Hanukah donuts

I woke up this morning with a start.

"The Hebrew Letters!"

"What?" Hubby was confused.  I never wake up this way.

"The Hebrew Letters!  I forgot to send the Hebrew letters."

Why was that on my mind first thing this morning?  I forgot to send Hebrew letters by Fedex yesterday to my boss for her laptop in the States, and that seemed to be bugging me.  I thought that amusing considering what other stuff went on this week.

Saturday night I went to the opening of the Jewish Film Festival.  Molly Picon's film, East and West, a silent flick from 1923 was the featured film.  Before the film, the hanukah menorah was lit inside the theater and we sang Maoz Tzur, which is what differentiates this film festival from probably all others anywhere else in the world.  The live band accompanied the film led us through some strange musical interludes during the course of the film - I had expected Klezmer music all the way - but the final song was Pump It by the Black Eyed Peas which, strangely enough, fit the finale.  Go figure.    At the party afterwards, an acquaintance came over to me and said she had to wake up tomorrow early to go on the Jesus Trail.   Sounds interesting, but this is a do-it-yourself thing with a guidebook on the trails. I told her I, too, have to wake up early.  She pressed me about what.

"My daughter is getting a boob job"

One of my daughters, not telling who, got breast implants this past Sunday at a private medical clinic in Tel Aviv.  She's a small girl and the doctor had enough sense not to give her those horrid looking balloon-type implants.  I remember Arsenio Hall saying "Men don't care if they fake" and I guess they don't care how stupid they can look too.  But if doc didn't let daughter overdo it, we might just be looking fine.  This whole thing, paid for by my daughter, cost 15,000 shekels - roughly $3800.  Don't know how that compares with boob jobs in the States. 

While she was in surgery, I staked out the mall and plopped myself down in one of the nicer restaurants in the trendy Ramat Aviv mall for breakfast, where tights were selling for $60 a pair and a bottle of water in the supermarket sold for twice the price as it did in Jerusalem.  My daughter's best friend also had the same surgery done that day, right afterwards, so when I came back to the room, her mother was busy reciting Psalms instead of gouging herself on food and putting expensive shit on her wishlist like I did.

Both kids came out of this fine, although mine was in excrutiating pain, while the daughter of the Psalm-reciting mother felt just a bit of pain.  Maybe there is a conicidence with prayer as a healing tool.  I should have tried that method, but didn't.

Meanwhile, she's walking around the house these past few days holding up her new boobs with her hands.  I'm wondering if she's doing that because she can finally hold something, or if she's just more comfortable with her walking around that way.  The sisters all wanted to have a look at the newbies and came over to check her out.  And like most who do it - she's happy that she did.