Cinderella

I'm spoiled. Last week when the Head Honcho arrived from the States to his Israel branch, we were treated all week long to the leftovers from the meetings. And what glorious left-overs they were - smoked salmon, grilled salmon with garlic, filet of this and filet of that, lasagne from one of the best Italian restaurants in Jerusalem (OK, there's not a whole slew of Italian restaurants here, but nevermind). And even though we had to suffice ourselves with the leftovers, it was still like being an exalted factory worker/slave.

And now that he's gone, the kitchen is bare and there are only tin cans of tuna in the cupboard. I felt like Cinderella back in the cinders. I'm beginning to think I'm becoming so narrow-minded that the only things that make me happy these days are food and money. Food is usually easier to come by, but it wasn't today, as I looked at our empty office kitchen.

Back on the home front, my son was in 10th heaven as my daughter's incredibly hunky boyfriend took him to the soccer game at Teddy Stadium tonight. This incredible hunk also has an incredible two-seater BMW and my son was just too elated at not having to go to the game with his mother, who usually likes going to games, but it's definitely not as cool to go with your mother as it is to go with a very muscular, tall guy driving such a wonderful car. I'm sure my son would have wanted all his classmates to see him riding around in such a vehicle with such a chaperone. I do hope he bumps into some of his buddies at the game, for his happy sake.

And my soldier daughter was bitter as we didn't come to visit her at her army base this weekend to bring her food. She always complains but this time she had tears in her eyes.

"My boyfriend's family even came to the base to bring me chicken and you didn't even call" she said to me sadly.

Of course, I was ridden with typical Jewish motherly guilt when my older daughter, the girlfriend of the incredible Hunk, came to my rescue.

"Don't be upset at what she said. You know she always complains about your food, anyway, so why bother bringing it to her?"

Ah, yes, how right you are. I now remember the many complaints I got about "why don't you make it this way and why don't you learn from this one's mother and that one's mother" etc. etc. and I was happy I saved a useless trip to the army base to give my daughter chicken she may have thrown in the wastebasket after all the trouble I would have gone through to get it to her.