Israel's epidemic

I don't know why Hubby is worrying about the bird flu so much. There's another epidemic here that I've just discovered in my town. OK - it's not really an epidemic but it's spreading like wildfire here and there's no cure for it. It's those vibrating rings. Made out of silicone. Get it? The same ones my hairdresser has been going on endlessly about and selling to Hubby.

I couldn't believe it last night when I saw it ON DISPLAY at my neighborhood hardware store down the block. In a hardware store of all places! It actually now gives a new meaning to the "hardware store". I innocently went in there to buy 4 long pieces of wood for our Succah roof and I'm ready to pay. My eyes shift to the window area - on display are keychains, blank video cassettes, other little knick knacks and a few clear plastic, very obvious vibrator rings. It even says so on the packages in English block letters.

What made this really funny, besides this being sold at a mom and pop hardware store was the fact that the owners are ultra-Orthodox (Hareidi in Israeli terms). Mrs. Mom is sitting there in her wig and modest clothing, and to the left of her are those dangling vibrator rings. I tried to stifle my laughter but could barely manage.

"Is there anything else you want to buy"? she smiled at me sweetly.

This time I couldn't contain myself. I burst into laughter.

"No. Just the wood please."

She must have thought I was temporarily insane, laughing about buying wood.

I really was trying to get the nerve to ask her what "those rings" are for - to see if she really knew. If she doesn't know what prices are, where things are in the store, she asks Mahmood, the Palestinian young man who helps them out. I heard her calling for him constantly. I imagined her calling him to help me out with my question, if she didn't want to be bothered or was too embarrassed to give any explanation.

I didn't bother to ask. I'll turn it over to Hubby. He loves this sort of shit.

Sprechen zie Deutsch?

"Sprechen zie Deutsch?" asked Hubby to our French Sabbath dinner guest.

"Jeezus, you don't ask the French that!" I explained to Hubby. He thinks all Europeans are alike. He also has a fixation with anything German. I don't know why at all. He's like 7th generation Canadian. He loves Greta van Susteren from Fox News, maybe because "Greta" sounds German, even though "van Susteren" sounds Dutch to me.

I really didn't care about his crushes. I have mine, after all. Also, I was elated because I had made Mulligawtany soup, and my French guest was giving me his critique.

"Aaahhh! Ze flavor ees just right,with just ze right amoont of zeazonings, nothing overpowering"

It was like getting 2 Michelin stars from a famous French food connosieur.

"Merci, dahling"

I had more stuff to put on my grateful list. We had gone out earlier in the day to buy dishes for special occasions (Sabbath, holidays, guests) - they weren't expensive but were beautiful and I hadn't seen a new set in 20 years. We had been using paper plates all this time. These dishes were just plain white but were shaped square instead of round and looked elegant nevertheless. My kids loved them -even the Complainer. She "ooohhed and ahhhed" over them that I thought either I was hallucinating or the Messiah was coming. She even did the dishes that evening - a site I hadn't seen from her in years.

Of coure we argued about the color of the tablecloth I'll have to buy.

"I think I'd like a dark purple or dark orange tablecloth" I mused.

"You're hanging out with Arabs so much you want your house to look like an Arab house!!" - her face was turning red. "You should get a brown tablecloth"

"Brown?? Brown is dull. I'm not getting brown. And who are you telling me about hanging out with Arabs like it's a bad thing, when you've invited YOUR Arab friends to our Sukkah (a temporary outside hut/booth with a thatched roof for eating in during the holiday of Succot)"

She had no answer.

"And besides" I wasn't finished with her yet. "Don't think Arab homes are all decorated in oranges and purples. For your information, Ibrahim's home is decorated in brown! Ha."

Argument over.

My kind of Yom Kippur

I didn't go to synagogue this Yom Kippur. I really dislike the dry synagogues in my neighborhood. I could have ventured to the friendlier Moroccan, Yemenite, Kurdish ones, but their services are way too unfamiliar to me. So I spent the day watchig my son play World Federation of Wrestling with our kitten. He'd wrestle with her lightly, slide her across the living room and throw her on the couch and count ONE! TWO! THREE! until Kitty Kat ran over to him begging for more! Alot of the day, I thought about God, and felt Him close enough and within me that I felt I really didn't "need" to be in a synagogue that day, although even the most affiliated go if they don't go any other time of the year. I just have this kind of repulsion to -have to do- what most Jews feel they have to do. The freedom to be myself that day was totally enlightening. I read 100 pages of The Jew in the Lotus - about several Rabbis' meeting the Dalai Lama in 1990. We had just the changed clocks back the Saturday before, so the fast ended wonderfully early - at 5:45 pm.

I opted to break the fast the Islamic traditional way - with a date and water.

"Here" I tried to coax Hubby into breaking the fast as I do, offering him a date.

"No, it's not Jewish" he told me.

"OK" and so I bit off the tip of the date and showed him the newly circumcised date. "Now it is"

He still went for the Coke instead.

That evening I went out with my two daughters - aged 21 and 18 - to Jerusalem's downtown area. The place was swarming with people. I saw Alex from Laughing Yoga in the crowd.

"Hey Alex!!" I shouted to him. He's real cute, young, and has long blond hair tied back in a ponytail.

"AAAAAHHHH HHAAAAAA HAAAA HHAAAAA HHAAAAAA!!!!" Alex and I had our own very loud laughing Yoga happening as we hugged each other hello.

My kids were totally embarrassed.

"MOM!!! How can you be like that in the middle of the street??"

I introduced them to each other.

He asked me - "Are YOU Jerusalem Gypsy that I read about in the Jerusalem Post newspaper? You wrote about Laughing Yoga there."

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.

After he left, they were more mystified than embarrassed.

"Mom, how is it you know so many young, cute guys?"

Hmmmm. Isn't this one of the things I should be grateful for?

On the Eve of Yom Kippur

What a shame I didn't pack my camera in my bag. Today was a photographer's dream! I'll try to describe it. I went to the shuk to buy food for the pre-fast meals today and on the way to the market saw a group of animal rights protesters with signs outside the place where traditional Jews were doing Kapparot, where chickens used for this ceremony were being slaughtered on the spot and given to the needy. So the secular animal rights activists were in a shouting match with the Orthodox and traditional folk. The newspaper man was shaking his head at me, just as the police intervened to break up the fracas. "You can't slaughter chickens anymore now? This country is a disaster!" I really don't know whether the animal rights activists were there because they were just anti-anything religious because if that bothered them so, why don't they just protest at all the slaughterhouses where chickens, turkeys and cows are killed for food. No. They had to do it here. This time, I took the Orthodox/traditionalists' side because the chickens were going to go to the poor. Nothing wrong with that is there?

I was wearing my bright orange top with a sequined border.

"Where did you get that?" asked my friend.

"Oh, I bought it last year for Purim (a holiday similar to Halloween in that people dress in costume). And I just discovered it as I was cleaning stuff out."

"That's a sign of age, isn't it?" she went on. "That your Purim costumes become funky enough to wear during the year."

We both laughed, and wandered into the Kapparot area. They had security there - I think more to protect the people there from animal rights activists more than from Arab terrorists. We saw various people swinging the chickens around their heads 3 times before giving it to the slaughterer who quickly slit the chickens' throat.

"Did you see that?" asked my friend.

"Yup. It almost wants to make you become vegetarian."

I decided to do my Kapparot ritual with money instead. Much cleaner, less smelly, and the money also goes to charity plus it'll make the animal rights activists in my area happy that I chose to do it this way instead.

Way of the Heart

Eliyahu send an invite for a potluck break-the-ramadan-fast - Iftar at the Knights Palace Hotel where The Way of the Heart people were staying. I call them Chassidic Christians, even though some of them don't refer to themselves as Christians, because they get close to God through song and prayer and dance. There was a special aura about them.
I missed the first hour because of work - but got there in time for the listening circles. There must have been over 100 people. The group came mainly from the US and Australia plus a group of Moslems were bussed in from Nazareth to join us. It seemed all the local Jewish peace workers were there as well. The women from The Way of the Heart group were interesting to look at - all covered in ethnic shawls and beautiful colored clothing.

We shared the break-fast with the Moslems sitting down to a beautifully set table - with one date on our plate and water - which I found out is the traditional way to break the Ramadan fast. Pot luck turned out to be a buffet of a large variety of food - my cream cheese and labane were absolutely useless here so I tucked it back into my backpack. We'll eat it at home. Before we ate, blessings were said by Chrisian, Jewish and Moslem representatives. Then we dug in.

I was happy to see my new friend from the health food store arrive with a French friend of hers who is thinking of moving to our neighborhood. He was tall and looked to be quite a mix of races - black, oriental, and I don't know what else. I figured I'll invite him for Shabbat dinner and let Hubby do the probing which he always does so well.

After dinner, Gabriel Meyer, the founder of Sulha, was standing in the middle of a circle leading the singing and swaying. Chaim laughed and told me it looks like a Knights of Columbus prayer session. He also told me that Gabriel is going to India in two weeks to meet the Dalai Lama - at the Dalai Lama's invitation. Wow. By the time I get to Dharamsala, the Dalai Lama will be in the US. I'll have to meet him some other place and time.

The Moslems made a short presentation on Ramadan. The Way of the Heart people chanted the Lord's Prayer in Aramaic and sang songs in Aramaic. I thought it was pretty wild. I also thought they were probably the only people in the world who didn't need subtitles for Mel Gibson's The Passion of Christ movie, which was all in Aramaic.

Afterwards, Dr. Michael Kagan made a beautiful presentation on the upcoming Jewish fast day of Yom Kippur and how we are like different threads that intertwine. We are different but end up touching each other, as it is now, having Ramadan and the Jewish holy days together this year. He explained Jewish traditions of Yom Kippur, by wearing white. It is also a tradition for men to wear a white "kittel" a thin belted cotton robe over your clothes - the same one you get married in, wear every Yom Kippur and eventually get buried in. This brings out humility. And the wearing of white is symbolic of being like angels, who generally do not eat, drink, have sexual relations - ever. But for one day we do this too. Moslems and Jews have a tradition that angels have one leg. Humans have two, denoting the choices one always has to make in life and the conflicts one comes across. Angels don't have this conflict - they just know what they have to do.

After we had an interactive session where we broke up into couples - asked forgiveness for someone we hurt and forgave someone who hurt us and forgave ourselves for hurting ourselves, while the other person was a witness.

My new friend was impressed by his teachings. I was glad to hear that, because he's having an interfaith thing at his home the first night of Sukkot. I would have had to have gone alone. Hubby is not into this stuff at all, so I am really grateful that God placed a like-minded person close to where I live so I have someone to share these experiences with.

It's a disaster

I've been trying all morning to post this video up, so I've been trying to look at this tutorial and got constantly interrupted by my son wanting to check his ICQ. I'd love for his ICQ friends to come to the house and swoop him away for a couple of hours. But no. They'd rather sit in front of their computer ICQ'ing each other.

Then my Son tells me of the earthquake in India this morning telling me it's dangerous to go there.

Not to mention Hubby warning me of some bird virus going around which can be disastrous to large populations.

Yesterday I went to my New Age bookstore in town to buy a book and meet the woman I went to the Sulha with. She's having some strange goings-on during the holiday of Sukkot in her Succah, with stuff about interplanetary happenings and Atlantis. She asked my daughter if she would like to join her mother and her weird friends. Then she said her friend, a channeler, warned of a major earthquake in our region during January. A terrible disaster, which would eventually bring peace to this area because people would rally to help each other out. She even got earthquake insurance.

"So, you don't think I should go searching for a home before January, eh?"

"Not unless you get earthquake insurance."

Then I had a dinner guest over last night. She was a kindred soul in MY VERY OWN SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD who worked in the health food shop. I was thrilled to meet a like-minded person and wondered if there are others hiding around. Apparently there are. It is difficult if you're Anglo and not Orthodox here, even though everyone has been totally kind to her. But she was thrilled to see books at my home by Rabbi Zalman Schacter-Shlomi, the Renewal Rabbi and will introduce me to others. Wow. Others!! In the 'burbs!!

But then she scared the shit out of Hubby and the girls by telling them of her tales of travels in India - people defecating in streets, large cows standing in front of you, people driving on sidewalks, and she warned me to take malaria pills even though 7 people told me not to take them because "it's like taking bad LSD". I've never even taken good LSD, so I'm a bit nervous of taking bad LSD.

I was going to go to the movies this evening with a friend. But I think I'll just stick around the house. Somehow I just feel safer at home (even with my kids).

Eye Candy for the Holiday

Both God and my eldest Daughter have been very good to me this holiday. I guess God must have heard my wish to take care of the unwanted children in this world. So my daughter asks if she can bring her friend for all the holiday meals. He doesn't have any parents and lives alone. Great! An orphan. Just what I asked for to be useful to mankind. To do a bit of charity. Nothing could please me more.

The first night the Orphan walks in. He looks like a Russian Jean-Claude Van Damme. Turns out Mr. Orphan is nearly 32, no body fat, and is in the police special forces - yup, the special forces where there are only hunky guys. I wonder if they hold male beauty-hunk contests for these jobs because I haven't seen any ugly guys riding these police motorcycles. Never. He's also training my daughter so that she passes her police physical. Yowsa.

The next day he walks in wearing a tight (skin tight) black top with short sleeves. His muscles are bulging. My daughter looks at my flushed face and tells me she told him to wear something with short sleeves..."because my mother likes muscles".

"Honey, you did this for me?" I said gleefully, thinking that this girl really knows how to get around not paying me any rent. Sure. I'll void this month's rent, if you keep bringing me these Orphans for dinner.

After the meal, we sit down to watch The Wedding Date where girl hires a male escort to make her ex-fiancee jealous. The Orphan spoke.

"After I'm done with the police, I think I'll become a gigolo."

I nearly spit out the pistachios I was munching on, trying hard to keep from choking.

"Really?"

"Yes, I have a friend who lives in Ashkelon and works in Tel Aviv. He has a great apartment, car, everything."

"How much would you charge" I asked. God, these orphans can be so resourceful.

"Oh, 400 shekels an hour"

My daughter interceded - "Would you give my mother a discount? 100 NIS?"

This time I did spit out my pistachios together with some chocolate....

Some New Year Resolutions

Hubby and I were up this morning at 5:00 am and watched the sunset from our front porch.

"Let's have coffee outside, watch the sunset and wake the neighbors, okay?"

Hubby likes those kind of invites so he joined me outside. He was just about to cup his hand over my breast when in bounds the Complainer from partying all night.

"Want to meet some Arabs who drove us home from a party?"

"Sure." I'm saying "sure" to everything my kids want this New Year. Nothing like entertaining guests at 6:00 am. Absolutely nothing like it.

"He's shy. He's not gonna come up. But look at his car."

I peeled myself over the railing to glance at this guy's car. A fire red sports car with a convertible roof. Nice car. Nice looking kid. I thanked him for bringing my daughter home and he waved to me and wished me a good holiday.

My daughter explained how they met. "He's half Greek and half Christian Arab. At first when we first met him about a month ago he said he was born in Greece. But last week he said he didn't want to lie and said his dad was Greek and his mother is a Christian Arab. They live in Beit Hanina (an upscale Arab neighborhood in Jerusalem). He would rather hang out with Israelis than his Moslem peers."

"Yes, it's more difficult to be a Chrisitian Arab here. You don't exactly fit it with your Moslem neighbors and the Jews don't accept you either glumping all Arabs together" I added.

While twisting and turning in bed this morning, I felt pity for the girls at my daughter's reformatory - especially the one whose mother knocked out her teeth among other things, and who hadn't been out in 1 1/2 years for a weekend when the girls usually get out every 3 weeks - she spends some holidays with cousins. I invited her to our home for our next holiday. There are others whose parents don't want them home for whatever reason, but they don't seem like bad kids at all. In fact, it seems that their home life is way more dysfunctional than ours and they are the victims. I imagined myself being shit-rich and paying for this girl's caps, so she can have a beautiful smile. I felt if I had more time on my hands I would have volunteered to take some of the girls out for a coffee/breakfast as I do with my own daughter. Our outings were becoming so frequent that the counselor explained we can't do it all the time because other girls don't get that special treatment. I think one of my new year's resolutions is to find volunteers who will give the girls some good "mothering".

celebrating the holiday

I felt a need to go to a synagogue this year for the holiday. The ones in my neighborhood just don't cut it for me. Too dry, too long, too boring, people too uptight. I would have been happy with the tiny conservative synagogue on kibbutz but since my kids nixed that trip, that was out.

Hubby decided to go along with me to Jerusalem's funky Reform synagogue Kol Haneshama. Funky because the congregation is young at heart, funky, gay, straight, singles families, spiritual, friendly and the rabbi was wearing his ashram clothes, which I pointed out to Hubby. I really felt at home looking at this rabbi wearing a knee-length white caftan over white cotton pants. I think I would have felt a bit alienated had I faced a pulpit rabbi wearing a conservative white shirt, tie, black pants. I don't know why I felt that way but I did. I also liked when during the service before an important prayer he'd lead the congregation into "take a deep breath" and then we'd belt it out after that deep breath.

The singing was loud and I joined in loudly too, even embarrassing the ex-Criminal daughter who came with us, who hissed - "You want EVERYONE to hear you.! Fadchanit! (embarrassment)"

But I continued singing joyfully loud, as did a male acquaintance of mine sitting right behind me who once owned a steakhouse in Jerusalem, and we harmonized happily throughout the service.

This service was more pleasurable for me because over many years I had been praying at Orthodox services - which take hours. Reform services cut out at least 50 pages and we started at 9:15 and were out by 1:00 instead of the 7:00 - 1:30 services at Orthodox synagogues. Much more do-able for me.

The speeches and services and Torah readings were shared by women and men. Hubby, always the conservative, didn't take too much of a liking to the women being called up to lead the services and Torah readings, and he even asked me sarcastically if I wanted to wear a kippah. I could have used a tallit (fringed prayer shawl) because they had the airconditioning on and I was freezing.

After about 2 hours Daughter and Hubby had their ADD fits and spent the rest of the time outside. Even though it annoyed them that they had to wait, I mingled after services saying Hi to 5 people that I knew there and the circle widened as they introduced me to others, and we blessed each other for the coming year. May it be great one for us all.

Happy Jewish New Year

"Tomorrow is your 2006" asked this woman from Sri Lanka on the bus.

"No, it's 5766"

She looked totally confused. I was as amused as she was confused. My lawyer friend told me it was Karma that because I'm travelling to India, I'll be noticing more people from that part of the world, which I have been. Sri Lanka is close enough.

I warned her to stock up on food as all shops will be closed Tuesday and Wednesday. I don't want her to have an empty fridge on Wednesday morning.

We began the Eve of the Jewish New Year today - quite calmly. Except for Hubby's bouts of depression, he seemed to be doing better today. Perhaps because last night I walked in very late but carried a gift of cologne for him and a new bathrobe to replace the one I trashed a few months earlier. So after shopping in the shuk - we sat down for breakfast at the Shuk coffee shop.

"Only in Israel do you see this" he said to me staring at the young kitchen staff.

"See what?"

"See that girl walking around and her pants are falling down halfway down her ass. You see all her underpants."

"At least she's not wearing thong undies." I was feeling relieved for this cute young thing. She was wearing a modest white pair with what looked like dragons on them.

Another woman sat down opposite us. She had cleavage and sparkles on her upper boob.

I muttered to Hubby - "This broad wants to be looked at. She's probably thinking - if they're not looking at them, I'll put loads of sparkles on them, so people will just have to look.'" It works, lady.

Wandering through the shuk - former Jerusalem mayor, Ehud Olmert, was doing his shopping and yakking - flanked all around him by the most gorgeous security guards one could ever want flanking oneself. At that moment, I thought how nice it would be to be an Israeli government offiicial.

I shopped at this vendor and at that vendor. The guy selling me figs was laughing at me as I wrote down the price he charged me.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

"I'm just putting down what you charged me so that I know where all the money went for this holiday."

"What for?"

"Because HE wants to know." I nodded towards Hubby, blaming him for this seemingly loony public act of mine.

The vendor knew better.

"He doesn't want to know anything. Look at him. All he wants to do is finish shopping and get back into his car."

"HE SURE GOT YOUR NUMBER!!" I squealed with laughter to Hubby as we went on to the next vendor.

We got home in one piece and began preparations for our guests - my Good Daughter's boyfriend and my Eldest Daughter's cop friend who has no parents and no where to go for the holiday. The chairs around the dining table that we brought from Canada 10 years ago have seen much better days. They looked worn and tattered. Nothing much we can do at this time. My kids voiced their New Years wishes as they set the table.

"I hope this table breaks while we're sitting on it."

Hubby was annoyed at the Complainer because she hadn't lifted a finger.

"Why don't you marry that little nigger and leave the house already." He loves her boyfriend - who is not black but is very dark skinned nonetheless - and the term "Little Nigger" doesn't make anyone too upset knowing it's coming from Hubby.

"Why don't I write a children's book called "My Little Nigger" and we all laughed at the craziness of it all.

We're just about to settle down to a meal soon with a full house. I've been wished blessings for the new year, ranging from chronic slimness to being a millionaire and good health.

I'm hoping for lots of joy for my family and good health - and more than a bit of moolah can't hurt either. And I'm wishing for Hubby to be sick and tired of being depressed - getting some help for this condition so that he won't only notice the awful and seeing his glass forever half empty when I know one can see life as the glass being half full if not nearly full. Happy New Year.

Idol Worshipping - Jewish style

Someone sent this to me. Real cute.

tall tales

My girlfriend at work was telling me that before her trip to Thailand, people were telling her to beware of coconuts and pineapples falling on her head. We laughed just thinking about the scene.

That afternoon we met some friends in town - people we hadn't seen in many months. He read my blog and was aware of me going to India in a month.

"Watch out for monkeys raping women" he warned me.

"You gotta be kidding me"

"No. Google it and you'll see. Take a can of mace with you."

Well foolish me googled it and didn't come up with anything other than monkeys outside a temple attacking children (just children) and monkeys getting sloshed on some Indian brew left outside and attacking people.

I think he just wanted to goad me into this "I made you look (on Google)" thing we used to do as kids (but without Googling of course)


I'm off tomorrow morning to get my vaccines and visa for this exotic place.

Men

I felt sad over the weekend. My son is growing up to be a man. I don't know whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. He brought me all his kiddie pajamas and said kids his age don't wear those to bed anymore. They were white with cartoon figures on them. Sure. He's 13. He wears track pants to bed. An era is over. We went through all his stuff and through out all the size 12 stuff. Actually we left the clothing outside the garbage for the bedouin to take. The bedouin won't take it if you give it to them. They are too proud. They wait for people to leave stuff near the dumpster and if they see whatever is useful in a public area, then they'll take it. I've seen the kids look inside the garbage and fish out things. But I'll put the clothing on the sidewalk near the trash for easier "fishing." And he gave me a list of suitable colours for him to wear. White, black, blue and grey only. No greens, oranges, purples, reds. I hope he's not getting as bad as the girls.

Last evening we had a class picnic/barbecue in the park with his class as a getting-to-know-each-other thing. It was great and we felt so comfortable. I made friends with a couple more mothers and there was one other American mother. Turns out she is a messianic Jew, and it didn't take Hubby long to flush that one out of her. She's alot of fun, and as long as she doesn't proseletize and tell me I'm going to burn in hell, we'll get along just fine. But son warned me at the onset of the picnic "not to talk to me while I'm with my friends." Who wants to talk to kids anyways. Not me. Keep away. But in the end, he came over and actually sat near me.

Men - Part II

Hubby took me out to dinner today. He never ceases to embarrass me in public, but my love for wining and dining overpowers any embarrassment I may feel so I cope. I asked the waitress what she recommends and told her I like meat very soft. She shook her head and told me it wasn't "that" soft. Hubby said to her -

"Why don't you learn to lie."

"Honey, I want her to tell me the truth about the food here. Is that so terrible?"

He then looked around the place and saw we were the only "secular" Jews around. Everyone else was ultra-orthodox. He asked the waitress for a kippah and then said he was only joking. By then they realized he was nuts.

"You are the only woman in this place wearing pants besides the waitresses."

We both laughed. I was also the only person in the crowded restaurant eating with chopsticks.

Our meal was ok - nothing really special. They went heavy on the cornstarch for the sauces. I took my fork to slide the servings onto my plate. Hubby - also known as Mr. Manners - tells me I dirtied up the plate and should have taken a spoon for cleaner serving.

Oh.

We went to get our bill. Luckily I had a 10% off coupon which we were only too happy to use. We ordered sushi but it came without Nori seaweed. I was appalled. The waitress said the nori wasn't "kosher" enough for this establishment.

"But the wasabi is?"

At least they had that. And pickled ginger.

I picked at my teeth and Hubby glared - "Don't do THAT in public." Fortunately I have floss in my purse just for when we get back in the car.

We got up to walk around and saw the older, more picturesque part of the restaurant.

"Oh so this must be the smooching area" said Hubby while the ultra-Orthodox couples in that area glared at him. They never smooch in public.

Outside he tells me "I told the maitre d' the food was good but we're never coming back here again."

"Aren't you the charmer! They probably don't give two hoots because the place is packed and it's only Tuesday."

We went to pick up my kids who were clothes shopping. I happily flossed my teeth in the car, away from the restaurant patrons. I would think Hubby would approve. He didn't.

"Don't floss your teeth in front of people."

"They're not people - they're our kids."

And I thanked God that at least I had teeth to floss.

Be afraid, be very afraid

I'm not like most of my spontaneous friends. They go away on holidays, spur of the moment, and when they land then they figure out where they're going to stay, where they're going to go, etc. I'm not like that at all. I'm a self-control freak. As soon as I found out I was going to India, I surfed the net for places to visit, for maps, for train travel details, for restaurant information and general stories about those particular cities I'm visiting, plus of course, the history of the cities, culture and customs of the people, etc.

Plus I had fun over the weekend teasing Hubby, who's always paranoid that someone from Al Qaida is lurking somewhere very close to me.

"You know I'm not flying El Al" I said to him sweetly. "I'm flying Royal Jordanian airlines".

"Royal J-J-J-Jordanian???" he stammered

I expected that reaction from him. So I continued.

"And it stops off in Amman. You never know who'll be sitting next to me on the flight! Probably someone from Al Qaida! Al Qaida! Al Qaida!" I was delirious.

"You don't know what you're doing" He exclaimed.

I continued.

"Amritsar is 15 kilometers from the Pakistan border!!! Isn't that great!???" I neglected to tell him that the peace group there will be trying to organize a site visit inside Pakistan. I think he'll lock me away and not let me fly if he only knew.

Trouble is - India sounds scary. All the stuff I've perused on the internet made me think I'm crazy for going at this alone for part of the trip anyways. Everything scares me now - from the monkeys that climb in through your window and steal your food, from the 2 lane highways that turn into 4 lanes, from the very narrow mountainous roads and crazy drivers, from cows walking into restaurants, and warnings that women shouldn't really travel there alone because of all the seedy men on the buses and trains that try and squeeze up against you. Not to mention the luggage stealing, purse-snatching thieves in Delhi. HELP!

But then again, these aren't Israelis that are writing this stuff - mostly Americans and British. I don't think Israelis have anything bad to say about India. I have never met any Israeli who has been to India that had experienced anything negative. They all want to go back for longer stays. And they end up staying for at least a month at a time. It must be the karma...

Signs of the Times

The crazies with signs were out yesterday. I couldn't grab my camera fast enough while Hubby was driving, but they really were out. A pair of parrot-dressed crazies were screaming and yelling in English and carrying signs about Yitzchak Rabin.

"His murderer is living among us" shouted the lady. On her sign, was a website - www.rabin.com or www.yitzchakrabin.com - I don't really remember. I had no idea what they were on about. They were loud and irritating.

One elderly gentleman was walking across a busy intersection - in the STREET - carrying a huge sign in Hebrew and English - Sharon gives land to terrorists. There were people honking at him acknowledging that they believe he is right. Then Hubby turned the intersection honking his horn wildly at the man. What is my man doing? I thought. Hubby screams out the window.

"Get off the fucking street, you idiot!!"

India

There's no limits to God's goodness and what He can do. I really believe this more and more. I got a call yesterday from the secretary at the interfaith group.

"Are you interested in going to India?"

"WHAT?"

"Are you interested in going to India?" she asked me.

I never take hallucinagens. I'm sure I was hearing things.

The phone was shaking in my hand. If my boss called for me at that moment, I'd tell him to wait - a scandal at my place to do that.

She continued - "We'd like you to come to India for a few interfaith workshops."

"When?"

"November 1 - 7th"

"Oh my God! That's when my bosses are away! I CAN GOOOOOO!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU"

I'm sure she thought I was totally insane. We're visiting the holy sikh city of Amitsrar. I couldn't believe my ears. Sikhs. The Chassidim of India. Last year when in Barcelona I met up with the Sikhs who were hosting us for meals. They had a replica of the Golden Temple there. I sighed and told them how beautiful it looked. I felt a pull and wanted to go there to see the place - after Dharamsala of course, which was my first choice.

Looking on a map, I see it's not far from Dharamsala. I hope I can make a trip over there to see the Buddhist city and maybe even meet the Dalai Lama, as my nephew just did recently.

"Shalom Aleichem, Aleichem shalom" said the Dalai Lama to my nephew. My nephew thought he was at a Chabad house (the "open house" of Lubavitch Chassidim), the man was so warm and friendly.

I told some friends about it and said a trip to India had been on my written wish list for a year now, as was a car and a house.

"I better get a wish list going" said a good friend of mine.

"Yes, you'd better. There's no limit what God can do for you. I already have a house and car on that list. Let's see what happens, although I had no idea this trip was ever going to happen."

I told Hubby about the good news and he thought it was the miracle of the Debtor's Anonymous group, where many members experience miracles upon working the program. We had a Pressure Relief meeting the night before when someone who was in a financial crisis called us to brainstorm with them. They were an hour late, which disturbed me plenty, but we had the meeting and Hubby helped them out more than I could have.

He complained to me this morning -

"You got the miracle and all I got was a friggin' bad headache."

Ain't God grand.

Bless me.

I didn't sneeze or anything. I just need to be blessed. I have a weird nesting urge these days. A need to buy property here. A permanent place I can call home. A place where no one will chide me for throwing out money because I'm renting. I've lived here for 10 years and been married for 20. We've never owned our own home. I need a place where I can rip up the floors and kitchens and disgusting bathrooms and make them shiny and new. Or at least Hubby can make them shiny and new. He's good at that. I'm just good at clothes shopping. So bless me so I can buy a home in the Holy Land.....

thanks!

I'm a real bitch

I've made it to the Bitch's club. I'm happy. Scroll down my sidebar and you'll see what I mean.

He asked me if they were lesbian bitches. I'm sure he's waiting for me to give him their website.

"No, they're just bitches."

"Young bitches?"

"No, just all kinds of bitches."

"What does that make you?"

"Just a plain 'ol bitch"

I taught I saw a puddy cat

My Son and I were walking home from the mall a few days ago and this little kitty followed us home after not letting us walk because she was constantly getting in the way by being an ardent leg rubber. We decided to be her foster-family until she wrecks a good piece of furniture or Hubby decides to put her back in the park.

We're having trouble figuring out whether she is Palestinian or Israeli. Whaddya think?



Palestinian?

or



Jewish Israeli princess?

Free Concert in the Park

Usually in normal places like New York, a free concert in the park, like Central Park for instance, is frequent and there doesn't seem to be a disruption of life around the concert area for hours before and hours afterwards. But not here. Oh no. Not in Israel.

I got an invitation as a holder of an Isracard charge card for a free concert in Park HaYarkon in Tel Aviv. The artists performing are well known Israeli musicians - Idan Raichel, Arkadi Duckhin, Rita, Noa and I thought it would be great practice if ever the Rolling Stones gave a (non-free) concert at that venue where there is room for up to 150,000. I sent away for my 2 tickets and in the end no one was really overly-anxious to go, but for my Good Daughter who wasn't working that night and decided to keep me company. For the occasion, I brought along 2 low sitting beach chairs. It's like you are sitting on the ground, only you have back support. I felt stupid carrying them to work, but my co-workers got a kick out of them and put them in the reception area to try them out for themselves. They are indeed very comfortable even though they look ridiculous in sky blue.

I was working on a project at work and we finished it after meeting for hours on end that week. My boss was so appreciative. Such a Sugar Daddy he is - he asked me where I was going after work and said he, personally, would pay for a taxi to take me there. Sheee-it. Now that's a treat because I was kinda dreading shlepping my plastic chairs all over Jerusalem to get to the bus to Tel Aviv and then from bus to taxi in Tel Aviv. It just all seemed so hassle-free. Weeeeee! My Good Daughter was thrilled at the news and we celebrated by having a quick dinner out beforehand because I really didn't want to munch on cotton candy for dinner at the venue. My Eldest Daughter and Hubby heard that I got a free taxi ride there and I think they were kind of jealous that I had it "easy" this time.

The taxi came for us at 6:45 and we got inside like the two princesses that we are. As the taxi hit the airport area before Tel Aviv, there was lots of traffic. The driver told us it's always like this because people work in Tel Aviv until 7:00 pm.

"But this is going 'into' Tel Aviv, not out of Tel Aviv. What is going on?"

There were two things I was grateful for that evening. That Galgalatz, the radio station he had on, played kick-ass music and that I wasn't paying for this taxi and that he did not have it on the meter because from that point on the ride that should have taken us another 20 minutes turned out to be another 2 1/2 hours. That's right. Welcome to New York highways! Don't I miss the Major Deegan H'way? I hadn't been stuck in this type of traffic jam in decades.

My cab driver showed a great deal of restraint and I didn't hear one curse word in any language come forth from his lips. He did rest his head on his arms as if he had the biggest migraine in the world, but that was the only tell-tale sign that he was frustrated. Meanwhile as we got closer to the gig (which was the reason for the traffic jam), people rolled down their windows and teased the driver mercilessly.

"HHHHHAAAA!! You are coming from Jerusalem? Did you just spend three hours driving here? You can get in front of me"

"Hey! This is 3 hours salary for you. Aren't you thrilled?"

We made the last 45 minutes of the show but couldn't see the people on the giant stage. We were happy to plop down our beach chairs on the ground and look at the big screen.

After the venue it took us about 45 minutes to get a taxi to the Central Bus station (we were minutes away from being stranded in Tel Aviv) where we got on the last shared-taxi service to Jerusalem for the night. And I vowed never to go near any concert at Yarkon Park ever again, with the exception being the Rolling Stones....