A while back, while walking through a park in Firenze, I noticed the ground was littered with chestnuts. This took me back to my childhood, when the chestnut tree in front of our synagogue dropped its spiky load every year right around Rosh Ha'Shanah. We were always told those chestnuts were horse chestnuts and should not be eaten. Still, I loved the spiky wrappers and when I saw dozens of them on the ground, I could not help but pick up a few to find out if they were sweet chestnuts or horse chestnuts. I picked up three, stripped off the covers, and dropped them into my pocket.
And promptly forgot about them.
Until I was home and found them in a pocket as I prepared to do laundry. Knowing this is highly illegal, I called the local USDA office to ask what to do. When the guy stopped chuckling, he asked a few questions, then assured me that bringing just the chestnuts, sans shells and leaves, was not a big deal, but to be on the safe side, I should wash them in a little bleach, dry them thoroughly, and I would have a nice souvenir. So I did.
For the last few years, they shared a lovely little pottery bowl with dried lavender that I had grown on my little mirpeset.
The other day, I saw one on the floor, almost hidden under the baker's rack. "Hmmmm," I wonder if Young Sir got a hold of the chestnuts when he had the step stool out?" I picked it up and put it back in the bowl.
This morning, a chestnut was on the floor again, but this one had been gnawed. I looked in the bowl...there were no chestnuts at all! Only one conclusion could be drawn: an uninvited guest has taken up residency in my house.
Honestly, it's winter. I get it. If I knew it was just one, I would leave him alone. But just one never stays just one.
MouseMode automatically switched on. Nothing in the cabinets. Nothing under the table. I checked the living room...no sign of activity in there. But he had gotten the chestnuts out of the bowl on the third shelf up from the floor on the baker's rack. Yup. There was "activity" in the Longaberger bread basket (which was empty save for the warming brick,) on the wooden shelf covers I used on the rack, and on top of the placemat basket. And that was it. But nowhere else.
I checked the basement. Not a sign anywhere that a mouse was hanging around.
Now, just about 2 years ago, I had my first mouse in the house. It was the week after the basement flood. I wrote about it. I am quoting myself here:
Peanut Butter Bucket I was sitting in the kitchen eating my cottage cheese and granola dinner when a mouse skittered across the floor and dived under the fridge. Yes, I was startled; no, I did not yell EEEEEEEK and jump onto the counter, but I did call the junior son who told me to go to Home Depot and get a mouse trap. He told me this is part of adulting, and I needed to do this on my own. Google would help. Sure, it will.
Having had a wonderful mouser dog and a husband who didn't mind battling critters, my experience with mice and mouse traps was almost non-existent, and what little experience I have had did not end happily. I floated around Google for a bit, and decided I need more help than it was providing, so I did the most adult thing I know...I called my machatunim* who know everything about this kinda stuff. My wonderful machatennister** immediately cried, "What you need is a peanut butter bucket!" and said she had one all put together, I should come over and get it. She also provided the Mousy Ramp for getting said critter into the bucket. She never once mentioned the word "adulting." I love this woman. Good thing they're only 5 minutes away!
The only thing that has changed was the hollering-for-help part. The Junior Son, ever so practical, strongly suggested I keep said bucket...which I did. As I write, it's in exactly the same place as in the original picture. I'll let you know what happens.
*******Yup. Worked like a charm. He was a little guy. I still feel kinda bad.*********
That said, I am kinda pissed about the chestnut souvenirs from Florence. I may have to go back to Italy to sneak in a few new ones. Yeah. I could see doing that if this pandemic ever lets up.
On Shabbat no less. Everyone knows you never blow a shofar on Shabbat. Oh, wait. Jews know that....not fakirs in costumes.
You gotta watch the video on this. The ratty fanfare before he breaks into t'kiah, shevarim, and teruah is enough to send you running to shul for morning minyan. I promise you can never unsee this...this...this...travesty.
Not only is this cultural appropriation without a lick of understanding about what he's doing, but turns out it's some kind of evangelical thing. Now, VOX News is not exactly my go-to source for balanced news, but their article on this wave of shofar-blowing events was a pretty good basic explanation of what's going on. Seems like shofars are getting real popular, although the good/kosher/real ones from Israel are expensive, so they're getting their rams' horns from China. Okay, that strikes me as beyond absurd.
Wanna know what's scarier than a Nazi guy dressed in high priest clothes?
The percentage of Americans who think this is real, okay, and appropriate because the election was stolen.
I wish I had some serious words of wisdom for the leader of the Democratic Party. In order to hear any words at all, they would have to stage The GIANT Popping Noise...the one you hear when they all pull their heads outta their asses in a single move. I am rapidly losing faith that we're ever gonna hear that sound.
BONUS LEXICON
*machatunim: child-in-law's parents.
**machatennister: child-in-law's mother
***mishbucha: family
***mishbucha: family
[not shown but what the heck] machutin: child-in-law's father
The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week
While the weather outside is frightful
But the couch can be delightful
With a cup of tea and
It's getting great reviews. If you haven't read it, you should!
Thanks for the info on the cultural appropriation and political use of the shofar. I guess I missed this. Not being Jewish, I would have been completely in the dark.
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