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	<title>Hillary Fields &#8211; Jewcy</title>
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	<title>Hillary Fields &#8211; Jewcy</title>
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		<title>Too Hard to Hondle</title>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Hillary Fields]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 05:52:15 +0000</pubDate>
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					<description><![CDATA[<p>So I married a goy. It&#8217;s fashionable these days, right?  And anyway, it hardly matters, &#8217;cause I&#8217;m a terrible Jew in most respects: I don&#8217;t speak any Hebrew, I was never Bat Mitzvahed, I don&#8217;t know my high holidays from my Lohmann&#8217;s, and I never met a lobster I didn&#8217;t eat. I am, however, quite a&#8230;</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://jewcy.com/post/too_hard_hondle">Too Hard to Hondle</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://jewcy.com">Jewcy</a>.</p>
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										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>So I married a goy. It&#8217;s fashionable these days, right?  And anyway, it hardly matters, &#8217;cause I&#8217;m a terrible Jew in most respects: I don&#8217;t speak any Hebrew, I was never Bat Mitzvahed, I don&#8217;t know my high holidays from my Lohmann&#8217;s, and I never met a lobster I didn&#8217;t eat.</p>
<p>I am, however, quite a respectable bargainer.  When I go to a street fair, bazaar or market anywhere in the world, when I enter a store or a gallery, whether I&#8217;m browsing for earrings, a toaster, a carpet, or a new car, I don&#8217;t expect the price to be, you know&#8230; the <i>price</i>.  I expect a little leeway.  If I don&#8217;t get it, so be it, but at least I <i>tried</i>.  I&#8217;ve been known to gasp theatrically in sticker shock at an inflated price tag, make horrified comments under my breath, etc.  (Equally in hopes of receiving a counter-offer or shaming the merchant; I don&#8217;t really care which.)  In the end, I sometimes save as much as 30-50%, but I don&#8217;t always look like an angel doing it. </p>
<p>This embarrasses my blond, blue-eyed, strapping Alaskan husband. </p>
<p>Oh, boy, does it.</p>
<p>The other day we&#8217;re walking through the Union Square Farmer&#8217;s Market, trying to get some greens and be all healthy &#8216;n&#8217; stuff.  We see a vendor who&#8217;s got these amazing-looking organic microgreens in every variety.  They&#8217;re glistening with nutrients, practically glinting with vitamins, laid out in vibrant rows of fresh-picked goodness.  So I drift over to poke through the merchandise.  Then I notice the prices.   Instinctively, I screech (sotto voce), &quot;Twelve Dollars for a QUARTER POUND of DANDELIONS???? Are they out of their <i>MINDS</i>?&quot;</p>
<p>Hubby turns bright red and drags me from the stall.  &quot;I am <i>so</i> embarrassed,&quot; he mutters.  &quot;Guess we&#8217;ll never be able to shop <i>there</i>.&quot;</p>
<p>Like I ever <i>would</i>.  Paying $12 for a fistful of weeds would send the angry ghosts of every ancestor I ever had shrieking from out of their graves. </p>
<p>The truth is, I&#8217;m not so sorry he pulled me out of there.  My hondle-radar told me I wouldn&#8217;t have been able to bargain with those dudes; their pricing chutzpah simply out-chutzpahed my haggling chutzpah.  Still, I enjoyed getting in my little dig.</p>
<p>My beloved goy-boy doesn&#8217;t get it.  He may gamely try to pronounce &#8216;mensch&#8217; or use &#8216;farkackte&#8217; in a sentence, but he&#8217;d rather pay through the nose than make a stink.  Must be those WASP genes.</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://jewcy.com/post/too_hard_hondle">Too Hard to Hondle</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://jewcy.com">Jewcy</a>.</p>
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