Omer 5768 - Day 30; 4 weeks and 2 days

Today was Gevurah she b'Hod - a day of strength in a week of humility.

Three years ago I wrote a blog post titled "The Color of Money." If you click on the name you can read the post for yourself. I compare Australian and New Zealand money with American money. that post was triggered by a visit from a friend, but also am struck by the physical difference in money when I travel to other countries.

As you can see in the photos in the other post, the other money is not only more colorful, but the bills are different sizes. This makes it possible for the blind to know the denominations of each of the bills. Although I was looking at the esthetics rather than the practical matters, I did think it was time for the US to think about changing our notes as well.

It looks like that time may finally be near. The Associated Press reported a ruling handed down by the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit. According to the article, the court ruled that, "the government is denying blind people meaningful access to the currency. . . The decision could force the Treasury Department to make bills of different sizes or print them with raised markings or other distinguishing features."

The court took into account the inevitable objections. From the article: "Given recent U.S. redesigns, the appeals court ruled the U.S. failed to explain why adding more changes would be an undue burden. More than 100 other countries vary the size of their bills, a federal judge said in 2006, and others include at least some features to help the blind. The appeals court said the U.S. never explained why such solutions wouldn't work here."

I'm sure we're many years of appeals away from any real change, but I hope we make the switch. Not only would it be practical and useful for everyone, but much more pleasing to the eye.

State of Origin

I'm writing this post from NYC. I came to see the Hunter College High School production of Damn Yankees. I'll write a complete review later, but I will say that the kids did a great job and I enjoyed it thoroughly--both times that I saw it!

I'm staying in NYC for a week, taking advantage to see as many friends as I can. I'm also going to check out an exhibit at the Museum of Design and go to some Judaica shops to buy some books. I've already picked up some shoes, and I'm eyeing another pair. It's great to traipse around the City. New York has one of the most extensive public transportation systems in the world. And unlike San Francisco, you can walk most anywhere and not have to face any hills on route.

As much as I'm enjoying myself, I do feel a change in my relationship with the City. It's the little things. I tend to wait for lights to turn green before crossing the street, not just forge ahead, dodging the cars like most New Yorkers. There has been so much turnover in the buildings, both the physical structures and the commercial occupants that make many places unrecognizable from my memory. Although I have more of a familiarity here, the comfort level I feel is not much more that what I feel when I'm visiting Brent and Sharon in Sydney.

I grew up on Long Island always aware of living in a suburb of Manhattan. I worked in Manhattan for ten years and lived there for eight of those ten. Those were formative times in my life, and had a great influence on who I am. April 1st will mark 21 years of living in San Francisco. It is the place I feel I was destined to be--the place I truly came into my own.

Am I a New Yorker or am I a San Franciscan? I suppose I can be both. But I'm still not sure what to answer when asked, "Where are you from??"

Have Podcasts, Will Travel

Last Sunday, February 18, was my mother's 80th birthday. In honor of the occasion Ken and I spent the weekend with my parents and my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew in LA. This meant another road trip for us, and another chance to experience the wonders of traveling with an iPod.

I reported on this in an entry about our excursion to Vancouver in August. On that trip we used the iPod to listen to music. Since then I have discovered the wonderful world of podcasts. Now I can download various programs that can inform, amuse, and entertain us on our journeys. I've just started delving into this territory, so my range is somewhat limited. If anyone has any recommendations, please let me know. For this trip I chose selections from Fresh Air, Garrison Keillor's Writer's Almanac, Nextbook.org, and Speaking of Faith.

Our favorites for the trip down were two different interviews with Aline Kominsky Crumb. Ms. Crumb is a women's comic and graphic book pioneer. A Jewish girl from Long Island, she is someone who is, to quote from Sara Ivry's article on Nextbook, "known as the brassy but forgiving wife of legendary cartoonist Robert Crumb [and] has charted her own equally rebellious life course."

We first listened to an interview Terry Gross did with Aline and R. Crumb from the February 2nd edition of Fresh Air. In listening to them respond to questions about their life together I could feel the love and respect they have for each other. There was a sweetness between them that I hadn't sensed in anything else I had heard or read about them.

Then we listened to Sara Ivry's Nextbook interview with Aline Crumb. It was interesting to hear her talk about herself and her family from a Jewish perspective. I particularly loved her story of having to take her Great grandmother Sophie to synagogue each Shabbat. It was an Orthodox shul where the women sat upstairs behind a black curtain. When 8-year-old Aline asked her great grandmother why they had to sit upstairs behind the curtain the reply was, as Aline remembers, "we can't look at the Torah because we're women and we're dirty, or something like that." From that moment on, Aline would not go in and would wait outside on the synagogue steps with a book until her great grandmother came out and she would walk her home. The punchline to this story is that Aline's grandmother and great grandmother were president of the Sisterhood and raised a lot of money to build a new synagogue building. The women wouldn't hand over the money until the men agreed to change their affiliation to Conservative so the women could sit downstairs. That was when Aline realized that "my Great grandmother Sophie was a true feminist."

Our favorites on the trip back to SF were two programs from Speaking of Faith with Krista Tippett, a series of interviews dealing with a wide range of spiritual topics from American Public Media. It is coincidental that these programs are also interviews with women--one with the Jewish Torah and rabbinic scholar Aviva Zornberg and the other with author, scholar, and journalist Karen Armstrong.

In the program with Aviva Zornberg, Exodus, Cargo of Hidden Stories, you get a glimpse into the way this learned, creative, modern scholar interprets the ancient texts. I can't even begin to try to repeat them here, so I will quote from the website, "[Zornberg] guides us through the Exodus story that is remembered at Passover, and that has inspired oppressed peoples in many cultures across history. We find meaning in the text that Cecil B. DeMille and Disney never imagined — about the worst and the best of human nature, and the realities and ironies of human freedom." I already own her commentary on Genesis, "The Beginning of Desire," and I plan to get her Exodus commentary, "The Particulars of Rapture." These are not books you can read cover to cover. Like the commentaries of Nechama Liebowitz, you need to study in bits, moving from one parsha to the next. It is not meant to be easy reading, but the work put into the study is well worth it. As I said, listen to the podcast and you'll hear what I mean.

While the Aviva Zornberg program was Ken's favorite, mine was the interview with the writer Karen Armstrong. She talks about her early life as a nun, why she left that life, and what brought her back to a spiritual practice. Her personal path back to religion--she calls herself a "freelance monotheist"-- came through the study of the other monotheistic religions of Islam and Judaism. It was her description of Judaism that most affected me, and has stayed with me. She talked about Judaism as a religion of doing rather than being, of practice rather than faith. It's not that faith isn't important, but that the way to the faith is through the practice.

This truly resonates with me as I travel on my spiritual path. There are times I'm not sure what I believe or why I'm doing what I do--daven each day, keep kosher, follow the Jewish cycle of ritual. But it is through the practice, to continue doing even when believing is hard, that brings the faith. The practice brings me a code of ethics to work with, a way to help those within my community and without, a place to release, to empty out the anxiety and make a place for faith. The practice is the gift of Judaism. Thank you, Karen Armstrong, for sharing that with me.

The Road Taken

The quickest route driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles is to take Highway 5. It's also the ugliest route. For my trip today I decided to leave early and take 101 down--probably adding about an hour to my trip but spending the time amidst better scenery.

It was a good decision. When I take 5, I usually arrive in LA a bit beat, having completed a boring drive. I don't feel that way now. I think it's a combination of the mountain and ocean views and the less crowded roadways. I got creative with the route and think that I took an even longer way than I needed to--going off on Highway 1 when I should have stuck to 101. But that part of the drive proved to be the most empty of cars. So even though the speed limit was lower--anywhere from 40 to 55 depending on the section--I usually had the road to myself. And some of the ride was lined with eucalypltus trees, giving off great fragrance.

It was also nice to stop in Santa Barbara for lunch and not some highway rest stop. I walked along the beach for a bit, then down the pier before heading back to my car to finish the trip.

So if you're driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles, I would highly recommend leaving early and taking the time to take 101. It will make the trip more enjoyable and put you in a better mood when you arrive.

On the Road with the Pod

I really love my new car but it does have one drawback--there's no input for my iPod on the sound system. I read somewhere that Mazda will be adding that option in the 2007 models, but that doesn't help me now. In my Saab I used the cassette adapter, which worked great. The Mazda doesn't have cassette player, so I use the device that tunes the iPod into a blank FM station. In the Bay Area, with so many FM radio stations, I often have to deal with static. I didn't know how it would do on the road.

I am happy to report that it worked just fine, thank you very much. I first tried it when we hit Highway 5, and the station I found worked all the way up through California and over to the Oregon coast. I had to adjust the station at the coast, and once again as we circled Seattle. But that was about it. One nice added feature is that it charges while it plays, so there's no danger of running down the battery.

We didn't keep it on during the entire trip. We like to check out the radio stations in different regions, both AM and FM. We didn't travel that far, but you still get different perspectives in news and sports. That's especially true if you can find the independent stations. Everywhere you go you get the views of the right, the left, and the Christian evangelists. But it's hard to beat the Pod for music selection. I've downloaded enough of our CD collection to keep both Ken and me happy. Since Ken did most of the driving, I was able to do some discrete editing of the shuffle selections--skipping through some songs that I knew he wouldn't like or I didn't feel like hearing.

My next long road trip will be to LA at the end of October. I'll be by myself, so I'm glad to know that the Pod will be with me.

"All the World is a Narrow Bridge . . .

. . . and the main thing is not to be afraid"

Those are the words of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslov describing the power of hope over fear. Appropriate words for this coming week.

These words have been going through my head lately, albeit in a different context. On our trip to and from Vancouver we went over a lot of bridges--narrow bridges, wide bridges; little bridges, big bridges; steel bridges, concrete bridges; old bridges, new bridges. To see some of these bridges, click here.

On the road again.....

You won't see a post from me for awhile, but don't worry, I'm not dropping the ball. Ken and I are going on a road trip to Vancouver. I'm looking forward to the trip. Ken likes to drive, so the time we spend together is relaxing for both of us. Plus we get to take the new car for a nice run. I'm sure it will appreciate getting a break from running up and down the San Francisco hills.


I might post from Vancouver--we're staying with Ken's brother and sister-in-law, Brent & Sharon, and I know they'll be connected. Sharon called last night to give us an update on some plans they've made and at least one will be well worth blogging. If I don't get to it there, I'll make sure to post on my return.

But for now--have a good week..........

"Passenger Heiss, please report, your plane is departing....."

I dropped Ken off at the airport for his flight to Las Vegas to attend NAB--the annual convention of the National Association of Broadcasters. We got there a little late--about 1:10P for a 1:50P flight. He just called, and he did make it on the plane.

But that brought to mind something I saw or, more accurately, heard in the airports in Sydney, Auckland, and Wellington. When planes were announcing their last boarding calls, the names of the passengers who had not yet boarded are called out over the PA system. This happened not once, but two or three times. At one point I heard the announcement "Please come to the gate now so the plane can take off on time." It just seems like a nice courtesy, especially in this world of long security lines. You might miss a flight number, but you would hear your name, and could alert someone that you will be there. I have never heard that in an airport in this country. There is a last boarding call, but no names are ever announced. On the way home, while waiting in the Auckland airport, another American woman and I exchanged amazed glances on hearing these announcements, so I know I'm not alone in this perception.

In this country, it's a boon if they take you off a line when your flight time is near. I was able to go to the head of the security line in Oakland Airport recently because my flight was nearing its departure time (see my 2/18 blog entry). But coming home on that same trip people in the Phoenix airport were not allowed to do that. When they complained, they were told "you should have arrived earlier."

This is another one of those instances where we in the US can learn from what happens in other places.

Purim in Sydney

It's time to start catching up with the tales of my recent trip. I'll start with m Sydney Purim experience at Temple Emanuel.

I arrived at the shul in my Queen Esther costume just as the kid's Purim event was finishing. I felt right at home, since the kids were all dressed up. But, upon entering the sanctuary, I saw that I was in the vast majority of adults in costume.

Now, I'm used to a raucus, Beth Sholom kind of Purim--for a taste of this, check out Brian Geller's photos of this year's event.

At Temple Emanuel, the only congregants in costume were an Albert Einstein

and a guy in a wig


At least the clergy were dressed up:
Rabbi, uhhh, "Rabbit" Ninio

Rabbi Kamins

and Cantor Joseph


Rabbi Kamins had a beer, but I didn't see anyone else drinking. But I had lugged my etrog infused vodka halfway around the world and was determined to drink it. I tried to share it with the people around me, but had no takers. They appreciated the concept, but prefered not to partake.

The megillah was read, and then the Purim Shpiel began. I have to say, it was clever and very funny. It set the Purim story in a musical "Saturday Night Fever" meets "Sex and the City" script. There were technical difficulties with the photos, so I can only show one bad one:

That's Mordechai on the left, Esthella on the right, with her 3 girlfriends (Charlotta, Samanthala, & Mirandila) behind her.

So, while I'm used to a more participatory Purim, I can see why the Shpiel is a honored tradition here down under. And you know that if I lived here, I'd be in the thick of it.........

A Short Note about Flying

With all the airplanes I've been on in the past 3 weeks, you'd think I'd have no qualms about flying. Now, I'm not phobic about it, obviously I travel on airplanes, and when I fly I am seemingly undisturbed. But I have to admit that it's not my favorite mode of transportation.

I think the main problem is that I just don't understand or really trust how a huge, heavy plane gets off the ground and flys through the atmosphere. I know it does, and I know there are good scientific reasons why it does, but it's still just magic to me...and magic is illusion and illusion isn't real. So I just don't know what keeps the plane in the air and I don't really trust that it won't, at some point, fall down.

As I have said, these thoughts are not debilitating and don't stop me from getting on the plane. But I have to admit, I'm much happier when we land.

A Safe Landing

I'm still on New Zealand time, so I'm a day ahead, but I'm back in San Francisco. It was a long trip--Auckland to Sydney, a 3-hour layover, then Sydney to SF. It was a very full plane, and we were in the very last row. Actually, not such a bad place to be. A bit noisy, both from engine noise and people standing around streching their legs. The one bit of space that's not an aisle in the 747 coach class is the section in front of the toilets, so that's where people congregate. I did hear some interesting conversations, many about Australia and Australians vs USA and Americans--with the Canadians somewhere in the middle.

United and Air New Zealand are Star Alliance partners. Our flight in was an Air New Zealand flight; our flight out was a United flight. There is a marked difference. Although both planes were full, there was much more of a cattle car feel to the United flight. Granted, it was really packed, but it was more than that. To some extent, it's the attitude of the flight attendents. I know it's not an easy job, and I know the United flight attendents have issues with their management, but does that mean that you can't be gracious, treat the passengers with respect, maybe even smile? It almost felt like they were doing us a favor by serving us. I'm sorry, but that's YOUR JOB. The Air New Zealand flight attendents, on the other hand, get it. Maybe they're just happier in their jobs, but they certainly do what they can to make the long flight more pleasant. Besides that--the food on Air New Zealand is better (although my travel hint is to order the vegetarian meal--it's a better bet and by ordering a special meal you always get your food first).

I've got a lot more to write on the whole trip experience. Getting online with blog entries in New Zealand was logistically harder that I thought it would be, so I didn't post much. I do have stories and pictures and will share them in the days ahead.

As a preview,here's a long shot of Bondi Beach:

Here comes the sun.....

If I had to choose a day for the sun to show itself, Thursday was the day I would have chosen, and for once, the karma was with me. The plan for the day was to take a coast walk, and I couldn't have asked for better weather. The sun was out, the waves were high, and the temperature was a delightful 70 or so degrees--20 centigrade to the folks here and the rest of the world (but more on that in another post).

After doing some studying in the morning, I headed over to Bondi Beach. I walked about the town abit--nothing really much--and had some lunch. Then I set off. The walk is just a path alonge the cliffs boardering the Pacific Ocean. When I'm at Ocean Beach in San Francisco, I often think about the world on the other side. There I was, on that other side, looking back. The water was a beautiful blue/green hue--I hope the pictures due it justice (I'll get them posted soon).

At one of the beaches along the way, there was a photo shoot of some sort going on. It was pretty low key, the subjects were two Pacific Island women in front of a surfboard with the ocean waves as the backdrop. The story in my mind was that they were a singing due posing for their new album cover. Wouldn't it be a trip if one day I actually saw it in a store?

The plan was to meet up with Joan & Mark Reiss's friends Ralph and Janette at the halfway point, about an hour or so away, and walk the rest of the trail. I got Bronte Beach, the designated spot, a bit early, so I went a little further to investigate the cemetary I had seen in the distance. Anyone who's read my earlier entries will not be surprised at this. (For those who haven't, see "Lifecycles, Part 1).

I like to wander around cemetaries--it's a very special kind of quiet. And, like my penchant for reading obituaries, I feel it's a way to honor people's lives. And another place I get to wonder about their stories. What struck me in this cemetary was the number of couples where the men died in their 30's and 40's, and the women lived into their 80's and 90's. Although these didn't seem such early graves--there weren't many earlier than the 1920's--it's still somewhat early in Australian settlement, I think. And with a lot of the early settlers being Irish Catholics, I would imagine that the women would have had a good number of children early in their lives, with a good amount dying in childbirth. While that may be the case, the graves I saw seemed to tell a different story. I guess it's time to read Robert Hughs' "The Fatal Shore" and get educated on my Australian history.

I met Ralph at Cafe Q at Bronte Beach. He has knee issues, and Janette got caught up in work, so instead of walking the rest of the way, he drove me to a couple of more coastal beaches. All of these beaches have protected sea water pools for swimming--a nice feature, along with showers to rinse off. They also have little kiosks of tables and chairs for picnicing out of the sun. And, of course, more public toilets available than we seem to be able to manage in the States.

Ralph dropped me off at the train station, and I got to take Sydney's version of BART for the first time. Their ticket system is similar, although the trains seem bigger--they're the type with different levels, like some of the old LIRR trains, or what I've seen of some CalTrans trains. I transfered to a bus, and was back in Glebe in plenty of time to prep for Purim....a tale to be told in my next entry.

It's Raining, It's Pouring.......

What can I say....my vacation weather karma has kicked in once again. It's not just raining--a just put up the umbrella and go with it rain. It's stormy, with winds that constantly try to grab the umbrella from your hands. It's drenching rain that makes getting around difficult--you get soaked just waiting for the bus.

I did manage to get out a bit today. Brent drove me over to Newtown, a place I remember as having cool ethnic, Indonesian goods kind of shops. I was hoping to get some clothes that don't make it to the states, plus find the makings of a Queen Esther type costume for Purim--I've brought my sequined tiara with me. But the shops I remember have been, for the most part, replaced with trendy clothes stores with goods out of my age range. I did manage to find a skirt I liked, although I will not be wearing it low on my belly as I believe a teen would. But it works for me.

If the weather clears tomorrow, Joan & Mark Reiss's friend Ralph is taking me on one of his famous walks, possibly around the harbor beaches. If the rain continues, I think I'll hit the museums or galleries.

Friday I'll hang out with Brent and Sharon. Friday through Monday is a holiday weekend here--Easter holiday. It comes as a bit of a shock to me--I don't know if it's because I'm American or Jewish. Is Good Friday a holiday in the US? Maybe just a bank holiday? And we certainly don't do Easter Monday. All the British Commonwealth countries deal with those Christian holidays--for instance, they also do Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. I would guess that those traditions were not lost at Independence, but in the time of separation that followed. As I study Western Civilization, I'm realizing how much Christianity is tied up with European history. Again, as an American and a Jew, those traditions and their origins tend to be out of my radar.

Well, however the holiday has happened, let's hope that the weather clears up and we can all enjoy it.........

Buses & Trains & Planes…Oh My…

Finally made it to a place where I can post this. It was written on Friday(it's now Tuesday)

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It was a major travel day using all sorts of transportation spanning from local to international. We did make it to Wellington, finally, safe and sound, although it’s never without some sort of new adventure. (I will warn you this is a long post—I don’t expect future entries to be such a length.)

It started out easy enough. Ken & I left the house, walked a few blocks to Chenery & 30th, and boarded the 26 bus to the Glen Park BART(Bay Area Rabid Transit—somewhat like the Long Island Railroad, for the New York readers) station. This trip has a couple of firsts for us—first time we can use the newly finished BART to SFO and the first time we can fly directly from SFO to Auckland. We didn’t even need to use the new inter-terminal tram, since the SFO BART stop is right at the international terminal.

Check in was also a breeze. The Air New Zealand agent even directed me to the United counter so I could get my frequent flyer number, which I had forgotten to enter when I bought the tickets. This trip alone should reap some benefits—not just with the San Francisco to New Zealand legs, but I’m also traveling Air New Zealand round trip from Wellington to Sydney, so there will be lots and lots of miles.

Even security presented no problems. I know there were those of you who had some doubts, but my crochet hooks and blunt edged scissors made it through without raising any flags with the scanners.

We had left plenty of time for any problems which, of course, didn’t arise, so now we had time to kill at the terminal. It was of eerie in a science-fiction-movie-what’s-wrong-with-this-picture kind of way. The lighting was soft, the sounds muffled, and there weren’t a lot of people—none of the hustle and bustle that I expect at an airport. Maybe it’s because the gates are spaced far enough apart that you don’t have that many people milling about; maybe it’s that we left on a Wednesday and the midweek traffic isn’t heavy; and maybe it’s still a lull in travel due to 9/11. Whatever, it felt a bit odd. So we sat and read and waited.

The plane ride was uneventful—just what you want in a long trip. The food was okay—I ordered vegetarian/non-dairy, which definitely gives you a better shot. Ken got a good amount of sleep hours in, I did not. It just wasn’t happening for me. So I sat and read and crocheted and meditated a bit. I wasn’t into getting involved with any of the movies—The Incredibles, the second Bridget Jones movie, and something staring Hillary Duff. It’s sometimes more interesting to just drift in and out of the pictures, making up my own version of the dialogue.

Ken and I remarked that this was the first Southern Hemisphere trip we’d taken that didn’t involve any trauma—I didn’t get sick, he wasn’t sick, we didn’t miss any connections. We even had our next leg, Auckland to Wellington, already booked. But little did we know what lay ahead for us.

Immigration and customs—no problem. No one even questioned my red water bottle filled with vodka (for those who wonder about that, well, you’ll have to follow my Sydney adventures). We got the shuttle bus to the domestic terminal, and then the trouble began. It was 6 o’clock in the morning, and the place was filled with travelers—business people, families on holiday. We got on the check-in line without worry, we had plenty of time—our plane to Wellington wasn’t scheduled to leave until 8:30a.m. Just when we got to the front of the line, we heard an announcement about planes to Wellington being suspended. They wouldn’t even let us check in, “just wait near check-in until further notice” we were told. I had a bit of an attitude—“you mean we have to wait just to stand on this long line again?” Well, yes, that’s what they were saying.

The problem was fog in Wellington. The runway at the Wellington airport is short and the pilots need to have visible contact no less than 500 meters. The fog was thick in Wellington, with visibility down to 300 meters. A women sitting with us said this happened a couple of months ago, and lasted for 3 days. This fact did not do much to improve my mood. As more people arrived in the terminal, the chaos increased. We were told to get on line—or should I say, queue up—then stand down. The natives were definitely restless. Meetings were being missed; families were missing connections for weddings. Then we hear, “Air New Zealand Flight 415 to Wellington now boarding.” Huh? We hadn’t even checked in yet, and there was that really long line to go through. But a group of us jumped to the front—with the understanding of those behind us—got checked in and raced to through security to the gate. We got on the plane, and then were informed by the pilot that we were going to start out towards Wellington, but if the fog hadn’t cleared we would land in Palmerston North, then bused to Wellington. And is what indeed happened, adding another 3 hours to our trip.

We are now ensconced at Ken’s parents’ house, 2 Whanake Street, Titahi Bay. We’re headed into fall, not spring, with the clocks turning back, not forward. And there are other stories to tell, so stay tuned.

Finding my wayonline

I've finally found out where to get online in Porirua, the town closest to where Ken's parent's live at Titahi Bay. I've written a long tome about the trip into New Zealand, but I'm at the library, and can't attach my thumb drive here, so that entry will have to wait until I get to Sydney this evening.

It's amazing to me how quickly I've adapted to being here. I'm not driving--that's a bit too advanced for me--but I do manage to look the correct way when crossing the street. I've been here enough to be familiar with the surroundings, which is comforting. The weather's been good--warm and sunny.

I'll write later this week about what's happening with Ken's mom, which is the reason we are here. She's okay at the moment, but there have been two ambulance trips to the hospital since we've been here due to epileptic attacks she's had. One thing to note--it's nice to not have cost factor into the decision of whether to call the ambulance or not. Unlike in the States, it's free.

More from Sydney............

The Journey Begins

Tomorrow at this time, I will be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean on my way to New Zealand. Yes, it's a long flight--it's good that we're doing it overnight AND I found some Atavan--hopefully, I'll get some sleep.

I'll be sharing my adventures with you in this blog. After all, that was the reason for starting this in the first place. I'm hoping to get some photos in here as well, if I get the technology working. It will be a triumph if all goes well, and we get to transmit from Ken's laptop while sitting in a "hotspot" cafe in Wellington.

I don't know and can't really imagine how it will be to deal with Ken's mom and her wondering presence. It will be a lesson in patience.

Sydney should be a blast. It's one of my favorite cities, and I'm looking forward to some exploration. And as much as I'll miss Purim at Beth Sholom, it will be fun to participate "Down Under." I've decided to put a costume together when I get there, although I did bring my sequin tiara to keep up my own personal Purim tradition.

So, welcome along for the ride.......