Shooting fish in a barrel

Or, at least I tried to shoot a picture of the goldfish that live in our rain barrel.



I bought this rain barrel at the beginning of the Summer, to collect water for our vegetable garden.

Although excited to have a source of chlorine-free, neutral pH (well, neutral-ish) free water that is close to the garden, I was concerned about breeding mosquitoes.

The neighboring town has already had two cases of West Nile Virus, and I don't want to contribute to the count.

A lot of people use "BT" (also called "mosquito dunks"), which is supposed to be safe for people and pets. I'm a bit squeamish about the unknown side-effects of chemicals in general, so I was hesitant to pour this all over the vegetables. Also, I'm cheap, and the chemicals would be an on-going expense.

So, instead, I bought three 28-cent "feeder" goldfish at the local Wal-Mart, and hoped they'd munch up any mosquito larvae in the barrel. I also picked up a $1.51 container of fish food, almost twice the price of the fish. (Ever hear the expression, "the cheapest part of owning a horse is the horse"?)

This has worked really well. The fish, which were previously designated as food for larger pet fish, have 55 gallons of space, both fresh bugs and dried fish food for dinner, and no predators. It's a bit boring in there, but I'm guessing it's suitable for a fish-style attention span. They've grown appreciably in the past couple of months. I think they're happy. At least they haven't complained. Or died. Yet.

Their waste makes the water in the rain barrel even more effective in the garden, as a weak fertilizer. ("Fish emulsion" for free!)

I've read that some people take the fish in for the Winter, and keep them as indoor pets until the Spring.

I also read (but am not sure I believe) an account of someone who forgot to do this, resulting in the fish frozen in a barrel full of ice (like flies in amber, or herbs in ice cubes for punch) . According to the story, the fish lived to see two more years (!) after the thaw. Apparently, some (all?) goldfish hibernate (or the aquatic equivalent) in the cold. (Do I *need* to write a disclaimer on this one?)

There are many sites on-line that give easy instructions for constructing a home-made rain barrel, but this is the one we have. I checked the price today, and it is 50% more than we paid (from the same source) at the beginning of the Summer! I'm not sure if that is due to seasonal demand fluctuations, or because the price of everything is on the rise, and this is a way (long term) to reduce the on-going expense of the water bill.

(Gretta is wearing gloves in these pictures because we fed the fish on our way to work in the garden this morning. She doesn't like to get her fingernails dirty. )

How not to fix a broken doll. And why.

Two years ago, my mother took one of my children out for a whole day to celebrate the child's birthday.

(Let's call this particular child "X", to protect the innocent guilty privacy of all involved. )

That shopping trip is a precious and treasured memory for X. It included a trip to the library, an ice cream cone, one very long shopping trip to multiple stores in which she was allowed to choose her own birthday present, and most valuable: time alone with Grandma to discuss anything and everything, without the interruptions or audience of X's siblings.

The present-choosing took *hours*. Even Grandma, a paragon of patience and a vetran shopper, used the word "angonizing" to describe it. As is her loving and indulgent way, Grandma gave full attention to X's detailed discourse on the merits and features of each candidate as it was considered for the role of Birthday Present.

With Grandma's enthusiastic encouragement, a choice was finally made: A porcelain doll with clear hazel-green eyes ("just like yours, Grandma!"), a peach ribbon bow in her golden hair, and pearl earrings. Her pale buttercup satin dress was covered with a peach and white pinnafore, was finished with a delicate lace trim that matched the long bloomers that modestly peeked out from the dress' hem.

X loved that doll.

The doll never received a proper name, other than "The Special Doll That I Picked Out On My Special Day with Grandma." (Hereafter I'll refer to it as "TSDTIPOOMSDWG", but the reader should note that X never omitted a syllable from that name.)


TSDTIPOOMSDWG accompanied X to bed for the first few nights. But, shortly thereafter, she was relocated to the nightstand, because, as X explained "It's hard to sleep with her because I don't want to mess up her hair. This way, if I wake up at night from a bad dream, I can look at her and then I'll have a happy dream."


So, you get the idea. TSDTIPOOMSDWG meant a lot to X, and not for purely materialistic reasons.

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About a month later, after school, a paint-stripping wail of agony came from X's room, piercing my standard-issue Maternal Background Noise Filter from two floors away. I was in her room, awash in adrenaline before the first neurons of conscious thought could fire. I heard that scream with the ears of a mother bear whose cub is caught in a hunter's trap.

I yanked open the door of her room. All I could think, as I saw her standing with her back to me, was, "She's standing. Thank G-d, thank G-d, thank G-d. Whatever happened, she is well enough to stand. Thank G-d, thank G-d." I took a breath, while flipping through my mental file cabinet for all the possible injuries that would still allow a person to stand upright. (The software for randomly accessing potential catastrophies is also standard maternal issue.)

She turned around. In her hands was TSDTIPOOMSDWG, in pieces, her dress cut to shreds.

It was that moment, that I noticed X's youngest sister, then a toddler, eyes wide and cowering in the corner of the room.

I turned away, willing myself to take a breath before reacting, and used this time to survey the room. That was when I saw the pair of scissors on the floor, near TSDTIPOOMSDWG's nightstand.

Somehow, the toddler got into X's room with a pair of scissors and cut up the TSDTIPOOMSDWG's dress and broke off her arms, all while X was in school for the day.

What followed is a blur of recriminations, guilt, consolation, accusations, and regret. I know I did my best, in reaction to that tableau that remains a tear smeared memory.

I still ache from the emotional whirlwind of that incident. If it were just any doll, I would have understood the violation, comforted X, and punished the toddler, eventually finding some way to point out, however delicately and after an appropriate delay, that the doll was, after all, just an object, however valued, and not a person, a relationship, etc. I would have guided the toddler to repentance, and X to forgiveness, and done my best to catalyze healing between them.

But TSDTIPOOMSDWG was not just a thing. TSDTIPOOMSDWG was a symbol of X's indepencence, her special time with Grandma, her own space in a sometimes crowded family.

So, while I did get around to all those things mentioned above, I first spent some time wallowing with X in her pain. And then dived into my own pool of guilt. How could this have happened on my watch? Why wasn't I watching her better? Was this an act of malice on the part of the toddler? What kind of mother am I, if my toddler is capable of targeting and destroying her sister's beloved posession?

And so, before healing, before forgiveness, before perspective, awash in guilt, before even a time-out for the toddler, I took a sobbing X and broken TSDTIPOOMSDWG to our craft and sewing shelves looking for some solution, any solution, anything that would just Make It All Better. The toddler followed behind at a safe distance and watched us, thumb in mouth.

I scoured my fabric stash and pulled out every bit of lace from my copious supply, asking X if she to help me choose an acceptable substitute. Nothing satisfied. Whenever irritation sprouted in me, I'd look, in turn, from X's eyes, red-rimmed and burning from injustice, to the fearful and stunned expression from the toddler in the background, to TSDTIPOOMSDWG, armless and stoically staring at the wall.

Sniffling, X resigned herself, and agreed to a few bits of lace that would make a dress. "But what about the arms?" she sniffled. I had no idea. "Let me think about it a bit. We'll figure something out."

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Over the next few days, a partial healing began. I kept the broken doll in my room, and attempted to make a new dress for TSDTIPOOMSDWG, while secretly searching the internet for either an exact replacement for the doll, or a good tutorial for repairing her arms. I found neither.

Time passed, and TSDTIPOOMSDWG became a permanent temporary resident of the bookshelf over my desk. I turned her face away from me, so I wouldn't have to make eye contact. Her presence was a testimony to my many failures.

More time passed, and, like all clutter, she started to become transparent to me. She blended into the background chorus of unfinished tasks, misplaced items, and other detritus of procrastination that hum a white noise of regret in my bedroom.

Over the past two years, every so often, X would look up at TSDTIPOOMSDWG, sigh, and then look at me, biting her lip, but never asking when they'd be reunited. Twice, I moved TSDTIPOOMSDWG to a higher shelf, cowardly hoping to avoid this. Once, I put it in the garbage can, only to retrieve it within the hour.

Why was I keeping this terrible reminder on my shelf? What was the point of having this painful totem of strife within daily view? Why couldn't I just throw the stupid thing away? Wouldn't that be best for everyone involved?

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Two days ago, on Saturday afternoon, X came to my room, in tears, and stared pointedly up at the bottoms of TSDTIPOOMSDWG's patent leather shoes, just barely visible from their high shelf.

I braced myself.

"I have to tell you something, but I'm afraid you're going to be really mad at me," she said.

"Okay, I'm ready. Tell me."

"You know that doll? The Special Doll That I Picked Out On My Special Day with Grandma a long time ago? The one that [sister] ruined?" she started.

Hanging my head, expecting her to ask for a repair status report, justifiable after a two year delay with no progress on my part, I told her, "I remember it."

"Well, I told you a lie. " Eyes both flaming and wet, she explained, "I was the one who broke the arms. [sister] cut up the dress, and when I saw it, I was so angry at her that I broke TSDTIPOOMSDWG's arms to make sure she'd get in even more trouble. I was afraid you'd only be a little bit mad at her and not understand if you saw the dress cut up, so I broke the arms off and said she did it," she sobbed.

I grabbed her in a big hug. "Did you tell your sister? Did you apologize?"

She nodded, and moaned "but I feel so BAD. "

I told her, "I'm really proud of you for telling the truth. That was really, really hard to do. You feel bad because you did something wrong. Good people feel bad when they do the wrong thing, and you're a good person."

And, many hugs and earnest discussions later, relief spread between the sisters, from me, and over the entire episode.

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Yesterday was the 17th of Tamuz on the Jewish calendar; a fast day that ushers in a three week period of mourning for the destruction of the Temple. The 17th of Tamuz commemorates the date when the walls of Jerusalem fell.

This is the same Temple whose destruction is recalled at Jewish weddings with the smashing of a glass. Some people have the custom to have a hole in a wall, or leave one wall of their house unfinished, in its memory.

It is said that in the Time of Redemption (for which Jews hope and pray daily) , these Three Weeks will be turned from a time of fasting and mourning into holidays of feasting and joy.

Tradition tells us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred. I've always liked Rav Kook zt"l's response*** to this, that redemption will therefore come through baseless love.

However, "baseless love" is one of many psychological ideals that are easier to demand than achieve. (How many times have you been cut off in traffic by a car sporting a "Practice random acts of kindness" bumper sticker?) Other than holding a placard and campaigning for it, how is it to be achieved?

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The saga of TSDTIPOOMSDWG gave me a better understanding the value of the Three Weeks.

Just as we tear a hole in the wall of our house to commemorate the destruction of the Temple, just as mourners ritually tear their garments, we tear open these three weeks of the calendar to expose and remember our grief.

X's broken toy was a painful reminder for all of us. But, had I buried it in the garbage, or had I been able to find a quick replacement on-line, or even if I had been able to figure out how to make a passable repair, the pain would have remained forever buried, like shrapnel in a wound.

X's confession gives me hope and a potential recipe for baseless love.

Our healing was possible because the reminder didn't disappear, and when she was ready, she was able to break down her own walls of denial, fear, and guilt, and discovered within the courage to repent.

We keep the Three Weeks, painful as they are, as a reminder of our relentless and human tendency for failure in judging others favorably, for holding grudges, for tearing the arms off our relationships in retaliation for grievances real and imaginary.

The Three Weeks sit on our shelf, recurring every year, to remind us that we have work to do, and that the potential for healing is possible.


May this year be the year we find our way to a true healing.



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* If it weren't refering to idolatry and all, I'd be tempted to draw a comparison between TSDTIPOOMSDWG, who has become a personal icon, now, of love and healing, and the Venus de Milo, a goddess of love and beauty. Watch me exercise restraint.

** I want points, also, for leaving out any reference to Tehilim/Psalms 137:5. You're welcome.

*** I've also seen this attributed to the Besht, and others. It's in Rav Kook's Orot Hakodes, but may also be elsewhere. If someone has a definitive citiation, please let me know. I'd like to get it right.

I believe our children are the future... (What energy crisis?)

How many times after chasing an active toddler, or watching a teenage boy absent-mindedly doing chin-ups on any available door frame, have we sighed, "If only all that energy could be used for Good..."

How long before this technology can be adapted from floor to mattress? Future generations of parents will insist that their kids continue to jump on their beds.

Tools for managing helping others deal with Cancer

A post from last night, by RivkA about how and why she started her blog to handle sharing information about her condition reminded me of something I've been asked to share a number of times on this blog.

One of the many difficult aspects of dealing with chemotherapy is that, often, when the person is first diagnosed, there is almost too much support, but, then, as the treatment continues for many months thereafter, the support dwindles, while the patient is left to cope with the enormous emotional, logistical and physical effects of treatment.

Here are a couple of tools to help manage the help and offers of help, so that it can be helpful:

LotsaHelpingHands is a (free) site I've used extensively in the past, (thank G-d, not in the past year), to help coordinate the wonderful and welcome, but overwhelming and time-consuming onslaught of offers to help someone deal with a long-term illness.

Processing these offers can often be as time-consuming as a part-time job, an added burden for the person with cancer and his/her family.

LotsaHelpingHands allows a person (preferably someone close to the family, but not an immediate family member) to become a "coordinator" who can transform the windstorm of people asking "how can I help?" and offering "call me if you need ANYTHING!" into actual meals, rides, babysitting, etc that meet the family's needs and schedule, without requiring the family to deal with the logistics.

The family gives the coordinator the guidelines, almost like a "gift registry" of help that would be welcome. Then, when people want to help, they are given the website, and can choose to offer something specific from the list of available needs. Details can be provided, such as dietary requirements, carpool issues, whatever.

The list can be kept totally private, and shared only with those that have been invited.

It can take a bit to set up correctly, and (maybe this has been fixed since last I used it:) there is a learning curve in the beginning that can result in an avalanche of e-mails until the coordinator learns the result of certain actions. But overall, it is a remarkably helpful tool.

It allows people from all the different social circles of a family's life to work together with minimal overhead. This tool prevents the typical situations of 17 kugels on Tuesday, with no meals for the rest of the week; exhausted patient having to explain and keep a complicated carpool organized while sitting in the waiting room for radiology when the helper can't run carpool because her own child was sent home from school with the flu; or a beautiful 4 course dinner waiting on the front step when the family planned to be away, just that one evening.

It worked best for me as a coordinator when I was given everyone in the family's home, work, and cell phone numbers, and when I sprung for domain name for our given site. This is not something available within the LotsaHelpingHands system, but I highly recommend it for being able to give out the website easily over the telephone, both for the coordinator's convenience, but especially for the family's convenience.

(Having an easy-to-remember domain is particularly helpful for sharing the site with large private networks of people. For example, if a teacher at a school is undergoing treatment, the website can be shared (with his/her permission) with the school staff and/or parents, allowing even those who don't feel close enough to call, to make a side dish for a shabbat meal, or offer an hour of babysitting. In this way, a coodinator who knows the family in one way, can help knit together help from all the different social networks that touch the famiy.)

This way, when someone asks, "How can I help?" they can be thanked, and directed to the website for followup. The person offering can then later look for something that meets his/her schedule and ability, and the person receiving can then use that time with the offerer to talk about larger (or lighter) things, rather than handling logistics or (more likely) declining by default.

I also found it most helpful, as a coordinator, to hold back, and sign up for the minimum necessary of the rides, meals, etc. in order to allow for others to fill these positions first. Coordinating this can be like a part-time job, and there may be times when there isn't time to call to find replacements when offers fall through or are retracted. Although it is tempting for a coordinator to fill in all the missing holes in the schedule, it is important not to get stretched too thin, because the coordinator will likely be the "pinch hitter", filling in for more last-minute things.

Being a coordinator is a major undertaking, but the website makes it feasible.

If it seems like too much for one person, it is also possible to have one person coordinate for meals, another for rides, another for babysitting, etc. These "co-coordinators" must all be able to communicate well with one another, because there will be inevitable crossover of offers.

Another organization that I have worked with and recommend highly is ChemoAngels.

(Warning: A first look at their site might make a non-Christian think it is a Christian-only site, but that is not the case. I have done this, and worked exclusively with Jewish, atheist, and non-religious patients. I have specifically avoided working with those who do celebrate non-Jewish holidays, as I wouldn't be able to help them celebrate their holidays appropriately, and it would probably be a let-down for them. Besides, there are many people within this program who are capable of meeting this need.)

ChemoAngels targets both those actively undergoing Chemotherapy (and/or radiation) and those who are elderly and shut-in, and matches them with a vetted and committed stranger, who sends letters, cards, gifts, trinkets, and cheer in the mail. Nothing is expected of the recipient in terms of communication, none of the gifts or cards need be acknowledged or reciprocated.

The recipient has to sign up for this. Getting someone to do so is the hardest part! Once signed up, the recipient fills out a form indicating personal preferences. One of my patients had a thing for penguins, tea, and lupines. Another preferred hand lotion and magazines.

It might seem corny to get support from strangers, but by all accounts it really works. Many of those who sign up to become "chemoangels" are cancer survivors, or family members of a cancer survivor. Often, when a patient "graduates" from being a recipient, she signs up to become a "chemoangel" for someone else.

Even if this program isn't your cup of tea, I recommend reading some of the material on the site that offers suggestions about how to be helpful and supportive to someone undergoing chemotherapy. (Hint: Don't send "get well cards" or offer unsolicited medical advice. Do send "thinking of you" letters/cards/notes and make up "waiting room survival kits".)


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If this post doesn't apply to you, may you and the ones you love never need this information. If it does, may you and/or your loved one have a complete and speedy healing.

Shabbat Shalom!

Please note that on Friday afternoons until Saturday evening, the author of this blog is unavailable, in observance of the Jewish Sabbath.

Comments made during this time will be held in a queue, to be moderated afterward.

Thank you for your patience.

(Baking is an extra credit project this week, because our kitchen is topsy-turvy with construction/repairs.

Everything has been remvoed from sink cabinets and from off the counters, and we have been without running water or functioning sink drains in the kitchen for a week - with at least another week predicted.

All drinking and cooking water is coming from little bottles and washing water is from an outdoor sink hooked up to a garden hose!

It feels like Pesach sans the aluminum foil and the fixed schedule.

Let's just say that we're very thirsty for this project to be OVER.)

Shabbat Shalom!

We're having oysters for dinner tonight! (*)

I'm excited to share the fruits of my first mushroom harvest: A plate of oyster mushrooms!
A few weeks ago, we received a mushroom growing kit from gmushrooms.com, and today we harvested the first flush from the oyster mushrooms!

The kit I got had four types of mushrooms spoors. Three of them were in "log" form, with a compressed cylinder of growing medium (maybe barley?) that is already colonized by the different mushrooms' mycelium, ready to fruit, given the right environmental conditions.

The fourth, the Morel mushroom spores, required its own dedicated outdoor compost heap, so (as the instructions indicated) I put it in the back of our refrigerator to hold it until I was ready to provide the environment for it.

These are the three 'logs' as they came out of the shipping box. From left to right, they are Shiitake, Pom Pom Blanc, and Oyster-type mushrooms.

Each of the different types had a very clear sheet with instructions for how to set up the right conditions of moisture, light and heat. None of them required darkness, but they couldn't be in direct sunlight. Indirect sunlight is best.

The kit came with these big sponges and plastic vented funnel bags for tenting the spore log on top of the moistened sponge, in order to maintain humidity.

The shiitake mushrooms are still drying out, which is the first step in their preparation. The oyster and pom pom blanc mushrooms could get humid immediately.

Set up was really easy. A 2" X is cut on either side, through the plastic enclosure. The mushrooms fruit and pop out from this opening.

I supplied the foil pans. I used rainwater for this project, although there was nothing in the instructions that mentioned this. It just seemed, that it would be better to use non-chlorinated, neutral water, rather than tap water.

This is a corner of our entrance hall that doesn't get direct sunlight.

I put up a sign saying "Welcome to our Fungus Garden!" (I did this mostly because it doesn't really look like much of a 'garden', and I didn't want anyone using the bookcase for other things, disturbing the set up.)

The first "pinheads" formed on the oyster mushrooms about a week after I set this up, and we were able to harvest them about 4 days after that.

The first fruit of the Pom Poms is just beginning to emerge today. I hope to have pictures soon. (There's not a lot to see yet.) The Shiitake log is still drying out, and will probably be set in water in a couple of days.)

Here are the oysters. Kosher oysters!

They looked so beautiful and exotic growing in place, it was hard to cut them off the log!

UPDATE: Here's the last of the oyster mushrooms, served raw with grilled tuna and greens from our garden. The sprouts in the upper left-hand corner are garlic chive sprouts, which take about two weeks to grow, but are worth the wait:

FURTHER UPDATE: The Pom Pom Blanc mushroom log failed to produce, and eventually was covered with mold. Harumph. I'm trying to grow *fungus* , not *mold*!! I had to discard it (in our compost heap.) The jury's still out on the shiitake and morel kits. I'll update when we know the results.

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*This title is provocative because shellfish aren't kosher. Mushrooms are.