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

Little Sis Taylor & the Journey of Tears

We can never go back to the way it was.

I can never, ever go back to the way it was.

Some may have read the above lines and immediately thought of COVID. They are appropriate, aren't they?  I think of teaching in this new world, and remind myself again and again that I will move forward.  Change.  

This.  This life.  My life. Since mid-June of 2019 when my diagnosis came my idea that days could progress they way I wished they would?  Shattered.  

About a week ago I started thinking about freedom.  I challenged myself to take photos of ordinary things that I usually don't notice, and how someone who lacks freedom - those in elder care, incarcerated, those who have lost their sight - no longer can experience.  Looking at these photos tonight I realize how magnificent details are.  Concerts, festivals, parties, weddings.  These are all monumentous.  The ordinary are truly extraordinary.  The things we all take for granted.  As well as the people...

Taylor Swift seems to know ***just*** when to release an album.  I joke that she's the little sister I never had, with her own emotional ups and downs that many times have mirrored my own, except with bank accounts in excessive digits.  Last night at midnight she released "folklore."

Peace.  

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly this summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it's just around the corner, darlin'

'Cause it lives in me

I have been losing my father for a long time because of CLL, and then Alzheimer's.  Now we are spinning towards a place.  A location where time, memories, at times logic, do not exist.  For my beloved dad, his life is the here and now.  Some days that here and now is simply what has gone on within the past hour.  Yet still, like tonight when I saw him, I catch a glimpse of that mischievous grin and a light in his brilliant, blue eyes that people have always noticed.  MausiGal and her dad somehow, within the mixed up particles of brain matter that he has, still connect.  He laughs.  

When I am sitting in the Swede mobile heading home, the tears.  I do not stop.  The sobbing where your nose starts to run.  My Irish skin, which I inherited from him, turns bright red.  

Forward.  I am truly blessed that right now, at this moment in my existence, I have those in my life who will move forward with me, to go into the unknown.  Step one.  Step two.  Step three.  

Love you all from the bottom of my heart, those who are on the journey with me.

xoxo MausiGal

Sammy Loves Sandi

My mother, Sandi, hates squirrels.  This fact has become quite well known, as she's put it out there on Facebook in various posts.  Why her detest of these cutest of rodents?

Her beloved gardens.  Sandi's gardens are her pride and joy, and with due reason.  When strangers pass her yard they ask, "Who does your gardening?"  It's her - all her.  My mother is the epitome of what can be accomplished when one takes their stress, frustrations, and loss of control and channel it into one their passions.

A relationship between mother and daughter can be tricky.  In films we see this dynamic duo portrayed with either extreme love and friendship or the height of hatred.  Sandi and I have gone through both.  I'll fully admit I haven't been the easiest hija to raise, with the idea of flying off to Finland for three months at the age of sixteen, and all sorts of other adventures I did to drive my mom to the point of extinction.  Having my brother and his friend bury me up to my neck in the sandbox in the back yard? Good times for us.  My mom? Not so much.

Years of appreciation and understanding of my mom have led me to see her the person she is - not the mother.  Sandi has a past, present, and future.  Her struggles with my father and his leukemia and Alzheimer's are always at the forefront, causing her to make sacrifices that she never could have imagined.  So often when thinking of mothers we consider them in relation to ourselves, as if the umbilical cord never detached and they owe us.  As children, our mothers are there for us; they're not human. Emotions? A life? Did they have one?  Are they people?  Coming to the realization of the strengths and struggles of my own mother has opened my mind.

Long Point by Lake Champlain - Years Past

Sandi and I are united through blood but also a bondage of mother and daughter.  I do know I somewhat torture her with my political rants, a lifestyle that consists of chaos, and snark that only I can deliver.  Over the years, though, she knows that this is MausiGal - complete with three dogs, two cats, three fish.  And I know she is the constant gardener, yelling at squirrels and banging on her kitchen window to scare them away, much like her father did years ago.  Sandi has also been here for me during the lows and the highs, and those flat lines in-between.

Mother's Day is not about the raising of children.  These twenty-four hours are meant as a reflection of the journey we have taken with the women in our life who have made us realize our greatest potential, the ability to grow, and the way to reflect and accept.

Sandi and I have the connection of Sammy the Squirrel, her "special friend" that visits her often.  Smile on this Mother's Day - and every day.  There are women out there who value you more than you could ever know.  And Mom - I am your biggest fan! xoxo MausiGal