And Just Like That

Whenever feeling downcast, each person should vitally remember, 'For my sake, the entire world was created.'"
—Baal Shem Tov

Let them be sure that every little deed counts, that every word has power, and that we can—every one—do our share to redeem the world in spite of all absurdities and all frustrations and all disappointments. And above all, remember that the meaning of life is to build a life as if it were a work of art. 
—Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

Simchat Torah was born when Jews had lost everything else, but they never lost their capacity to rejoice.... A people whose capacity for joy cannot be destroyed is, itself, indestructible.

—Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

There is a saying in Israel that is used approximately every six minutes from the end of August until the end of October - "acharei haChagim / after the holidays".
We're going on a cruise after the holidays.

After the holidays, we'll paint the house.
I'll clean out my cupboards, after the holidays.
I'll look for a job after the holidays.

After the holidays, I'll start a strict new exercise regime.
etc. etc.

The Holiday period in September/October (during the Hebrew month of Tishrei) is intensive. There are four separate holidays, each with its own unique characteristics, customs, prayers, foods, and the need for new clothes. Even the holiday that entails fasting has its own food requirements.

The holidays of Tishrei are demanding, all-consuming, powerful, profound.

They can be awe-inspiring, life-changing, joyful, exhilarating.

They can also be exhausting.

I have found that, during the month of Tishrei, there are two kinds of people: Those who love the holidays, and those who, well, dread them.

The first kind is easy to spot; they are the ones who are not at home, who don't feel like spending their time and money on hosting others so spend their time flitting from relative to friend to relative for meals, who rent a cabin in the north for a week, who don't wait to go on that cruise until after the holidays.

It's the guest who tells you how they celebrated in the old country while eating all your potatoes;

it's the Uncle who arrives - empty-handed - and lets you know that your cooking really isn't that good but has two helpings of sweet and sour meatballs, three of tzimmis, and half a honey cake;

it's the cousin who tells you how tired they are after getting up at 10:00 AM and driving all the way to your house to eat your cookies and honey cake (and she wouldn't say no to another cup of coffee);

it's your colleague at work who takes half an hour telling you about their trip to Croatia and Southern Italy and Iceland and how they need a vacation after their vacation.

The second kind is pretty easy to spot also: They look just like me after I've been to six different supermarkets searching for fresh chicken wings at less than my monthly salary per kilogram (which is a lower price than one would think - my salary is on the rather depressing side).

There has been a meme going around listing the different greetings used during the month:

Happy holidays;

Happy New Year;

Shabbat Shalom;

Wishing you an easy fast;

Happy Holidays

Happy interim days

Shabbat Shalom!

etc. etc.

I have my own list of greetings: Help me take the groceries in from the car;

What else do we need besides more carrots, candles, and floor wax;

Do we have enough Humous;

Please put your laundry away;

I'll need more chicken;

If I add water, will I have enough soup for shabbat and chag;

Is this container big enough;

Do we have enough Humous?????????????

etc. etc.

I begin my preparations for Rosh HaShana - the first of the four holidays - six weeks before on the 10th day of the Jewish month of Av, with an excel file.

I am organized and thorough. I have shopping lists and daily to-do lists. I keep track of what I have prepared in advance, how many cakes there are in the freezer, and which guests are allergic to what products (who knew there were so many allergies....)

I'm hyper-organized for the first few days.

Around Yom Kippur - the second of the holidays - I begin to lose track of what day it is. It feels like Sunday morning, but it's actually Tuesday afternoon. I think I have two more days until the weekend, when, in fact, it is two days after the weekend.

I can no longer keep track of the cakes either, but I'm sure there will be enough.

Afraid there would not be enough potatoes, I boil too many, and they can't be frozen. Should I make more for the next round of festivities or hope this pot will last four more days?

One guest, unbeknownst to me, is on the grapefruit diet (I don't have any grapefruits) and another is allergic to apples and honey (so much for the apple chicken, apple coleslaw, and apple cake [hey! apples were on sale!]), and has a deathly fear of pomegranates.

Despair begins to seep in around the middle of the month, intensifying with each bag of garbage I throw out.

Will I survive this?

By Sukkot - the third holiday - I'm wandering around the house wondering what I'm doing in that particular room. We've run out of potatoes, but there is still rice. And beans. And apples (I love sales). The honey cake is gone thanks to Uncle Fitzgerald, but I've saved some hard cookies and a brownie. There are no chickens in the stores, but I still have some turkey wings in the freezer left over from a shopping extravaganza six months ago after seeing a recipe on Facebook I never used.

On the last holiday, Simchat Torah, I have no company. I decide we will eat up all the leftovers. There are three different chicken dishes (2 pieces of each kind), 2 types of rice, a spoonful of carrot tzimmes, a few broccoli stems, and a panful of unsuccessful ratatouille. Also some stale apple cake. Alas, the potatoes did not, in fact, last those four days.

With a final prayer, it's all over.

I have survived.

I had enough Humous.

I survey the mountain of laundry to be done, the dishes to be put away, the sukka to be dismantled, the decorations to be boxed up, the apples waiting to be eaten.

I close my eyes to it all.

And suddenly, just like that, we are acherei haChagim, after the holidays.

Easy Peasy.

Now, I suppose, I'm going to have to clean out my clothes cupboard.