Geula

I haven't been around that ultra-orthodox neighborhood in Jerusalem in years. But it's the only neighborhood my ultra-orthodox sister knows when she comes to visit that I agreed to meet her there on Friday. I pity her because she never had non-Jewish friends and doesn't know where Jaffa Street is, even though she comes here every single year to visit. She stays at her grandchildren's place. They're here for a year or two while their husbands learn Torah at some ultra-orthodox institution. And sis was astounded because I didn't know where Arzei Habira was.

I met sis on the main street of the Geula neighborhood and since it was Friday, the crowds were fierce. I told her I was looking to buy newspapers, but walking up and down the streets, I realized that not a one store was going to sell me or anyone else for that matter, non-kosher, secular newspapers.

I passed by a music shop, but you can bet Britney Spears or 50 Cent was nowhere to be found, and that the salespeople probably never even heard of them. Jewish bands, Hasidic singers, boys' choirs - yes. And there were enough of those performers/bands to fill up that store. One day, I'll just peruse to see what exactly they all sound like. Perhaps different Hassidic sects have different music and maybe it even sounds different? Who knows.

I wondered if the American bakery - Brooklyn Bakery was still in business. It was, and it was packed with people that we went over to the long-running Gerlitz bakery, which had wonderful challah bread and cakes.

I passed by a store that sold evening wear, and was surprised to see that some of the dresses were sleeveless. Probably the religious police had never come into the store. I kept taking them off the rack to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Even I felt self-conscious in the neighborhood with my dress which was cut a couple of inches below my neckline. Everyone else was much more modestly dressed than I was.

The store owner knew I wasn't from the neighborhood and complained, "People don't think there are any nice dress stores in Geulah." I told her she was right. I actually loved the stuff in her store and told myself I'd buy something here for the next wedding of one of my kids - as the prices were the same prices as an outlet.

My sister dragged me off to some dull clothing stores and marvelled at how cheap this ugly brown sweater and checked brown skirt were. She loved them. I hated them.

I told her I was looking for a beautiful challah cover and maybe I'd find one cheaper than I would at the tourist shops downtown, but wherever I went, the covers were more gaudier than the next. My sister was surprised at my disappointment and couldn't understand why I didn't like the silver fringes surrounding the covers. I told her I like the more modern designs, not the old-fashioned stuff. I couldn't find anything modern here. Nothing. Nothing in light blue or purple or orange or red. Not clothing, shoes or challah covers.

Now I know people wore beautiful clothing in biblical times because the bible always mentions crimson, scarlett, purple, blue and other lovely shades. So where did brown, black, grey and navy blue become the de rigeur colors of the ultra-orthodox?

To Be Or Not To Be

Well the elections came and went. Ho hum. No big deal for me. I voted for a party that didn't get any seats in the Knesset - Green Movement/Meimad. I always seem to go for the losers. The best thing about election day on Tuesday was the day off work. I told my kids "See? THIS is what a Sunday is like pretty much all over the world." I ran to get my son shoes for the upcoming wedding, and a birthday cake for the ungrateful coot I'm married to. He turned 50 that day. 50 going on 15.

But I was reflecting on people who don't seem to be what they really are,or who others perceive of differently than they perceive of themselves or whatever....Here's the picture.

Today, my son was watching a game - not sure if it was soccer or basketball. But the names being called out by the announcer were so familiar.

"Abarbanel take the lead"
"Abuhatzeira has the ball"

I'm thinking to myself - Abarbanel is a 15th century Torah scholar from Spain and Abuhatzeira is the Baba Sali. What are all these Holy Men doing on the Sports Channel?

And my Arabic teacher met me in the lobby in the building where I learn Arabic and was talking Arabic to me, but when we entered the elevator and were surrounded by non-Arabs, he didn't seem to "hear" me when I tried to speak back to him in Arabic. He doesn't especially "look" Arab and wanted perhaps to blend in more with the surrounding Hebrew-speaking Israelis.

Last Friday I went to my Jewish Renewal service in Jerusalem. I didn't want to stay overnight that evening, preferring to relax on Saturday at home. With no public bus transportion on the Sabbath, I was grateful to have an extra 60 shekels to cab it back home. Actually, this is quite a cheap rate compared to the more expensive Friday night rates, but I had made a deal with an Arab taxi driver around a year ago to take me back home from Baka in Jerusalem at a good rate. I called him after the potluck meal around 10:00 pm. He came promptly. Driving past the guarded entrance to Maaleh Adumim, the guard stopped him, and asked him if he were coming back out in the next five minutes or so because he will have a passenger going back to Jerusalem if he does. The taxi driver answered him back in unaccented Hebrew - he was putting on "Israeli airs" I could tell - and was thrilled that this wasn't a "car check". "See" I told the cab driver. "This is the reward you get for giving me a cheaper rate. You don't have to do that for the person going into Jerusalem, though."

Sunday, I went to pick up Hubby's suit for the wedding in Maalot Daphna, an ultra-orthodox Jewish neighborhood in Jerusalem. The suit was at my sister's sister-in-law and I put on a head covering for the occasion so as not to distress her. I didn't know if she would have been more distressed at seeing my hair because of religious reasons, or because it's half gray and half blonde, in desperate need of hair color. After I had picked up the suit,I wandered around the neighborhood taking it all in. I still didn't look like a native - even though my hair was covered and I wore a modest dress. Everyone knew I was an outsider. You see "they" all dress in navy blue or beige or black. These ultra orthodox neighborhoods are rather colorless. I had on a scandalous orange coat and I could see everyone's eyes on me. I wandered into a fruit store where the owner insisted I was a psychologist. I insisted I wasn't. He continued:

"Wherever you go, they will say you look like a psychologist."

He was big and bulky and I couldn't argue with him. Who would want to? And of course he knew better than me. He knew what I was, even though I didn't. It seemed so simple.

I sat at the table this evening, and my husband looks at me with disdain. I'm wearing a dress.

"What are you? Religious now?" And goes back into his cave. He comes out later with rants.

"You buy yourself clothing and the party's over! Why don't I get clothes?? You're SELFISH!!" He repeats this a few times. I shake my head. I had offered to him the same budget I had for clothing this winter, but his answer at the time (last week) was "I don't need anything until the Spring." So - fine. Hey, I won't argue with people that don't "need" anything.

My kids' conversations around the dinner table focused on those awful Leftists. Then they looked at me and laughed. Oh no! Mom's a Leftist. I try to explain that liking the sons of Ishmael doesn't make one a Leftist. But it's no use. They know what I am, better than I do.

It seems everyone does.

Proselytizers

Hubby's working for messianic Jews these days, and he told me one evening over dinner,

"every day the client quotes some proverb or something from the New Testament. It's usually something about Jesus/Yeshua. I think they're trying to prostrate me."

And I fell over laughing because this guy's vocabulary is pretty much like Kelly Bundy's of Married With Children. Like the time we walked past the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but he insisted it was the Church of the Holy Sculpture.

But speaking of proselytizers....it's sad when you see, or think that your mission is failing. I'm sure Messianic Jews feel a sense of failure at not being able to save unsaved Jews. And I, for one, feel a sense of failure at not being able to fulfill my peace mission between Arabs and Jews. Like I once or twice said - I'm a missionary for peace.

I was supposed to have my interfaith meeting this past Thursday. In fact, 5 new people from Maaleh Adumim showed up. I was terribly excited. I had Eliyahu McLean guest speak on our sensitive subject of "What does the Koran and Torah teach about War?" and to balance things out a bit, I also picked up a bunch of Tu-B'shvat (New Year for Trees) treats since next week is the day and the almond trees will start blooming beautifully all over the country. Even better, the people who did show up were not the already converted, but people who didn't believe that Arabs want peace, but that they can't be trusted, and all that stuff. Just the kind of audience I wanted for this meeting.

But my Moslem co-coordinator was nowhere to be found. And both his phones were off. I had called him earlier in the week to make sure Palestinian permits were in order and he said it was. I called another Moslem participant who told me he "couldn't come" and that our Moslem coordinator was probably being harassed by Palestinian police and pressured not to come. "They know about your meetings", he said sadly. With both phones being off, I was terrified that he was locked up in a Palestinian prison somewhere, all because he is teaching the Islamic perspective on things to a bunch of Jews living over the green line. Insane. I told the other guy maybe our coordinator could bring over the police to show them how harmless these meetings are, and how in actuality they are to their benefit. But the most M. could do was email me the Moslem perspective.

Being that I have a shitty computer, which doesn't read any of my Word documents, I couldn't open up his presentation. Instead, I sent it to work where I'll forward it to our members.

But the thought of moderate Palestinians being harassed by their own extremists made me awfully sad. I didn't want to get into the "you see?" mode that my guests were trying to convince me is really the case.

The next day I walk into the local health food store and met an acquaintance who is dabbling in local politics. She right away brought up my co-existance religious dialogue group.

"You know 80% of violent crimes are committed by people you know."

"Like spousal abuse" I answered.

She left it at that, but was inferring that "they" were likely to commit violent crimes on me or at me or towards me - however you say it, even though I trust them.

And I thought, after she left of course, because my clever thoughts never arrive on time, should I not have gotten married because these 80% statistics are scary, and that men can be violent to their wives? So should I not take a chance and trust to bring Moslems into my home because there is a chance that they'll turn on me? Like Husbands may do on their Wives - and Employees on their Employers, etc. But some of the most fulfilling moments in life are when you do fight that inner fear and take that chance.

The Penitent One

Years ago when I started my blog in 2004, I referred to this youngest daughter of mine as "the Criminal" one. Why? She was always getting herself into some kind of trouble. It started in elementary school when she didn't feel like sitting in class and would wander around the hallways just chatting up everyone from teachers to students on their way to class, to the bathroom, to the office, etc. Then she acted out inappropriately during a memorial day service assembly, laughing and jumping around with her friends. The summer she barely graduated elementary school she stole money from the charity boxes at the pizza shop, went to a dormitory school in the Fall and hitchhiked all over the country at 13.

One day her friend's mother accused her of stealing 500 shekels from their house. My daughter denied it and then threatened in Hebrew,

"I know people from the Olam Hatachton (the underworld)."

The woman responded, "I also know people from Olam Hatachton."

Now listening to this conversation, the only Olam Hatachton I knew about was the lingerie store in the local mall called Olam Hatachton, and I wondered why are they bragging that they know people from the lingerie store, until it dawned on me hours later that it was the real Underworld, the Israeli Mafia, from where both bragged they knew people.

Then there was the time the daughter tried to get into Teddy Stadium to watch a football match. She had a penknife on her because she had hitchhiked into Jerusalem, but they caught her at the entrance with the weapon and opened up a serious police file on her. Not to mention the joint she gave her friend over a year and a half ago, which brought on yet another police file.

So, I really should have been relieved when she told me a few weeks ago that she was "learning" every night in the Bukharian Quarter with a woman called Vered, who teaches other young girls like her about Judaism. Religious Judaism. Ultra-Orthodox Judaism. These past few weeks, I would see her reading Psalms and reciting Grace After Meals and blessings before food.

This weekend she was spending, not at her boyfriend's place as she had always done, but at a girls' seminary in the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood of Har Nof in Jerusalem.

"Where and what is this place?" I asked her, a bit concerned. She seems to be delving into religion at 300 miles per hour. She told me where it was, and I googled it, only to find nice things said about the place by girls who had been there. I was looking to see whether it was attached to any scandalous religous cults like the Jewish Taliban women, or the Megirot lady who spiritually unclutters everyone's life - but some weird stuff was written about her, and I didn't want her associated with any of these people.

And she's into Breslov Chassidim too - the crazy ones who dance around downtown to holy reggae music in their white caps, who are always happy no matter what.

So - where we used to always admonish her for all the infractions she had acquired, I wonder whether she'll be admonishing Hubby and I pretty soon for all the infractions we are doing in living our semi-secular lifestyle.

Grounded

I have to reluctantly admit that I admire the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) at times. For totally different reasons than you might expect. They can do with my daughter things that I was unsuccessful at as a mother. Two examples:

1. Educate her. She dropped out of high school at 10th grade. I couldn't convince her that an education is a good thing. Her principal humiliated her and she wanted nothing to do with school. Ever. Until the army persuaded her that she could go back to studies, under their auspices, and she'll get her high school equivalency that way - with no abusive principals. And now she's in the midst of her studies and is excited to report to me that she is doing wonderfully in Math, History and English but terrible in Geography. For her to be doing wonderfully in any subject is something that the IDF has accomplished and I have failed. Unless she was just ready for learning at her advanced age of 20.

2. Grounding her. Throughout her life, I have been unsuccessful at grounding any of my kids, when they needed to be punished. They would laugh smugly at me, and just either climb out the window or push me out of the way, while marching out the door after I tried grounding them for the usual stuff teens get grounded. I could only shrug and bear it. So with good reason, I felt a tinge of jealousy at the IDF on Thursday when my daughter, who was supposed to be home for the weekend, called to say she wasn't coming because she "had to be at her base."

"What did you do now?" I asked her, knowing that she was in fact "grounded" by the IDF.

"Nothing. It was for something stupid." she answered.

Something stupid? She got grounded for something stupid. And the IDF was successful in grounding her for something stupid? I was green with envy. How do they do that? What is their secret? Is it because they have live ammo that frightens her? Is it jail time for them if they disobey orders? How do they ground my daughter for something stupid when I had trouble grounding my kids for more serious infractions like telling me to go fuck myself? How? Her job in the IDF is shrouded in secrecy. So I may never know their secret for their success.

Tikkun - Repairing the World - or trying to...

While watching the inauguration of the new U.S. president at the American Cultural Center with a bunch of other expats, I had this wonderful feeling that the U.S. had finally done its tikkun (spiritual repair work)for the way African-Americans were treated way back when. I saw much pride in the faces of young Afro-Americans, such joy that seemed to sweep right through the tv screen towards everyone who was watching with us. I loved the happy multicultural scene of the crowds in Washington D.C. and even felt a bit jealous that they had that and we don't have that - yet. For me, it was an incredible moment, though I smiled at the thought of how my now-deceased dad, who was a Jewish Archie Bunker, would have reacted to all of this.

A Jerusalem peacemaker, Elad, held a gathering last night of dozens of people at the YMCA to discuss the "situation." Although much better than last week when we were in the midst of the Gazan war, there was still much repair work to be done. Jews and Arabs gathered together because we all felt that we were in the same boat, so to speak. Because we peacemakers are standing in the middle between both Jews and Arabs, we got it from both sides. We get the hateful remarks about the other, and it's hard after a while to listen to everyone's venom bouncing off of us, when you're standing in the middle. It almost feels as if you're being squished from both sides. People sitting at my table laughed when I told them I got mail from a friend in Tulkarem telling me to boycott Israeli products and I got mail from a Jewish person telling me to boycott Israeli Arab products that I blurted out "MY GOD! I'M GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH if I boycott both." Israeli Channel Two was there filming our sharing circle about why we were there. And when it was my turn, I told the circle (and Channel Two) that we are really all one family - the Tribe of Abraham. And being that one part of my family got hit a bit harsher than another part of my family, it's part of my Jewish tikkun to do my bit to help out. We had no idea where we could help out. There were humanitarian drives for clothing and food and baby items to Gaza. Some of my friends who posted on the Jerusalem Anglo email list got a slew of hateful mail about 'why do it for them'?

Many actually said they got physically sick at the onset of this war. One woman told me she always felt that Gaza was the "kidney" of Israel. She was peeing blood and had tests done, but they couldn't find anything. She seemed to know it was related to the conflict and told the worried doctors not to worry, she'll check back with them in two weeks. Needless to say, her ailment is over. Other people were talking about how sick they felt and I heard someone say my friend Ibrahim was going around at the beginning of the war calling people up telling them he's dying. Kind of freaky, no?

We all wrote cards/posters to the people in Gaza. I don't know who will read them. I wrote mine in English and asked an Arab man I didn't know if he could please translate this into Arabic.

"I'm trusting you with the translation," I told him, hoping he wasn't going to translate my loving letter into something like "I wish you all would just curl up and die" or something of that note. But I had to trust this person to translate, and I did. After all, he's family, isn't he?

a wonderful word from Gershon Baskin

It was like he took the words right out of my mouth... I'm reprinting the whole article here:

Gaza needs a peace stimulus

History shows the power of people-to-people contact.

By Daniel Noah Moses and Aaron Shneyer
from the January 14, 2009 edition (Christian Science Monitor - www.csmonitor.com/2009/0114/p09s02-coop.html )

Jerusalem - "We have failed, haven't we?" our colleague from Gaza said over the phone, amid the sound of explosions.

For those of us engaged in "people to people" peace building, the latest violent chapter in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is both tragic and surreal. All around us, people remain convinced that the solution to the conflict depends on military fatigues, armored tanks, Qassam rockets, suicide bombers, stones, and F-16s. But violence will only prolong the conflict and inflict deeper wounds.

Israelis and Palestinians have a choice. They can continue business as usual: violence, separation, hatred, and fear. Or they can recognize that they must look for mutually beneficial ways to share their small corner of the world.

People-to-people diplomacy works on the assumption that if Israelis and Palestinians connect at a human level, they will build compassion and trust. They will change public opinion. Painfully, slowly, they will create cross-border movements to transform the cultural and political reality on the ground.

Many question the impact of people-to-people diplomacy. But it has hardly been tried. Researchers estimate that perhaps 5 percent of the Palestinian and Israeli populations have engaged in an organized "dialogue" or "encounter" program of any kind. Since the beginning of the second intifada in 2000, an estimated 1 percent or less of Palestinian and Israeli youth have had such an opportunity. It's unreasonable to dismiss people-to-people programs based on such a meager attempt.

When the conflict between Israel and Hamas took its latest ugly turn, Israeli and Palestinian graduates of the Seeds of Peace summer camp in Maine were at a citywide interfaith celebration in Haifa. While Hamas and the Israeli government communicated through violence, the "Seeds" communicated with words and affirmed their commitment to finding nonviolent ways to build a better future.

Participants of all ages in reconciliation programs such as Seeds of Peace go through profound personal transformations. They do not melt into soft consensus and sing "Kumbaya." They struggle – intensely. They disagree radically about fundamental issues.

At the same time, they come to terms with the existence and the perspectives of the "other side." They form deep, life-long relationships. They build trust.
But it is difficult for seeds to flourish when the ground is toxic. To cultivate a culture of peace, we need a critical mass. Leading up to the Good Friday agreements in Northern Ireland in 1998, at least $650 million in mostly government funds was spent over five years to bring Catholics and Protestants together. This people-to-people diplomacy touched at least one-sixth of the population (250,000 people).

There are nearly 12 million people within the borders of Israel and the Palestinian territories. To reach roughly the same proportion of people there as in Northern Ireland, let's assume we need to spend at least the same amount per capita. This would be about $5 billion over the course of five years – $1 billion a year.

This is pocket change. The war in Iraq has cost the American government almost $600 billion so far. The United States gives more than $2 billion annually to Israel for military aid. Why not invest close to that amount in peace – $2 billion a year over the course of five years, just $10 billion for the first phase of a peace-building initiative worth its salt.

For such a "peace stimulus" to succeed:

1. The United States must lead an international campaign to bring together millions of Israelis and Palestinians for sustained people-to-people diplomacy.

2. The Israeli and Palestinian governments must make people-to-people diplomacy a public and vocal priority.

3. Programs need to be flexible. They must provide space for local initiative and local needs.

4. Resources must be devoted to programs that focus on community building, on dialogue within communities – on getting one's own house in order.

5. Programs must be coordinated and sustained: Follow-up is essential. Individual organizations need to work together, to share resources, to have maximum impact. The Alliance For Middle East Peace is taking critical steps in this direction.

First, we have to navigate the geography of conflict: the enforced separation, through military and legal means; the emotional and psychological barriers, just as strong. We urge the international community to construct a chain of secure centers, safe havens, at the separation barriers, where Israelis, Palestinians and internationals can meet safely and interact as equals.

With war raging, with people dying, with pain, anger, and hatred intensifying, world citizens of conscience must take responsibility and realize our power to help transform this conflict. A well-coordinated people-to-people initiative would do more than perhaps anything to ease the tensions in the greater Middle East and on the world scene.

False Alarm

We were all sitting in the board room of our office happily enjoying lunch. There were all these visiting professors and heads of U.S. foundations at the table with the regulars. And then I heard that awfully scary drone of the siren. In Jerusalem - not from Sderot, Beersheva, Ashkelon - but in Jerusalem.

"Oh fuck!" I screamed out, not really caring what our illustrious guests thought of profanity at this point. "That's the war siren. We'd better head for the shelter." I left my soup and lasagna and salads on the table and headed for our basement shelter. I tried calling my kids to see how they were handling this. And I wondered aloud.

Did Iran try to get at us?
Did Hezbollah's rockets reach as far as Jerusalem?
Did the Gazan Kassams reach as far as Jerusalem?
Was it Al Qaida?

But 10 minutes later the people who knew how to get internet from their phones discovered that the siren was either a false alarm or a test. But now I know how the people down south feel every day. It can be quite disruptive and nervewracking.

Meanwhile, the emails and messages I received were dismal.

The director of our interfaith group said the retreat with Hebron Palestinians was off because the person giving the Moslem perspective wasn't able to get his permit.

One Palestinian wrote me that he is not going to come to my next meeting because until he hears condemnation of the violence in Gaza, he refuses to have any kind of normalization with Israelis. I was gonna write him back - a) he doesn't have to worry about having anything normal with me - because I'm certified crazy, and b)WTF? If I stand in the middle of the street and say I condemn the violence - how will that change things? Will the army stop what it's doing because a crazy woman is yelling and screaming in the middle of the street for the killings to stop? And what about the rockets coming in from Hamas?? Who will have the balls to stop? Will this war run by men with an overload of testosterone come to an end soon? I thought about it and thought this region must be run by women. The worst we can do is get into a catfight and pull each other's hair out.

And speaking about male ego, my daughter had told me that the reason there was so much traffic from Maaleh Adumim to Jerusalem the past week or so was because the mayor had gone to the soldiers manning the checkpoint,telling them to hurry the cars through so the traffic tie ups would be less. Their officer got offended the mayor didn't come to him first and then ordered his soldiers to very s-l-o-w-l-y check each and every car, taking up a tremendous amount of time and causing everyone's travel time into Jerusalem to be a two-hour ride instead of a mere 40 minute trip. If this is true, it's total male ego madness, and if this is what's running the country, we're in trouble.

My truck runneth me over

At least that's how I am feeling at this very moment. Every bone in my body aches. Hubby had been feeling like this a couple of days ago and called me to say that we were gonna have dinner at Shaarei Tzedek Hospital - he felt so bad - which I promptly told to my co-workers over lunch - and boy did we all have a good laugh with all the women saying in unison - "men!" But today I'm babying myself with ginger, lemon and honey tea and the Jewish penicillin chicken soup.

And everywhere I turn, it's war - even though it's not felt in the Jerusalem area to the extent people are feeling it in the south of Israel and of course in Gaza itself. I can't seem to do a news fast. My husband is pretty much glued to Al Jazeera's English station and my emails are full of all different kinds of mail. Some are "Let's boycott Arab products - because the Israeli Arabs are traitors", and an American friend married to a Palestinian in the West Bank emailed me a "Let's boycott Israeli products" thing. Now how the fuck am I supposed to do that?

"No, darling, I can't watch your son (my grandson) today. Not until this war is over. I promised my friend I'd boycott Israeli products, and he's one of them."

That would also mean all Teva medications and 99% of the food I eat. Not to mention no ICQ and using my disk-on-key. Even if I were far to the Left, it would seem nearly an impossible feat.

I got a sad email from the Sulha family that a Gazan peacemaker's two children were injured in the fighting, and that we should pray for them. He would come to the Sulha each summer with his family.

And thank God I get emails from groups that are saying "Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies" and the All Nations Cafe is working in Walaja in planting workshops together with Jews and Arabs and are having a peace workshop on Tuesday that I hope to go to, if I'm feeling better.

Rabbis from Human Rights had a 20th anniversary get together at Maaleh Hachamisha hotel in the hills outside of Jerusalem this past week, with Chava Alberstein performing. Hubby and I thought it would be dinner but I had my suspicions because it was free. He was feeling like shit but decided to meet me anyways at Liberty Bell where a bus was going to take all us car-less people to the event. I introduced myself to the handful of people there. There was a familiar-looking woman there. I started to talk.

"You look very familiar."

"You probably know me from demonstrations."

"I don't demonstrate"

A look of confusion from the woman.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from Maaleh Adumim."

Woman steps back. I continue.

"Yeah, I hold dialogue groups between residents of Maaleh Adumim and Palestinians from Abu Dis."

"IN MAALEH ADUMIM?" She shakes her head. "What are you gonna do when we give it back?"

I was gonna ask her - "back to Jordan?" but nicely responded that I will worry about it when it comes to that, and that I'll take up residence in Abu Dis since I have friends there, it's cheap and I'll perfect my Arabic.

Hubby was feeling lousy and he gave me one of his "in three hours time, you will hear about this from me..." looks.

Meanwhile, Hubby, aka Mr. Tact, was talking to me about his upcoming job. His long-time partner Abed was coming to work on this project and he was thinking about also hiring a Jewish guy who he knew was out of work now. He says rather loudly,

"Well, it's better than hiring an Arab."

I looked at our Arab bus driver, glared at my husband, hoping Mr. bus driver did not understand English or was hard of hearing. Hubby didn't get it. I continued glaring, pointed at the bus driver, and then Hubby picked up.

"You know, I need balance. I can't hire two Arabs - that would be imbalance. I need to hire this Jewish guy for balance."

Thank you darling, I thought. That's all I need is an angry Arab bus driver now while we climb all over the rain-drenched dark roads of the hills. Geez.

Even at the venue, Mr. Tact went on when he saw there wasn't any dinner. We were walking in with the other participants and he's talking about how "fucked it is that there's no dinner, and what did I think? That they were gonna feed 200 people for free?" Thankfully, we were at a hotel, and I stuck my hand into my Contingency Fund envelope that I save for emergencies, and this was such a one. I gave him 100 NIS and told him to buy himself a meal. A real meal. The speeches were all gonna be in Hebrew which was, again, another no-no for bringing Hubby along. But he assured me that he'll be fine, after he eats, lounging in the lobby to people-watch - which he was.

Then as I worried both for our troops in Gaza and for our own in the South of Israel and for the innocents in Gaza - there were reports coming in of terrorists caught in the nick-of-time in the Jerusalem area and global demonstrations against the Israeli action in Gaza. I walked into the store where I do my weekly shopping in Gaza. I smiled at the Palestinian workers and they didn't smile back. Perhaps it was the situation, perhaps they had a hard day at work. I don't know. But I felt something wasn't right. I asked a worker unloading veggies if there were newer lemons other than the ugly ones on the shelves, and I didn't get an answer from him. I came up closer to him and repeated my request. Again. No answer. Was this a protest - ignore Israeli customers day - of some sort? I tapped him on the shoulder and then he answered me. I hope I wasn't being paranoid, but it threw me for a loop a bit.

At least I have my visions. I sat down afterwards and meditated. Instead of the war-torn poverty-striken, Hamas-occupied Gaza strip, I envisioned beautiful beach resorts by the sea beckoning Israeli tourists to come. The Arab hospitality is in full swing, they are prosperous, there are luxury hotels and then there are these quaint Sinai-type huts for the tourist looking for a more close-to-the-earth experience. We go fishing with the Palestinians in their fishing boats, and we sit by a bonfire on the beach, sipping Arabic coffee and enjoying the tranquility.

Abundance

It comes in many forms. I stopped into a local health food shop to buy some organic peppers, of which there was none left, and struck up a conversation with the proprietress of the store about money.

"In my money book, it tells you not to say 'I want' but that you already have. Say, 'the money's coming' - or,'Im going to have...'." She advised me.

Oh? I get it. If you keep on saying "want, want, want", then you'll always be wanting. These are the laws of the universe.

I told this to Hubby who managed to wrangle the car off our stingy daughter for some local errands.

He's sitting at the wheel repeatedly telling himself, "I'm going to have an abundance of sex" and laughed at his new-found knowledge.

Meanwhile, I thought of joining a support group of parents whose kids have turned religious. There must be a support group in Tel Aviv or somewhere secular. Because this abundance of my children becoming religious is rapid and somewhat surprising.

This week my 4th daughter announced that she was going to keep the Sabbath totally - no computer, no phone calls, no turning on lights, smoking, and she's going to synagogue.

My soldier daughter and her boyfriend have come to me for the weekend, and demanded that I have everything ready, all the food, hot water, hot plate - everything done before 4:12 pm - the onset of the Sabbath. They are getting more and more observant and I wonder when they'll stop sleeping with each other if all the rest of the stuff is so important. But they'll probably leave that for last, of course.

She kept on annoying me throughout the afternoon while I was speed-cooking, announcing that I have "1 hour left before Shabbat starts" and why is it taking me so long to make the food - didn't I start at 11:00 am? No. Actually, I started at 12:15 p.m. after a lovely breakfast out with my husband and married daughter. I had enough money left over after shopping to treat everyone and it felt good. I hadn't dined out since late November. But getting back to the soldier daughter, every 1/2 hour or so she would trounce into the kitchen and annoy me with her time announcements.

"Shabbat is at 4:00, and you're not even ready!" she complained.

I glanced at the newspaper and saw that it actually began at 4:12 pm and told her so, plus I'm adding the 18 minutes extra allowed by rabbis, or whomever it was that did this timing thing. So I actually had until 4:30.

And miraculously everything was done by 4:30-ish, and I wondered what it would have been like had I told the kids to fend for themselves while I wandered off to my favorite Jewish Renewal service in Jerusalem which was this Friday night. It was hard for me to miss that service.

But I chose family this weekend and after dinner Hubby was making fun of my son who was in one of the bedrooms playing Playstation Soccer with my (secular) daughter's fiancee - so he thankfully didn't know he was being made fun of - by Hubby putting a large bowl over his mouth, saying my son's mouth was as large as that bowl. This put all my daughters in hysterics and two of then literally fell on the floor with laughter. They love taunting and teasing each other and have been doing this shit since they could talk. You all know we're not the perfect family. There was no point yelling at my husband about teasing my son behind his back. And don't worry about my son, who gets this all the time from his sisters, and gives it right back to them about them about pimples, lice (a thing of the past,thank God, but definitely part of their history), trouble with the law, trashy behavior, etc.

So the abundance of money for a breakfast out, four out of five kids home for the weekend and laughter was good enough for me.

Silence

This is a good thing when there's nothing I can say. These are moments when I have no solution, no creative insights, no nothing. I grieve for both sides in this conflict and wonder if it will ever end. Having the Kassams hit areas they've never hit and where I have friends is awful - schools and many businesses in the area have closed and those who can have sought refuge by relatives in other areas of Israel. But I also feel for the Palestinian mother of 5 daughters who were all killed. I can't imagine what her grief must be like. I have no words.

I just feel that the powers that be are too proud to stop this stupidity. Hamas and Israel are fighting for the upper hand, they both need to save face for their people.

Yet I'm trying to live a normal life, but it's hard. My neighbors met me at the bus stop this morning. The woman ranted about the Arabs in Gaza, "They get this hatred from their mothers' milk." I could only mutter back, "well, if over there they didn't all hate us before, they certainly do now", then feeling ashamed that I have sunk to the level of putting everyone into one bowl of soup.

On the way to Jerusalem with my daughter by bus, we looked at the parade of army tanks on the road, on their way to somewhere, probably the Gazan border - who knows. We tried to make light of it by saying they're probably all going for repairs at Wadi Joz - the East Jerusalem Arab neighborhood known for its cheaper car repair shops. But my daughter was nervous and was checking everyone coming onto the bus. She nudged me and stared at a young fellow who looked miserable. "Do you think he has a bomb on him." "No, of course, not. He's just having a bad day. Maybe he has relatives in Gaza, maybe he's angry at the situation, at Israelis, or just plain hates his job."

I got so tired of reading the same ol', same ol' news about everyone's opinions on whether it's right or whether it's wrong - or who's right and who's wrong. So it was just in the nick of time to get me out of my gloom that a friend sent me this video. It's 16 minutes long - but well worth the watch.

The End of America

A old friend of mine who lives in the greater New York area emailed me on Monday that she's in Jerusalem and wants to get together. I'm always ready to hang with old friends from my happy single days in New York City when they come to visit, so last night, I met her at Mamilla Mall near the Old City for a quick bite to eat.

I waited for her cab for what seemed like ages, thinking the fucking cab driver is probably ripping her off and taking her for a literal ride all around Jerusalem. After yelling at the cab driver who insisted (at 8:00 pm) that he couldn't go the straight way because of the "traffic", I slammed the cab door shut and took a look at her. No wonder they're trying to rip her off. She looked wonderful in a blue cashmere wool coat and also looked quite loaded, even though that wasn't the case, given the economic situation now in the US and that she also had lost her job several months ago. So clearly she is shyster cab driver fodder.

My friend seemed stressed, terribly stressed, and said she needed a real drink. Most of the coffee shops have those, so we walked along the beautiful outdoors Mamilla mall, as she told me her horror dating stories in the Orthodox dating scene. God, it sure is a jungle out there. Better be grateful for what I have, I thought.

Once in the restaurant and over our mojitas, I asked her what brought her here. Apparently she met this kabbalist rabbi about a year ago when he was visiting the States, who told her that she must drop everything and come to Israel immediately - before Chanukah because of some disaster that will happen in the U.S. And tonight before she met me, someone had told her what the rabbi had told them - that the entire United States would be flooded over because of global warming. No more U.S. Nada. Null and Void. A great big giant Atlantis.

I asked her - "Is Canada included?" but she didn't know. I was worried if it was included, then my sister won't be able to bring my husband's suit for my daughter's wedding, never mind all my nieces and nephews in Lakewood, N.J.

"This is serious shit for him to be scaring the wits out of you. I think you need a second opinion" and suggested she contact the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who gives messages through his letters/books. In other words, his chassidim place letters from people into volumes of letters he wrote throughout his life and through those books, answers are forthcoming. And they are pretty spot on. For example, we received a blessing to buy a house, which we did, which was pretty miraculous since we didn't know how on earth we would ever buy a darn thing here. And besides, the Rebbe said to always say positive things because that will influence the heavens in a positive way. So I really agreed/liked his perspective.

We walked back to the bus station and I was getting really aggravated by this rabbi's negative "prediction".

"What about Hollywood??? What will I do about movies? Does that mean I'll have to watch foreign films for the rest of my life?"

"Yeah" said my friend, "We'll have to do with Bollywood"

"And what about American Idol? And Macy's? And Manhattan??"

God can't be that awful to do such a thing. God is great. I know that.

I continued the conversation. "Well, if it does happen, God forbid, then all the extremist Moslem groups - the Taliban, Al-Qaida and others will jump for joy, thinking that the U.S. was duly punished for its sins. Is that what God wants?"

I tried googling the guy, in Hebrew and English, but didn't come up with a thing. So that was strange in itself. If he were well-known, something would have come up.

This morning, I ran to get the paper to see if the United States was still there. i breathed a sigh of relief. It was.

My husband put things into perspective for me, as he usually does in his grand way.

"You know, this country is the MOTHER of rabbis who are full of shit."

And with that, I say, amen.

Chanukah at Ibrahim's

It's the Festival of Lights time of year – when Israelis overdo the sufganiyot (Chanukah donuts) thing. I had one so far. I'm trying not to overindulge in the deep fried, transfat fest. But what I'm having a hard time doing is juggling all the fun stuff going on this week with the empty nest at home. The first night of Chanukah saw many people rushing home early or at least on time to be with their children to light the first candle of the holiday. Moi? No one was home except for Hubby. The youngest kid was working and my youngest daughter was at the married daughter's house eating those damn sufganiyot and then having the nerve to ask me if I'm bringing more home. NO! I'M NOT! There.

But what I did do was do things a bit different this year. I decided to do funky, unusual Chanukah celebrations, of which there are many this year. Tonight my friend Ibrahim on the Mt. of Olives was hosting a Chanukah party, Winter Solstice celebration, Christmas celebration and end of Eid. How many chances do Jews get to go to their Arab friends' homes to light Chanukah menorahs. Not many. I decided this was it.

I got a ride to Ibrahim's with an African-American Sikh teacher/musician SiriOm Singh and his Israeli wife. I'm sure the Arab cab driver had a tough time figuring out SiriOm with his white turban and white robe. Jewish? Moslem? Indian? Tribal African? We kept him guessing.

Ibrahim's wife had cooked for about 100 people – rice, majjadrah, various cooked vegetables and salads. But we were only about 15 in his cozy living room. Ibrahim told us some funny stories about meeting Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach for the first time in New York City. The Rabbi looked at Ibrahim walking towards him and started breathing in deeply. Ibrahim looks at him strangely. The Rabbi explains "I can always tell when someone is coming from the Holy Land". And he embraced Ibrahim and they became friends.

Another story was they were catching a flight from somewhere in the U.S. to Toronto. Ibrahim and his travel companion, David, both fall asleep in the airport terminal. They wake up and no one is at the gate!! They missed their flight apparently. They are told to wait at another gate standby for another flight soon to leave to Toronto. But then are told that the original plan is coming back for them. Ibrahim was wearing his traditional Arab robes and headdress. He believes they must have mistaken him for some oil sheikh, as the flight attendants were like "who are you? In 13 years of flying, we've never brought a plane back to the gate." He tells the attendants laughing, "who am I? I am a man with no country and no passport. I am NOTHING!" and he bellows out laughing as he tells the story.

Eliyahu came afterwards to light the menorah and tell the story of Chankuah. There were two Chinese and Japanese women there, who didn't know the story.

We went around the room sharing what we all wish for, and chanted and sang along with SiriOm, by the light of the two Chanukah candles which seemed to warm us all up miraculously.

Easy Remedy to Get Rich

Hubby didn't let me sleep. Not on purpose of course, but he was wheezing and coughing and getting up and getting down, taking a shit, and I heard all of it. At one point in the middle of the darkest night, he turns to me and says - ..."I can't breathe. This might be the end. I'm just saying goodbye to you now..." I am not very sympathetic when I'm woken up in the middle of the night and just said a weak "bye" to him and went back to sleep. I thought, well, I'll just bury him in the morning.

Needless to say, he was alive and well and stuffy-nosed at 6:00 am when I did wake up for the day, which ticked me off even more that he had to dramatize his stuffed nose to that point with me. Men.

I wasn't feeling so well myself; seems that I'm coming down with a sore throat but I was glad to be out of the sick house and on my way to a light day at work.

At the bus stop, a woman stopped her car and asked if any of us waiting for a bus would like a lift with her to Jerusalem. Why, sure!! This was quite unusual. People don't often stop for passengers and when they do, it's because someone in the neighborhood is hitchhiking. Not one of us was. So a female soldier got in the front, and a young man got in the back together with me. The driver is playing religious cds. Some rabbi is talking. I figured she got us into the car to proselytize, after all, we are a captive audience. The rabbi was going on about King David the Messiah, and kabbalistic aspects of the Sabbath meals, including the one right after the Sabbath called the Melave Malke (literally translated as "Queen's banquet"). I asked about the CD and the woman turned to me (at a red light, thankfully), and told me that having the 4th meal after the Sabbath is a segulah (spiritual remedy) for wealth. Wow! That's quite an easy feat for me. More meals, more food! Yay! But I thought about this whole thing from the beginning - the circumstances were certainly odd and perhaps part of Divine Providence. Like...
1. Why did she do the unusual thing and stop her car to give us lifts?
2. Why did she specifically focus on "that" part of the cd when she was speaking to me? After all, she wouldn't have known that I could use a few more bucks in my pockets.

But you know what? Adding this one easy thing to my life can't hurt. It's easy. I can do more food. Not a problem. And if I get rich as shit in the next year or so, I'll certainly let you know and then you can all add that special 4th meal after the Sabbath ends... It's certainly cheaper than buying lottery tix.

Creating anti-semites

I was just checking the papers this morning to see whether our Foundation was one of the victims of the Madoff scandal - the guy scammed so many people/banks/institutions of $50b - that I was nervous my paycheck won't come on time, if at all, if it did fall prey to this asshole. Luckily, our Foundation head was clever enough to not be one of his victims. But Hubby and I were like "What the Fuck? How on earth do you 'lose' 50 billion friggin' dollars???" We can't imagine. We only have had the wonderful exhiliarating experience of blowing thousands of dollars - of our own money, though. Then I was thinking of all the non-Jews who, when they read about this, will mutter rather loudly, "that fucking Jew" and unfortunately, they'll be right on about this one. Couldn't he have been another religion, like a Jain or Taoist or Buddhist or some other Eastern non-threatening religion?

Then yesterday afternoon, a crazy bus driver, who should have had his drivers license revoked, killed over 25 Russian tourists by trying to pass another car or some other stupid retarded thing on a mountain curve, during the relatively short ride from the Ovdat airport to Eilat. These people, who had just landed in Israel, were Russian travel agents traveling to Eilat in order to put the lovely resort on their agenda and to bring thousands of Russian tourists to Israel. "Just think about all the Russian anti-semites we just created" said a co-worker to me. We were so angry to read that the bus driver had around 22 traffic violations - even more amazed that he was still employed as a bus driver!! There are so many unemployed people these days who know how to drive well, and this freakhead was still employed. Seems the more infractions you have, the more "experience" you have, and are more likely to be hired by tourist bus agencies.

Like the Egged bus drivers - they get away with murder here, literally. Not enough that around 15 years ago my father's closest friend and his wife had been run over by a bus in Jerusalem, causing the man to lose both legs and the death of his wife. One woman sitting next to me on a bus the other week, complained that one day the bus driver mistook her for a woman he had argued with minutes earlier, so when she went to get out of the bus by the back door, the driver closed the back doors on her for four minutes straight, while the passengers screamed at the driver to open up the doors. She needed some physical rehab after that incident, but with the running around to various medical facilities, she had no energy to continue a lawsuit. That's the case I hear with many people who should really be suing the shit out of these bus companies.

Thank God, there is Hanukkah to look forward to next week, the Festival of Lights, because this is exactly what we need right now.

What a drag it is getting old....

The gardener came in to the office yesterday with a very cheery "My! Every time I see you, you look younger and younger." Thinking that perhaps he's not getting any from his wife, I looked at his compliment a bit askance. "What is your secret?" he asked. I told him - chocolate. It's gotta be that. It can't really be anything else. Or it could also be the age-deceiving long blond hair that I'm letting grow until it grows out of control, down to my waist, down to the floor - whichever comes first.

Truth is, I was suffering all day from friggin' neck osteoarthritis. I struggled through Arabic class in the morning, where the arthritis pain creeped onto my head and basically throbbed there for the rest of the day.

Early in the evening, I had to go with my daughter and fiancee and Hubby and fiancee's parents and brothers to the wedding hall to sample EVERYTHING on the menu so that the soon-to-be-married couple can choose their wedding menu. They put out 16different salads on the beautifully decorated table, of which the couple had to choose eight. The quinoa was delicious, but it's too freaky/hippy/healthy for my daughter, (and I liked it) so she didn't choose it. I should have told her that I hated it, then she would have given it a second thought. Then came four fish appetizer dishes, which we all passed around the table, of which they had to choose two. Then came around four meat appetizer dishes, quite unusual ones at that, and I was reluctant to tell her what I liked. Then three chicken main meal and three meat main meal dishes of which they would have to choose one of each. The older brother was like "what about the vegetarians?" The groom said, "Vegetarians? If they want to eat leaves, they could eat those," he said, pointing to the extravagant flower arrangement on the table.

Meanwhile, I had popped two neurophen tablets into my mouth at the onset of the meal because of my neck pain and I was truly trying to enjoy the food. I don't know whether it was the food, company or excitement, or the neurophen, but the pain lessened quite a bit and I thought of why I had this pain in the neck to begin with.

I remember on Saturday night, my son had downloaded for Hubby all his heavy metal favorite tunes - Alice Kooper, Kiss, Guns and Roses. I ran into my son's room like a rock star and danced and pranced, shaking my head all over the place, like I was some heavy metal goon. Of course I thought nothing of it. Until Sunday evening, when the pain kicked in. And I thought - hey. I'm so limited. Dancing, prancing, jumping up and down for joy, running for the bus are only things young people can do. Not me. Not anymore. And it's a bit of a drag, isn't it?

Words

I got this hysterical email from a friend. I also figured what a great way to teach a foreigner you don't like, a little bit of English!

"Once again, The Washington Post has published the*winning submissions to its yearly contest,in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings*for common words.

The winners are:

1. Coffee (n.) the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.) appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.) to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.) to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.) impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.) describes a condition in which you absent-mindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.) to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n.) olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.) a rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n.) a humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n.) the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n) a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.) a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.) (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n.) an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men."

And then I came up with two of my own - since I'm such a genius.

1. Gallbladder - the nerve of being incontinent
2. Paypal - paying the Vatican for the chance to become Pope.

Since English is not my son's first language any longer, I was trying to guess which city he was talking about, when he was telling me about the basketball games from the U.S he was watching on tv.

Scaraminto??? It took me a few minutes to realize he was talking about Sacramento. Sheesh. Foreigners!

My Arabic lessons are going well. It's a hard language but I have my fave words there too...

1) Daiman = always; but it sounds like "diamond"
2) Shitta = rainy; yup, rainy weather is shitta weather for sure
3) Moustashfa = hospital; but it sounds like moustache so it's easy to remember
4) mumkin = possible; it's a fun word because it sounds like pumpkin or munchkin.

That's all the words I have to day today, folks.

Just Chillin'

I could have danced all night...I could have gone to the Kagan's Jewish Renewal Minyan on Friday night and stayed over at a friend's in Jerusalem, I could have gone to Jerusalem Saturday night to see a friend's comedy show, I could have gone to pay a solidarity visit to Palestinians in Hebron on Saturday who were victims of Jewish violence, I could have gone to see Irish music Saturday night, if I had 50 shekels to spend on entertainment, but with being overwhelmed with all this stuff to do and no money to do the stuff that costs money, I decided to just stay home and do the traditional dinner with the family. The 2nd oldest daughter, who lives with her fiancee's family, is always at our home Friday night and promises she'll bring the kids too after they're married every Friday night. Unlike my eldest daughter who is always at her mother-in-law's home every weekend.

After the meal, my daughter and I haggled over songs for her slow dance at her upcoming wedding. Her fiancee wants Elvis' Love Me Tender (which I thought was wonderful), and my suggestions of the Beatles' "And I Love Her" and what I thought was oh-so-cool songs from Nat King Cole, like "Unforgettable" or Etta James, "At Last" brought a lot of "OH MOMs!!!" from her. I give up. She's not a music maven and, to her, classic music is music from the eighties. She didn't make me shut off YouTube,however, when I played her Dusty Springfield's "The Look of Love". Maybe, just maybe, she'll let the DJ play that one. For me.

Hi Sexy

"Hi Sexy" popped this message on my Facebook instant messenger. I was quite taken aback and wondered if one of my kids was online. My Facebook is pretty much an Arab/Jewish get together. There are religious and secular Jews that I accepted, some of whom I don't know, and there are many Arab names on my Facebook as well - many of whom I know, but then again, there is a good percentage who somehow found me, and we have no friends in common. But I accepted them because..

1. I want everyone to get together and have a good time and get to know one another
2. Maybe they'll start dialoguing
3. Maybe they'll see all the wonderful Jews doing interfaith/peace work on my Facebook and see that we're not such terrible people after all.

But I wasn't prepared for "Hi Sexy" and wrote him back. The guy was from Kuwait, it turns out and probably was looking for some foreign tail. Too bad he got me.

"No one's called me sexy in at least 10 years, and I'm sure I'm old enough to be your mother" I retorted.

He writes me "Ha! I'm 31"

I write him - "Ha Ha!! I'm 53. So I AM old enough to be your mother."

So he continued to message me, but with more respect this time, and told me he's originally from Lebanon and he hates Hizbullah because they ruined his country. Sounds like a good guy.

I get a Jordanian messaging me yesterday. He wants to know if I could visit him in Jordan, and blesses me with a good Eid Al Adha season and Allah should be good to me and all that. I bless him back, but don't take him up on the invite to visit him in Jordan - unless I can come with my entire family and converge on his house.

My daughter just got a computer and is into Facebook now - all her very religious in-laws are asking me to accept them as a friend.

I laughed with her this morning. "What will they think when they see all these Arab names on my Facebook?"

"Oh my God - Mom!" The truth has to come out sooner or later, I tell her.

I also tell her about the "Hi Sexy" man from Kuwait and she has a good laugh. And I feel so young again.

Just waiting and waiting...and waiting

I'm waiting for a whole shitload of things.

1. Like the messiah. I spent most of last week feeling terribly depressed over the terrorist murders of the Holtzberg couple in Mumbai, India, leaving their two-year-old son orphaned. I even took a look at a video of the memorial service where the kid was screaming for his mother, and I burst into tears at work. What kind of revenge did their family want? Not a revenge with weapons. But that there should be MORE light in this world. And I cried again at the wonderful-ness that is Chabad. What Jewish-affiliated person doesn't look for a Chabad house when they are traveling anywhere in the world? Entering a Chabad house is like coming home to familiar surroundings and sitting in a warm living room, lit up with a beautiful fireplace, while the snow is raging down outside. I remember going to Florida with my husband once and we needed a babysitter. We called up the local Chabad, who got us in touch with a family of 12 daughters, the eldest of whom would be our babysitter. Needless to say, she was great with our daughter. I almost stayed with Chabad in New Delhi on Friday night, but decided instead to see the authentic local synagogue and see how real Jewish Indians bring in the Sabbath. But I knew that I can always rely on Chabad, if need be, anywhere in the world.

2. For the rain - The country is desperately in need of a washing up. There hasn't been any rain in weeks. Although I don't have shoes/boots for the rain, I'll risk having soaked socks for the health of the land. But it's cloudy out now and I think the rain will come today.

3. For hubby to start work - Those days/weeks in-between jobs are agonizing for him, as they are for me. That usually means lack of money for things like...food and other sundry items. Fortunately, I'm doing after-hours work so we can manage for food, but it means me coming home at 9:00 pm or even later. Only then do I start cooking and only at 10:00 pm do we eat. I try to imagine that we're not in Israel and that I'm in Spain or some other place, where it's the norm to eat supper so late. And those inbetween days brings out the worst in hubby's moods. Last weekend we were invited to a bar mitzvah at a synagogue about a 40-minute walk from our home. I don't remember the last time Hubs stepped foot into a shul - he hadn't even for the high holy days. But he sat around while I stuffed my mouth full of the delicacies laid out on several tables after the service, and muttered things to me like "there's nothing here in this synagogue..." and was about to hurl more insults at the synagogue and its congregants when I noticed the rabbi's wife standing near us. I shushed him loudly and he got insulted and walked away. As we were walking home, he continues his tirade against everything in and not in his life. I hear footsteps in back of me. Someone was walking behind me, but I didn't really care, I had just HAD it with that complaining man and I said something like "You are just such a FUCKING MISERABLE MAN, AND I HATE BEING WITH YOU WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS." And the person whose footsteps I heard, walked passed us. It was our friendly bank manager. I smiled sweetly at her, wished her a good Sabbath and wondered if she heard our spat.