First year teaching.  Route 89 South.  Go.

My son's tears could be felt through the phone.

"Mom, one of my students died in a car crash."

This is every instructor's nightmare.  How do you mourn while your students need you at their most?

I immediately thought of my second year teaching, when a friend of two of my students was killed while rollerblading.  Talking to one of them in the bleachers of the football stadium...

"Why wasn't it me?  How come?"

Nothing in teacher education prepares you for the loss of a student.  To this day I have in my wallet the Mass card from a student who passed while in college.  He was no longer under my tutelage, but you think...

What if?

Why?

I believe we are put in these situations for a reasons.  Kidlet B was given this teaching job to help his kids get through this tragedy.  One soul leaves as another ascends.  

All day my thoughts were with Kidlet B, his students, his fellow teachers, their administration.  

Celebrate life any chance you get.  YOU are amazing.  You are loved.  Hug people.  Give kisses (even if air kisses!). Pet dogs.  Pet cats.  Pet hamsters.  

Know that you are the reason someone had a good day...

Birthdays and Memories and This

 Today is the twentieth anniversary of 9/11.

As I type this my new Puerto Rican kitten, Koda, is trying to jump on keyboard.  

It is my grandfather's birthday today, Carroll M. Berg, Sr.  His thoughts when the events unfolded?

"I hate my birthday.  I will always hate my birthday."

I could never have Gramps do that.  In his memory I send birthday cards each year to a service member who has the same birthday, letting them know that this date, although clothed in sadness, also spreads so much amazing power.

A man who had four children who went on to be unique individuals.

A man who served at Check Point Charlie, at a time when Berlin was divided into East and West.

A man who would do what he could with what he was given - which was his incredible intelligence and ability to question.  I like to think I have inherited that.

A man who stood to his principles, believed in them, yet respected others.  He loved our country.  My grandfather loved Vermont.  I still have the postcard he sent me from the 802 when I was maybe seven years old. The beginning of an addiction for that paper format? Probably so.  

A man who told me the funniest story of a monkey who chased him through Berlin, and shared this with my toddlers, who would, "look for the monkey under the bed!" when we would visit him.  After hearing this tale, I understood where my fear of monkeys came from!

This photo of us is from my brother and sister-in-law's wedding years ago (hence I had long pre-cancer hair!).  The smiles.  Love.  

I miss my 5:00pm phone calls with Gramps.  The exchanges of the Jumbles from the newspapers.  I went forward with his influence and now send and give so many people clippings from the Boston Sunday Globe.  He taught me to explore everything - not just what I studied in school. Be a learner of all.  Be an independent female (he was adamant about that)! He loved that I had a menagerie (all my pets) and would probably laugh today at all the animals I have, as he himself grew up on a farm.  

I wanted to honor him on his birthday, my grandfather, Grampy, Carroll.  Tomorrow I will be attending an Honor Flight to support veterans as they go to visit Washington, DC.  It's the least I can do for the people who have made this country what it is for my sons and I.  Is the USA perfect? Heck no. Is any nation? Never.  But we grow  And my grandfather taught me that - with his tomato plants and telling those damn squirrels to get out of his garden.  You grow.  Life gets better.

Grampy, yesterday after the 9/11 silence I told my students about your service.  They were humbled and asked questions.  To me this was just one more influence you have had on the world.  Let us continue...

I miss. I miss. I miss.

 July 31st.  Or July 32nd?  Yes.  August 1st.

Augustus.  

(You knew it wouldn't be MausiGal without a lil' bit of Nermal!)

My mood.  I am drinking iced French Press coffee with Vermont Coffee Company beans.  And if the irony doesn't continue, I just found out they SOLD OUT to Stonewall Kitchen!  As in, WTF.  Mass produced, semi-authentic Maine jelly and jams et al.  Now I need to search out new beans.  I guess, as y'all say, everyone needs a hobby.

Summer has suckethed.  The weather.  Damp. Rainy.  Hey! Sun's out? Wait a minute for it to give you a downpour again.  That apocalyptic haze that you see?  No worries!  Just the fires from the west coast REACHING ALL THE WAY OUT HERE!

Kidlet A was spot on in telling me to no longer refer to this as "Climate Change," but a "Climate Crisis."  About a week ago I drove through Manchester, New Hampshire, early in the morning, to see the fog with its orange tint.  Creepy.  Same thing.  You immediately get the feeling of listening to "I Know The End" by Phoebe Bridgers and everything is OVER.  And yeah.  I had that on as I went through Manchester that morning.  So much.  The end.

I miss...

The list I made I deleted, perhaps for self- preservation.  I miss so much that my heart aches.  There is a void and I wonder how it can ever be filled, or helped, or made to smile on a sunshine day.

Lately I feel I express myself better through photos, so perhaps mausigal will go with that.  The words possibly will follow.

Love you all.

xoxo

Kreplach!

 

KREPLACH!

Here is the Kreplach recipe I learned from my cooking class at my Congregation's Sisterhood retreat yesterday.  Oh so yummy!  Enjoy!  Thanks to Noah A. for providing this recipe and leading the class!

Sisterhood Retreat Cooking Class with Chef Noah 

~ Kreplach for Chicken Kreplach Soup ~ 

Ingredients: 

● 3-4 quarts of your favorite chicken soup 

● 1 ¾ cup Flour 

● Salt and pepper 

● 2 eggs 

● 2 Tb vegetable oil 

● 3 Tb olive oil or butter 

● 1 onion diced 

● ¼ cup fresh dill 

● Lemon zest 

● Nutmeg 

● 2-3 chicken breasts cooked and shredded 

Tools: 

● Skillet 

● Bowls 

● Rolling pin 

● Forks 

● Knives 

Directions: 

1.    For the kreplach: Combine the flour and 1 teaspoon salt in a food processor and pulse to combine. Mix the eggs, vegetable oil and 2 tablespoons cold water in a spouted measuring cup. With the processor running, pour in the egg mixture and process until the dough forms a ball on the blade, about 30 seconds. (If the dough doesn't form a ball after 30 seconds or is too crumbly, adjust with a tablespoon or so of flour if too loose or a tablespoon or so of water if too crumbly.) Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let rest at room temperature while you prepare the filling.

2. For the filling, heat the olive oil in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until deep golden, 10 to 15 minutes. Add to the shredded chicken along with the chopped dill, lemon zest, and nutmeg. Season with salt and pepper and mix well. 

3. Cut the rested dough into quarters, then cut each quarter into 3 pieces (12 pieces in all). On a floured surface, press, pat or roll a chunk of dough to about a thin 3-inch round. Hold the round in the palm of your hand and add 2 tablespoons filling. Press the dough closed to encase the filling and form a ball, twisting and tearing off any excess dough. Set twisted-side down on a floured baking sheet and repeat with the remaining dough and filling. (Any remaining filling can be added to the soup!) 

4. Add the kreplach (dusting off any excess flour) and simmer until the dough is tender, 7 to 8 minutes. Serve the soup in bowls with slices of lemon and garnished with fresh dill.

Chao, MausiGal

 Chao, MausiGal

There are times and places for everything.  Oh, so cliché, yet ever so true.  For me, the time for MausiGal is to close.

I began this blog back in March 2013.  Although I did a wordplay on "Sugar Mama,"  this was more a post about my baking addiction.  Posts would follow in a similar manner - is MausiGal joking about her love all things flour, or more about, well, those things doth we wish not to speak?

Years have gone by - for all of us, and perhaps for those just looking for the first time.  Do not pretend.  You are in no means immune to the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years that are stolen from us, and from the loved ones that are taken from us.  So many of the students I teach experience this madness so much earlier than I ever needed to.  To them I think, I hope, I truly pray that they can do more for the world that I every tried to. Yet yes...each of our experiences are so different.  So unique.  I respect each and every one.

MausiGal.  So many years ago the woman who was happy go lucky, filled with determination, yet at the same time not as all jaded as the one who is alive now. Who has seen the humiliating conditions the elderly must live in, in our country, a first world country.  My father was lucky enough to have a caring family and support system (thank you, Senior Angels!) thank always made sure he felt loved.  The others?  What are we doing for the elders in our nation? The ones who have survived atrocities and are able to tell us, above all...

HISTORY NEED NOT REPEAT

I have decided after this to move forward with a different blog with photos and poetry lines.  Why?  To be honest, I am fearful in this current society that my lines from my simple blog will be twisted, distorted, to gosh knows what means. Many of you have noticed I've been staying away from social media.  Yes. The fear of having my words twisted to someone else's means is too much.  Am I up for the fight? As always. However, I feel that fighting against idiocy is just a waste of my precious time when I could be tutoring students to graduate from high school, learning more about diversity and inclusion, or, even better, helping my amazing sons be better for their future.  

To those of you who are brave enough to use words, I applaud you.  Keep up the fight.

I want to end MausiGal with the words I have had at the end of my outgoing emails on my school account for months.  I cannot even begin to tell you how much these resonate.  

"The teacher in me says to my student: Just think, perhaps you are the only hope I have.  

Fulfill it." - Elie Wiesel

Be safe.  Be happy.  Be well.  BE YOU!

xoxo MausiGal

luz y paz

 Luz y paz

Luz.  Paz.  

Light.  Peace.

As a non-native Spanish speaker I'm drawn to the sounds of those two words together.  The three letters ending with the softest of zees, subtly escaping into the air to worlds of possibility.  I often wonder if those raised with hearing their basic words for our "light" and "peace" would find me crazy to be mesmerized by the combination of such simple sounds.  

Luz.  Paz.

This first evening of Hanukkah I prepped to light my menorah - alone.  My niece texted me, "Happy Hanukkah!" which warmed my heart.  I am the solo practicing Jew in my family, and to have my twelve year old niece recognize my holiday at her age made me feel not so lonely.  Earlier in the day I'd decorated cookies with the Jewish Student Union Club, and later attended my synagogue's "Giant Menorah" lighting, as one of my students described it before.  The feelings of luz...of paz... were present for all these occasions.  

(Yes, this is a Menorah cookie and you'd love it b/c is is FULL of sugar!)

Here in front of my menorah now, I wonder if I'm breaking some rule of the use of technology while the menorah is lit.  I'll admit - the idea of being alone while celebrating Hanukkah - and before Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah - has been a bit daunting.  But tonight as I look at the luz, the light, I feel a true sense of paz, of peace, that I have not felt in a very long time.  When I listened to the music and read the prayers for Hanukkah, a sense of calmness...paz...came over me once again.

There are ups and downs and sideways to life.  When I was at Lawrence University for undergrad I was fortunate to hear Elie Wiesel speak.  His words have become a beacon - una luz - many times to the darkness I face as I work as an educator.  This quote especially is the backbone to my soul.

"Think higher.  Feel deeper." - Elie Wiesel

Be the luz.  Bring about paz.

I'M GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH THIS YEAR!

 

I'm going to make it through this year

If it kills me

The Mountain Goats - This Year

This song came up randomly on my Spotify list today.

This is what many call a "G_d wink." Why? Because for me, music gets me through each and everything I need to.  This song may refer to a seventeen year old's issues, but I can relate.  

I broke free on a Saturday morning
I put the pedal to the floor
Headed north on Mills Avenue
And listened to the engine roar

So many times.  Even just to go to the post office, the supermarket, during COVID, as a cancer patient.  Do people freakin' get this?  To hear the engine of my Volvo XC 90 once again? The car that I love? It is amazing! I don't even care if it's 25 mph.  It's my baby.  She's mine.  And yeah. Watch out.  She's badass.  Just like her owner.

I am going to make it through this year
If it kills me
I am going to make it through this year
If it kills me

There is so much this year that has been, well, wow.  For me, personally, it goes way and beyond COVID.  I appreciate all who are struggling with the pandemic.  This is like no other.  I truly wish we could have more compassion for each other - above and beyond political lines.  Humans be humans be humans. 

My dad.  In hospice.  Not being able to drive  him to the library and post office anymore, and joke about the horrendous drivers on the Chelmsford rotary.  His cane out the sunroof, giving the M@ssholes something to think about.  He and I - the four wheel crusaders in a Swede mobile!  

People tell me - "It's for the best."  But have you ever thought what it's like to have your best friend taken away from you? The one who has believed in you since you were little?  But now isn't sure what's up?  Alzheimer's.  The worst.  

I'm angry.  Yet at the same time I refuse not to be.  Please STOP IGNORING THE ELDERLY!  They have so many stories to tell us! We're in the craptacular situation we are now because we haven't listened to history - haven't learned history.

LEARN

LIVE

LOVE