I got my first JCC paycheck

Never Done: I got my first JCC paycheck

When I accepted my new job, it's not that I thought the paycheck would be the primary reward -- I would never have taken the job if I didn't think it was going to be meaningful, fun, productive work -- but the paycheck was the impetus behind leaving freelance in the first place.

But then I worked three weeks. Week one: I was a dry sponge trying to soak up a puddle of water, but too overwhelmed to be absorbent. Week two: I gained context, deepened my conversations, built the foundations for what I think will be excellent collegial relationships. Started to dream about what I might be able to do there. Week three: I started to understand how to make the dreams come true, and started to understand that there will not necessarily be a firewall between Jenny the creative artist and Jenny the arts curator/professional. (Big week!)

And then I got a paycheck. If it had come after week one, I might have felt differently, like hell yeah I deserve this. But it came when I was acutely aware of liking and appreciating my job, and I felt like, all this and I get paid too?

To celebrate, I bought an entire roasted duck in Chinatown to share with at shabes Soup Swap. Frugality: Be careful with your money. Which sometimes means to earn some, and use it to make a better life (or dinner) for the people you care about.

I met Daniel Bernard Roumain

Never Done: I met Daniel Bernard Roumain (DBR)

One aspect of my job is to run an artist in residence program with two wonderful artists who were already selected before I came along. One of them, DBR, is a composer, violinist, and bandleader who is married to a Jewish woman, and they have a son who is half black and half white, half Catholic and half Jewish, half Haitian and half American. He is spending the year at the JCC composing a musical Hagaddah for singers and string orchestra.

He's having a series of study sessions with rabbis and artists and musicians and scholars and funders and cultural workers who have something to say about Passover and the Haggadah -- and I went to one of them. It was the first time I sat on the other side of the table. The first time I was not the artist, but the institution. The first time I had to think carefully about what power I either have or am perceived to have, and to make sure to use it in a thoughtful and supportive way. The first time I really felt like the Director of something.

I rode home thinking about the mide (middah) of Frugality: Be careful with your money. There are six words in that phrase. It's clear we are meant to pay attention to the words Frugality, Careful, and Money. Be is attached to Careful and With is attached to Money. And that leaves Your (which I am going to talk about as My.) What is my money? Is it the money my institution already committed to this artist? I do think so, and so in being careful with my money, I think I have an ethical responsibility to give him as much support as possible in order for him to succeed. Is my money the money that people think I might have, even if I don't? My perceived money? I think it is also that -- in which case I would have an ethical responsibility to be careful about how I communicate about my money, and neither raise nor lower expectations unduly. Is it the rest of the budget I have to work with? Yes, that too. And in being careful with it, I'm not going to write about it publicly, except to say that I think that the chance to think about an institutional budget from a Mussar perspective of self and other is incredibly interesting, and also potentially useful -- and might help me navigate my opportunities and limitations in a meaningful and grounded way.

I bought handmade underpants on Etsy

Never Done: I bought handmade underpants on Etsy

I want to learn how to make underpants out of old t-shirts, so I went on Etsy to see if I could buy a pair to deconstruct and then reconstruct. I didn't actually find any t-shirt undies (although I've seen them before) but I did find some other really cute pairs that inspired me to make my own undies out of pretty floral fabric, which is, admittedly, not the same as upcycling an old t-shirt, but for those of us who have stacks of beautiful fabric which we've saving for just the perfect project, I think it's the moral equivalent of upcycling an old t-shirt. We already have it kicking around, and it's time to put it to good use.

And it just so happens that this week's mide (middah) is Frugality: Be careful with your money. And nice underwear is expensive! Not that I wear nice underwear. I wear Hanes cotton briefs. But I wish I wore nice underwear. I have one pair of nice underwear. They were sort of a joke, and sort of not a joke present for my mother, about four months before she died. About three or four years before she died (that's just a time marker -- this story had nothing to do with her being sick -- in fact it happened when she was perfectly well) she suddenly couldn't find three items. A blue nightie, some black undies, and her family bible -- the one with all the ancestors' names in it. She looked everywhere. She couldn't figure out what could have happened to them. She asked everyone. It turned into a joke she made at her own expense.

Then one year I drew her name in the annual Christmas gift exchange (I've written about this before -- we used to, at the end of every Passover seder, draw names for the Christmas gift exchange) and I decided to give her a new nightie, some new undies, and a new bible. When I was in Atlanta, I went into a lingerie store and bought her a really beautiful pair of Ed Hardy designer cotton briefs, and I also found her a beautiful Hebrew bible, and a lovely blue nightie. She wore the nightie, she liked the bible, and by the time she got the undies she had some medical stuff going on that made it impractical for her to wear them. After she died, and I was going through her clothes, I took the Ed Hardy gatkes, and they are now my special gatkes. And now I have this other pair, also special, which basically means I will hand wash, and I won't wear when I have my period.

But I want to learn how to make special undies for everyday use -- because really, shouldn't I always feel good about myself if, as my grandmother used to say, I should get hit by a bus -- or in less of a disaster scenario, shouldn't I get to enjoy a glimpse of pretty summer flowers on my panties? So I'm going to learn how to make them, and I still want to learn how to make them out of old t-shirts too. And if you want to help me figure out how to do it, please come on over. (We can even put a bird on it.)

I got a burger at Lot 2

Never Done: I got a burger at Lot 2

It's a little thing, but once a month I get a snobby burger somewhere I've never been before. Snobby = organic, grass fed, free range, antibiotic free, lovingly read Goodnight Moon every night. In other words, it's not snobby; I am.

This month I planned my outing for after a running session, so I would be good and hungry. And I invited both Mich and Josh to join me at Lot 2, a snooty little locavore joint only about 10 blocks from my apartment. The burger is fabled to be one of the best around, served with duck fat fries and house-made pickles.

To cut to the chase, it has now either moved into first place (surpassing Flatbush Farm) or it's in a close second. It's been so long since I had the burger at Flatbush Farm that I'll have to go back soon for comparison's sake....

What I really liked though was that because there were three of us, and we also wanted some gorgeous salads they had to offer, we ended up splitting three burgers two ways. Actually, Josh and I ended up splitting one, and Mich and Josh ended up splitting the other, so I ended up with one half, which turns out to be a perfect amount of burger for me. I'll be splitting from now on.

Which is, if you expand your definition of frugality to include all resources and not just money, interesting from an ethics perspective. Why consume more than I need to, if I have the option to consume the right amount? After all, a hamburger was once part of a cow, so why would I want to waste any part of it? Especially such a lovingly-raised, highly literate cow!

I once read an interview with the Dalai Lama in which he came out as an omnivore -- who eats hamburgers! He said that he would rather eat part of a cow -- one sentient being that can feed many people, rather than eat a plate full of shrimp (that was the example he gave) -- which he saw as a plate full of many sentient beings. I loved the interview, partly because it was so surprising, and also because it led me to understand that everyone gets to choose their own morality -- as long as it's founded in a deep personal ethics, and doesn't impinge upon someone else's freedoms.

Me? I was a vegetarian for 12 years, and while it made perfect sense for me politically, it wasn't right for me physically. Me cholesterol was high because I ate too much cheese and ice cream, I was super anemic, and I was generally not in balance. Now mostly I eat lots of veggies and rice and fish and turkey and tofu, and once a month I eat a burger. And if you want to join me next month, I'll split it with you.

I facilitated our Mussar group

Never Done: I facilitated our Mussar group

When we formed, we decided that Alissa would start out leading it, because she's a bona fide rabbi, and she had more Mussar experience than any of us in the group. But we also said from the start that we would eventually move to a model of shared facilitation. Which we finally did, just a few weeks ago.

I noticed that I hesitated to volunteer to facilitate for the first couple of weeks, and was relieved to let other people do it. I wasn't sure why, exactly -- since I have facilitated hundreds (if not thousands) of meetings in my life. Also, we have a fairly set structure to our group, so it's not like I would be pushed to come up with innovative new ways to explore Mussar. I think it's indicative of a way that I've pulled back my public performative persona since coming to NYC. I haven't performed since living here, and I don't do trainings any more, which is also quite performative. It's not that I'm afraid -- I think if I had a show to do tomorrow, I would jump right in with probably greater confidence than I had ten years ago. I think it's more that I've come to prefer to think more and talk less, and that's led me off the stage and into the wings.

Which I think has been a good thing for me. Instead of throwing myself into situations where I have to sink or swim, I've had a lot more time to reflect and choose (which I've had less life practice at than sinking or swimming.) Still, if I'm honest, when I noticed that I had any hesitation to step up and do something as simple as facilitate our Mussar group, I was a little concerned that the pendulum might have swung too far in the other direction.

I don't think there's anything to be concerned about. I thoroughly enjoyed the process of preparing, choosing a text on this coming week's mide (middah): Frugality: Be careful with your money, and leading the group. Again, this is a simple group to lead -- we check in about our practice (did you journal? did you check in with your partner? did you practice your daily ritual?) and then we spend the bulk of our time checking in about anything that came up for us during our week of practice -- anything we'd like the group's help with. (Last week's practice was on Righteousness: What is hateful to you, do not to do others.) Then we do a text study to help prepare us for the coming week, and then we close.

In case you would like to practice frugality with us this week, here are some things to think about. "Be careful with your money" doesn't necessarily mean "spend less." I might suggest changing the word "careful" to "thoughtful" -- and spending some time considering your own relationship to money, and what would be meaningful to you. Were you raised to soothe feelings by buying things? Then maybe you should spend a week facing your feelings in a different way. Were you raised without enough money for the basic necessities? Then maybe your path is to be thoughtful about the ways you could use money for sheer enjoyment of life. Do you have a hard time saving? Try writing down everything you spend money on this week, so you can have an honest accounting of how much you spend and on what. Actually -- that's a good practice for anyone. Do you have a plan for your long-term financial well-being? Do you give money to causes you care about? Do you tip well? If you employ people -- in or out of the home -- do you pay them fairly? Are you paid fairly for your work? Do you harbor any shame or other feelings about your class background that prevents you from speaking honestly about your life? This is such a rich topic, with plenty to reflect upon.

Finally, think about developing a practice around money that you can take with you all day, every day. Maybe you want to give money to people every time you are asked. Maybe you want to write down everything you spend. Maybe you want to stop using credit cards and only use cash. Maybe you want to offer to pay for your friends all week long. Maybe you want to ask for a raise if you need one. Maybe you want to always be honest when asked how much you earn. And then -- as always -- reflect, reflect, reflect. How does this feel? When do you fail to keep up your practice? What's going on for you in those instances?

If you feel comfortable doing this, please write your practice in the comments here -- and we can all support each other to become more thoughtful about money. Mine is dual: I am going to give a gift every day, and I am going to look for new work every day until I get enough to meet my NYC expenses without dipping into savings.

Judith Socolov, z"l

Never Done: I woke up, reached to take my thyroid pill, spilled water into my alarm clock, shorted it out

Never Done: I helped make shiva for Judith Socolov, z"l

So, I woke up, reached to take my thyroid pill, spilled water into my alarm clock, and shorted it out. While I was mopping it off with a towel, I said, "Well, I never did that before," and both Josh and I cracked up laughing. And then I said the Shehekhianu.

And then I felt an incredible sense of relief. Because it was also the first time that I completed my Never Done activity the moment I woke up. Such freedom for the rest of the day! But my alarm clock was ruined. Or was it? I wrapped it in a towel and stood it on its head, to drain. I dried it with a blow dryer. I plugged it in. It didn't work. But it didn't spark and sputter and short out the outlet, so I let it stay there and went on with my day.

My day that included learning that you get what you pay for. A friend did me a huge favor and did some graphic work for free for a low-budget video I am producing, but as good as it was -- and it was -- it wasn't going to work physically for the prop builders who were going to take the designs and turn them into props. And when I called the prop builder (who I was massively underpaying -- really offering what amounts to a stipend, but he did agree to it, and he did tell me he would do the job) to check in with him, he started backpedaling all over the place. The price didn't include the stands, and he couldn't really commit to any price until he had final artwork, and he has a bunch of other work so he can't commit to a schedule ... all of which he had actually already committed to. As I tried to figure out what to do, I remembered that one of the mides (middot) is Frugality: Be careful with your money. As I thought about frugality, it occurred to me that I had underbid the job, and that I was trying to get something for next to nothing, and it was trickling down to disrespect my friend who was offering me something for nothing. So as I thought about all this, I decided to ask my other good friend who hired me if there was a way to get more money for the budget. I emailed and called him, and within -- I don't know -- an hour, he had approved the extra money. I don't know if I would have been able to call to ask for more money if I hadn't taken the time to realize it was actually my responsibility to make a good budget.

And then I went to help set up shiva (ritual Jewish mourning period) for my good friend Emily whose mom, Judith Socolov, just died. I adored Judy. I first met her when the Socolovs invited me to their family seder in 2003. She was the first person I ever met who truly reminded me of my mom -- because they shared a warmth, directness, wit, irreverence, and intelligence. My mom was living at the time, and we tried to orchestrate a meeting between Ann and Judy on one of my mom's visits, but it never happened. What I didn't know is that our mothers shared experiences of deep secrecy. Judy had been convicted of being a Soviet spy which she denied was true, but never spoke about publicly, and rarely in the home. (If you click on the link on Judith's name above, you will see her AP obituary that goes into some detail. Also, click here for the New York Times obit, which Emily says has a few factual errors.) My father had a top secret career (that I have written about elsewhere) that he never spoke about, even with my mother. By the time I met Judy, my father had recently died, so my mom was still dealing with the information that she had lived most of her marriage in an environment of secrecy. Now I wonder how much of their shared personality also came from some shared experience.

When my mom died, my close friends made shiva happen. They brought food and set everything up and stayed on top of it all evening and cleaned up and my sister and I didn't have to think about it. I was in a daze that day, but I do remember Andra taking the lead, and Ellen, Karen, Claire, Tonia, Lis, Barbara, and I actually do not know who else (but thank you!) joining her to take care of everything. When Judy died, I realized I could help in a similar way. I went over about an hour early, and joined Emily and her brothers as we cleaned the apartment, draped the mirrors, moved furniture, and set up food to get ready. As the evening went on, and I took care of the food and garbage, I realized that this is what Emily does every time she is at a party or an event; she makes herself a part of the event in a deep way -- and usually by sharing in the work. It felt good and right to be there and to be able to remove some responsibilities from her and her brothers' shoulders. It was a wonderful gathering, and Judy will be missed. May her memory be a blessing.

And, as I'm sure you already guessed would be the case, when I came home, the alarm clock was working.

Be careful with everyone's money

Never Done: Went to the Celiac Center

After months on the waiting list, I finally had my first appointment at the Celiac Center. My doctor was an hour late seeing me (I read the New Yorker cover to cover for the first time in months and once again realized how un-funny I find Patricia Marx) but the doctor was focused and attentive and kind when she did see me. She asked a bunch of questions, did a physical exam, and drew blood; I didn't learn much -- the real information will come once the lab results start to come back -- but I felt like I was in the good hands of someone who has a broad knowledge of celiac and also the potentially related issues (thyroid, iron) I'm trying to solve.

This week's mide (middah) is Frugality: Be careful with your money. When I got done with my appointment, Dr. Lewis asked me if my insurance requires that she send to a particular lab. I found her question unusually thoughtful for a New York doctor. When I didn't know the answer, she asked Yvonne, her administrator, to check for me. Then, when Yvonne was helping me make ancillary appointments (endocrinologist, bone density test) she called my insurance company back to make sure she was clear on what they would and wouldn't cover. This all made me think about frugality a little more broadly than the way the mide is framed, and I decided to re-write it: Be careful with everyone's money. Maybe the big banks could take a lesson from these two women who have their hands full with their patients' medical needs, but who still take the time to guard other people's money. And if the big banks won't, then I will.