A few good doctor odd images I discovered:
Tsee iz fahran ah Subway?
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" http://www.flickr.com/photos/81004917@N00/2989131150" > angus mcdiarmid Michael Chabon calls it “” Most likely the saddest book I own””, and Ellen got me it for my birthday.
Chabon discusses it in his essay, “” A Yiddish Pale Fire””, which I check out a few years ago and have since felt obliged to point out in virtually any conversation that touches in any method on Jews, Israel or language. I was really amazed. It’s the very best thing I’ve checked out by Chabon (better than his novel The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, which is where the train of believed in the essay ultimately wound up), and among the most fascinating and moving essays I have actually ever checked out. I’ve pasted it listed below, as Chabon has discontinued his site, where it utilized to live. Print it out and read it in the future!
Chabon’s right: there’s something incredibly unfortunate and unusual about the phrasebook. It becomes part of an authentic series of phrasebooks, all designed to be used by travellers in various countries. However in exactly what certain nation would you need to ask, in Yiddish, where to obtain a social security card? As Chabon says, “” At exactly what time in the history of the world was there a place … where not just the doctors and waiters and trolley conductors spoke Yiddish, however also the airline company clerks, travel agents, ferryboat captains, and gambling establishment workers?””
. Chabon goes on to think of a couple of possible worlds where this phrasebook may be an important part of a visitor’s baggage, each more heartbreaking than the last. It’s interesting that he chose the second of his envisioned worlds– the one where Jews were settled in Alaska, not Palestine, after the 2nd world war, and the state became “” a kind of Jewish Sweden, social-democratic, resource rich, prosperous” “– as the setting for The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, rather than the one that he finally believes of (which I will not ruin by talking about here).
So, read it, currently!
A Yiddish Pale Fire.
by Michael Chabon.
Probably the saddest book that I own is a copy of Say It In Yiddish, modified by Uriel and Beatrice Weinreich, and released by Dover. I got it new, in 1993, but the book was initially brought out in 1958. It’s part of a series, according to the back cover, with which I’m otherwise unfamiliar, the Dover “” State It” “books. I’ve never seen State It In Swahili, State It In Hindi, or Say It In Serbo-Croatian, nor have I ever been to any of the usas where among them might come in convenient. As for the nation in which I ‘d succeed to have a copy of Say It In Yiddish in my pocket, naturally I’ve never been there either. I do not believe that anyone has.
When I first encountered Say It In Yiddish, on a shelf in a huge store in Orange County, California, I couldn’t quite believe that it was real. There was just one copy of it, buried in the languages area at the bottom of the alphabet. It was like a book in a story by J. L Borges, distinct, mysterious, potentially a scam. The very first thing that really struck me about it was, paradoxically, its unremarkableness, the standard terms with which Say It In Yiddish promotes itself on its cover. “” No other PHRASE BOOK FOR VISITORS,” “it asserts, “” consists of all these necessary functions.” “It possesses “” Over 1,600 up-to-date useful entries” “( current!) “,” simple pronunciation transcription,” “and a “” tough binding– pages will not fall out.””
. Inside, Say It In Yiddish delivers admirably on all the boring guarantees made by the cover. Practically every possibility, catastrophe, possibility or situation, apart from the amorous, that could possibly befall the visitor is covered, under basic rubrics like “” Shopping,” “”” Barber Shop and Beauty salon,” “”” Appetisers,” “”” Problems,” with each of the over sixteen hundred current useful entries numbered, from 1, “” yes”, “” to 1611,” “the zipper,” a tongue-twister Say It In Yiddish renders, in roman letters, as BLITS-shleh-s’ l. There are words and expressions to get the tourist through a check out to the post office to buy stamps in Yiddish, and through a visit to the medical professional to take care of that krahmpf (1317) after one has eaten excessive of the LEH-ber mit TSIB-eh-less (620) served at the low-cost res-taw-RAHN (495) just down the EH-veh-new (197) from one’s haw-TEL (103).
One possible explanation of a minimum of part of the unreasonable poignance of State It In Yiddish presents itself: that its list of words and phrases is standard throughout the “” Say It” “series. As soon as we accept the proposition of a contemporary Yiddish phrase book, Yiddish versions of such expressions as “” Where can I get a social security card?” “and “” Can you help me boost the car?””, taken in the context of the book’s part of a consistent series, end up being more understandable. But an evaluation of the particular examples chosen for inclusion under the numerous, most likely conventional, rubrics reveals that the Weinreichs have actually undoubtedly worked as editors here, considering their supposedly beneficial phrases with care, picking, for instance, to provide Yiddish translations for the English names of the following foods, none extremely most likely to be discovered under “” Food” in the Swahili, Japanese, or Malay books in the series: stuffed cabbage, kreplach, blintzes, matzo, lox, corned beef, herring, kugel, tsimmis, and schav. The fact that many of these words do not appear to need much work to obtain them into Yiddish suggests that Say It In Yiddish has been edited with a specific sort of reader in mind, the reader who is taking a trip, or plans to travel, to an extremely particular sort of location, a location where one can expect to find both ahn OON-tehr-bahn (subway) and geh-FIL-teh FISH.””
. Exactly what were they believing, the Weinreichs? Was the original 1958 Dover edition simply the reprint of some earlier, less heartbreakingly implausible book? At what time in the history of the world existed a location of the kind that the Weinreichs indicate, a location where not just the doctors and waiters and trolley conductors spoke Yiddish, however also the airline company clerks, travel representatives, ferryboat captains, and casino workers? A place where you could lease a summertime home from Yiddish speakers, go to a Yiddish motion picture, get a finger wave from a Yiddish-speaking hairdresser, a shoeshine from a Yiddish-speaking shineboy, and after that have your oral bridge fixed by a Yiddish-speaking dentist? If, as appears likelier, the book very first saw light in 1958, a complete 10 years after the starting of the nation that turned its back when and for all on the Yiddish language, condemning it to enjoy the last of its native speakers die one by one in a headlong race for termination with the twentieth century itself, then the terrible dimension of the joke looms bigger, and makes the Weinreichs’ objective even harder to divine. It seems a completely futile effort on the part of its authors, a gesture of embittered hope, of valedictory fantasizing, of a utopian impulse turned cruel and paradoxical.
The Weinreichs have laid out, with mathematical precision, the lays out of a world, of a wonderful land in which it would befit you to know how to state, in Yiddish,.
250. What is the flight number?
1372. I require something for a tourniquet.
1379. Here is my identification.
254. Can I go by boat/ferry to–?
The blank in the last of those phrases, difficult to complete, entices me. Whither could I sail on that boat/ferry, in the solicitous company of Uriel and Beatrice Weinreich, and from exactly what coast?
I dream of 2 possible destinations. The first might be a modern-day independent state really closely analogous to the State of Israel– call it the State of Yisroel– a postwar Jewish homeland created throughout a time of ethical emergency, situated probably, but not necessarily, in Palestine; it might be in Alaska, or on Madagascar. Here, maybe, that minority faction of the Zionist movement who preferred the establishment of Yiddish as the nationwide language of the Jews were able to dominate over their more many Hebraist opponents. There is Yiddish on the money, which the standard system is the herzl, or the dollar, or even the zloty. There are Yiddish color commentators for soccer video games, Yiddish-speaking atm, Yiddish tags on the collars of pet dogs. Public debate, private discourse, joking and lamentation, all are conducted not in a new-old, partially artificial language like Hebrew, a premade high-rise building still under building, with just the lowermost of its stories as yet inhabited by the generations, but in a tumbledown old palace capable in the smallest of its stones (the word nu) of expressing slyness, inflammation, derision, romance, disputation, hopefulness, skepticism, sorrow, a lascivious impulse, or the confirmation of one’s worst fears.
The implications of this modification in the main language of the “” Jewish homeland,”” a change which, depending on your view of human character and its underpinnings, is either minor or essential, are difficult to arrange out. I can’t help believing that such a nation, speaking its essentially European tongue, would, in the Middle East, stand out amongst its next-door neighbors to an even greater degree than Israel does now. But would the Jews of a Mediterranean Yisroel be impugned and appreciated for having the very same kind of character that Israelis, rightly or mistakenly, are commonly taken to have, the timeless sabra character: rude, scrappy, loud, tough, secular, hard-headed, cagey, pushy? Is it living in a near-permanent state of war, or is it the Hebrew language, or something else, that has made Israeli humor so dark, so barbed, so cynical, so untranslatable? Possibly this Yisroel, like its cognate in our own world, has the prospective to appear a frightening, even a traumatic place, as the list below series, from the section on “” Problems,” “seems to indicate:.
109. What is the matter here?
110. What am I to do?
112. They are troubling me.
113. Go away.
114. I will call a cop.
I can imagine another Yisroel, the youngest nation on the North American continent, founded in the former Alaska Territory throughout The second world war as a resettlement zone for the Jews of Europe. (For a short while, I as soon as read, Franklin Roosevelt was almost sold on such a strategy.) Perhaps after the war, in this Yisroel, the millions of immigrant Polish, Rumanian, Hungarian, Lithuanian, Austrian, Czech and German Jews held a referendum, and picked self-reliance over proferred statehood in the United States. The resulting nation is certainly a far different location than Israel. It is a cold, northern land of furs, paprika, samovars and one long, marvelous day of summertime. The portraits on those postage stamps we buy are of Walter Benjamin, Simon Dubnow, Janusz Korczak, and of a hundred Jews unknown to us, whose greatness was allowed to flower just here, in this world. It would be ridiculous to speak Hebrew, that tongue of spikenard and almonds, in such a place. This Yisroel– or possibly it would be called Alyeska– is a sort of Jewish Sweden, social-democratic, resource abundant, prosperous, organizationally and temperamentally much more similar to its instant next-door neighbor, Canada, then to its more freewheeling benefactor far to the south. Maybe, certainly, there has actually been some conflict, in the years given that independence, between the United States and Alyeska. Possibly oilfields have been taken, fishing vessels boarded. Maybe not all of the native peoples enjoyed with the result of Roosevelt’s humanitarian policies and the treaty of 1948.” “Recently there might have been a couple of problems absorbing the Jews of Quebec, in flight from the ongoing separatist battles there.
This nation of the Weinreichs is in the nature of a wistful fantasyland, a toy theater with mini sets and home furnishings to arrange and rearrange, painted backdrops on which the gleaming lineaments of a snowy Jewish Onhava can be glimpsed, all its sorrow concealed behind the scrim, concealed in the equipment of the loft, sealed up underneath trap doors in the floorboards. However sorrow haunts every mile of that other location to which the Weinreichs beckon, unknowingly maybe however in all the terrible detail that Dover’s “” Say It” “series needs. Sorrow hand-colors all the postcards, stamps the passports, sours the cooking, fills the travel luggage. It keens all night in the pipelines of old hotels. The Weinreichs are taking us house, to the “” the old country.” “To Europe.
In this Europe the millions of Jews who were never ever eliminated produced grand-children, and great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren. The countryside maintains large pockets of USA people whose very first language is still Yiddish, and in the cities there are a lot more for whom Yiddish is the language of kitchen area and family, of theater and poetry and scholarship. A surprisingly large number of these people are my relations. I can go visit them, the way Irish Americans I understand are constantly checking out 2nd and third cousins in Galway or Cork, sleeping in their unusual beds, consuming their strange food, and looking similar to them. Think of. Maybe one of my cousins may take me to check out your house where my dad’s mother was born, or to the school in Vilna that my grandfather’s grandpa participated in with the child Abraham Cahan. For my family members, though they will doubtless know a minimum of some English, I will desire to trot out a couple of appropriate Yiddish phrases, more than anything as a method of reestablishing the tenuous connection between us; in this world Yiddish is not, as it is in ours, a tin can without any tin can on the other end of the string. Here, though I can get by without them, I will be happy to have the Weinreichs along. Who understands however that visting some remote Polish backwater I might be obliged to visit a dental professional to whom I will wish to cry out, having actually found the proper number (1447), eer TOOT meer VAY!
Exactly what is this Europe like, with its twenty-five, thirty, or thirty-five million Jews? Are they endured, abhored, neglected by, or merely identical from their fellow contemporary Europeans? Exactly what is the world like, never having felt the have to create an Israel, that hard little bit of grit in the socket that hinges Africa to Asia?
Exactly what does it imply to stem from a place, from a world, from a culture that not exists, and from a language that might die in this generation? What phrases would I have to know in order to speak to those millions of unborn phantoms to whom I belong?
Just what am I supposed to do with this book?
( c) Michael Chabon.
Low-Fat Fitness Energy Bars
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" http://www.flickr.com/photos/25499247@N00/2281117087 "> Dave77459 I have actually discovered that after our relocation, the new commute has been a killer on my waistline. Even if I eat prior to leaving (undoubtedly uncommon), I am hungry simply as we pass the fast-food center. If it’s not a McSkillet Burrito, it is a chorizo breakfast taco at Chachos.
My doctor advised getting some energy bars to keep at the office, to offer me something healthier to chew on when I get to the workplace. However when we went to the healthful food Capital called Whole Foods, I could not bear to invest the money. The bars there can be over each, and still have polysyllabic chemical-sounding active ingredients.
So rather, we have actually been making our own low-fat fitness energy bars. They are extremely tasty, simple to make, and probably cost around each. The problem we had was thinking a batch (about 24 bars) would last a week. As soon as my child discovered them, they were gone. They merely vaporized, almost overnight. She’s starving too in the early morning, and after school, and during volleyball. We’re grateful to make more, given that the option is toaster strudel or a bag of chips. It’s a good problem to have.
Anyways, here is the dish. The online source (printable) is < a href=" http://www.recipezaar.com/recipe/print?id=3710" rel=
” nofollow” > here. The actually unusual active ingredients we discovered at Whole Foods. Low-Fat Fitness Energy Bars 1 1/2 cups rolled oats.
1 cup crispy brown rice cereal. 1/4 cup sesame seeds. 1 1/2 cups dried unsulfured apricots. 1 1/2 cups raisins or currants.
1/2 cup nonfat protein powder (we utilize vanilla).
1/2 cup toasted wheat germ.
1 cup wild rice syrup or light corn syrup.
1/2 cup granulated sugar.
1/2 cup reduced-fat peanut butter.
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract.
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon.
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Spread oats, cereal and sesame seeds in a 13″” x” 9″ nonstick jelly roll pan.
3. Bake, stirring periodically, up until oats are toasted, about 15 minutes.
4. On the other hand, slice apricots (use the food mill); transfer to a big bowl.
5. Include raisins, protein powder and wheat germ; toss with hands to blend.
6. Lightly coat jelly roll pan with cooking spray.
7. In a heavy pan over medium-high heat, integrate rice syrup and sugar; give a boil.
8. Lower heat to low, stir in peanut butter, vanilla and cinnamon.
9. Rapidly put syrup over oatmeal mixture and stir well.
10. With wet hands or spatula, right away spread out warm mix into the jelly roll pan, pushing into a thin, even layer.
11. (Care, if you work too slowly, the mixture will solidify and be hard to spread). Chill until company, at least 4 hours.
12. Cut into 2″” x” 3″ bars. 13. Bars can be wrapped individually in wax paper or foil, or saved in an airtight container with waxed paper in between layers.
14. They can be cooled for as much as 4 weeks, or frozen for longer storage.
From: < a href=" http://www.recipezaar.com/recipe/print?id=3710" rel=" nofollow "> www.recipezaar.com/recipe/print?id=3710 UPDATED LINK.
“” Our Tips”
” We couldn’t find toasted wheat bacterium, so we just include it to the other things being toasted.
A lot of apricots are sulfured to maintain them. We discover unsulfured apricots at Whole Foods. We also get the protein powder, wild rice cereal, and wild rice syrup at Whole Foods.
Jamie does the syrup stuff while I slice the apricots in a Magic Bullet mini-chopper. We are both about done when the toasted stuff comes out of the oven. Update: this last time I utilized the full-fledged Cuisinart; even enabling more cleanup time, it was much faster, far much easier, and the resulting chop was better.
I blend the raisins and apricots with the protein powder. That coats these sticky active ingredients and makes working the other stuff in simpler. I likewise want to see if the chopper left too-big chunks.
As a variation, I will in some cases swap out craisins (dryed cranberries) for raisins (1/2 cup craisins and 1 cup raisins, or 50/50 or 2/1, as the state of mind swings).
Although it is complicated, essentially you include the rest of the dry stuff (not the syrup/peanut butter stuff) together. Then we add the syrup and mix like crazy. Hands sprayed with PAM are less sticky.
Put all the things in a PAM-coated 9×13 (ours is Pyrex). I work it into a consistent density, cover with wrap, and stick in the fridge overnight.
In the early morning, I cut into 1″” – large strips, then cut the strips in half to make bars. Each bar goes into a small treat bag.
Overall time, about 1/2 hour.
< img alt=" physician unusual" src =" http://blog.filmfangear.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/56835450_790b1789bc.jpg" width =" 400"/ > Image by< a href =" http://www.flickr.com/photos/33124677@N00/56835450" > Curtis Gregory Perry Green River, Utah