Not what, but where

Sorry about this, but Chapter 3 is still on hold due to yet another Jewish festival which commences tonight - Sukkot.

But do not fret, because the lady of the ring is never very far from any of my posts. That lady...she lurks behind my words and huddles behind my comment boxes, always there in the background, always waiting for the right moment in which to reveal a little bit more of herself. Take care, dear reader, for she is watching you too.

Ahem...sorry about that....getting a bit carried away there...

So... I thought you might like to see the sukkah we built in our backyard. If you like, you can read more about this festival here. A few years ago, we bought this "modular sukkah", and putting it together is a family activity.


I meant to take photos during the process, but I had to concentrate on the task at hand...you know, ensuring the kids don't kill each other, stopping my son from disappearing into the house to play X-Box, arguing with my husband about the proper positioning of the door. This kind of thing can end in tears, so, you know, not much camera-work was going on.

All ended well, and here is the finished product. My daughter was in charge of the traditional decorations. I kept thinking of all the bloggers I know who would have loved to get their hands on this sukkah - to sew curtains for it, knit fruit for it, add colours to it, take photos of it, compose poems about it, write funny essays about the people sitting in it. Yeah, that's right, you know who you are, yes, I mean YOU. I was thinking of all of you. So then I invited you to come over and have dinner in the sukkah, and you all came over and we had so much fun. Because, you see, Sukkot is not so much about WHAT you eat, but WHERE you eat, and we all ate in the temporary shelter offered by a comment box which materialised in my back garden in the shape of four plastic walls, a metal frame and a bamboo ceiling.

A telephone conversation

Hello dear readers,

I know, I know, I have only just posted something, and here I am at the post office again. Most unusual. So, as an explanation -

My fabulous grandfather just called me and we had the most wonderful conversation. If you have been hanging around my comment box for a while, you will most likely know that this is my grandfather who sent me his library, who is currently living in Manhattan, and whose mission in life is to teach every single person he meets a poem.

Today I decided to ask him a few questions about my grandma. Although my grandma died several years ago, Grandpa still feels that he is living with her and he talks to her, and about her, very often. He calls her his "girlfriend". So I asked him to try to describe what Grandma was like before I knew her, when she was the mother of three teenagers. He immediately recited the following poem as his answer:

On Being A Woman / By Dorothy Parker

Why is it, when I am in Rome,
I'd give an eye to be at home,
But when on native earth I be,
My soul is sick for Italy?

And why with you, my love, my lord,
Am I spectacularly bored,
Yet do you up and leave me- then
I scream to have you back again?

As Grandpa recited this poem by heart to me, over the telephone, I was already planning to post it because it was just too wonderful not to share around! So then, of course, Grandpa started to recite a second poem. This second poem perfectly reflected what I was hoping to do by posting the first poem. Grandpa is amazing.

Here is the second poem:

The Arrow and the Song / By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

Hide and seek

THE LADY OF THE RING / Chapter two

When she next opened her eyes, she was lying on a high, soft bed. She turned slightly and felt a piercing pain in her back. “Don’t move,” said a deep voice to her right, “Nothing’s broken, but still, don’t move.” She did move, despite the pain, and found herself straining to see a figure in the far corner of the room. She could see a large dark mass, and it was holding still, but then every so often wavering, becoming slightly smaller and then larger again. The dark mass made rustling sounds once in a while, and then a clicking, very tiny click, click, clicking. Then it laughed, very softly, to itself, and made a scraping sound, and rustled over and over again until it was suddenly standing right in front of her, beside the bed, in the shape of a tall woman in a long black dress and a peacock mask, holding something very small in her right hand, and smiling.
“Now listen to me,” said the peacock lady, “and listen well, for we have to be quick if we are to succeed.”
“What did you just say?” the injured woman whispered.
“You heard me, I know you did.”
The injured one furrowed her brow and grunted slightly as she tried to understand.
“Now listen here,” the creature continued, “In a moment, you will give me your left hand, and I will place a ring on your fourth finger, and then you will forget everything. It will be, for you, as if this meeting never happened.”
“What?” The injured one pronounced the word, and instantly the creature shushed it away.

A ring was placed on the finger as was predicted, and just as predicted the injured one forgot everything. It was just as well she did too, because the very next second there was a great knocking on the door of that grand bedroom, and then a doorknob was turned and a crowd of men with concerned masks of fresh-faced affection came rushing at her from all directions. She laughed, and then cried out at the pain in her chest, and several of the men came forward claiming to be doctors, only too willing and able to heal the lovely lady. However, as luck would have it, the hostess of that grand masked ball, owner of the grand house, and concerned friend of the woman currently ensconced in the guest bedroom, bustled in and quite delightfully waved away the lovely lady’s many suitors, insisting that only one of them was needed, the one who was tallest and strongest. This chosen man would help the lovely lady out of the bed and into the waiting carriage, a carriage which would carry the lovely lady back to her own home and her own little bed. And that is exactly what happened.

Virtual inspiration

My imagination thrives on reading blogs.

As I travel around the world at the speed of light, flipping through journal pages that are not mine, I feel both elation and a sense of loss. Comment boxes seem to have become smaller and smaller; they close in on me, and at times I am unable to write anything at all.

So then my imagination kicks in.

That is how I started seeing peacock feathers. It didn't make any sense, really. Oh, and I saw a masked ball with dancing figures and the colour black.

So here is my really long comment, which would not fit into any box, no matter how much I tried to squash it in. Well...I did try to fit it into a hat box (as you will see later on, probably) but even that was quite unsuccessful...those feathers are so very long and delicate.

The story is not really mine at all. It belongs to several different bloggers whose words and images sparked my imagination and gave me much pleasure.

THE LADY OF THE RING

It was not for lack of trying that she felt such an emptiness in her heart, and it certainly was not for lack of men, for there they were, everywhere she looked. A glance to the left, a blink of the eye, a glint of the candlelight, and there they were before her, so many, all ready for her at a moment’s notice. “Come dance sweet darling, come take my hand,” she heard them whisper in her little shell of an ear. But all is never what it seems at a masked ball, and those men would have done better had they recognised the lacklustre turn of her phrase, and the soft white hand laying limp and lifeless in theirs.

Dance after dance she found herself swept away in the arms of yet another masked man. Dance after dance she bit her bottom lip and held her dress as she swirled round and round and round. Feeling dizzy and slightly sick, she begged off the last dance and steadied herself on the wall, which soon became the platform of a whirling carousel, pushing her on and on until, suddenly, it stopped, and she was enveloped in a tight blackness which squeezed her chest and then opened her eyes, with a pop.

Directly above her, almost too close to see, were two round eyes, staring down at her curiously, and then, oh my, one of them winked. She propped herself up on her elbows, stretching her neck up to see the strange animal properly. What was it? A bird of some sort, perhaps, or a beast. Peacock feathers, she thought to herself, lovely multicoloured peacock feathers gathered around a deep purple velvet covered in tiny jewels, and a glistening black beak, curved and sharp. Then blackness again.

For Alice

Simplicissimus

For Alice C

The binding, in natural-colour half-linen imported from the Netherlands, is stamped in dark brown on the shelfback and blind-stamped on the front cover.

Small, monster-like, curly-tailed creatures also adorn the cover!

The end-leaves are a rust laid stock from Strathmore,

echoing the colour used within the book.

First published in 1669,

this is "the earliest work in German literature

to deal with contemporary events in everyday language."

Simplicissimus would have loved blogging.

This would have been his avatar in your comment box:

His comments would have been quite cynical and world-weary.

But written with great wit and humour.

He travelled quite a bit, and met such interesting people

from all over

and under

the world.

He would have adored your beautiful photographs

of food and housewares.

He led a simple life,

fictional,

but based in fact.

Much like all good bloggers do.

___________________

So, dear Alice, I hope you enjoyed Simplicissimus.

It is certainly a huge book,

and I am quite certain that I will never actually read it from cover to cover,

but that is of no consequence.

For Simplicissimus will now always remind me of a dear blogging friend

from England

who knocked on the door of my library,

and spent some time with me.

______________________

Alice is the last borrower of the day.

I hope to be able to share many more of my bookshelves with you in the near future. Until then, I am toying with the idea of starting another short story in installments.

Oh, yes, I should also mention that another Jewish festival is coming up -this Thursday is the most solemn day of the year, Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement). No, this is not the cheesecake holiday, but rather a day of fasting.

Wishing you all a wonderful week! Your book choices have been inspiring, and your comments have been so very interesting!

Eleanor xxxx

Julia's book

The library has officially reopened!

Hooray!

Welcome, welcome, come in, please, make yourself at home.

Today I am pleased to introduce you to a brand-new member of the library. Everyone, please make Julia feel welcome as she browses the bookshelves. Julia has come here all the way from Prague, so she's a little tired and needs some tender loving care and extra attention. What was that Eurolush? You've come all the way from Germany? Now, Eurolush...we've talked about this before...it's not always ALL ABOUT YOU...excuse me...young lady....where do you think you're going with that chocolate croissant??!! STRICTLY NO FOOD ALLOWED IN THE LIBRARY!!! VERBOTTEN!!

There, that's better. What was that Badger? Why, of COURSE you can keep sipping on your cocktail. Dude....alcohol consumption is ENCOURAGED in the library. Now...where was I? Yes. Right. Before we begin our discussion of Julia's book, I'd like to commend the following borrowers for their marvellous book choices last week, as well as the prompt returning of said books - RW, Tuli, Mary and Suse. These four members managed to borrow their books without needing to resort to physical violence, unlike two sisters we all (ahem) remember well from last week. The Unfortunate Incident Involving The Bronte Sisters is a lesson to us all - reading and sibling rivalry is a lethal combination.

Ahem, now Julia, what a wonderful first choice you have made with this simply divine edition of Northanger Abbey. Its multicoloured, striped cloth cover brings to mind the hues of a rainbow, as it subtly makes its way out from behind the dark grey clouds of a winter's day in Prague.

It is not garishly bright, but there are just enough yellow sunbeams in it to bring a smile to your face. Well...at least, I hope so.

I thought you might like to see the decorative line which signals the beginning of each chapter. Also, the simple elegance of the embellishment of the first letter.

You may have noticed that a small connecting flourish is used whenever a 'c' and 't' are printed next to each other

Also between 's' and 't'. I find it quite annoying, actually. Perhaps someone knows the reason for this style of print?

I know you were hoping for an illustration, well...there are many:

What do you think Julia? I was, at first, quite surprised at the darkness of the illustrations. They have a melancholy air about them which is quite beautiful, but unexpected.

Below is the colophon which is found on the very last page of the book. Isn't that simply gorgeous?

I hope you enjoy your choice, and please do return to the library whenever you wish.

Good evening all, and may all your endings be happy.

Rosh Hashanah

My fab friend Sarah lived with us for many months a while back, and she enjoyed the Jewish festivals a great deal. Not being Jewish herself, everything that I completely took for granted instantly transformed into something strange and exotic when viewed through her eyes.

The look on her face when I explained to her "So..this is the milky cutlery, this is the meaty cutlery, these are the meaty dishes, these are the milky dishes" was priceless. The way she deliberately stopped and stared at the handles of the kitchen drawers before she chose one to open in the search for a spoon for her yogurt was a portrait of true true friendship.

In the words of the fabulous Sarah - "So what do we eat on THIS holiday? Is this the one with the cheesecake? Is this the one with the matzah? Is this the one with the fried potato pancakes? Is this the one with the triangular poppy biscuits?" Well..this is the one with the very sweet foods. Sarah liked the fried potato pancake holiday best.

But I digress.

So you all came over to my parent's apartment for Rosh Hashanah dinner, and boy was it crowded. But that's just fine, because my mother always cooks enough food "for an entire army troop" (my father's words). I have been living in a different country from my parents since I was 18, and they only moved to Australia a couple of years ago, therefore my mother and I are making up for lost time. She cooks and I eat. It's a great system.

To bring in the new year, the women of the household light the candles. Two each for me and mum, one for my daughter. Can you see the pomegranates? They are a traditional new year food (lots of sweet little seeds to symbolise a fruitful new year) which my mum is using here for decoration. See the sweetpeas? My mum is unstoppable when it comes to symbolic decorations, just wait and see....

Here is the magnificent table ready for the traditional blessing of the wine and bread (challah). In the centre are the two challahs, but you can't see them because they are covered by a challah-cover. The cover is especially made for Rosh Hashanah and has a decoration of apples on it, apple dipped in honey being a traditional new year food. My mum found a couple of apple candles too!



On Friday nights and Saturdays (Shabbat) we usually have two challahs which are long and plaited, but for the High Holy Days we have round challahs with raisins. My mother even bought one (the one on the left) with sweet streusel topping, mmmmmm......

My mother has a special plate for the apple and honey, can you see the decorative fish motif? Fish is another symbol, fertility I think.

Mr. Commentbox was happy to demonstrate. Oh, by the way, the silverware was my great-grandma's, and it has her initials engraved on it. Yes, this is the meaty set, we're having turkey.

Usually, gefilte fish is made into boiled balls. But that's so last year. My mother made gefilte fish fish molds, with pickle scales and a bed of lettuce "seaweed".

Chicken soup with matzah balls. Mmmmm.....

Potato kugel (pudding) is usually made in a rectangular pan, but again, that's so boring, so my mum made little round kugels. So, so cute.

Spot the apple mosaic! My mother actually made it herself a few years ago. The orange dish on the left is carrot tsimmes (great-grandma's recipe). It has a dumpling-type base (much like the matzah balls) which is sweetened, and then a layer of sweetened, boiled carrots is placed on top, and crisped in the oven. Step away from the tsimmes ladies, it's MINE, ALL MINE.

I took a picture of the HUGE turkey, but it looked kind of....obscene. So here is a very polite picture of my plate with a slice of turkey. After I took the photo I doubled all of the portions, but you can all believe this is the actual amount I ate, because we are virtual friends, so as far as you know I eat like a bird and have a sylph-like figure. I'd like to maintain that virtual image for as long as I can.

I grew up with this china pattern - it was our "meaty set" for as long as I can remember. My mother always insisted that when I set the table the "basket" had to be facing up. My one major rebellion during my teenage years was having the basket facing sideways or even, GASP, down. I was a wild child.

Most honey cakes are square or rectangular, but that's BORING, so my mother's is in the shape of a flower. Of course.

So thanks for joining us, I'm glad you had such a good time, and I hope each and every one of you enjoyed the little "goodie bag" my mother gave you, you know, for your trip back home, so you wouldn't, god forbid, get hungry.

Oh, and a recipe, as promised! This cake freezes very well and, in fact, tastes even better after being frozen and then defrosted. Really!

ELEANOR’S FAMILY HONEY CAKE [rectangular pan 9” x 13”]
4 eggs
1 ½ cups sugar
1 cup honey
1 teaspoon cinammon
1 teaspoon instant coffee
2 rounded tablespoons cocoa
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon brandy
½ cup oil (canola/sunflower)
[ 3 cups self-raising flour]

Cream all well **EXCEPT FLOUR** using large bowl of mixmaster.
Then add flour – beat until mixed through.

Last: While beating on lowest speed add: 1 ½ cups boiling water.

Beat till mixed through.

The batter will be very thin. Don’t worry!

Bake slowly – 320 degrees (160 celsius) – for 1 hour approx.