If it's hot in the kitchen - get out and dance

It started out as a pretty normal day - with my co-workers making fun of my breakfast cuisine which was hot oatmeal or farina. Each and every day they ask me, as if it really is too horrible to be true

"Do you really like that stuff? What do you call it in Hebrew? I know it's healthy - but do you REALLY like it?".

They sell Kellogg's here in Jerusalem, so cold cereals are acceptable, but oatmeal is definitely a foreign substance.

After work we had to see the social workers with our former Criminal Daughter. They want to put her into a closed institution to keep her from harming herself and hanging out all night and not coming home and basically returning to life as a human being. She was terribly terrible - every time the social workers asked her something, she was be totally sarcastic and obnoxious with them. When they brought up the fact that she likes to hitchhike to Jerusalem, one asked her "and they give you free rides for 'nothing'?"

So the Daughter answers - "so what do you think? That I'm like you???"

Hubby lies to the social workers - "she doesn't come from a crazy family". Heh heh. Well, just be thankful this non-English speaking social worker does NOT read this blog, because it doesn't show us as being particularly normal. But it's up to the judge to decide whether she goes or not. The other girls in our family won't be too disappointed if that happens because all their makeup and clothing will be safe for at least 3 months.


I sat down later than evening with the Good Daughter, whose 2 year relationship with her boyfriend is less-than-perfect. He prefers to hang with his friends on weekends than take her out.

"He gets angry at me for no reason and we haven't gone out in a year".

"Well, honey, you're only 18 - dump the fucker and date the cute French guy you met at the restaurant where you work - who begged you to call him because you are so beautiful or have a date with the South African guy, but DO SOMETHING AND DO NOT RUIN OR WASTE YOUR LIFE!"

She has never dated anyone else and sits at home for him like a dumpy old married woman.

I decided enough of me sitting around at home - it's either doing dishes, cleaning the bathroom or dancing. I hadn't gone Israeli dancing in ages - years perhaps. I've been told that where we live, the new, young dance instructor is hot, Hot, HOT and people are coming from all over Jerusalem to dance in MY neighborhood. I decided to check it out.

When I got to the newly built gym, which did not yet have that awful ingrained, smell of sweat, I met people I hadn't seen in years, who thought I left the country, or the planet. Israeli dancing is no longer just debkas and horas. It has incorporated alot of jazz and samba steps and lord knows what else, but it's so cool, even young people go. The dress code there isn't so much track pants and sweat tops. Oh no. You look nice. From nice jeans and tank tops to more elaborate outfits and some of the more older dancers even put on ridiculous sequined tops.

Honey, this is a GYM!!! A GYM!! Not the fucking White House Ball.

I danced and danced, trying not to fuck up my neck discs which have deteriorated in the years I have been in this world. I felt like a whirling dirvish. The DJ/dance instructor was wild, pounding on darbukas while the music played. I felt so "IN" when some of the best dancers invited me to join their "inner circle". For some of the couples dances, I didn't have a partner, only towards the 3rd set of couples dancing, when I should have been fast asleep. It's easier when you don't know the steps in circle dances because you just go to the outer circle and follow people's feet to your left and right and in front of you, making sure not to crash into them, which is in itself, a feat.

My dance partner looked like Truman Capote, with a full set of white hair. He didn't seem to mind me not knowing the steps. Some men just like to lead. We joined the circle of couples and I tried to be light on the toes so he could twirl me properly. It didn't matter that I didn't know the steps so well - I was just pleased that his toes were still intact and his arm sockets weren't pulled out of joint by the end of our 20 minute set. For me - that was success enough.