Romanian Kebabs

Hubby always referred to my Good Daughter's boyfriend as the Romanian Kebab, as he was born in Romania - so it was pretty funny when Hubby's brothers were here last week and told the girls that their maternal great grandparents were from Romania.

We're Kebabs!! We're Romanian Kebabs!! - they all shouted, laughing and falling all over themselves.

Well we also all laughed because her boyfriend knew and UNDERSTOOD the words to that Romanian pop song that got into the charts here around a year ago - Maya Hee. That's not the name of the song, but that's how the chorus begins. They played that song to death on the airwaves here and in all dance clubs.

Then I see this website in a New York Times article about a guy from Saddle Brook New Jersey whose home-made video of lip-synching to this song made the Internet rounds in a big way. And he's a pretty big guy too. Great stuff!! Funny as hell. It's really worth a view

Medicine we should all take

Soul Brothers

What was so weird about my brother-in-law (B-I-L) is that we were both Chassidic 20 years ago but when he couldn't consolidate living a Chassidic lifestyle with being gay he gave it up. And I needed to transform myself once I moved to Israel in order for me to be more tolerant of others living here and found my soul work in Interfaith and non-political peace groups.

So my B-I-L comes to Israel after not being here for 9 years, and is involved in a church in Toronto. But he's not a Christian believer. He believes exactly as I do and it was so weird. He's close with the Pastor and he found affinity in that predominantly black church of 1,000 families because they are so warm and so pro-Israel. He got rabbis to speak there and for them to get to know Judaism better.

I remember when he had befriended years back in Toronto a young neo-Nazi. We were all shocked that he would let that bastard in his home but he thought if he was kind to him, he'll change. Needless to say he is no longer involved with skinheads and shit like that. I credit my B-I-L for that - for showing that guy love instead of reciprocal hate.

He said to me just before he left - what a shame that our religious education taught us to stay away from others - from Christians and Moslems, etc. because they were afraid we'd lose our souls. But our souls seem more fulfilled with being involved with Others, with letting them enter our lives. I can't get over how parallel our lives have become even that we hadn't seen each other in years and hardly communicated.

He had us watch the pastor Joel Olsteen one morning on TV - the Texas preacher. We get alot of these preachers on Middle East TV. He had this enlightening message rather than religious rebuking and his speech was rather uplifting. He was steeped in the Old Testament and he was going on about people not fulfilling themselves because they were frightened and didn't trust God so they didn't take that first step to what could be a more fulfilling job, life, etc.. It could be a message for every one of us - not only for Christians. I told my B-I-L about how it sounded like the story I heard about the Israelites running from the Egyptians and going into the Red Sea until they were up to their necks and only then did the Red Sea part. No sooner had I said that - then Olsteen repeated my story on TV. Hell - let me preach.

It's empty in my house now. The kids are sleeping and there are no brother-in-laws to laugh and reminisce with. They're back in the Great White North.

Old City - A different view

My "different" brother-in-law and I took Friday to go to the Old City. He wanted to drop letters to God from his Christian friends at the Western Wall. He also thought he'd buy a couple of crucifixes for his buddies too. On the way, I looked for my friend Ismail at the entrance to Jaffa Gate. Fortunately he was there in his suit and tie, looking quite dapper. We sat over coffee and my B-I-L asked me while Ismail was talking to us "he's very handsome, are you shtupping him?" which nearly caused me to do that Dean Martin coffee spit across the room.

On the way to the wall, I asked my B-I-L if he wanted to look for crucifixes here because they're easier to find here. All the merchants heard the "C" word and fell on us like we were the first Christian pilgrims since the Crusaders - "Over here. You can find crucifixes in my shop. Over Here. No Over HERE! Please come in. I give you great price. Look in my shop." We were swarmed but made it over to the wall in one piece.

The way back was a little more exciting. We ventured into one shop when the shop owner told us that if we just entered his shop, we'd bring him good luck. Fine. We told him what we wanted. A menorah and a crucifix. Strange combo but ok - the man doesn't care. He said 150 canadian dollars for both. My B-I-L didn't like anything he showed us and wanted to leave. "I give it to you both for 100 dollars. Please don't leave. You have to bring me good luck by making this purchase."

"I thought if we just walked into your shop we'll bring you good luck"

He told the shop owner - "Look, we'll be back. GIve me your business card." then turns to me and says out loud - "IF he could lie, then I could lie."

What's your name - asked the shop owner.

Hey-sus - answered my B-I-L.

I nearly peed. The guy obviously didn't know that the Spanish pronunciation of Jesus is Heysus.

The shopowner continued - OK Heysus, I give you both for 60 Canadian dollars. Please, please. And he grabbed B-I-L's arm. And by that time, we were all out of the store.

We passed one young shopowner that I knew from peace activities. We spoke to him for a minute, then he left to show us what he had in stock. My B-I-L tells me
"He's gay, he's definitely gay. How about you going off somewhere for 1/2 hour so I could 'swish' with him."

Having no time to "swish", we went back to the Western side of Jerusalem to continue our shuk shopping for the Sabbath. Even the beggars there were not as colorful as what we saw back in East Jerusalem. Just the mood was dampered later that evening when we heard about the terrorist attack in Tel Aviv and were grateful that we were too tired to go club hopping in Tel Aviv that night.

Hassidic dancing

juggling fire

Old City of Jerusalem - a different view

My "different" brother-in-law and I took Friday to go to the Old City. He wanted to drop letters to God from his Christian friends at the Western Wall. He also thought he'd buy a couple of crucifixes for his buddies too. On the way, I looked for my friend Ismail at the entrance to Jaffa Gate. Fortunately he was there in his suit and tie, looking quite dapper. We sat over coffee and my B-I-L asked me while Ismail was talking to us "he's very handsome, are you shtupping him?" which nearly caused me to do that Dean Martin coffee spit across the room.

On the way to the wall, I asked my B-I-L if he wanted to look for crucifixes here because they're easier to find here. All the merchants heard the "C" word and fell on us like we were the first Christian pilgrims since the Crusaders - "Over here. You can find crucifixes in my shop. Over Here. No Over HERE! Please come in. I give you great price. Look in my shop." We were swarmed but made it over to the wall in one piece.

The way back was a little more exciting. We ventured into one shop when the shop owner told us that if we just entered his shop, we'd bring him good luck. Fine. We told him what we wanted. A menorah and a crucifix. Strange combo but ok - the man doesn't care. He said 150 canadian dollars for both. My B-I-L didn't like anything he showed us and wanted to leave. "I give it to you both for 100 dollars. Please don't leave. You have to bring me good luck by making this purchase."

"I thought if we just walked into your shop we'll bring you good luck"

He told the shop owner - "Look, we'll be back. GIve me your business card." then turns to me and says out loud - "IF he could lie, then I could lie."

What's your name - asked the shop owner.

Hey-sus - answered my B-I-L.

I nearly peed. The guy obviously didn't know that the Spanish pronunciation of Jesus is Heysus.

The shopowner continued - OK Heysus, I give you both for 60 Canadian dollars. Please, please. And he grabbed B-I-L's arm. And by that time, we were all out of the store.

We passed one young shopowner that I knew from peace activities. We spoke to him for a minute, then he left to show us what he had in stock. My B-I-L tells me
"He's gay, he's definitely gay. How about you going off somewhere for 1/2 hour so I could 'swish' with him."

Having no time to "swish", we went back to the Western side of Jerusalem to continue our shuk shopping for the Sabbath. Even the beggars there were not as colorful as what we saw back in East Jerusalem. Just the mood was dampered later that evening when we heard about the terrorist attack in Tel Aviv and were grateful that we were too tired to go club hopping in Tel Aviv that night.

Old City of Jerusalem - a different view

My "different" brother-in-law and I took Friday to go to the Old City. He wanted to drop letters to God from his Christian friends at the Western Wall. He also thought he'd buy a couple of crucifixes for his buddies too. On the way, I looked for my friend Ismail at the entrance to Jaffa Gate. Fortunately he was there in his suit and tie, looking quite dapper. We sat over coffee and my B-I-L asked me while Ismail was talking to us "he's very handsome, are you shtupping him?" which nearly caused me to do that Dean Martin coffee spit across the room.

On the way to the wall, I asked my B-I-L if he wanted to look for crucifixes here because they're easier to find here. All the merchants heard the "C" word and fell on us like we were the first Christian pilgrims since the Crusaders - "Over here. You can find crucifixes in my shop. Over Here. No Over HERE! Please come in. I give you great price. Look in my shop." We were swarmed but made it over to the wall in one piece.

The way back was a little more exciting. We ventured into one shop when the shop owner told us that if we just entered his shop, we'd bring him good luck. Fine. We told him what we wanted. A menorah and a crucifix. Strange combo but ok - the man doesn't care. He said 150 canadian dollars for both. My B-I-L didn't like anything he showed us and wanted to leave. "I give it to you both for 100 dollars. Please don't leave. You have to bring me good luck by making this purchase."

"I thought if we just walked into your shop we'll bring you good luck"

He told the shop owner - "Look, we'll be back. GIve me your business card." then turns to me and says out loud - "IF he could lie, then I could lie."

What's your name - asked the shop owner.

Hey-sus - answered my B-I-L.

I nearly peed. The guy obviously didn't know that the Spanish pronunciation of Jesus is Heysus.

The shopowner continued - OK Heysus, I give you both for 60 Canadian dollars. Please, please. And he grabbed B-I-L's arm. And by that time, we were all out of the store.

We passed one young shopowner that I knew from peace activities. We spoke to him for a minute, then he left to show us what he had in stock. My B-I-L tells me
"He's gay, he's definitely gay. How about you going off somewhere for 1/2 hour so I could 'swish' with him."

Having no time to "swish", we went back to the Western side of Jerusalem to continue our shuk shopping for the Sabbath. Even the beggars there were not as colorful as what we saw back in East Jerusalem. Just the mood was dampered later that evening when we heard about the terrorist attack in Tel Aviv and were grateful that we were too tired to go club hopping in Tel Aviv that night.

Old City of Jerusalem - a different view

My "different" brother-in-law and I took Friday to go to the Old City. He wanted to drop letters to God from his Christian friends at the Western Wall. He also thought he'd buy a couple of crucifixes for his buddies too. On the way, I looked for my friend Ismail at the entrance to Jaffa Gate. Fortunately he was there in his suit and tie, looking quite dapper. We sat over coffee and my B-I-L asked me while Ismail was talking to us "he's very handsome, are you shtupping him?" which nearly caused me to do that Dean Martin coffee spit across the room.

On the way to the wall, I asked my B-I-L if he wanted to look for crucifixes here because they're easier to find here. All the merchants heard the "C" word and fell on us like we were the first Christian pilgrims since the Crusaders - "Over here. You can find crucifixes in my shop. Over Here. No Over HERE! Please come in. I give you great price. Look in my shop." We were swarmed but made it over to the wall in one piece.

The way back was a little more exciting. We ventured into one shop when the shop owner told us that if we just entered his shop, we'd bring him good luck. Fine. We told him what we wanted. A menorah and a crucifix. Strange combo but ok - the man doesn't care. He said 150 canadian dollars for both. My B-I-L didn't like anything he showed us and wanted to leave. "I give it to you both for 100 dollars. Please don't leave. You have to bring me good luck by making this purchase."

"I thought if we just walked into your shop we'll bring you good luck"

He told the shop owner - "Look, we'll be back. GIve me your business card." then turns to me and says out loud - "IF he could lie, then I could lie."

What's your name - asked the shop owner.

Hey-sus - answered my B-I-L.

I nearly peed. The guy obviously didn't know that the Spanish pronunciation of Jesus is Heysus.

The shopowner continued - OK Heysus, I give you both for 60 Canadian dollars. Please, please. And he grabbed B-I-L's arm. And by that time, we were all out of the store.

We passed one young shopowner that I knew from peace activities. We spoke to him for a minute, then he left to show us what he had in stock. My B-I-L tells me
"He's gay, he's definitely gay. How about you going off somewhere for 1/2 hour so I could 'swish' with him."

Having no time to "swish", we went back to the Western side of Jerusalem to continue our shuk shopping for the Sabbath. Even the beggars there were not as colorful as what we saw back in East Jerusalem. Just the mood was dampered later that evening when we heard about the terrorist attack in Tel Aviv and were grateful that we were too tired to go club hopping in Tel Aviv that night.

Wanna Play Bar Mitzvah?

Remember that joke. You'd ask a friend if he/she wanted to play bar mitzvah then you'd walk over to them and pinch their cheeks real hard pretending you're the doting aunt - OH Beryl you're so cute, you've grown up into such ah handsome boy, blah blah blah.

This morning was my son's bar mitzvah. We had a modest but nice affair at the local synagogue, which we never attend with his entire 6th grade class, plus his teacher (so his classmates don't get out of hand) and my friends and brothers-in-law from Canada. Of course, the guests came late and the young man who taught my son how to read from the Torah hadn't shown up yet, so we couldn't start. My brother, punctual as a German general, kept on popping up looking annoyed, asking when we're gonna start. Can't start without his teacher, bud. Then his teacher called and told me he was at the other community center because he thought it was over there, so I had to have one of the boyfriends go and fetch him. I don't think anyone was particularly upset at starting late except for my brother and his wife.

The services began and I sat in the front row, taking photographs from the balcony as the synagogue was Orthodox and women sat up in the balcony with the men sitting on the bottom. Then my son's turn was up. He took out the velvet Torah scroll from the Ark and I prayed he wouldn't drop it - it's probably not very light. And he read from it beautifully. He kept on warning me beforehand that he'd laugh or fart or do something to totally embarrass us, but it never happened. We all took toffees and threw them at him after he was done. My Gypsy friend Amoun came and I don't think she was ever at a synagogue before. I wonder what she thought of the leather armbands the men wore during the morning service and the priestly blessings, etc.

My girlfriends told me even though my son was the eldest in his class, all the boys in his class seemed to already have grown these beginner moustaches, except for him. They wondered why.

"Oh that's because their mothers have them!" was my brother-in-law's theory. We were hysterical.

After services we all went into the small community center for brunch. They really did up the room nicely with burgandy and cream tableclothes, flower arrangements, exotic fruit platters and someone serving omelettes and pancakes. I was busy running around, finding people, arranging when the juggler would entertain and getting calls from the Hasidic street dancers we found in Jerusalem to liven things up. I'm usually the first to eat but I could only manage to down a few bites of a bagel and a cup of orange juice. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, but I was the photographer and if I didn't capture these moments, they'd be lost and vaguely remembered in our imagination.

By noon, it was over and I was exhausted. As if I had baked all the muffins and made all the salads. And only when it was over did we realize we wrote and typed up speeches which we never made. Everything happened too fast. My kids grilled me on what I paid to which entertainer, caterer. "You paid 500 shekels to the Hasidic dancers. Now they're gonna go out and buy ecstasy with that money." The girls believe you can only dance like a dervish if you're on a particular substance. I don't really care what they buy with the money they earned because they gave us wonderful blessings.

So my son is now a man. A teenager. Yikes!

Beautiful gravesites

Wildlife in Action - Jordan Valley

Travels with Three Brothers

Yesterday I took off work to just hang with Hubby's brothers. We drove up the Jordan Valley road to Tiberias. The road was pretty desolate and our asses were starting to hurt a couple of hours into the drive until we passed two camels humping. None of us had ever come across that scene before and we quickly decided to turn around and photograph the happy couple. The male seemed young and inexperienced. He was pretty slow in getting it on and his female companion had alot of patience. After 5 minutes of getting our National Geographic-type shots, we headed back on.

Hubby's oldest brother met his wife 30 years ago on Kibbutz Mesilot and we drove into the kibbutz which looked alot more run-down than he remembered. But it was touching to hear him reminisce about where "they" walked, partied and ate.

We took a break in Tiberias for a coffee and felafel. The Canuck brothers didn't want to sit down for eggs and salads - they wanted more Middle Eastern fare. So greasy falafels is what they got. We saw Mt. Hermon in the distance, beautiful, large and snow capped.

Our next stop was the Galilee town of Karmiel where we stopped off at the local cemetery to see the brother's wife's parents' graves. It wasn't too difficult to find - it's the only cemetery in town. We walked in and the caretaker offered to say the prayers for us. I sensed if he started praying, he would ask for some kind of payment. I'd do it for free, which I did. The deceased couple didn't have any visitors for over 4 years and I felt pretty joyful in this place, knowing they were enjoying our visit from the "other world". The cemetery was predominantly Russian. It looked alot different from other cemeteries in that nearly every grave was decorated with flowers - some fresh and most with silk arrangements. Some had gardens around the grave. It was the most colorful cemetery I'd ever seen. The caretaker told me it wasn't a Jewish custom to decorate a grave with flowers, but the Russians seemed to not mind this non-Jewish custom.

After our graveyard shift, we moved on to the Druze village of Daliat Al Karmel. I had a friend there from my Interfaith group and she gladly invited us into her home after I called her for directions and she directed me from the village entrance. As my brother-in-laws said - they feed you to death - which she did. Something called Kishq filled with goat cheese and pomegrants showed up on the table, as did pickled radishes, homemade humous, pitas, olives, hot coffee and other stuff. When we didn't finish it all - she put it all in a plastic bag and made me take it home to my kids. I didn't need too much convincing. If someone wants to kill me by feeding me to death, it's a good thing. It really is. But it was a good experience for the Great White Northerners who had never met any Druze before. Her teenage daughter helped with the hosting. "I couldn't get up because I got a boner looking at her and she would've seen it." said my gay brother-in-law and we looked at him strange.

"traitor!" I told him. "You'll upset your partner with this news."

"Oh, you just want me to stay gay so that you could say to your friends that you've got a gay relative. It's a novelty for you."

Yes, yes and more yes. I didn't need to tell anyone about him, since he did all the telling - especially to all 3 of my daughters' boyfriends. When we got back home, the house was lively and crowded and I didn't want to go to sleep and face a day of errands before my son's bar mitzvah on Thursday. I think I'm going to kidnap my brother-in-laws and have them stay a bit longer....

He's Here and He's Queer

We bused it to the new Terminal 3 at Ben Gurion airport to pick up Hubby's brothers. The lady next to me at the airport was impatient for her people to come through the doors. She asked everyone who came through which flight they were on - like a broken record. I joined her in her quest and we both decided to guess which flights people were on. The well-dressed people, with the not-so-fancy suitcases were either from Madrid or Paris. We laughed when a very handsome young man with tousled hair told us he was from Paris. He definitely looked Parisian. Too hunky for Toronto, we both figured together. All the shlobs with the fancy suitcases we guessed arrived from Toronto. Then came Hubby's two brothers finally - looking like 2 freakin' Canucks from the Great White North - striped shirts, bright blue eyes, blond hair and pot bellies. One of them is gay and hadn't been out 10 years ago when we last saw him but is definitely out now. The 3 brothers sat in the back seat of the taxi while I listened to their running commentary.

"It's tough being a female locked in a male body"
"It's going to be a rough few days in your house full of women."

After the hugs and kisses at home, the girls ordered pizzas for everyone. The pizza delivery boy came looking like a man on the moon with his padded head-to-toe outfit and helmet. Hubby's gay brother looks at us and says about the pizza delivery guy -"Is he staying? He could stay if he takes his clothes off." which set my girls into hysterics. He questioned my Good Daughter.

"And what about your soldier boyfriend? Does he have a gun? Is it loaded? Can I hold it?"

His partner called from Canada. My Nasty Daughter answered but didn't know how to refer to his partner. "It's, it's your something!" she called out to M. "It's my WIFE!" he shot back.

I was hoping my kids would behave. At least for a few days while their uncles are present. My dog certainly wasn't behaving. An hour after Hubby took him for a walk, while we were at the airport, Doggie went upstairs and peed on the guests' bed. Furious with the pooch, Hubby banished him for the evening and left him outside for the night. My Eldest Daughter had laryngitis, which was a gift from God - for me, anyways. She tried to yell at me for not having "normal" tea in the house. She called me a Bitch, in her squeaky voice, for throwing the excess "normal" tea in Saturday's kitchen cleanup. Thank the Good Lord Hubby's brothers didn't hear it or notice it, only me.

A Million Dollar Question for God

A poor man walking in the forest feels close enough to God to ask,

"God, what is a million years to you?"

God replies, "My son, a million years to you is like a second to me."

The man asks, "God, what is a million dollars to you?"

God replies, "My son, a million dollars to you is less than a penny to me. It means almost nothing to me."

The man asks, "So God, can I have a million dollars?"

And God replies, "In a second."

What's the Good News

When I got home Friday afternoon, Hubby asks me -

"So what's the good news?"

He couldn't have asked more prophetically.

You wanna hear good news?

"I'll tell you the good news is that the Messiah is coming."

That morning I went to a Christian Zionist charitable organization to get some help for my family - thanks to a friend who directed me to them, since Hubby hadn't worked in 2 months and money is scarce for basics. They didn't thrust New Testaments at me nor did they make me swear my allegience to Jesus. No, none of that. They were lovers of Jews and lovers of Israel and chose this type of service to help new Jewish immigrants and people like ourselves struck by difficult times. They were going to help me out with bus fare for myself and the children and weekly food packages. It was all a bit dreamlike because it feels good knowing no one's going to starve in my family and that if I moved to Newark, NJ I would have made the wrong choice, because these Christians believe that I belong right here in this country, for better or for worse, through hell and high water. So in order that we don't pack our bags and leave for colder pastures back to Canada, they've provided temporary social assistance so that we stay put.

I needed to provide a family photograph for them so they can send it to our sponsors. Getting a family photograph is more difficult than obtaining a breakfast of bacon and eggs in Jerusalem. My family is never together and if they are, then they're in such a state of disarray that no one wants their photograph taken. Luckily we're all getting together for my son's 13th birthday soiree - a bar mitzvah in our Jewish tradition and, hopefully, they'll all be in the mood to pose nicely for the camera. We'll be dressed nice and won't look so downtrodden. The photograph I did provide was nearly 2 years old, and Hubby and I both wore sunglasses, which was a no-no. The sponsors want to see our eyes! Heavens.

I took my son with us to the interview and he was okay up until 1 1/2 hours later. He kept on poking me in the arm, and pointing to his invisible watch. The interview went well. I think the UK interviewee was surprised to hear I am involved in the holy messianic work of dialogue between Christians, Jews and Moslems to bring peace to this country. I told her a bit about it. I don't think she had come across any interfaith workers beforehand. And at the end of the interview she thrust a box of treats at my son, which he promptly hid in his bedroom so his siblings wouldn't get ahold of it before the Sabbath.

The woman asked me what my dreams were. My son told her his dream was that he wanted to be rich. I thought I'd say something nice like - peace in this region, etc. What I did tell her, though I had more modest wishes than my son, was that a dream of mine would be an 2 bedroom apartment of my own smack in the middle of Jerusalem so I can walk everywhere. She wrote that down. Maybe they'll pray for me that that happens. Who knows. But if it works, I'll certainly tell you.

snowlady

We import snow

My Criminal daughter called me last week from school and whispered these endearing words into the phone.

"I saw cocaine in daddy's room on his shelf."

Is unemployed Hubby onto expensive drugs?

A pothead maybe, but riding that train high on cocaine was never for him. Even when he made money. I tried explaining to her that I had just bought him baking soda for brushing his teeth, which he stored in his room, so maybe it was that. But she insisted that it was Peruvian marching powder.

Later that evening, the first thing I did when I got back home was to inspect our shelves. Sure enough it was baking soda that he had taken out of the box and it was stored in a wax paper bag. I wondered if she had snorted some and what effect it had on her. Definitely cheaper to snort baking soda anyways.

I remember the time in the late 1970s when I was in New York City sitting windowside at a trendy jock bar where hockey players used to hang out. I was in deep conversation with a New York radio DJ and absentmindedly poured sugar on the table and toyed around with the pile on the table with my fork. Immediately the owner of the joint comes over, hysterical and whispers to us loudly - "You CAN'T do blow here. Put it away immmediately."

My - aren't WE paranoid!

"It's only sugar - sugar" I told him. He was totally embarrassed.

Speaking of snow - real snow - yesterday the Jerusalem suburb of Ma'aleh Adumim imported snow from the Hermon so that our snow-deprived children could frolic in real snow for several hours. They dumped a couple of truckloads by City Hall. My son joined in the snowball throwing fracas and came home with his shoes all soaked. We don't own a pair of gloves either. But being that "they" had predicted snow for Jerusalem last week and the snow was a no-show, they had this happening for the kids who couldn't stay home from school on Sunday being that it ended up being spring-like weather instead of the forecasted snow alert over the weekend. At least my tax money is going for some enjoyment.

What the hell is out there

"Well how was it?"

That was the first question I asked my friend from work the day after she went on one of her blind dates.

"He's a Natalie Portman stalker."

Hollywood actress, Natalie Portman is studying at Hebrew University in Jerusalem this year - so I hear.

"WHAT!?? You went out with a celebrity stalker??"

"He's really funny and nice. He's just obsessed with her. He talked about her all the time and she even dated him."

"Why would she date her stalker?"

"Because he was such a nudnik, so just to shut him up she dated him."

Yikes. That's the worst kind of shit a woman can do. It probably even feeds these sickos even more so. Thank God my friend isn't seeing him again. Who knows if that guy even wants to see her. She's real pretty but looks nothing like Portman, so that is a definite minus.

I remember when I was 17 and my sister decided I should get married by 18 as she did many years earlier. So she and her friends would set me up with this idiot and that idiot - all not my type. She would tell me how "hep" they were and I would cringe. What the fuck does "hep" mean anyways? It's probably the square person's definition of "hip", but they just can't bring themselves to say "hip" - they'll sound too cool, so they say "hep." Well to me it sounded like an abbreviation of "hepatitis" and anyone who she labelled "hep" wasn't too appealing to me from the onset. So I'd try to get rid of these hep fellows by talking non-stop about the Beatles and each individual one starting with their birthdates, relating their entire biography. This took up most of the evening. Needless to say, they never called me again. I was too "over-hep".

Valentines Day in Jerusalem

It didn't start out too good for many of us here. My friend's husband called her a "bat sharmutah" (daughter of a whore) and mine was less verbal but more Caveman-ish - as in "I'm not leaving my bed today - so fuck off". So much for this holiday.

Israelis celebrate two Valentines days. One is the traditional, ancient Jewish one -Tu B'av - which usually falls out in August - and the other is the more recently acknowledged Christian one, which secular Israelis now celebrate. The only thing good about this holiday, for me anyway, are the sales on makeup and perfume so we can get stuff cheaper for ourselves.

I went to the All Nations Cafe celebration of Valentines Day last night. They had an informal Arabic language and culture lesson in downtown Jerusalem. The place it was held at was pretty funky, kind of a Bordello in a loft. We learned Arabic words of love and had to write a poem with the words we learned. All I could think of was I Love Chocolate and Knafe while others were writing about the moon and their children and sweet honey. We took a break from our 3 hour session for hearty vegetable soup, Arabic pita from Damascus Gate, which looked alot healthier than the packaged stuff I get from the grocers and homemade techina.

Then we learned and sang - rather poorly - a song by Nawal Al Zoughbi - a Lebanese singer - called El Layila (The Nights). The lyrics were beautiful as was the music. I found them online here

Girls Talk

I was feeling too ill to go to a friend's Friday night Interfaith service with their assortment of strange people, myself included, which also included drumming and acoustical guitar accompaniment and a pot luck dinner. I was terribly flu-ish, even though I didn't look flu-ish. Plus - the weather people predicted snow in Jerusalem. It never happened. But what did happen....

One of my close friends took me out for breakfast on Friday morning. It is impossible to spend 5 minutes with her and not meet and greet someone she knows. She knows everyone in Jerusalem. She's like a human Jerusalem landmark. I am so intrigued by her - like when we were walking around Jerusalem one Saturday afternoon - she had copped some roasted weed which we both shared and ate, giggling throughout the afternoon, not knowing where we were walking. And we walked for hours. We walked along the deserted railroad tracks admiring the Spring flowers and saw a sign that said "DANGER TO LIFE - DO NOT ENTER". Ooops. Too late now. We both hugged each other and screamed "We're ALIVE"!!! and laughed even harder.

And when we both stood outside a synagogue one Saturday and she talked loudly about some guys and their "hard ons". Wouldn't you know it - at that moment, one of the more sophisticated looking male congregants strolls out of the synagogue, hears the words "hard ons" and shoots ME a disgusted glance. Right - guilty by association. Better we have this conversation outside the conversation rather than during the Rabbi's speech, wouldn't you think?

She told me that she asked one of her male friends to bring her back lingerie. I was hysterical.

"You trust this guy to bring you back bras from the United States? What if you get something kitschy like a red bra with black lace or something horrible like that."

My husband won't even buy feminine pads for the daughters in our house, never mind buying me a brassiere. I do my own lingerie buying, thank you.

The conversation turned to an acquaintance who got a "boob job" done.

"You can always tell if they're not real" I told her.

"I touched them, and they feel real."

She touched them? Even though I'm curious about saline-silicone-implants, I've never had the gall to ask someone if I could touch them.

She heard that at menopause boobs get bigger and seemed terribly worried about it for herself. Well it certainly gives ME something to look forward to, plus they'll feel AND look natural.

What every office needs

Party Time in Jerusalem

Eliyahu had a birthday celebration today. I don't know how he fit over 150 people into his small flat but he did. I thought it quite miraculous, people squished together on the floor in his living room, with the crowd spilling out into the hallway. When the crowd got too much for me I found refuge in the kitchen. Strange -a house full of Jews and the kitchen empty? But there weren't only Jews at his place, there was a good mix of Palestinians too, plus old friends like Ibrahim. The Jewish crowd ranged from secular, artsy types to Jewish rastafarians and neo-Hassidim -whatever that is but that's what I branded them. A woman called Aliza Hava from New Paltz New York with a glorious voice sang songs of peace. I wondered why she hadn't landed a recording contract - she was that professional sounding. "They say I'm too deep" she told me. True. She's no Ditzy Britney Spears. But isn't there a market for "deep" music?

The Rasta man made a kick-ass pea soup and I had a couple of bowlfuls, while talking to a Palestinian from nearby Sawahare. We were talking about music. He loves classical music and also told me he likes the Betchab Boys. I never heard of them. That is until someone translated what he really meant - the Pet Shop Boys. We both had a good laugh. "Honey, when someone is a total asshole - do you call them a 'brick'?"

Eliyahu's Sufi friend came in - Sheikh Bukhari - who led us in a Zikr. He said Jerusalem is the Heart of the world. If the heart is healthy then the rest of the body is healthy. If the Heart is sick, the body is sick. So we have to make sure the heart is healthy. And thus - the reason for the Zikr. We made several circles and chanted in both Arabic and Hebrew - There is no other God but one God - or something like that. And this went on for 1/2 hour or so. It was pretty wild and I really loved it - we were standing in one spot holding hands and shaking our heads to the left, right and center as we chanted - the tempo of the chant speeding up. It got me into quite a trance until someone nasty in the crowd let off a real horrible smelly toot, which immediately got me out of my elevated spiritual trance-like state.

I met Alex who runs the Jerusalem Laughter Club. This sounds hilarious. They meet every Friday morning next to the Israeli Parliament. What is better than laughing at all those idiot politicians nearby!!! I copped a bit off their website:

"If we can bring peace inside us through Laughter Clubs, by doing Yogic laughter and practising ways and means of sensible living in a group and these small groups multiply all over the world, there will be everlasting peace in the entire world. Laughter is a powerful positive emotion. It creates a postive aura around individuals. When a group of individuals laughs together, it creates a collective community aura. Electromagnetic waves from a group who are laughing every day, form a protective envelope around that area to protect it from evil forces. If these laughter groups multiply all over the country it will change the consciousness of the entire nation. Similarly, having laughter clubs all over the world can build up a global consciousness of brotherhood and friendship."

So get out there and laugh!

What Women Want

My kids phoned me up last night, while I was still at work.

"We're at the SuperPharm. We want to buy you a present for your birthday. What do you want?"

"What do I want?? Let's see.." and much to their dismay, instead of being like my mother who just said - don't buy me anything - their Needy Mother rattled off a list like this

"You could get me:
perfume,
concealer,
lipstick,
moisturizer,
serum,
and not from those shitty local brands"

"You mean like from Clarins?" one of my daughters asked. I could already picture the sweat dripping off her.

"Look - just get me whatever it is YOU want. Just not from the crap brands. OK?"

My boss had me working again late. He's very generous and offered to get me a taxi.

"Where can you get a taxi to?"

"Oh, the center of town where I catch a bus to my town."

"Any place else besides the center of town."

"Why SURE! I'd love to be brought straight home."

He promptly had the receptionist arrange for an expensive taxi ride all the way home. I was absolutely delighted.

People that ask me - what do I want - just to be polite. Don't ask me that. Ever. Because I will tell them. Like the time when I was just breaking my bosses in as to who exactly they are working with - when I was fairly new there. Everyone seemed in awe or just plain petrified of them. They were going off to the US and asked everyone -

"Want us to bring you back anything?"

They probably were sorry they asked. Of course everyone in the office said 'no'. But no sir, not me. As they were walking out the door I yelled out -

"I'D LOVE SOME DEVIL DOGS" - a childhood delicacy that cannot be found here in Jerusalem.

I heard later on that they went into a large supermarket somewhere in the vast United States and couldn't find the damn dogs for me and Mr. Professor finally went to the store manager who helped locate these things. They brought me back two cases of 16 Devil Dogs in each case. They were gone within 3 days.

On the border of Jerusalem - An Interfaith weekend

And yet another interfaith weekend happened but this one was a bit different. First of all it was only for 24 hours and ended Friday evening. So to those with no transportation (like myself) over the weekend until the Sabbath ends or those that are Sabbath observant - there was an extra day offered. Thankfully having some freebies in my life such as this weekend was a gift from God. Unfortunately, Hubby was too down to join me so I took my 17 year old Nasty daughter. His great loss. Of course, on Friday, he called me frantic..

"There's nothing to eat in this house. We'll die of starvation!" and this while my daughter and I were stuffing our faces at the luncheon buffet.

I knew that the other two daughters would take care of Mr. Biafra. Things always sound worse over the phone. Like when he called me a few months ago while I was partying at Ibrahim's house..

"Our dog got hit by a car. I don't know if he'll make it. You'd better come home now."

Somehow instinct and experience told me to continue enjoying myself before being drawn into Hubby's Abyss. And when I got home, the dog wasn't bloodied and walked with only a slight limp. A miracle!!

So after I hung up the phone with Hubby, continuing to eat my food with relish, I sat down with a couple of my newly made friends. There was Suzie from Oklahoma, who was volunteering with the Peace Corps in Thailand who had met an Israeli and is visiting him here. She was this peppery 24 year old who got along great with my daughter. The kind that gets all the secrets out of you.

"Oh, you're seventeen??? I lost my virginity at 17."

Pause.

"No, we just sleep together, we don't do anything. Most people wait until they're 18 here."

"HA! That's exactly what I told MY mother!"

Stuff like that.

Then I was trying out my Arabic on Suhair.

"It's really Bareed (cold) out there!" pronouncing it baREED.

"What are you telling me about a post office."

"Post office??? I'm trying to tell you it's cold!"

"Ohhhhh - that's BAHrid" -

Jeez. I better quit while I'm ahead.

Mahmood, a tall, handsome guy from the movie industry, was there and promised my daughter a part as an "extra" if she goes back to school. He said they're beginning to film US movies again in Israel. There were quite a few being filmed here before the Intifada broke out and then nothing.

My 17 year old went out with the younger crowd Thursday and Friday evenings. I wished I could have joined them but at my age and being "the mother", even though I'm a cool mother, I still get passed up these days. I was happy my daughter enjoyed herself and hope the weekend will change her and she won't think "they all hate us" as she told me when we were hanging up clothing in our hotel room on Thursday. And hopefully she'll want to join the Junior Sulha event that Mahmood is arranging for young kids later on this year.

It's so true - peace begins with kids. All the young mothers from Bethlehem and the Jewish mothers from Jerusalem brought their babies and toddlers and I was watching them all crawl on the floor together, tumbling over each other and touching each other's faces and playing with each other's toys. If only they could continue on like this....

What I'd give for a horse and buggy

On the way to work this morning the car's gears weren't working. Couldn't get up the damn hill. We stood at the side of the road. Fortunately there was someone in my neighborhood who works at the same place and she was able to come to the rescue, but the tow truck didn't come to Hubby's rescue for about 1 1/2 hours. Cost of the repair $1,250. I told Hubby the good news is "we're saving on gas".

I had enough time this morning and was in enough anguish to consult with my Debtor's Anonymous friend who lives up in that "extremist" settlement. She thought it was Divine Providence that they dialed our number by accident, when her husband sat on their cellphone by accident and dialed our number. She gave me an assignment to do on Step 1.

She continued on...

"I'd really like to help sponsor you and I think my husband will speak to yours but he really doesn't want to hear about your work with the Arabs." She whispered the word "arabs" so low - that I made her repeat it again for me. She whispered it again, like saying the "A" word was a grave sin. I thought - what a wonderful opportunity for us to get together. Maybe it was Divine Providence and maybe this will be an opportunity for me to teach her to learn to say the "A" word just a bit louder and without shame and pain.

Can one overdose on chocolate?

My birthday yesterday happened to be on a day when I felt as miserable as one could get before they realize - hey!! Maybe it's time for some anti-depressants. But I was able to get out of my black mood that day. Everyone tried to wish me well at work and I just looked absolutely grimful. But by mid-morning my eldest daughters surprised me by trotting into my office bearing a huge chocolate cake (my favorite food) and flowers, that looked like poppies - the flowers you make opium with - and they just smelled wonderful! 2 minutes later there was another delivery of chocolate cake from the office staff. I don't remember the last time I so quickly switched from sorrow to joy in such a short time. I indulged happily in cake all day. I had to work late with some faculty at another office until 7:30 that evening. They must have heard about my chocolate addiction because they walked into the meeting with yet another fabulous chocolate layer cake. By the end of the evening, I was palpatating from all the chocolate and all the caffeine and all the sugar. I also couldn't sleep well. Nevertheless all that cake made me feel very appreciated at my place of work -which makes working for 12 hours a day very much worth it.

And a co-worker send me this lovely piece of whatever it is you get in those e-mails that get passed around the world.

========================
A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience,
raised a glass of water and asked, "how heavy is this glass of water? "

Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g.

The lecturer replied, "The absolute weight doesn't matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it. If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance. In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes. "

He continued, "And that's the way it is with stress management. If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy, we won't be able to carry on. As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again. When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden. "

"So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don't carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow. Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can. Relax; pick them up later after you've rested. Life is short. Enjoy it!"

And then he shared some ways of dealing with the burdens of life:

* Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.

* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

* Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.

* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.

* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

* If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

* Never buy a car you can't push.

* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.

* Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

* Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.

* The second mouse gets the cheese.

* When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

* Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.

* You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be theworld to one person.

* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

* We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.

* A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

Have an awesome day and a great week... and know that someone has thought about you today. . . . I did!

Whoa! Lotsa Karma Happening Around Here

This was so strange. I feel like I'm wandering around in a very trippy twilight zone. And I'm not even taking any drugs - not legal or illegal - to enhance the unreality.

My daughter complained that she miscalculated someone's bill and gave them alot more money back than she should have. So instead of making 160 shekels in tips she took home only 60. She complained about those "old frechas" - Israeli tart-like women in their '40s-'50s who probably knew she made a mistake but said nothing about it. I felt so guilty. I've done that myself this year, at the bakery, walking out and smirking once - after paying $1 when it should have costed something like $10 because he miscalculated. It was like - Hey! Now I have more money to blow on shit. But it only blows back in your face and this time it was my daughter's face. It took it personally.

I feel what I do in this world not only affects my family directly, but also the world in one form or another. Like yesterday, we were discussing food in our interfaith session. When reading up on Judaism's take on it, I discovered that that particular food is spiritually elevated when you make a blessing over it, and so is the source of that food - the earth, tree, etc. That was pretty wild. The body is the Holy Temple. Wow.

I tried to get to the meeting on time but it was impossible. My boss dictated two e-mails at 4:30 just as I was getting my papers ready for my presentation and wondered why I sounded "in a rush". He can't figure out there is life after Work. I bumped into Souliman and his co-worker, who had a special permit to be in West Jerusalem, and was looking for a parking space. They asked me to help them find parking. I jumped into their car and looked for a parking space for them. When I found them metered parking, I had to explain meters to them. I don't think there are parking meters in Palestinian Authority areas. I tried to get them to avoid the $25 fine and insisted they put money in the meter. I only had carfare on me to get back home but used half of that, because they didn't have enough for the meter. But later on, after the meeting ended, my friend Ibrahim, who learned of my 'generosity' for that evening, threw in $5 into my pocketbook. "We're family" he explained, after I complained that I don't need anything from him, I'll get it from my daughters who work nearby.

So I found this wallet in the street very late that night and finally had a chance to do some penance. You always get a chance in this life. Of course, being penniless these days, my first thought was to toss the wallet and keep the $12 found in there but then I thought of how miserable that young girl would be at that loss with her photo ID and that kind of overrode my temporary sense of greed. I remember Karmela the Nun losing her wallet before a meeting once, and she was so miserable calling up the cab company in case it was still in the taxi.

I found the number of the owner of the purse in the phone book and called them the next morning. Her parents were French. They were elated (even the French are happy sometimes) that I found it and the daughter rushed over to pick it up from us. I thought - YES! God will reward me today. Instead I had the worst day imaginable.

Hubby had an appointment at debtor's court where they check you every once in a while to see if you can pay the creditors more than you are paying them already. The new judge didn't give too much of a fuck that he wasn't working and thought it luxurious that we have cable TV and internet and a pet. Even worse was the fact that I ONCE had a haircut. Yes, these are luxuries in the third world, but we're not supposed to be a third world country - right? So she slapped him with an enormous monthly fine - if he doesn't pay it he goes straight to jail. Don't you just love Israeli monopoly?? I got home to a miserable household after work and prayed that God would send an earthquake that night and have the earth swallow only that building which houses the debtor's court with all its records and all its furniture that it takes from people who cannot pay their bills - and thought how wonderful it was during biblical times when debts were forgiven after 50 years - the Jubilee Year.

This morning I turned 49 years old. I'm one year away from Jubilation. My younger Ex-Criminal daughter asked me this morning - pissed as all hell that I woke her up for school

"How old are you now? 89?"

What a super-bitch. I asked her

"Don't I look damn good for 89?"