me on Thursday afternoon. After a week of my car making noises like an old man trying to cough some phlegm out of his chest, my car decided that it was fed up of being neglected and refused to start. Thank G-d I was home when it happened. Sorry, I meant eppened. 

I called the mechanic and gave him the bad news. He sent me flowers and gave me his most sincere condolences, but more important things were on my mind. HOW WAS I GOING TO GET TO THE BUFFET ON FRIDAY?? I tossed and turned all night, worrying about how I was going to get there and back home in time. I needed to make sure that the kids would walk in the door and find me cooking in the kitchen like a good little woman, ya know? G-d forbid they should find out I had fun while they were in school! 

Sure enough, Friday morning comes and the car won't start. Now I had to deal with getting the kids to school, calling the mechanic who insisted on sending someone to make sure it wasn't the battery (which I already knew it wasn't,) and all kinds of aggravation with getting the car out of its parking spot and back in again. And of course I couldn't get a towing company to come. It was a total disaster.

Instead of calling a taxi, I activated my chutzpah powers and transformed the entire pointless hour by convincing Useless Mechanic Driver Man to give us a ride to the mall. GENIUSSSS!! 

He pulled up to the entrance and I delicately stepped out of the back seat of his tiny 1983 smoke-smelling Isuzu. Waiting for me was a red carpet and hundreds of paparazzi, just as I had requested. I waved like Queen Elizabeth at the imaginary paparazzi that were falling over themselves in adoration as they snapped millions of pictures of me walking into the mall and all the way to the restaurant, wearing my black Jackie O sunglasses. 

They tried to follow me into the restaurant, but the manager refused them entry. I turned and flashed them a million dollar smile, blew them a kiss and bid them farewell. When it was our turn to be seated, I walked in with one thing on my mind: pancakes.

Right at the entrance to the buffet stood my BFF, Pancake Man. As we high-fived each other on my way to the table, I snuck a quick glance at his neck to make sure he was still wearing our split heart BFF necklace. The hostess seated us at a great table outside so we could enjoy the cool and fresh winter air along with the occasional cigarette smoke blowing our way. Yuck. Oh, and just to clarify, by "we" I meant David and I. Unfortunately Pancake Man had to stay at his station. 

As I waited anxiously for the waitress to bring us plates, I quickly changed from my heels into my running shoes. My heart was pounding in anticipation as I worked out the logistics of which buffet station I was going to hit first. And why are you rolling your eyes, by the way? Should I have dressed for my big day out in Nike's? What would the paparazzi say??

It would be all over the trash magazines: "Racheli Reckles, self-proclaimed 'world-famous writer,' steps out to a fabulous breakfast wearing... NIKE'S??!" 

Oh, and you want to hear something hilarious? Here they don't say Nike like we say it in the States. They say Nike like Mike! NIKE!! "Yo, chabibi, you got the cool Nikes! Pssshhhhhttt...

Finally, I saw the waitress heading over to our table with two plates on her tray. Assuming they were ours, I bolted out of my chair and sprinted toward her, grabbing a plate from her like an Olympic relay race runner. And I was off! 

I ran from table to table, dumping all kinds of delicious carb-infested food on my plate. Why didn't I head straight to my beloved Pancake Man? Simple. I just couldn't rationalize paying the buffet price just to eat pancakes. I had to feel like I was getting something more for my husband's money than just fried batter. 

After a short while of filling up on all kinds of delicacies, I decided that the moment I had been waiting for has arrived. YAY!!

I ran to the pancake station hoping that there would be pancakes ready. No such luck. I stood there with my plate in my hand, suspiciously eyeing the people next to me. "What are they waiting for?" I wondered. "Pancakes or omelettes?" It was hard to tell. I nudged in closer to the pancake griddle and stood right in front of it, on top of the Hollywood star that I had placed in the floor with my name on it. I could tell the people around me were getting annoyed because I had just cut them off in line. I turned to them with fire coming out of my Iraqi eyes and silently mouthed, "My spot." 

My mouth was watering from the delicious syrupy smell. G-d help me if they ever have a kosher IHOP over here. I won't know what to do with myself.

FINALLY, my BFF started flipping those little fluffy heavenly circles into the basket. I shoved my plate directly over the basket so no pancakes would land in the basket. The people around me started yelling at me. "It's on," I thought.

I expertly elbowed the guy to my right and side kicked the lady to my left so there would be no competition for my prize. I vaguely heard some glass crashing to the floor behind me, but I was to engrossed in pouring four pounds of syrup on my pancakes to care. After loading a huge chunk of butter on top, I smiled sweetly at Pancake Man and headed back to my table. 

I walked back with my head held high in victory, oblivious to all the commotion going on behind me. From the corner of my eye I could see several people laying on the floor covered in food, surrounded by broken plates and being tended to by Hatzalah medics. 

David was shaking his head as I sat down. "What?" I asked him. Was it the mountain of pancakes on my plate that bothered him, or the fact that I can't go anywhere without making a scene? "Nothing, nothing," he answered, and went back to eating. He's been married to me long enough to know when not to start. 

I snarfed down the first 100 pancakes and got up to grab me a second round. But this time, I got smart. Instead of waiting for my Prince of Pancakes to make me another batch, I took the squeeze bottle and started squeezing out little pancakes on the griddle. He reached out to grab the bottle from my hand. Bad idea. I snatched it away and hissed, "Go ahead. I dare you." 

All in all, I ate about 300 pancakes and had to be carried out because I couldn't walk. Thank G-d Hatzalah was there. Talk about divine providence, yo! As I was being whisked to the taxi, I stuck my hand out and grabbed one of the squeeze bottles filled with pancake batter. With my other hand I ripped off the BFF chain from Pancake Man's neck. 

I felt so sick from eating all those pancakes, that I've decided to take another two weeks off before I go back. You know what they say: you can have too much of a good thing.  

It's great to have nice things, as long as getting those nice things doesn't become our main goal in life. Nice things are just tools to help us connect with Hashem in so many different ways. They're not an end in themselves, which is why we're never satisfied with them if that's how we think of them.

Whoah. That was like, sooo deep and profound.

Oh, and shoes are the exception! A woman can never have too many shoes! Got it, guys??

Have a great week!

~Racheli