Posted by Chava Tombosky
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December 2, 2011 | 5:07 pm
Posted by Chava Tombosky
November 23, 2011 | 5:31 pm
Posted by Chava Tombosky
After seventy-two days of marriage, that’s less than three months, Kim Kardashian filed for divorce. This has caused so much outrage even Kim’s own family is clamoring to gain composure from this news. “Encouraged by her mom, Kris, Kim (Kardashian) has become a fame-addicted, money-hungry monster. She has lost touch with reality.”- one insider revealed. So the question begs, is Kim a victim to a failed attempt at love or is she a money hungry reality star who can’t decipher between the dollar and sacred commitment?
Has she indeed lost touch with reality?
We have a serious problem with TV dictating to us what reality is. According to the dictionary the word reality is defined as: a thing that exists in fact, having previously only existed in one’s mind.
Here’s a fact, we have all lost touch with reality if any one of us believes that this wedding was not a sham in one-way or another. Exactly what reality has Kim lost touch with- the reality that if you make a mock wedding you can rake in 18 million bucks? The reality that marriage has now become one big circus… The reality that the only fools benefiting from Kim’s lost marriage are the dozens of vendors that managed to get their labels viewed on her TV show (aside from Kim and Kris of course)?
But Kim is not the only reality star to test the definition of reality. Even Steve Jones, reality TV star host of X-factor was caught saying “Now let’s get back to reality,” as he was about to announce who was staying on the show and who was voted off. “Let’s get back to reality” was actually a line that was said ON a reality TV show- the very show that is meant to blur the lines of reality.
Because let’s face it, these reality shows are only toting one reality, which is a falsehood state of un-reality that appears to be real, but actually is NOT. Infact reality shows have become so lifelike that they pose a threat to our own reality. They make a mockery of our everyday life and threaten our values. They spend much time convincing us that our REAL reality is not really real at all. Our reality that we experience every day is no longer sacred. You know what sort of reality I speak of, the reality of umpteen year marriages that has buried parents, celebrated birthdays, and lived with the reality of coming home to a messy house after an honest day’s work, the reality that its hard to pay all the bills without relying on American Express, the reality that we buy our clothes at Target and cut out those Cherokee tags so no one knows we’re on a budget, the reality that no one’s outside standing around with a camera hoping to snatch our picture except the bank. The reality that the only thing that should matter is living life with integrity, having loyalty to friends and family and inspiring others with values that can one day maybe possibly change the landscape of the unrealistic “reality” that is shown on Primetime television.
It took exactly 72 days for the star to run the other way, file for divorce and leave her post as wife. Sources have said she is absolutely outraged by the notion that people are convinced the marriage was a sham from the beginning and just another Kardashian empirical ploy to make top dollar on the coveted sacred commitment most people hold to a higher standard than she managed to do.
Here’s one reality: Kim Kardashian promised the world a wedding. She gave it to us. “Kim Kardashian has made about $18 million off her “fairytale” wedding, and now stands to reap additional revenue from the quickie divorce she is getting from Kris Humphries after only 72 days of marriage”, according to Fox news.
What I find puzzling is that Kim was actually offended by the statements made that her wedding was phony from the beginning. She even has Ryan Seacrest, her executive producer of the Kardashian TV series toting his own line of “poor Kim” rhetoric.
So much so, that just today Ryan was heard saying on the radio that the secret to a marriage surviving is for two people to live together first, and then get married. He was saddened, yet not totally surprised that Kim’s marriage to basketball star Kris Humphries disintegrated upon learning about each other’s house cleaning habits that apparently grated on the new wife’s nerves post marriage just because they never got to shack up first. (As we will get to see tonight on Kim and Khloe take New York). Here’s another reality check Ryan, Kim and Kris didn’t need to live with each other before marriage to make it work, they should have spent a modest portion of their $18 million income they made on their wedding alone and paid for an extra housekeeper!
As Kim was caught saying just before her wedding to “Marie Claire,” “I’m not worried about him at all. We have a lot of trust, and I don’t think either of us would do anything to break that…He’s such a good guy; he is so down-to-earth, and it’s such a reality check.”
Here’s a reality check, the fact that Kim is offended that people think she is opportunistic over people imagining that she is one massive failure as a wife is hugely pathetic. For some reason failing at a marriage when she is thirty-one, after having ALREADY failed at one marriage at a young age, speaks even larger to her character than duping us into believing her marriage was a sham. I don’t know what I find more offensive, the fact that Kim made money off her marriage/divorce and is upset by her fans not believing the marriage was real, or by the fact that this marriage may have actually been real!
It takes longer than seventy-two days to fall in love. Making a commitment shouldn’t become an executive decision.
Here’s a list of other reality checks:
1. There is no REALITY on reality TV.
2. Marriage is the biggest reality, which is why Kim failed at it. She has totally immersed herself in the value that television has insisted we believe in, which is, “life is one big show, and the rest can be viewed on commercials.”
3. Love takes commitment, practice, and hard work.
4. Love should never be toyed with, except if you are a soap opera star and getting paid to have fourteen husbands.
5. Love should never be used to make money, unless you happen to be lucky enough to marry rich because you love the person and there is no pre-nup.
6. Love is meant to be realistic. That means you may fight, you may argue, you might even ignore each other at times, but you always make up and grow as a result of those experiences and if you can’t grow because of it, its time to re-evaluate, hire a marriage counselor, and get a date night going.
7. Marriage is not meant to be a ploy to land on the Red carpet.
8. If we want to watch a reality show, we should take the time to watch our own lives unfold. (especially because there are no commercials)
9. Reality is doing laundry TOGETHER. Reality is surviving loss TOGETHER. Reality is raising a family TOGETHER. Reality is eating Turkey and apple pie TOGETHER. Reality is fighting TOGETHER. Reality is making love TOGETHER, throwing out old food that should have been eaten but is now rotting in the second refrigerator TOGETHER, fighting over who gets to drive the nicer car and who has to drive the crap car that screams junkyard TOGETHER. Reality is deciding how to spend that $18 million cash prize you plan on winning one day from 7-11 but never will TOGETHER.
10. And lastly, Love is what happens when that reality takes place.
November 11, 2011 | 8:58 am
Posted by Chava Tombosky
Why does it seem that everything good for you these days keeps getting smaller? Cars are becoming more compact with inventions like the Smart car and electric roadsters that can barely hold four grocery bags from Trader Joe’s. Why are vehicles that can only capably hold one driver with a small wallet- smarter? Engines are no longer robust, it’s all about quiet and barely there. Even strollers are sleeker, skinnier and lack girth. Eight Tracks were traded in for Record players, which in turn have been traded in for CD players and CD players are two years away from extinction; replaced by MP3 files that don’t even have physical properties that a seeing eye dog can find. Heavy books bound with slices of paper are now teeny files downloaded on Kindles and I-pads. Big Macs are turning into small yogurt parfaits and size eight is no longer in vogue anymore. Cellulite is getting zapped, baggy skin is getting chopped, and dog breeders are creating hybrids the size of rabbits that fit in your purse.
Back in the eighties, when I was a kid, when unnecessary extra clothing like sparkly gloves and leg warmers were worn, sticky big teased hair was flaunted, and the two for one deal was first introduced, it seemed that everything good for you was getting bigger, not smaller. We were an all consuming society, relegated to “bigger is better” ideals as depicted by the famous Wendy’s commercial where an old lady with a large nose stared at a tiny burger in a gargantuan bun and yelled “Where’s the beef?”
Now it’s about smaller phones that hook on to our ears. Even the name indicates its size. Blue Tooth. Any phone the size of a cavity is questionable. Yet we have continued to slim down, reduce, decrease and economize.
I am all about less being more. But there is one thing we have also managed to cut down on, which has caused a psychological catastrophe. We have managed to cut down on what we are grateful for. We have stopped asking what brings meaning and joy in our lives. We have stopped wondering how to fill this big world we have made so much room for with gratitude and a sense of purpose.
WE have drunk the Kool-Aid yet have failed to internalize the punch.
Last week our community was hit by a series of teenage suicides that struck through our homes like a lightning rod. Within ten days three different isolated and unrelated incidents tore through our community begging us all to ask the question, “How could this have happened?” Where did we all go wrong? For when an event like this hits a community, we are all responsible to ask ourselves what we can do to better engage in having this never happen again.
We are all part of a collective consciousness affecting one another, inspiring each other, and deeply connected. When events like this tear through our unassuming neighborhoods, it is up to us as a collective group to re-evaluate our principles and derive some adjustment and metamorphosis in our thinking. In this turn of economic upheaval, it seems our children are paying the biggest price for our lack of contentment and inability to translate our own challenges into a higher purpose.
I am privileged to teach teens every week and in my last class I gave them several short minutes to quickly write down a list of ten things they were grateful for. Across the board the students managed to scrape no more than three grateful items on the page. I then asked them to write down ten events or experiences that brings meaning in to their lives. Again, the majority of the group scrambled, and floundered their way through the exercise.
It became clear that these were conversations my students have not had the chance to confront. How many times do we ask our kids what they are grateful for? How many times do we tell our own children what WE are grateful for? We are living every day as minimalists, we are not confronting the big questions or taking time to stop and relish in connection, life enthusiasm, or deep rooted meaning that fills our lives.
When asked what happens when we don’t have this narrative down in moments that despair and life challenge takes over, the students agreed that it is possible for despondency, sadness, and one student stopped the class, looked deeply into my eyes and said, even suicide is possible.
Maybe we are not exercising enough connection anymore. Maybe we are isolating in front of our skinny televisions and fading our troubles in front of our slick tiny Apple screens. I am just as guilty of not connecting on a deeper level with my own children in times of distress. If it weren’t for Friday nights or Saturdays, our week would never have a chance to experience elevation. Every Friday night we carve out that time to express to each other what we are grateful for. We light candles and set the mood for a delicious dinner, with the table set with our best china and we go around the dining room EVERY Friday and ask, “What was your highlight this week?” This conversation almost always leads to sharing our gratitude and experiences that lead to higher purpose in our lives.
Maybe it is time we have these conversations with our children, with each other, with our selves more often. Maybe it is time we start filling our homes up with connection that is not just plugged into an electronic device. We owe it to our children to shut down the noise and identify with one another on a deeper level. We owe it to them to replace time with stuff. Maybe that can be the blessing in having less stuff because of the economic turn; we finally have nothing to bribe our children with except for our time and our conversations. We have become true minimalists after all.
Maybe it is time to reexamine what is really important and fill our hearts and minds up with the real meat of the matter. It’s time we start asking ourselves- “Where’s the beef?”
October 18, 2011 | 1:30 am
Posted by Chava Tombosky
Tonight marks a critical moment in history when the world has taken witness to the preservation of one life for the exchange of mass murderers. We have seen desperate parents fight for their child and the majority of a nation show support to save ONE life despite grave dangers to their own. It is this critical moment on the fifth night of Sukkot that we learn the very fundamental lesson Judaism is based on, that the preservation of life and hope must alter our future for positive change despite the dangers we may face.
Sukkot is the time of year we harness many blessings. We pray for rain and dance with our beloved ancient Torah and we live through deep joy despite any pain or difficulties we may face. This Divine energy is so powerful it awakens the past souls from the Garden of Eden to join us each night in our Sukkah and share in the joy we have the ability to tap into down here in this false temporary world. Tonight is the night Joseph our forefather comes to join in on our energy of the moment. Joseph, a man known for being incarcerated for thirteen years just as unjustly as Gilad Shalit has been, joins us on the very night Gilad is set to be released from prison.
Joseph was a man who had been betrayed by his own family. And after being sold by his brothers out of jealousy to an Egyptian Viceroy, was later on falsely accused of attempted rape by the Viceroy’s wife and incarcerated. He spent every day in a dungeon with no hope for any future. Yet every day he knew he had a mission to fulfill, which is why he responded one lonely day in the dark Egyptian prison to a fellow inmate with famous words that forever altered his future:
It was a dark dreary morning when Joseph faced yet another dispirited day when he noticed two other prisoners facing the same wretched fate, to which Joseph turned to these despondent prisoners and said:
“Why are your faces sad today?”
Really? Why are you guys sad? This is what Joseph worried his mind with? I can think of a few reasons why they were sad. Yet Joseph still took the time to speak with the butler and baker. He got out of his own comfort zone and opened his heart to another in a place that lacked all mercy, benevolence and humanity. In the wretched dungeon where criminals sat for real crimes, Joseph took no pity on his own fate and looked outside of himself to comfort another human being. It was this concern that opened the gates to a more meaningful conversation with the butler and the baker that eventually saved Joseph’s life and released him from prison, taking him to the highest ranks of Civic duty for the largest nation at that time. Because of Joseph’s commitment to preserve hope despite his own unmerited lot, he managed to impress his fellow inmates with interpretations of their dreams that calmed their souls and gave them peace of mind. When Pharaoh himself stirred with unresolved dreams years later, it was these inmates who were on the other end of Joseph’s kindness that recommended Joseph be placed in the King’s quarters to interpret his dreams impressing the King and finally releasing Joseph from unjust incarceration.
The story of Joseph promised us that no matter how desperate the circumstances, it is up to us to care for each person with dignity. It is up to us to light each person with love and humanity. If one soul can create an entire new destiny of change, surely thousands can do even more. It is up to us to see the role we play as human beings in preserving life. It is up to us to savor the hope that we all can have a new dream of peace. For if we are going to be conduits to true blessings as this holiday beholds in it, we must be deserving by honoring it with a preservation of spirit and vitality. As Joseph promised and as Gilad is exemplifying, change begins with a dream, a preservation of hope and a willingness to honor life- even in the darkest moments….one life at a time.
Welcome home Gilad.
October 11, 2011 | 10:46 pm
Posted by Chava Tombosky
Every day we communicate with remote aloofness that creates virtual connections. We tweet, we facebook, we text, I.M, BBM, M&M- woops wrong M. We have figured out how to be inspired through virtual distance. We listen to talk radio, we observe other’s lives on television, and we are affected daily while sitting quietly as other people live their lives. If you don’t believe me, spend one evening with Extreme Makeover- Home Edition, and you’ll understand what I mean. Freaking inspiring show! Every time I watch it I cry like a baby, it also makes me want to buy a hammer. But with all these forms of communication, are we really creating connections, or are we putting words out there in the world without any real reaction at all? As a friend’s friend posted on her facebook page yesterday, “If you tweet in the woods but no one’s there to hear it, does it really make a sound?” The question is are we really making any difference at all? In this new age of technology are we truly building relationships or has the art of communicating to stimulate connection become extinct, destroyed and perverted by a click of a button?
There is so much information being shared, still so many complain that connection has been disrupted. Yet we continue to put ourselves out there in the world every day through these means of technology with the hope that our words will serve as purpose, that business partnerships will be made, that friendships will be built, that love connections will be formed, and that our lives will be recognized.
In this month of Tishrei where we celebrate Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and finally Sukkot we are surrounded by prayers and words and speak in song and we rely on these ancient phrases to connect us to our Creator. We rely on our voices to be carried to the heavens to create change and impact our lives for the rest of the new year to come. We blow the shofar with its primitive sounds and hope the sounds pierce our hearts. We make amends to G-d and say the proverbial “I’m sorry” adage, hoping that alters our relationship and our future. Why is it so crazy to believe that our voices down here can create vibrations, which resound an echo of connection sort of like a virtual tweet Up there?
We have finally used technology to duplicate our connections with people as we have always communicated with our Higher Creator. We have been tweeting and creating status lines and speaking in short hand into the woods since the beginning of time. We have been blowing noise into the folds of the universe since the first Ram walked past Abraham on that fateful dewy morning when the animal got stuck in the thicket bush. We have been speaking all along, and hoping that these ancient poems, phrases and songs create, friendship, love, and affection from above. We have always hoped and believed that those “tweets” that sometimes feel unnoticed have been recognized by our Creator.
Words are a powerful medium for affecting the universe. We use them every day. We chant words, sing words, rhyme words, write words, read words, and now tweet and facebook words. We continually use this medium of communication to form connections. But they are only the beginning.
Like a tide that has started by a push of wind from the flapping of a pelican into the infant tempest sea that builds into an adult wave, we are not here to tweet without building that sentence into a conversation that morphs into action. Words are the engine, but how we react to those words, how we create because of those conversations, how we respond because of those phrases, that is the ultimate test and where the truth of our abilities lies.
My father had a great saying while I was a kid. He used to say “Just show up.” We’ve spent the past few holidays talking, sharing, listening to speeches, tweeting “Happy New Year”, but now it is Sukkot. Now it is time to “Just Show up”. Now we gather in temporary outdoor structures and we engage together. Now we gather the citron fruit, the frond of a date palm, the leaves of a myrtle and the branches of a willow, and hold them in our hands united as one. These four kinds, which represent diversity in human kind are bound together creating our action after the conversation. As for my facebook friend’s friend, who I have never met, who I only know by words through cyber space who had said: “if you tweet in the woods but no one’s there to hear it, does it really make a sound,” to him I say Yes we do hear the sound, but if we do not reach out to someone, share and just show up by reacting to that sound to build our connections further, than maybe that is when the sound dies along with our own actions that never had the courage to pick up the vibrations and learn to carry it through.
Maybe the point to all these short hand connections is to eventually elaborate them into vulnerable intimate dialogue. If we just show up to eat a meatball under bamboo mats surrounded by Home Depot tarp- then maybe finally the connection can finally begin. Cause if we can’t walk into our relationships vulnerable to the elements, wearing our muddy boots that include all of our good bad and ugly, than really, what becomes the point to any of it?
Have an awesome Sukkot. And to all those gardeners who have to work around our temporary outdoor structures that look like cabanas, we salute you.
October 3, 2011 | 12:09 am
Posted by Chava Tombosky
I’m not gonna lie… I have wasted Forty billion hours watching Disney channel, which has drilled headaches through my brain, falsely taught my children lessons that all adults are stupid and had me witness an awful amount of over acting because my kid had surgery and we seized all activity for ten days. And so I was starving for some real stories to wrap my head around. I couldn’t read because I needed to keep my kid company while he watched TV and the noise of the tube distracted my novel reading. I couldn’t write because when you don’t leave the house for many days in a row, nothing really new happens, so material is scarce. Aside from spending hours surfing the net, using the blender more times than I’d like to remember pressing pulse, and folding laundry that sometimes smelled of throw up despite the extra dispensary of Tide, there was less excitement to report on other than watching a tomato grow. That was until my brother called to share a pretty great story with me. If there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s a great juicy tale. No I do not think Disney channel has figured out a way to capture this ability, hence the ever growing headache seething from my temples. Alex Russo breaking up with her wearwolf boyfriend on Wizards of Waverly Place is NOT epic storytelling.
My brother’s best friend was scheduled to be married in Livermore, California, so he and eight of his buddies decided to make a road trip out of it. What happens when nine yeshiva guys head up in a sixteen passenger van towards San Francisco looking to party? They end up making a bar mitzvah.
Of course a series of accidents followed in their wake. They got there and had no where to stay, their clothes were stuffed in their suitcases and they had no where to hang their suits. I was surprised they found a place to shower. A few hours before the wedding they realized their clothes needed a good pressing. The wedding was set in this remote area where very few Jews lived and where most of the sprawling topography were lined with vineyards. With very little time to spare, the boys decided to send their suits to the one cleaners in town. Time was not on their side and of course, they had the groom in their possession. It’s funny how one small inconvenience can turn into a series of fortunate events that can literally change a person’s life in an instant.
The groom was pacing wondering how long it would take before his friends’s suits arrived. Time was passing and the delivery had still not been made as was promised. These guys began to sweat it out. Blake was their first friend to get married. They surely didn’t want to disappoint him or ruin his special day, or mess things up to the point that their friendship would no longer be allowed by the newcomer bride. Suddenly flashbacks of the movie Due Date and Hangover 1 and 2 crept up on them until a run down pick up truck drove its way through the dusty road.
A stern face fellow with a sluggish stride approached the group carrying their coveted suits. He wore tattered jeans and flip flops like he hadn’t a care in the world. The burden of life had weathered his skin and his eyes drooped as if to say that life had taken a weighty turn for the man of middle age. Upon the boys grabbing their suits in a hurry as wedding bells rang in the distance, one boy took a heart slowed down the moment and asked the faceless man if he was Jewish.
“The only Jew I know about in my family was my mother.”
“Chris, that makes you Jewish. Just wonderin, have you ever had a bar mitzvah,” asked the eager twenty year old boy who had just earned his Rabbinical degree. To which Chris exclaimed, “No….I didn’t even know I was Jewish till now.”
The boys stood in their tracks taking in the weight of the moment. They counted themselves and looked around noticing there were nine of them. Chris, the delivery man who had only delivered these items as a favor to his friend who owned the cleaners would make the group an even ten, the exact amount of men needed to create a “Minyan” for the age old tradition of anointing this middle aged man into the ritual ceremony that was his right. Ten men stood in the middle of the road as Chris wrapped himself with tefillin and reiterated the words of the Shema exclaiming that he indeed was part of a collective consciousness that declared God was one and that he was part of this greater claim to a heritage he never knew he owned.
That day that Chris became Chaim a tear welled inside his eye as he turned to the boys with a heavy heart proclaiming that his mother would have been proud to see him carry on her heritage. My brother only too familiar with the past tense phrase, an indication of mourning that Chaim grappled with, put his hand on his shoulder and said…”Your mother-”
“Oh she died four months ago. I’ve been driving this pick up truck around with her belongings for the past eight weeks. Got all her possessions. Haven’t been able to get rid of ‘em. She was everything to me, my ma.”
Chris’s mother had been sent to a Jewish orphanage after her parents died when she was a child, which explained why Chris wasn’t too knowledgeable about his faith. When the young Rabbi asked him if he had ever said kaddish for his mom, he stared back confused with a blank look of “no” etched in his expression. Six boys, one groom, a rabbi and a brand new found Jew all looked at each other realizing that a moment had been given to them with profound providence. The lack of knowledge and experience that hung over the group came to light as the young boys began to wonder how they would be able to offer the recitation of the Kaddish words by heart when no one had ever said it before. To which my brother only too familiar with the prayer as a result of losing our dad piped up and said,
“This is one prayer, I know by heart.”
For the very first time since his mother’s burial, the invocation that would have been the final ode of respect Chris now named Chaim would have the opportunity to declare for her was said with a minyan of nine fellow Jews by his side. A tear fell from the newly comforted Jew as the daunting realization crept on him of the series of events that was surely staged by The One Above. As Chris walked away and climbed into his pick up truck carrying the many material possessions that represented his mother’s life, I imagine a new calm probably engulfed him as he was finally able to say goodbye to the soul that bore him and that probably helped orchestrate a group of eight yeshiva boys to wrinkle their suits.
One bar mitzvah, a funeral and a wedding was celebrated that day in Livermore, California. And I finally had a good blog to write without the aid of channel 35 or the stupid parents from “Good Luck Charlie”.
September 26, 2011 | 11:25 am
Posted by Chava Tombosky
When I think of my life before my daughter Yehudis it is a very different place as when I think of my life after Yehudis. I can still remember that moment she was born with all of her aunts and uncles and grandparents listening in on the telephone line while I was in labor. The joy that everyone felt upon her birth was truly special. Yehudis is named for our dear aunt Judy who was with out a doubt the happiest woman Robbie and I had ever come to know. Judy was always filled with great positive energy. She welcomed every person she met with tremendous joy. Eventhough she suffered most of the time with tremendous physical pain, she still managed to greet every person she came in contact with smiling with a joke or a hug.
Funny enough, Aunt Judy was also known for her very eclectic hippo collection. I like to think that she liked them because although they were rotund in shape and seemingly dangerous they alway have a plastered smile on their face.
When Yehudis was born she blinked at us with these sweet eyes like she was taking in the whole world with her. She was a natural smiler and has been smiling with so much grace, humility and positive energy every since. A few days after she was born, without my mother knowing about Aunt Judy’s hippo collection, Yehudis received her very first present while I was still in the hospital from her grandmother. It was a pink Hippo. It wasn’t hard to figure out who Yehudis would be named after.
Yehudis is an avid painter. Her favorite past time is mixing colors and shades. We are lucky to have such a creative young woman in the family. I thought about what I could get Yehudis that would truly exemplify how I feel about her.
A rainbow is a significant sign in our Jewish faith. Before the flood this phenomenon was not in existence. Only after the flood did G-d give Moisture the ability to rise from the earth to form clouds and raindrops, which caught the light of the sun. These newly refined droplets were finally strong enough to help channel the rays of sunlight to reveal colors. The pre-Flood world lacked the rainbow. But After the Flood, G-d imbued the world with a new potential—the potential to create, to take what it receives from above and develop it, extend it, and expand upon it. Much like the way my life has changed because of Yehudis’s little soul that came into my world, all new colors came into focus. New potential was created.
Therefore I can’t think of a better gift than the one you are about to see….
I love you my little rainbow:)
*to download Chava’s songs go to Amazon.com or Itunes!