Friday, January 27, 2012

Friends in a Vegan World

I was cleaning my bag out yesterday, at a Jerusalem vegetarian/vegan club, careful that no one should see the recipes I had printed out for chicken lo mein with ginger and a variety of other prohibited dishes. My friend whispered to me, while looking at someone wearing a t-shirt with a picture of an angry cow that read 'I'll eat YOU fucker!' - "watch it, they're fascist vegetarians". None of us really knew what the word "fascist" meant, even though she's got a Masters and we laughed about it. We just know it's mostly used to describe people/regimes that hate/are intolerant. One day I'll look the word up in a dictionary.

But the Jerusalem Veggie Society is situated somehow in a luxurious neighborhood, across from the prime minister's house, and I wondered how on earth did this Society afford such digs? While we waited for what my friend called our zen (vegan) pizzas "one with everything", I cried bitterly on her shoulder and laughed hysterically at her "zen pizza" request.

I cried because Hubby lost his job 3 weeks ago and I'm nervous as hell as to how to pay our bills and eat, plus my son is avoiding the army, even though it'll give him the discipline he so desperately needs. I bemoaned the fact that I had bought him a Galaxy II phone and am paying for it dearly, but it was on condition that he serve in the army, which I thought he would do in August. Plus I think he's becoming a gambling addict and this really, really worries me. What little money he makes from waitering he runs to the local shop and buys soccer Toto tickets.

My friend and I find a big airy quiet room where I can cry to her, laugh, and we speak in lines from various Beatle movies, as we have done since we were both 14 years old. It's so comforting to act the same way you did when you were 14 and didn't have such adult worries on your head.

Someone comes into our room and sits down by the big piano and plays Dylan and Leonard Cohen. The chai tea, the surprisingly good vegan food and the quiet guests milling around and sitting on bean bags soothe me. It almost made me want to trash those darn meat recipes hidden deep in my bag.


Anonymous said...

You are a joy to read - really laughed at the t-shirt, want one!

I suppose you could use with less drama, but your blog is a relief from the normal fare of "everything's perfect"!

Post more often, because you have perfect pitch with your musings!

And best of luck with things....

Anonymous said...

Your son sounds like ours. He was normal & sweet until he met his N. African friends & now narghilla is a way of life w/him, he doesn't think about the future at all, but is scared to death of the army & is always hopeful of miraculous short cuts like your son's lotto participation. The older kids were quickly burned by the N. Africans at a young age & therefore never had deep relationships w/them. The oldest is an accountant, his sister has a law degree, #3, B"H, just got married & is trying to figure out which degree he wants, while his wife finishes her BA in accounting, but #4 is on a magic trip in his mind w/the N. Africans, a different type of Tzefonim.

Anonymous said...

To Jerusalem Gypsy blogger and this first person commenting:

Yes! This blog is great because of the biting humor and it's a VAST change from "everything's perfect" and 'everybody's nice'.

Keep up your blog - it's a treasure!