Playtime

Do you like my new dress?
I do. Mine is new too. Now let’s play already.

A cutie pie showing off her new dress.  A maidel mit a klaidel.

 

      

      

 

 

Swimming Upstream

Guatemalan worry dolls… been working them in over time

Hello, my friends. I have been quiet of late — very unlike me, I know. It has been a hell of a couple of years weeks. First, strep throat knocked us all to our knees. One by one, we fell. Despite hand washing, Lysol wipes and new toothbrushes, we were coated with cooties and all swilling shots of penicillin. Strep is literally, like swallowing a brick. Not fun times as an adult — I can only imagine the pain for my kinder (children). Gatsby was literally, the last man standing. Vey iz mir (OMG, but worse), it was bad. 

What followed in the aftermath was tougher to bear than the bacteria-baked bricks… Our, my journey of late has been tough. No harder than the next person mind you… of that I am well aware. Still difficult, nonetheless.

I have been living the plight of the salmon. (Not the delicious kind that ends up atop your shmear (cream cheese) on a toasted everything bagel…) I’m talking about the astounding event where the momma fish like any other but the mother would do this leaves years of comfort in ocean dwelling, genetically alters its very form to seek out and return, upstream, against the tides, waterfalls, bears, and all odds, to the roots of their birth. Without google maps, these salmon, they locate the exact freshwater stream of their birth, to lay the eggs of a new generation on the gravel river beds. And then they die, knowing the kinder are well-tended and will carry on.

These salmon, they are fighters. They are filled with courage and defiance to do what they must do — to follow their core. They are the definition of #rebelgirls and #strongwomen. They defy all limitations and persevere, despite obstacles, predators and sheer exhaustion. They do this because they have no other choice but to be true to themselves and those they love. 

This Yiddisheh momma has been #livingfearlesslyauthentic, much like the salmon. I swam hard and long. I reached my freshwater riverbed, and I spoke my truth. I did so for injustice and all that is unfair. I did so for my Mrs., my Big, and my Little. I did so for ME. And I truly believed that:

If you lie on the ground, you cannot fall. Az mi ligt oif der erd, ken men nit fallen.

What I learned, was that you can still fall. That the truth is not always enough. That there are so many who can easily look away from truths. That so many can label, misrepresent, smear (very different from a nice shmear), and lie. And that the latter group that can win. And that in itself can be mentally and physically crushing.

My silence is over. My quiet has passed. I still grieve the loss, nurture my courage. I will become whole again. After all, I have two shayneh maidelehs (sweet little girls)  that must know that despite everything, it is always an obligation, to tell the truth. That we must always stand tall and respectfully fight, not only the injustices that we face, but those of our fellow humans too. I have learned in no uncertain terms that the battles that surround us are much larger than we know. That the work ahead is complex.

And despite my loss, I would stand up again, and risk the same fall. My Mrs. and me, we will raise two mighty girls with voices to engage and take a stand for their sisters and brothers who need them.

Injustice won this time, a shonda (crying shame). But this particular salmon, I am not rolling over and playing dead.

A liar tells his story so often that he gets to believe it himself. A ligner hert zikh zeineh ligen azoi lang ein biz er glaibt zikh alain.

Plus, I know karma is a bitch for all nogudniks (someone on the wrong side of the law).

     

    

      

      

 

What’s the difference?

Each and every one of us is beautifully different. That alone is worthy of celebration.

Bei mir bis du sheyn. To me you’re beautiful. 

      

   

Meet Stumpy

Okay, so my inner Lorax is showing again. This time, I’m sharing my very favorite tree stump. My muses, they are still away on holiday and Gatsby and I are busy, meandering all over the place in an effort to keep him exercised while I’m at work, and me free from worry (huh!) while I am away from him. Where I really wish we were walking is out on the trails of our sort of, back yard, the Wissahickon.

On this particular trail, no matter the season, the kinder (children) have to jump on the stump and imagine, explore and pretend. It never gets old for them or for me. Photo ops abound. Well, okay, I admit, I too would enjoy a climb on, or even through this beauty. For me, stumpy here epitomizes all the good parts of childhood. Stumpy brings up images of bright red radio flyers, flowered banana seat bikes with multi-colored streamers, Keds sneakers and, skimming stones in the creek.

I can even taste the stale gum that comes with the pack of baseball cards. Do you hear the ice cream truck, or is it just me? This stump, it may just be the very best stump in all of the world. And we have it, right here, in our sort of, very big, backyard park.  Nothing to kvetch (whine) about here.

Go out and be with the trees, my friends.

 

      

     

 

Quote

Do you see us?

Do you see us? We are a family, just like yours.

It’s a slippery slope my friends and we are headed down the rabbit hole fast. The latest for me, my Mrs. and our shanah maideleh kinder (sweet beautiful girls) is our invisibility in the upcoming Census. It’s been announced that there will not be an LGBTQ count in the 2020 census. To be fair, that’s the way I roll, it’s important that you know that we have never been counted before. But after the stunning momentum from the Obama administration, the proclamation to love out loud with all the legal rights and freedoms from the Supremes, government agencies, lefty liberals, and this Yiddisheh lesbian, we were hopeful that following the next Census, our government would see us. And after they see us, they would work to find ways so that we wouldn’t always be under some threat, be it physical, emotional or legal. They would see us and allocate the resources that are so important to our LGBTQ community. They would see us and help.

Congressional Democrats (much too many for mr t to count on his tiny little hands), along with several government agencies (Health and Human Services, the Justice Department and Housing and Urban Development) have all requested that mr t’s administration counts the LGBTQ population in the next Census (2020). Figuring, ‘Hey, wouldn’t be a swell idea to better understand sexual orientation, marital status, family status, gender identity and the location, size and socioeconomic status of this population?  We are out ringing doorbells counting anyway?’ 

mr t and his slimy swamp mates, they say there’s no need for collecting data on us. A crowd of people, and not one real person among them. A groyse oylem, un nito ein mentsch. Their anti-gay agenda is clear as day, and I feel it as real as those hot flashes, vey iz mir (OMG). Gorsuch, poised for confirmation via the cowardly nuclear option, is an extreme threat to our civil rights for the next 4 to 5 decades. Well, you know what f*ck that? WE ARE HERE. You cannot erase us.

You may say, Lisala, what’s the big mitziah (problem)? I can’t speak for everyone, but you know how loud I speak for my mishpocha (family). Coming out, ‘being out,’ makes you leave the cloak of invisibility behind.

If you are straight, you don’t know from this tsuris (trouble). Your are counted. You count. You matter.

To read the rest of this post, please click here

M’wah! It’s worth the click!

 

 

      

     

      

 

 

An interview with my Little

Yes, she is upside down!

I’d like to interview you, honey. What would you like to talk about today? Ummmmmm. What is an interview again? Oh. Well, my sister went to a sleepover party. And my two moms and me stayed home and had fun. In the morning, I colored when my mom did her work.

Self-portrait in crayon, circa 2017

She is coloring as we schmooze, so I ask her, “What do you like to color best?” Usually (said adorably as ‘lusually’) a picture for somebody. Like a gift.

Do you know what you want to be when you grow up? Previous answers have been a teacher, a librarian, a dancer…  A puppy trainer! Because I love puppies and doggies and Gatsby.

My kinder (children) Daisy, Gatsby, and Big

This is so true. All last weekend, she played ‘Daisy,’ a girl puppy. As I played fetch with Gatsby, I too played fetch with my new pup, Daisy! What do you like most about dogs? They are snuggly and really cute. And lusually their nose is wet.

What do you like most about Gatsby, our boychik (little boy)? I like him because he is cute and I love him. And I like the way he eats. And I also like him because I like when we walk him and play with him.

My shana maidelah

What do you like most about school? I like being with my friends and playing. I like it because it has lots of nature and we play a lot.

Ok, I’m done talking. I forget everything else. Oh, and mommy, I love you!

But honey, I have more questions… and she is gone, like the wind. I hope you enjoyed our snapshot in time.

Oh, are you ever a clever child! Oy, a gezunt dir in kepele!

Linky’s:

      

           

    

 

 

I AM WOMAN, the musical

Nu? This mr t, he has me farklempt (all choked up) with his evil and hatred. Not too long ago, I wrote a post, I AM WOMAN HEAR MY VOICE. Well, I’ve taken it to the stage folks. Please, bear with my (awful) voice as I stumble through my own, personal feminist anthem.

Please feel free to sing along. If only to cover up my voice! Vey iz mir…I’m meshuggeneh (crazy), but I am so motivated to peacefully make a change. Because Never Again, is now folks. 

Great big hugs and love to Mackenzie for her gorgeous participation and support! And Kristin, where would I be without the bug you put in my ear? And to all of you brave, men, women and children who showed up, and continue to show up in protest. That’s what I’m sayin.’
Why’d I do it? Well, I am trying hard to teach my kinder (little kids) to be brave, not perfect.
Hey, mr t, I Am Woman, and you, little orange man, are going to have to deal with that!
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