Old-school women's lib

In 1997 I studied overseas in Jerusalem. While there, I had the privilege of observing and participating in various holidays for the three major world religions. It was a fantastic experience. One of my favorites was the minor Jewish holiday of Purim. Here's my version of the Purim story:

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Purim celebrates the delivery of the Jews from annihilation while they were in exile in Persia. The star of the show is Esther, who became queen after the original queen, Vashti, refused the king's order to strip naked in front of the court (technically it's "display her beauty" but considering the patriarchal society, I don't think it's a stretch.) My response would have been a swift right hook. But poor Vashti didn't have the decades of women's liberation movement behind her like I do.

Along comes Esther, handpicked by the king from all the fully-clothed women of the Persian empire. What good ol' king Ahaseurus doesn't know is that Esther is Jewish (oh no, she didn't!) Esther turns out to be pretty good at her queenly duties, discreetly watching out for her peeps with help from her cousin Mordechai, who's on the inside.

Enter big, bad Haman. He's the newly appointed Prime Minister. He gets ticked at Mordechai and plots to kill not just Mordechai but all Jews in the empire. Esther catches word of it and orders the Jews to stop eating (okay, to fast) and pray-- for three days. Then she puts on her best threads and bling to appear before the king. There's a feast with Esther, king Ahaseurus, and big bad Haman, who thinks he's all that.

Then there's another feast. Haman is livin' large as PM and Esther is decked out once again. But sista's got plans. She tells Ahaseurus about Haman's evil scheme to kill all Jews, including herself. The king pops a cap in Haman (technically, he hangs him.) But Haman's extermination order can't be repealed, so Esther and Mordechai write a new law that allows the Jews to defend themselves. Mayhem and blood ensue. Later, Mordechai is appointed one of the king's brothas.

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Leviticus

As you may have noticed, I've been naming my entries after the first books in the Bible. The practice will continue until I no longer find a connection between my life's happenings and the titles. We'll see how long it lasts.

Leviticus, the third book, outlines 613 strict rules of priestly conduct, some of which make sense, and some of which seem beyond ridiculous. So, of course, the first thing I thought of was homeowner's association rules.

Our HOA is like all the others out there. It keeps the neighborhood looking nice. It gives its members a chance to feel like they're bucking the system when they paint their door one shade off of the required hue. I'm committing an act of civil disobedience when I leave my child's trike out in the front yard at night. You know me.... always fighting against "The Man."

So I was thoroughly entertained when I received a letter from the Association informing me that I run an in-home day care. It's especially funny when I tell you that I stay at home with my youngest child-- alone-- while the other two boys go to school. I have a feeling that I know who brought this day care idea to the attention of the Association, but I'll not mention names to protect the not-so-innocent. Here's the first paragraph of my rebuttal:

"Dear Sirs:

It has come to my attention, per your letter of September 23, that you believe I am operating an in-home day care business. I can only guess at your source of information, since I have not had any communication from the Association about this topic. However, let me caution the AFA not to be a pawn in the hands of scheming or otherwise bored members of the Association."

I then detail how many children I have at home during the day, what I actually do during the day (grocery shopping! a thrill!), and how my house is overrun with children when the school age kids come home, thus giving the impression of a day care.

I believe that I exercised great self-restraint, since I actually wanted to say much more unsavory things... and believe me, my pen is much mightier than my sword. Which is saying a lot-- just ask the guy who pickpocketed me in Jerusalem. I got my wallet back-- and the contents in their entirety.

Addendum: Turns out I was reported by "a guy who was walking by and saw 8-10 children in (my) front yard." You've got to be kidding me. And I got a personal apology from one of the Association employees, which was rather unexpected.