Isn't that a great word? It brings to mind a huge drawer, filled with all sorts of odds-and-ends, like bits of ribbon, spools of thread, and some of those discarded pieces of trash that my sons bring home for their clubhouse--but in thoughts rather than physical entities. Are thoughts physical entities? I think I am getting too philosophical for a Monday morning!

Okay, here's a skill-testing question: what's more powerful than nuclear fission, more unrestrained than wild horses, more destructive than a hurricane, faster than the speed of lightning, and cuter than all those Huggies' ads? My almost-two-year-old, Yisrael Chanina, of course. (Congratulations to all you geniuses who answered correctly; you win a child-lock!) He is ripping through the house with abandon, having mastered the skill of climbing like a real pro. Did I say "climbing"? Try rapelling. With a special knack for getting into the kitchen sink. Children are, I have discovered, the cure-all for the evils of their parents. They give us patience where we had none; they make us selfless where we were selfish; they also, of course, give us love and mushiness where we thought we were doing just fine. And, most importantly, they show us that nothing is too valuable to escape their eager gasp of death. Like my beautiful new washing cup (yeah, the one I replaced after my son broke it a couple of months ago), which now lies in gaily colored disarray, freshly shattered by my invigorated toddler. Did I love it? Yeah. Do I love him? Yeah. Can the two be integrated? Yeah. Strange.

I promised you miscellogeny, so here's another random topic. My neighbor and I had a pleasant conversation about the roles of husbands and wives in being spiritual mentors for each other. Should a husband tell his wife when her dress is immodest? Should a wife tell her husband when his Torah learning slacks off? Her take on it, I thought, was very sweet. Her husband told her that he comments on her religious observance because he loves her so much and cares about her Olam Habah (spiritual existence in the Next World). Hmmm...What say you?

And since miscellogeny ought to come in threes, how about this for a third trifling stashed in that mental drawer? Color. I love color. I have finally concluded that color is Hashem's gift to us so we can drink in the vibrancy and delight of life. I just bought myself a handmade watch, comprised of baubles and beads, multi-hued, and it is gorgeous. As I contemplate the handiwork, a rainbow of color, it stirs my soul. Funny how something so mundane and temporal can evoke metaphysical awakenings. Do you love color?

My Purim was really wonderful and joyous--leibedig (lively) as anything, and it is always such a spiritual highlight for me as well. There was just one blip on the radar and I guess it's really just one of many. Gotta back up here for a little preface. With Purim coming, I was SO excited to release a Purim version of Green Fences, something totally off-beat, hilarious, and zany, to give the readers a little break from the usual intensity of the serial.

Well, as it turns out, my readers are a mostly intense lot. There has been wholesale disappointment, grumbling, and a complete lack of interest regarding my Purimshpiel version of the story which, in my humble opinion, was HYSTERICAL!! I mean, come on, we had a reference to the readers who wrote in about how Kaplan's lack of waiting-room privacy should never happen in real-life therapy; we had every character in his/her element with a whacky turnaround in the Zev/Ari department. It was brill--okay, I think I'm getting carried away here :-).

Well, tonight, at the seudah (festive meal), one irate, I-rant reader, made particularly vociferous due to inebriation (estimated age 19, vocation: yeshivah student, last seen wearing: pajama pants, a shirt sporting the words "Rock and Roll", and a black clown wig) told me that "Purple Gates" (that was an editor's doing, not mine!) was an insult, a disappointment, in fact he said that it "cheapened" the story. Whew! That's a lot to chew on while you've already got brisket and salad on your plate!

So what's up with this widespread discontent? Do my readers really lack a sense of humor? That's a scary thought. C'mon, guys, help me out here, will ya?

Pappy Hurim to Thou and Thours!