NATTY-G's ---> random, honest musings on (my) life

ch-ch-ch-changes

2012-02-16T09:45:00.003-07:00

As if coming to Israel wasn't a BIG ENOUGH change....
we are about to embark upon another BIG CHANGE in our family:

MOM IS GOING (back) TO WORK.

This change is very much on my mind. I kinda think I've blogged about this before...

The truth is - except for a few months here and there (like when I was nursing two infants, attempting to start a business, or studying Hebrew in ulpan), I've always worked --- half-time, or part-time, but NEVER (almost) full time, til now.

My children have

ALWAYS BEEN GREETED BY AN ATTENTIVE AND ADORING MOTHER AFTER SCHOOL...
every single day, since the beginning of time,
(aka preschool) ... I've been there.

til now.

Luckily, there's something in Israel called: MOM HOURS.
This means I'll work 8:45 - 3.
Which is brilliant!!!

So really, they won't be on their own for long.
Just enough time to feel independent and mature.
Then, just-like-that, I'll arrive home, to:

do their lunch dishes, check their homework,
listen to their stories of the day,
hug them tightly, and kiss them good-bye, once again,
when they go out to play with their friends....

I'VE HAD SO MUCH TIME WITH MY
SWEETHEART-LOVES!!!

AM VERY GRATEFUL.
I HAVE NO REGRETS.

shiatsu-love

2012-02-15T10:57:00.006-07:00

My children aren't learning much this year in the way of traditional education, because

THEY ARE LEARNING A NEW LANGUAGE!!!

and that has seemed like enough of a challenge.

So for now, much of what is taught in school goes over their heads.
Little by little they will understand more and more, and then they will have some major catching up to do.

BUT for now, there is ONE THING they are learning in school besides Hebrew - and that is

SHIATSU!!!

"Shiatsu is Japanese for "finger pressure;" it is a type of alternative medicine consisting of finger and palm pressure, stretches, and other massage techniques. There is no scientific evidence proving that shiatsu can treat any disease,but shiatsu practitioners promote it as a way to help people relax and cope with issues such as stress, muscle pain, nausea, anxiety, and depression." -Wikipedia

Yes - this is very Israeli. Kids giving each other massages in school.
I don't believe this touching-curriculum would fly in the states.

Josephine was kind enough to give me a treatment tonight. She could tell I needed it.
and WOW!!! It really helped. It was so amazing!!! It brought tears to my eyes.

So maybe my kids can't do 100 division problems in 5 minutes, and maybe they can't name all of the 50 states... and maybe, just maybe, they forgot how to read music(!)... but they can give a mean massage!!!

Which to this momma, is worth it's weight in gold.

was it all worth 78 shekels?...

2012-02-14T02:24:00.005-07:00

Everyone says living in Israel is hard.
This week I'd agree, as I've had several opportunities to experience

GREAT FRUSTRATION!!

It all started last week, actually.

I went to some bureaucratic office (not mentioning names) and was told to fill out some papers (which I did, with the help of nice lady in adjacent building). I had to attach about 15 pages to the form, and then to go to another bureaucratic office.

The second office I was told to go to was in Kfar Saba, another town, because the one in my town, Herzliya, was "closed down" (or so everyone thought. even after double and triple checking.)

That was the same day the bureaucratic offices
in Israel went on strike for about a week.

so...

As soon as the strike was over, I went to the office in Kfar Saba, about a 45 minute bike ride away. Since I got lost, it took more like an hour.

I arrived hot and thirsty and tired.

Once there, I was told that I was in the wrong place.
That I had to go to the office in Herzliya.
I explained (over and over again) that I was told it was "closed down" - but the lady assured me it was not.

I cried.

I biked all the way back to where I came from
and she was right. It was definitely open.

Great.

Checked that off my "to-do" list.

My second great frustration was with recharging my phone.

I use a pre-paid card.
I have to go to the mall to re-charge my SIM card periodically.
No problem.

I went on Saturday - they were closed (even though every other store was open....)
Went today at around 9 am - they were closed.
They opened at 10.
I waited around at the mall - spending time/wasting time/killing time -
whatever you want to call it.

When the doors opened - everyone waiting knew exactly where they were in the pecking order of the line. I was last. This nice lady wanted me to go before her. She could tell I was already frustrated.

Every time I've recharged my phone, I've spent some magical minimum amount that gives the maximum benefit of 120 shekels.

I went to the desk that I always go to and asked the lady about the "deal" I always get.

She had NO idea what I was talking about.

I explained (over and over again) that I always get this deal.

It didn't make a difference. She knew nothing.

She told me to go the kiosk down the hall and to the right - that maybe he'll know.
So I did.

He had NO idea what I was talking about.

He sent me back to the store.

This time the lady called her manager.
He texted her back: "I am busy. Can help you later."

As about 20 people work at this store,
I asked if anyone there knew anything about the deal I always get?!

She told me that they, too, had NO idea what I was talking about.

So I took a chance.
I paid 265 shekels, and I got 78 shekels for free.
(the magical 120 shekels wasn't quite happening today, but it was better than nothing.)

Checked that off my "to-do" list, too.

I have a few more things left "to-do" on my "to-do" list, but I've decided it's going to be smooth and easy, because...

...I AM DONE DEALING WITH ANYTHING MORE FOR NOW.

IT'LL HAVE TO BE SOMEONE ELSE'S TURN.

quoting some stuff ...

2012-02-13T07:41:00.002-07:00

... By John Douillard, from the web-site lifespa.com

The flower doesn’t need someone to smell it for it to be satisfied. From the true Self, the words “I love you, but it is no concern of yours” is the experience of life. This means that loving fully without the need of being loved back is more fulfilling than the experience of being loved. When permission is granted to take a leap of faith to love someone fully not knowing or caring if they will return that love, is the experience of true love. To do this one has to become fearless and be willing to experience the vulnerability of true love. The mind’s most powerful emotion is fear and the “fear of not being loved” is the most fundamental or primordial stress. This stress is what separates one from the Self. It is the first mistake of the intellect, the original blemish, or sin that separates the eternal and non-eternal.

Emotions like fear, desire, anger, greed and jealousy imprison the mind, attaching it more intimately to the personality, taking it further away from the Self. These emotions are the cause of repetitive patterns of behavior, and Caraka tells us that the desire is the greatest cause of misery in the human body⁹. When we experience a stress, the mind instantly creates an energetic molecule of emotion. The body is chemically steered to store fat in times of stress and the emotional charge is stored in the fat cells. These emotions lie dormant deep in the body’s fat cells and when triggered by an old familiar stress, the same emotional tape is played. To break this pattern, the mind and body require an experience of peace and calm and the stored fat must be given a reason to be burned and detoxed.

from
http://www.lifespa.com/article.aspx?art_id=79

some thoughts on turning the big 4-0, in gratitude

2012-02-12T11:44:00.006-07:00

In 10 days I'll be turning 40.
Yes. 40.

FORTY.

As in
the BIG
4 - 0

It's hard to believe as I don't look a day over 27
(or so I'm told)
and I hardly feel a day over 16.... (much of the time.)

But it's true.

I was born in 1972, baby, and here I am,
at the doorstep of MID-LIFE!!!

This feels like a HUGE milestone!!!!
and I love milestones.
Benchmarks.
A chance to assess. Evaluate. Digest.

Breath.
Sigh.

Laugh.

Cry.

and LOVE EVEN MORE.

So here's my inventory of life:

Children:
Wonderful. Am truly blessed by amazing teachers.
They are so very loving and have the sweetest hearts.
Thank G-d I have my CHILDREN!!!

Family:
I have a mother who has always supported my dreams,
an extended family that I really enjoy spending time with,
and dear old friends that are like family, too.

Romantic Love:
Only in my mind. Remaining hopeful.
Am ready.

Career:
About to embark on re-awakening after long dormancy.
Feeling optimistic and motivated.

Physical Health:
It's what you do most of the time that matters.
I've been eating great and exercising regularly for years,
and I feel IT!!

Mental Health:
I have great tools to stay healthy.
I feel better and better ALL of the time.

Community:
Wherever I go, I am home.
I have many places to call home.

Friendships:
Wonderful. Soulful. Inspiring.
Am SO VERY Blessed!!!

I am living the adventure I have chosen.
I know I can pretty much do anything!!!

LIFE IS GOOD.

bring-back-the-birds

2012-02-10T09:44:00.005-07:00

Today we made bird-feeders with other families in our neighborhood to celebrate TuB'shvat:

to celebrate the earth by helping to
bring back the birds that no longer reside here.

As I am not yet plugged into what is happening around me, we stumbled upon this neighborhood/school related event quite serendipitously.

I seem to be operating on a need-to-know, in-the-moment basis,
which is working fairly fine.

When we first got there, I was feeling millions and zillions of miles away. There were yuppies and hippies and glue guns and hatchets and handsome dads and gorgeous moms and chubby babies --- ALL SPEAKING HEBREW...

I sat on a log like a bench warmer in a soccer game and observed,
not quite sure what position I was meant to play on the field.

Next to me sat a mom who was smoking. I assumed she was trying to hide it from her kids, but she wasn't. (note to self: I am not in Colorado anymore.) The mom invited Vivian to sleep-over tonight. When I told the mom that we had a Shabbat dinner to go to at 8:00, she said "No problem, we have one at 8:30. She can come over around 10:00, 10:30. They'll stay up til 1:00 or so. They'll have plenty of time."

Usually that's a deal breaker where I come from...
Once again, note to self: I am not in Colorado anymore.

Before I knew it - we joined the bird-feeder-making-project. Every step of the process we had to find a way to fit in with the people, fit in at the table, fit into this new world we landed in. Questions arose, like: Is that your hammer, or is it meant for sharing? Can my daughter use this paint, or is it only for kids under the age of four? Am I allowed to clean up the garbage? We found our way in silence, and seemed to not step on any toes (that we know of, at least.)
Alas, we managed to glue and hammer together an impressive bird-feeder.

I watched as my daughter painted her birdhouse colors of the rainbow.

Birds of all flights of life are welcomed.

I went to hang the bird-feeder with one of the dads. We hung it in a tree right near where Vivian broke her arm only months ago.... I gave the feeder a silent little blessing - that all the birds with broken wings and hearts will heal.

I hope the birds come back to our neighborhood soon.
Then I won't feel like I'm the strangest bird in the hood.

true love, in haiku

2012-02-07T07:13:00.003-07:00

I believe in true
romantic love. til it comes,
am happy as one.

a gorgeous sunset to remember

2012-02-04T06:55:00.013-07:00

Yesterday we were in Tel Aviv. We had the most gorgeous day,
which ended in a sunset to remember.

After days and days of rain, the sun was so joyous to be out and alive!

The sunset smelled like molasses soaked tobacco, like the streets of Akko.
The sunset sounded like ancient rhythmic drumming, and the whoomp-whoomp-whoomp of paddle-balls.

The sky opened up, my heart opened up, and I called to G-d! I gave thanks
for the blessings of dear friends, healthy children, and abundant opportunities.

(and for love.)

There was no need for an operator to connect the call.
The call was picked up even before it has a chance to ring.

The light was clear and pure,
as was the connection between G-d and my heart.

birthdays, lawsuits, & cultural misunderstandings

2012-02-01T11:53:00.006-07:00

Last week one of my children was invited to a birthday party at a SPA!, and one of them wasn't.... One of my children got massaged, played in a hot tub, and came home with a beautiful red manicure; while one of my children had a swollen red face from crying....

Needless to say - there was high drama in our home.

We cuddled. We ate pastries. We laughed. We cried. We worked through it.
We talked about how bad it feels to be left out.
That not everyone gets invited to everything.
That no-one is everyone's cup of tea.

That feeling left out sucks!

A few hours later - life returned to normal.
The drama had passed.
The lessons had been learned.

Or so I thought,
til last night....

Last night around 9 pm I got a phone call from one of the mom's of one of the girl's in my daughter's class. She called because her daughter had not been invited to the party, and she thought my daughter had not been invited either.

She wanted me to know how upset everyone was.
She wanted me to know about the repercussions of the party. That there's a lawsuit against the spa for admitting children under 16. That the three girls who threw the party are going to have a misdemeanor on their report cards. That the whole school community is upset and disturbed.

She wanted to upset me.

She wanted me to be as upset as she was.

But she didn't,
and I wasn't.

I do agree that it's not nice to invite most of the kids and not all of the kids.
Either you invite everyone, or you invite a couple. Period.
But at the same time - when you are paying for the party, and it's an expensive party, you get to choose.

I understand that this party has a bigger symbolic significance than I can grasp.
This much I've observed living here: Israelis are a team! They are very communal. Every other party we have gone to included all the girls in the class, or all the kids in the class. Not inviting all the kids is a cultural no-no.
The parents of the three girls who had the party together know this -
and they broke with a cultural norm anyway.

I understand. Change is hard.

Especially when the feelings of kids are involved.

As I was processing this with a dear friend - she had the insight to see that when there is something really big going on (aka Iran) - it's easy for people to make mountains out of molehills. (or turn birthday parties into lawsuits.)

The same mother who called me also sent me an e-mail. She wanted to explain herself more, and she said she expected more from me.

I wrote back reminding her that I am an immigrant,
I don't speak the language, and, quite honestly,
I have some of my own mountains to move.

must admit that sometimes, not speaking the language, and not understanding everything, is a blessing.

new for me

2012-01-26T09:46:00.007-07:00

I worried about this, and now that it's happening --- it's not as big a deal
as I thought it would be, or as dramatic... evidently... as

...I am prepared. (more so than I knew I could be.)

At this moment... my kids are out there developing their own lives.
Making some of their own decisions.
Having new freedoms.

At this moment... they are out playing with kids from their class.
both boys and girls
playing basketeball and hide-and-seek
having dance parties
roaming the hood as a gaggle of tweens

I haven't met all the kids (but I will)
I haven't met all the parents yet (but I will)
and that, unto itself, is weird for me!

BUT I KNOW THIS IS A GOOD NEIGHBORHOOD
WITH NICE FAMILIES, AND WITH PEOPLE ALL
LOOKING OUT FOR EACH OTHER. IT'S AMAZING.

I don't have to drop them off, make small talk with the mom (or dad), and then pick them up again. This is the second time this week when they have left on their own, and returned on their own. Sometimes, they still do have old-school play-dates. but I have a feeling we'll be having less and less of those...

as... THEY HAVE FREEDOM!!!
(which I believe is what literally makes them so cool.)
(that, and the fact that they know they are trustworthy.)

They are good kids.
They have been raised in beautiful places by communities of people who love them.
AND THEY HAVE EACH OTHER!!!

So, what I was not really prepared for is.... all this free time for me!!!
It's weird. It's new. It's good. And I'll get used to it.

MY LITTLE GIRLS ARE GROWING UP
AND THE PROCESS OF ME LETTING GO
IS NOT AS HARD AS I THOUGH IT WOULD BE.
nor is the process of them letting go of me as hard at
they thought it would be....

It seems we are all ready for this next stage
(but, I do miss them. which means

it's time for them to come home!!!)

and
here they are!!!
they are back - just-like-that -
my quiet has been replaced by exclamations and laughter. they are
scraped up, glowing, rosy, sweaty, and so very happy!!!

being far away

2012-01-23T21:22:00.002-07:00

It would've been very different to have moved abroad ten years ago - before facebook,
or... over twenty years ago - before e-mails and pc's.

Now - even though I am far away from my support network -
I don't feel it, completely, most days,

AND FOR THAT, I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Yes - I do miss my girlfriends.
I miss having coffee and laughing.
Going hiking in the wee hours of the morning, in the dark.
Wheeling around their grocery carts/babies - to help out/catch up at the same time.

Being this far away means it's not the same.
Some things you just can't get virtually,

LIKE A HUG,

OR A SHARED MEAL.

to be

2012-01-22T21:16:00.003-07:00

Living in Israel is providing me with an opportunity to explore being a Jew.

It's been years since I have pondered such things....
Living in rural Colorado was, for me, the antithesis of a Jewish experience, in most ways.
YET... even there, I still knew I was Jewish.
I never totally assimilated.

I went out for Asian food and to the movies on X-mas eve.
I did not chose to have a X-mas tree (once I got divorced.)
I always celebrated, at the very least:

Chanukah - with candles and latkes
Passover - with a nice dinner with (Jewish) friends, a sedar plate, and some matzah brie
Rosh Hashanah - with a nice dinner with (Jewish) friends
Yom Kippur - threw some bread into the water and contemplated fasting
Shabbat - went to dinner with Jewish families a few times/year, lit shabbat candles regularly (night of the week did not always matter.)
Made matzah ball soup regularly in the winter

I was talking to a friend about this yesterday. Two of the qualities he described as "uniquely Jewish" are things that have always been a huge part of my life.

Emphasis on education: I was told from day one that I was going to college (and I did.). I was an excellent student (aka geek) and took my studies very seriously. Luckily for my parents - I was very self motivated! As a mom - I went to my children's school almost daily in the states and made sure they had a team of people in place to meet all their needs (the school nurse, the school therapist, and of course their teachers.). Volunteered and brought in snacks. Was the room-mom in someone's class most years. Had kids start piano at 2 1/2. (but I do not, however, score high on consistency scale.) Have been reading out loud to my kids since the beginning of time - and plan to read to them through high-school (even if they insist I don't - I will find a way!). I heard that kids who are read aloud to have a higher chance of going to an Ivy League school.... time will tell. Regardless - it gives all of us pleasure.

We moved to Israel for many reasons - and a HUGE one is EDUCATION!!! I think it's vital for kids to have more than one language under their belt, not to mention the educational value of living abroad!!!

Attention to charity/tzudakah: My greatest pleasure in life is feeding people. Whether it's a dear friend, or a homeless person on the streets (who'd most likely rather have the money than the food) - I love sharing food. The flip side of that coin is: I hate waste. (also perhaps a Jewish quality?). I love to hand down clothes. I love to move things on that I don't use. I'm not likely to give money to charity - but I am very likely to give things, and food - regularly. It makes me feel vastly abundant to share what I have.

Even though I did not grow up going to services, or to Hebrew school, there is something so inherently Jewish in me.

Evidently, I am more Jewish than I realized.

I've been here four months now, and my exploration will continue.

I don't totally understand why it's so important to be Jewish -

why it matters so much that my parents were both Jewish, and all their parents,

and all their parents, and so on and so forth? But, for some reason

that I can't yet spell out in a digestible language, it is.

So here I am, giving my kids an opportunity to have a Jewish identity, and life.

What's more Jewish than that?!

in the mood for love

2012-01-19T12:47:00.010-07:00

Dear Dream Lover,

When I see you, my heart speeds up and leaves my body.
My body jitters, as if I've just had six espresso shots.
You are so handsome -

I forget to breath.

When I am in bed, I feel you holding me.
In the darkness, and in the light.

You are very tender and sweet. Strong and passionate.
You like to be as close as I do, as often as I do.

When I am cooking meals - and doing dishes - you are right there beside me.
You participate until we are both done, no matter how mundane the task,
or how tired you may be.
I appreciate this more than you can ever understand.

When I am overcome by my love for you, and my enthusiasm is bursting out of my lips,
I have no choice but to kiss you, and pronounce my love for you. Even in public.
It makes you blush with pleasure.

It is impossible to walk next to you and not hold hands.
It is impossible to look in your eyes and not feel completely seen.
It is impossible to be with you and not laugh - a lot.

I've waited a long time for you. There were times when I doubted that I'd ever meet you,
and times when I feared that when we did meet, you wouldn't recognize me, or be ready for us.

But I was foolish to have had doubt or fear.

Let's get lost together. Design our dreams together.
Let's make every day even more magical, together.

Let's be surrounded by beauty and fresh air; let's
devour all that is pleasurable and fun, together.

And let's dance, cheek to cheek, whenever we hear our song.....

love notes

2012-01-19T06:40:00.007-07:00

I have a very special locket that is filled with notes from several amazing women.
It was gifted to me upon my departure from the states this past fall.

I wear this necklace lovingly and often.

I have not opened it or read the notes inside since I moved. Not even once.
I feel the energy and the love when I wear it, and when I see it, and that's been enough.

I wore it today to ulpan,
and today the clasp of the necklace fell apart.

Today was also a day when I was exhausted!! Last week was tough, this week was busy - and I haven't slept enough. I've done way too much laundry. Way too many dishes. AND I found a JOB!!!

So basically, my brain turned off; my eyes could hardly focus.
I knew I needed nothing more than to SLEEP!

As I am mature enough to realize that there is *NO* point in going through the motions for someone else's benefit - I excused myself from ulpan and left early.

My teacher was pissed off.

I was thinking about this as I was biking home early: that my teacher is disappointed in me, and I have compassion for how she feels, but I don't believe she sees my whole picture - or gets my whole life (or that I even have one outside of Hebrew class).

I was also at this same time (in my multi-tasking mind) thinking that: my job is to take care of myself and my children. I've been around long enough to know what really matters. I am ok with my choice to leave (even if she is not).

as these thoughts stirred around my crowded head,
POP!!! went the necklace.
the notes spilled onto the sidewalk.

I parked my bike, recovered the necklace and all the scattered notes, and amazingly -
I found them all!

Here's what they say:

joy
do not worry! believe!
remember...
You are so beautiful - You have so much to share - And you always have everything you need. Love.
using my imagination/creating what I want
"I think that wherever your journey takes you, there are new gods waiting there with divine patience, and laughter" - S M Watkins
elan (a lust for life! in French)

I am so grateful that the necklace broke and that I was reminded of all these amazing words that now live in my heart. (and I can get the necklace fixed someday, when I'm next in Durango.)

I've been gone four months,

and I've already come a VERY LONG WAY ....

not one but TWO hot water bottles

2012-01-17T11:57:00.003-07:00

What I am doing is hard.
There is NO DOUBT about it.

Any stranger I might meet on the street can confirm for me that:

"What you are doing is hard."

Yes.
I know.

I am a single mom of two, in a foreign country.
learning a new language, and with no job and no close family.

(yada-yada-yada)

But in life, we can always focus on the hardships,
no matter how good we may have it in someone else's eyes.
IT IS ALWAYS POSSIBLE for the glass to be half empty. ALWAYS.

I chose, in my life, on a (mostly) regular basis, to focus on ALL those things that give me support:

all the grocers in my hood.
my bike that takes me everywhere I want to go.
amazing cappuccinos EVERYWHERE!
my new friends that I can laugh with like old friends!
my children's teachers.
hot water. a stove that works. a washer and dryer.

AND
my TWO hot water bottles!

The things I am MOST THANKFUL for each day, around bedtime (that's now), are the hot water bottles we moved here with. Wasn't sure how much we'd need them - but apparently, every night is the answer. At this point - I can't sleep without them. I am addicted to sleeping with my hot water bottles.

They are the closest thing to a warm body in my bed I have found - and that is a lot of (much needed) support at the end of my day!!! (and they are completely low maintenance and hassle free!)

THEY ARE GREAT CONTRIBUTORS TO MAKING
WHAT I AM DOING (HERE) THAT MUCH EASIER!!

I was a huge advocate of single-mom-friends getting the monthly massage.
Now, I'd like to add the two hot water bottles to the *how to survive a divorce* list.

I am having a love affair with two red, plastic bottles,
and I couldn't be more thrilled!!!

milk and honey

2012-01-15T21:46:00.004-07:00

yesterday - I was out of milk and honey.
in the morning I was not able to enjoy a cup of tea before heading out the door.

and I felt it!

as my eyes were closing in ulpan class, it became clear to me that
drinking my morning tea is a necessity, not a luxury.

so last night, I went to the grocery store (for my second time of the day) for two things:
milk and honey. (yes. in Israel. the land of milk and honey. pure coincidence.) I would've bought them on my first trip, but I was planning to get them at the health food store (because I prefer organic milk, even if there is no difference) - but the health food store was completely out of milk! and there was no way I could wait another day!!

so I went to the store for TWO things, and I left with SEVEN things:
milk
honey
some candles
three yogurt drinks
and butter

and so it goes - the land of milk and honey is abundant,
and has some very good deals on yogurt and butter!!!

odd feeling, in haiku

2012-01-13T05:20:00.002-07:00

my eyes sting. I blink.
I am still yet jittery.
my neck cracks like nuts.

I'm not alone

2012-01-12T21:51:00.006-07:00

This week - my kids were acting weird.

Vivian was home from school for two days because her *head* was hurting.
Josephine had to leave school early because her seat was changed and she couldn't handle it.
Both kids were whispering to each other more.

Then, a few days ago, I found out why.

I was doing some yoga and Josephine cuddled into me then disappeared into her room. Vivian came and said to me, "Mommy, Josephine has something to tell you."

I went into her room, sat on her bed, and she said:

"Mommy, when I'm alone, I'm not really alone.
I have bugs in my head."

(they had known for a bit and were too embarrassed to tell me...)

Hence started our first ever journey with head lice.

I called an Israeli woman I know who advised me to call her if ever this happened (as she knew it would. it happens to everyone here.) She told me to put kids into shower and to go to the pharmacy. So I put kids into the shower and I headed out the door. At the pharmacy I bought everything on her list: special expensive comb, head poison, baking soda, shower-cap.

The baking soda threw the pharmacist off. She thought I wanted it for whitening my teeth.... When I tried to figure out if what she had is what I needed, I asked her if it's the kind you use in cake? Now she thought I was baking a cake and wasn't sure if it was the right sodium bicarbonate? She was very worried that my cake may fail. She finally understood that I was not baking a cake - but that it was on my list of essentials for battling the lice - she was excited to have a new suggestion to offer her customers.

So I dashed home and started frantically doing laundry. I washed everything!!! All the sheets on the bed. All our hats, scarves, and hoodies. All the stuffies! Hair bands. Everything that touched our heads got boiled and or bleached (over the next few days.)

There were a few casualties. Favorite red hat is now pink. Favorite hair band is destroyed. But everyone agreed that we had no choice and not a tear was shed. (amazingly!!)

As I was about to do the first brushing with the expensive comb - the electricity went out. I felt my way to hall, turned circuit back to on position, and tried to start again.

Had everything lined out and was ready to comb once again when ... the electricity tripped again. Felt my way back to the hall, turned it back on, turned off a few things, and got to work again.

The two power outages had a very calming effect
on my nervous system.
I was ready to roll.

I had everything lined out, like a surgeon:
plate with conditioner and baking soda.
bowl of boiling hot water.
towel.
and the sink and toilet were nearby.

That night we all slept in clean sheets, with shower caps and poison on our heads.

Days later --- our eyes are still stinging.

And we have to do this poison treatment again on Tuesday.... (very excited. not!)

But - after combing and combing everyone's hair everyday! (with the very expensive brush that is worth EVERY penny) - I do believe we've won the battle.

I'm not going to get cocky. This is Israel, after all, and lice is a given.
but... We have some new family rules, like:
no touching heads, with anyone, ever again!!!!

Everyday my kids are getting sprayed down with a concoction I made: tea tree oil, lavender oil (that I got in Provence), and some real Rosemary (that I picked yesterday at Ra'anana park) - all in a rose water spray.

Hair will stay back everyday.
No hats.

It's been a tough week. But luckily - it was a problem that could be fixed. If Josephine had told me that she was not alone when she was alone because she was hearing voices, which was my first thought, we'd need more than a week, some poison, a comb, and a shower cap to win that battle!

At some point Josephine asked me if I thought that the lice understood Hebrew?....

This experience has me convinced now more than ever that Josephine may have a future as a writer/poet.

ps if you see my kids, please don't mention anything to them about this lice episode.
this was embarrassing. maybe over time they won't care - but for now.... shhhh.....

chain

2012-01-11T03:50:00.007-07:00

This week has been a little hard, for several reasons.
But what's amazing to me is that my attitude has been great!
Sometimes when I have an easy week, my attitude is bad.

There seems to be no direct correlation between
my attitude and external reality.

On my way to ulpan - the chain popped off my bike.
This is the second time this has happened in the past two weeks - so I decided to take my bike to the shop and trouble-shoot.

So I said good-bye to my biking buddy/ulpan friend and started walking my bike back in the direction we came from ---
towards Sokolov - to my bike shop.

Within minutes (still on same block) - this very kind old man told me (in Hebrew) that he can fix my chain for me. I said (in English) that it's ok - it's the second time it's happened and I will just take it to the shop. He said, "No, don't be silly. I will fix it so you can bike to the shop - if you want to." (in Hebrew). So before I knew it, this kind old man single-handedly flipped over my bike and got to work on my chain.

Fixing this chain is no easy feat!

It's a single speed cruiser with lots of style but no real practicality, like a pair of high heel shoes.
Last time it took the gas station attendant, along with me and my friend, 15 minutes!
I didn't think he could do it.... but I let him try.

I had no choice.

I watched. I waited. I made small attempts to help.

I really felt like by letting this nice old man help me with my bike,
I was helping him in much bigger ways....
(this thought bought me some more patience.)

When I felt like I'd waited long enough and had no more patience - I silently counted to twenty, backwards, in English, and all of a sudden I looked down and the nice old man fixed the chain!!! In less than five minutes!!!

I tried to offer him a wipe but couldn't find one, and by the time I looked up to thank him he was already gone.

Like an angel, with grease-stained hands.

I proceeded to my bike shop - but it was closed.
I doubled back to the one that was open - and my bike was fixed in less than 10 minutes, and for 15 shekels ($4), by a man named Nick.

I must describe Nick!

When I walked into the shop I was greeted by a black man with long corn braids (under a ski cap). I said "At medaberet Englit?" He smiled and said, "At?" ("At" is for a woman.) His English was all American!

It was soon clear that Nick is from New York. He's an entertainer (singer). He has been working bar mitzvahs and weddings for over twenty years now in Israel. When I asked him what type of music, he said "Black", with a "duh" thrown in. He added, "Like Lionel Ritchie. Marvin Gaye."

His mother converted to Judaism years ago.
He's Jewish/Israeli, and speaks impeccable Hebrew.

I just love being surprised by people!!!
Makes me feel so alive.

As I was biking back on my perfect bike (Thanks, Nick!), and with my new bell (it broke off while chain was being fixed the first time),

I felt so incredibly grateful for life.

For life throwing in surprises. For all the support that is around me when things go wrong.

The support is endless!!!
(like a bike chain - all connected - with no beginning or end.)

I felt like things went a bit wrong

so that I could remember
how good life feels.

My life feels like a soulful Marvin Gaye song,
sang by Nick, of course,
playing on repeat....

blush

2012-01-08T05:29:00.004-07:00

Since grocery stores are closed Saturdays - and I always have to run off to ulpan first thing Sunday morning (as stores are re-opening) --- I start out the week with a fairly empty fridge.

Hence, Every Sunday we eat pizza for lunch!!!

Usually I go to the pizza place around the corner (Angel Pizza) and order the pizza in person (XXL cheese)- but today I ordered it on the phone.

When I called to order it - I spoke in Hebrew at first --- but soon the owner recognized my voice and started speaking to me in English. (much easier.)

Then, when I gave him my name, he said:

"Oh, the beautiful Natalie."

I blushed into the phone.

Not only am I a known *regular*, but I'm known as the *beautiful* one.

He made my day. (I'm that easy.)

I almost upgraded to double cheese!

gas-less

2012-01-04T06:14:00.007-07:00

I decided to make a special lunch today. My kid's favorite:

grilled chicken, salad, and mashed potatoes.

They always ask for this lunch - and it's been weeks since I've made it. I ran to the store before they came home to buy some chicken cutlets and some salad greens. I wanted to surprise them.

Anyway - the mashed potatoes were ready, the chicken was salted and peppered and in the pan, and the salad was about to be dressed and tossed, when... I noticed that NOTHING was happening to the chicken:

The oil was not sizzling. The edges were not browning.
There was no greasy/salty/caramelized-chicken smell in the air.

I figured: The gas is out. I looked and: it was out.

Great. No big deal. My landlord told me what to do:

go down and turn the one that's on - off,
and the one that's off - on.

Easy.

I put on my shoes, went downstairs, and found the right gas balloons (of 5 different options in neighbor's back yard). Since I KNOW the words in Hebrew for off and on (patuach and sagor - go ME!!) - was all set. (coupled with: rightsy-tightsy/lefty-loosy, just to be sure.)

Came back upstairs - took off my shoes - and VIOLA! let there be gas!!
Only ... it lasted 5 seconds and then was out again.

I put shoes back on and repeated all of the above steps.
Came back to apartment, took shoes off, and .... NO GAS.

I was in touch with my landlord who said to call gas company.
He also asked if I turned gas off when I did exchange. (ummm.... I don't know?! I didn't even notice. was I supposed to? and what if I didn't?... what do I do about it now?) no response.

I tried to call the gas company on my phone - but I got sent from hebrew message to hebrew message with no human voice on the horizon. As my phone is a shekel/minute (around 25 cents/minute) I decided to call back on skype (2.3 cents/minute). For some reason, the gas company's *700* number (same as an *800* number) does not work on skype - nor do the other TWO numbers my landlord gave me from their web-site (which, btw, says it can be clicked into English - but that button does not work!)

I decided to bite the bullet and use my (very expensive) cell phone to call gas company again. This time I pressed 2 and like magic got in touch with someone (who spoke excellent English!). She asked me to go make sure the balloons really belonged to her company because they have not serviced these balloons in five years! Put on shoes/went downstairs/and checked.

Me: Am pretty sure these are your balloons. (look)
Yes, it says Mercaz HaGas.
Her: Are you sure it's not a sticker?
Me: Yes. It's not a sticker. It's printed on the balloon.

Me: Not sure why it's been five years?,
but these are really your balloons(!)

Now I have to call someone else tomorrow morning, because she has no idea how to help me! I hope my landlord will call on my behalf.... as they are his balloons (not mine), and he's so much better at all of this stuff than I am. He speaks Hebrew!!! (for one.)

So - here I am - a couple hours later - still gas-less....
blogging about it because.... what else can I do?
with a plate full of par-cooked chicken in the fridge.

THE JOYS OF BEING AN IMMIGRANT.

2012!!!!

2011-12-31T00:01:00.009-07:00

One of my biggest challenges right now is learning how to validate myself:

To truly be ok with all of my choices that have lead me down this path.
To truly accept that where I am in this moment is no accident - but a result of many years of conscious choices.
To truly not need anyone else to explain my life to me, in order to give it some greater meaning. (to want this is different, and ok! I love my friends for this.)
For me to not feel I have to explain my life to anyone to make them feel better about me.
To accept that I am wired for this life.
AND to stop asking "WHY?"

I know that I am working all this out on a subtle, sub-conscious level. I feel the ground shifting beneath me all the time. I have learned how to be kinder and gentler with myself, and I have learned how to acknowledge how much support I have around me all the time.

I have so much support!
Life keeps getting easier and easier!

These are all steps towards feeling better and better about life.

The ease of life keeps shining through - like little miracles of sunlight.

I KNOW THAT I AM NOT PERFECT, but...

I AM SO MUCH BETTER TODAY THAN I USED TO BE.

AND NOW....
Here I am.
Embarking on yet another new year (this being my 40th apple-dropping to-date).
I am so much further today (literally, and figuratively) than I EVER could have imagined being a year ago:

A year ago today I was in Breckenridge, with dear friends (who are like family),
bringing in the New Year over a street-cart crepe and Times Square on TV.
We were done with the year by 10pm.
Two hours hung in no-mans-land like a warm, fuzzy, pair of slippers
(a cozy symbol of nesting and sleep).

a year ago today...

There was literally NO WAY I had ANY idea that I'd be living
NINE time zones away, in the holy-land, a year later,
in this moment, (still) wearing fuzzy slippers.

The truth of my life gives me SO MUCH inspiration. The fact that I had no idea a year ago reminds me that I REALLY have NO idea where I'll be in a year from now.
I am wired to live comfortably with this much unknown.

The life I'd like to validate, for myself, is one in which life truly is easy. BECAUSE IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE. One in which doors are flying open in so many different directions, and I get to choose what adventure suits my family best. A life in which I get to continue to be available to my children, and eat meals together as a family, and enjoy fresh air and nature daily.
Where beauty is always so close at hand.

My wish for myself this year...

A life in which my hearts desires are manifested.
Where I am able to attract a life partner and land in
a supportive, nurturing, loving relationship.
One in which our paths merge in magical ways.

My wish for my children this year...

May you continue down your paths with your hearts wide-open
and your minds wide-open. May you continue to go where you feel good.
Your beauty is so deep and real. Your life is amazing!

my wish for all this year...
May something magical always bloom along your path,
and may you see it.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

another Shabbat

2011-12-30T04:32:00.007-07:00

the sun is about to set, so I have to ...

run to the grocery store before it closes til Sunday,
or make due with the food we have
(more likely).

do a triple espresso shot and eat tons of sugar,
or take a nap
(both equally likely).

walk to shabbat dinner in the crisp, winter air.
(Yes, we like to walk. No, we are not religious. Yes, we are weird.)

then
we EAT!!! amazing Jewish comfort food - surrounded by family
(that's not *really ours* (only in marriage) - but they are kind enough to embrace us.)

I feel so badly speaking English with them - as though I'm being disrespectful - so I tend to not talk at all. Which is fine - there's tons to eat.
The grandmother/matriarch of the family monitors my children's eating, so I don't have to.
G-d forbid they should NOT finish all the food on their plate - she gives them a look that magically lets them know they are not welcome to be done.
(I love that lady!)

we go to bed way too late,
we sleep in way too long,
then, we wake up to a Saturday that is
almost over.

If I'm lucky, I can get the kids to ride their bikes to a park with me (without complaining too much).

then we start our week all over again.

SHABBAT SHALOM.

tweens

2011-12-27T01:46:00.003-07:00

My girls just turned 10.

It's 10:45 am - and they are still sleeping.

They did wake up for a few minutes around 8, to say good-bye to our friends who had a sleepover last night --- but then they promptly went back to sleep. On their own. It wasn't like I said, "Girls, go back to sleep." They just did.

THEY KNEW THEY FELT TIRED
SO THEY TOOK CARE OF THEMSELVES.

As a mom, I feel like that is my BIGGEST JOB - to help my children learn how to take care of themselves. For them to know what "feeling good" feels like, and to get there (with my help, or on their own) as much as possible.

Much of this education came from me taking excellent care of them. Like many mothers, I took better care of them than I took of myself for many, many years.

There were years and years when I felt like I only looked down - so much so that in bed at night I tried to sleep with good posture.
I made sure they were fed and clothed, that their buggers were wiped, that they were wearing sunscreen AND a hat (yes! you need both!). I made sure their shoes were tied and that they weren't too hot, or (G-d forbid) too cold. That they stayed hydrated - and that a full water-bottle (stainless steel, of course) was close at hand. AND THAT THEY HAD SNACKS. (G-d forbid they should go hungry?! they could die of starvation.)

GIVEN ALL THIS CARE --- THEY MADE IT TO 10 IN ONE PIECE!!!

More importantly - they are happy and kind.
They are good to each other (most of the time).
They dress themselves in appropriate clothes.
They drink water throughout the day.
They enjoy good food (like salads! and proteins!).
They like to read and write and listen to music.
They are both very creative!

AND, THEY REALLY LOVE TO SLEEP!!!

The sleep is the biggest sign that we are moving towards the teen years.
That - and the occasional attitude.

They already seem to know more than me (or so they believe.)

The coolest thing I've noticed lately is that they are interested in taking care of me. They ask me about my day, how I'm feeling, if I need anything?! When I ask them to help take out the garbage, or grab something for me from the counter - they do it. They like to help (most of the time!).

Now it's 11:00.
I'm ready to start our day.

I always lived by the credo:

NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY.

But, they are not babies anymore....

cows and milk and life without bull

2011-12-24T06:34:00.007-07:00

Yesterday, we went to Kibbutz Ein Shemer in the north, and we saw (and smelled) a lot of cows!

I learned that the dairy industry no longer uses "bulls" to knock up their cows - but rather, cows are artificially inseminated. Not just there, but everywhere. I was told by more than one person that this is a true, industry standard.

I was shocked!

My biggest concern about the human race is how far
we are getting from nature
AND
how comfortable most of us are with this fact.

The cows are just another item on my list of woes....

So now, not even our cows are getting laid....
I'm not really sure if cows appreciated the pleasures of sex? But now - they're definitely not!

Nor are they nursing their babies.

Their calves are receiving their colostrum in a bottle, and their milk, of course, too - even though their moms are RIGHT there. The moms have their *maternity leave* before they give birth, and after birth/colostrum pumping - they are right back to work. (It's possible they pump and dump their colostrum, and that even the colostrum is a formula? am not sure?)

So for the most part, the milk we are drinking in the western world is only for us, and the calves no longer drink their mother's milk.

This just made me think of the laws of kashrut. One of the biggest ones:
MEAT AND DAIRY!!!

The kosher law is that observant Jews (who are keeping kosher) are not *supposed* to mix meat and dairy - because they are not supposed to drink the milk that fed the baby and eat the baby at the same time (or something like that.) ("boil a kid in its mother's milk." (Ex. 23:19; Ex. 34:26; Deut. 14:21)

Well, leave it to modern technology to mess with the ancient tradition of kashrut.

Unless you are heading down the lane, or up the valley, to the hippy-dippy-love ranch - the milk you are drinking has come from a cow that was artificially knocked up, and who never nursed her baby.

(Sadly, am pretty darn sure that even the organic milk is mass produced with similar modern innovations.)

I, for one, am willing to pay $12/gallon for milk from a cow who
has been laid by a bull AND got to nurse her baby.

But that's just me.

endorphins, the mall, or an ice-cream?

2011-12-22T22:25:00.006-07:00

Yesterday, the girls and I had a beautiful (and long) day in Tel Aviv.

Tel Aviv is an amazing city. I love picking a direction and meandering through the twisty-windy-ancient-modern-streets. We did a little of that, and spent some time in TWO different malls. Plus - there's the sea - which in my book - makes a city PERFECT.

When we got to the sea around sunset, the girls wanted to work out at the gym. I wish I had taken a photo.... these gyms are everywhere in Israel. They are open-air gyms that have nautilus equipment. Your body weight creates the resistance. They are very cool.

My children were actively working out, I was sitting and enjoying the view and the people watching.
It was a very peaceful moment.

When it was time to go, Josephine ran up to me, hugged me tightly, and said:

"Mommy, I love you so much!!!
This is my best life ever!!!"

If Vivian had said it, it would not have been news worthy. Vivian is very verbal about her love and gratitude for life, and for me, constantly (like a sterno light, she is constantly warming my heart).

Josephine, however, has become my harder-to-please, tweeny-bopper, somewhat-moody, love-child....

I don't know exactly what possessed her outbreak of intense love and gratitude? It could've been the endorphins from working out, her dream-come-true trip to a *real* mall, or the anticipation of an ice-cream-cone in her near future?

But regardless, those words warmed my heart like no others,
for this is my best life, ever, too!!!

mesiba

2011-12-20T13:51:00.003-07:00

מסבה = mesiba = a party =
not where I am right now =
where my friends from ulpan are right now =
where I wish I was right now!!!

but alas,

I don't always get my first choice
right now.

(and yes, moving this far away was my choice)
(and yes, I miss my every other weekend breaks very much)
(and yes, those breaks would be put to much better use here... right now!)

and soon
I will!!
(have a break, that is.)

I really want/need/deserve
one.

BIG TIME!!!

my boosted ego

2011-12-18T07:17:00.008-07:00

In the past week, I've been propositioned two times, by handsome, younger men, in
broad daylight, at their places of business.

And everyone was sober.

Being a sober, single woman in Durango
was a wholesome affair.

Most men in Colorado, of most ages, during most business hours,
were more into skiing than flirting.

(after hours at El Rancho is another story.)

No one at DNF or Homeslice, ever:
invited me over for sex, blew me a kiss good-bye,
or looked at me in a sexual/suggestive way. Ever.

Thank you, Israeli men, for keeping it REAL!!!

our new tradition

2011-12-16T09:10:00.004-07:00

I just woke up from our new tradition:

the family-wide, Friday-afternoon
NAP!!!

Since the kids have six days of school (granted, shorter days),
and only one full day of rest - SATURDAY,

by FRIDAY, we are ALL EXHAUSTED!!

(yawn! sigh.)

I closed all the shades, opened up our guest bed/couch, turned the ringer of the phone off,
and turned the fan on (for white noise).
Then, we piled onto the bed with our comforters and pillows.

three hours later.... and
I just woke up. It was fabulous!

time*well*spent

Now, it's 6 pm.
It's dark out.

We'll go to shabbat dinner in a couple hours.

As we never met a shabbat dinner that ended before 10:30 p.m.,
we're good to go.

are you allowed to be telling me this?

2011-12-12T12:29:00.005-07:00

The girls and I popped into the health food store earlier today to get some organic milk. My friend Cute Clerk was there. He showed us where the milk was, then he whispered in my ear:
"You are beautiful."
I blushed.

The kids saw him whisper in my ear, and they saw me blush, so they had to know the *secret*, too! So one at a time, he whispered in their ears: "Your mom is beautiful."

We were all blushing.
Even him.

Can we say: AWKWARD?!
(and yes, very sweet.)

After we paid and left, the girls said to me,
"Mom, I think he likes you."
(What I wanted to say was, "Yes girls, he thinks I'm a MILF.")

Cute Clerk and I made a quiet plan to have a coffee together while my kids were at ulpan, so I went back to see Cute Clerk about an hour later.

He made us a Turkish coffee and we sat outside the store on a cement block.

I've already told you that Cute Clerk is cute. (hence, his name.) He has some ear-piercings, a shaved head, and dresses like a hip/white/urban dude who listens to rap. He has a warmth about him that makes you want to hug him (or try to, at least.)

Even though Cute Clerk works in a health food store, he thinks "organic" is B.S. (that's cool. I can handle some healthy cynicism.) He's so verbal about his opinions, I'm surprised he hasn't been fired?! But it's Israel.... (and when I asked him why he works there if he doesn't *buy* into it, he said it's because he really likes the people.)

What I didn't know til today is that Cute Clerk is a trained sniper in the IDF (aka Israeli Army). He got out of the army about a year ago, and as he's 25, he can be called back at any time to serve.

I've been shopping in health food stores for years. I've met organic farmers, hippies, stoners, jugglers, and all-of-the-abovers, BUT I've NEVER met a sniper before, working alongside the organic strawberries (that are $10 a pound!).

He shared with me how many people he killed (too many), and how many of those people haunt him each night when he tries to sleep (a lot).

He also shared with me a brief version of his life story, and how he ended up as a sniper.

His life has had so much darkness.

I wanted to take a defibrillator and restart his heart -
to give his heart another chance to live in light.
(but alas, I reminded myself that it is not my job to heal him.)

I'd never met a "trained killer and kidnaper" before....
so hearing his (generic) job description was too much information for me.
While he talked, a few times I had to say:

"Are you allowed to be telling me this?"

He never really answered, so I'm assuming we're good,

I still don't know Cute Clerk's name, nor does he know mine.
Nor did we become facebook friends.

And we didn't exchange numbers.

I know how to find him, but he doesn't know (exactly) how to find me.

I think it's better this way, as

I don't want to know too much.

things you'd rather not hear your kids say

2011-12-11T11:43:00.007-07:00

When my kids were two - they dropped the "F" bomb.
Their dad dropped something, and one of them responded by saying:

"Mommy say Fuck."

I was busted for cursing in front of my toddlers.
(oops!)

Now, years later and miles away, my kids dropped another bomb (on me this time).

It was Friday.
That morning, the kids walked to school on their own.

I walk them to school 99.9% of the time. This was the .1% of the time that I didn't.
(we live less than one block away. most kids much younger than them walk by themselves here.)

It was only hours later that I learned (from my children) that:

while I was upstairs, in my pajamas, doing some yoga, minding my own business,
my kids were stopped at a police barricade en route to their elementary school.

(good times.)

My kids were happy to be late to school.
They did not have any fear around this. It was just a cool story to share!
AND it was the first thing they told me after school!

I was meeting with their teachers. They came and met me there after their Native English Speakers Program.

Them (excited!):

"GUESS WHAT MOM? THERE WAS A BOMB ON OUR STREET THIS MORNING
AND WE HAD TO WAIT BEHIND THE POLICE BARRICADE
AND WE WERE LATE TO SCHOOL!"

Me:
"YOU WHAT?! THIS MORNING!? HOW DID I NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THIS!? I was at home in my nightgown and this was going on right out our door?!"

Them:
"Yes."

The teachers I was meeting with smiled and shrugged and said, nonchalantly, that they think they heard something about it, but it was nothing.

It was a non-event to the school's faculty.
hardly news worthy.

On our walk home, the girls showed me some discarded police tape on the ground:
living proof of their morning adventure. They were so excited!

Hmmmm.......?...............

I asked someone later about the "bomb."
I was told that it was not a bomb.
That it was nothing.
That it was just an "unidentified object."
(that sounded a helluva lot better to me!)

I brought up the story again later with the kids.

Me:
"You know it wasn't a bomb, right? It was an unidentified object."

Them:
"Oh. OK."

They were unfazed either way.

The unidentified object story made me uncomfortable.
Just like lock-downs at Park Elementary (murderer on the loose and such) made me uncomfortable.

I know that this is the Middle East, and our neighbors hate us.

If I didn't feel so incredibly safe here, I'd be building a case to leave ASAP.

So, I'd like to say one-last-time, for old-times-sake:

"Mommy say FUCK."

the why of being Jewish

2011-12-07T08:00:00.004-07:00

At the museum today I thought a lot about the *why* of being Jewish.

Mostly, I pondered the idea of:
*why* is it so important to keep Judaism alive?

I can't answer this question directly.
I can only share my Jewish experience, and how I feel about it.

In my own life, I have made a decision to raise my children in Israel (for how long, time will tell).
I want them to speak Hebrew. I want for them to *feel* what it is like to live a *Jewish life*, in a *Jewish country*. I feel the significance of living here in this moment - on an ancestoral level. I am doing this not only for my children, and for myself, but also for my great-grandparents, and for my great-grand-children.

I am doing this for my Jewish family.

WHY?
why?

Because I had a dream of living abroad forever.
Before children, and since children - I never outgrew this dream.
Israel is the door to living abroad that was open to us, as American Jews.

Because my mother wanted me to chose my religious path for myself -
she never pushed Judaism on me.
But at the same time, I was not given a foundation to launch from.
I was told I was Jewish. Both my parents were Jewish.
My extended family was Jewish. But I did not know anything about being Jewish.

My children will have a Jewish foundation to launch from.

We had a Chanukah bush, because my mom liked x-mas trees.

I will never have a Chanukah bush.

My dad told me that I don't have to marry someone Jewish.
He didn't see the point.

I married a non-Jew.
(we are now divorced.)

We lived in Borough Park and I was looked upon as a goy.
We lived in the Bible Belt and friends tried to save me.

At 13 I started Hebrew school, but I never learned to read Hebrew properly.
I felt I was too old. (Really, I was too embarrassed for not already knowing.)

So I looked down and mumbled along.
I fake-read Hebrew at USY conventions for years.

MY CHILDREN WILL LEARN TO READ, WRITE, AND SPEAK HEBREW.
I want for them to feel at home in any synagogue, and to hold their heads high.

As a mom, I of course want for my kids what I did not have: a Jewish education.

Why Israel?

In the states I considered myself a cultural Jew - but I did not feel like I was living a Jewish life.
I tried. I failed. I know there are amazing Jews and Jewish communities in America - and I tried some of them - but my heart never felt connected.

I took my kids to Hebrew school in Durango each week.
I drove an hour over two mountain passes (one of those years) to make it happen.
They kicked and screamed and it was not fun for any of us!

Hebrew school was too incongruent with the rest of our life for them to digest.

I felt deep inside that to have a Jewish life in America, we'd have to have a strong affiliation with a synagogue and immerse ourselves in the sub-culture of Jewish-life. This never resonated with me. I am too eclectic to have a strong affiliation with only one group of people.

I had a hard time understanding how I felt until I got here.

Now I understand.

Judaism is not a separate compartment of life here.
To be a Jew here does not require a religious affiliation.
There is a flow of life in Israel that is all about being a Jew, without being religious.
The culture and the religion are one.

Just as it was effortless to be American in America,
it is effortless to be Jewish is Israel.

Israel is the only place I can imagine having a Jewish life.
I feel good being Jewish here.

I feel good passing the Jewish heritage onto my children in this way.
I hope that they will develop their own unique Jewish identity, and that one day they can tell me what it means to them to be a Jew.

I LOOK SO FORWARD TO HEARING THEIR VERSION
OF THEIR JEWISH-LIFE STORY ONE DAY!

the chosen word

2011-12-07T07:05:00.005-07:00

I went on a field-trip (tiul) today to the
Museum of the Jewish People (aka Diaspora Museum.)

The whole ulpan went.

We rode a bus.
I sat in the back with the cool kids.
We broke into groups with a guide.
We had our hafsica (break) at a cafe in the museum.

It was wonderful!!!

I think adults need field-trips - just like children!

I had a very thought-provoking day.

I feel so intellectually inspired in this moment!!

I could easily sit down for months and write a dissertation on MY LIFE AS A JEW.
(but right now I only have about 30 minutes, so here's one of my ideas.)

I am thinking about the description of the Jews as "the chosen ones".

I don't think that perpetuating this belief is helping us!
(in the least.)

Those words (by their nature) make people feel left out and inferior.

No one likes to feel left out and inferior.

Being the "chosen ones" is like being the teacher's pet.
No one likes the teacher's pet.
The teacher's pet gets beaten up at recess (hafsica).
Rumors go around slandering the teacher's pet.

The Jews have been beaten up on the playground over and over again,
and it has not been pretty.

Perhaps it's time to start downplaying this aspect of being Jewish?
I know it's an important one, but it's hardly the only one.

The torah is a HUGE work.
I am certain scholars can find some other words that will be more appealing?

Our words are powerful tools for change.

the crazy cat lady, in ivrit

2011-12-04T12:20:00.006-07:00

Earlier today I went to the park with a friend.
(It's a park I can see from my living room window - it's that close.)

We were sitting on the bench.

My friend was smoking her Pal-Mals.
I was enjoying the fresh air.

The kids had the park to themselves and were playing in the tube slides.

All of sudden, out of nowhere, some cats started to surround us.
One of them (the black one) got so close to my friend it was practically on her lap -
and she does NOT like cats.

She probably would've screamed and threw the cat -
BUT at that moment we were overtaken by...

THE crazy CAT LADY!!!

(the universal one.)

This one in particular had penciled in eyebrows, and was carrying around a
screw driver and a wrench.

She started talking and talking to us in Ivrit (aka Hebrew). We listened.
We made facial expressions that mimicked her tone.
Our facial expressions were so spot on, it sure did look like we spoke Ivrit.
(so much so that she kept talking, and talking.... )

The kids were sticking just their heads out of the tube slide as they watched us in humored awe.
They thought we were really conversing in Ivrit with THE crazy CAT LADY...

We listened attentively as she ranted and raved in Ivrit something about....

THE NOISE AT THE PARK! AND HOW HER APARTMENT
IS RIGHT THERE! AND ALTHOUGH SHE LOVES KIDS!,
THEY ARE SO LOUD AT FOUR O'CLOCK!,
AND FOUR O'CLOCK IS HER TIME TO REST!!

(She said this same thing two or three times, which was great for me. I kept hearing the same few verbs that I actually knew over and over again. Listening to her was more productive than doing homework.)

As she spoke - the black cat continued to get closer to my friend. My friend was making squeaky sounds and jumping out of her seat. The lady finally caught on and the black cat was shooed away --- but then the lady invited the yellow cat onto the bench to sit as close to my friend as possible - which was way to close.

We got up to leave!

She was still talking.

We were still making (what felt like) appropriate facial expressions - something between a smile and a frown and an eye-brow furrow. We stood around and listened as we positioned ourselves for our escape. The kids understood that we were about to leave - and they did not want to be left behind - so they were getting closer and closer.

I FINALLY TOLD HER THAT:

WE DON'T SPEAK HEBREW, BUT THAT WE STUDY IT IN ULPAN.

(I said it in Hebrew so she would know how hard we were trying to really listen and understand.)

SHE DIDN'T BLINK.
SHE SAID A QUICK, "OH"
AND LAUNCHED RIGHT BACK INTO HER MONOLOGUE.

(our illiteracy was irrelevant to her.)

It was time for us to go.
We said our goodbyes and headed back to the apartment.

When we were back I looked out the window to see if she was still there. I saw her walking back to where she came from - but this time she had the seat of a swing tucked under her left arm.
This explained the screw driver and wrench...

She solved the noise problem.

Those loud, swinging kids will have to find a different park.

fashion gone down

2011-12-03T21:24:00.005-07:00

My kids both have an excellent eye for fashion. They've been dressing themselves since they could walk, basically. I always make sure they have lots of colorful, fun options - and even living in small towns in Colorado (some without even one clothing store, let alone a mall) - their style shone through! Their inspiration came straight from their heads. Even if they went out in crazy (somewhat embarrassing) outfits - I let them do it.

The don't pay me the same courtesy...

Not that I've ever been a fashionista.... but I like to feel cute and stylish in my clothes. I did not take hardly any winter clothes with me to Israel (nor did I leave them in a neat pile in the states to be sent to me by a kind friend ... I basically gave ALL of it AWAY!). I did not expect to be this cold!!! It does warm up in the days (unless it's raining) - but the mornings and nights are brrrrrr cold.

Fashion is a higher calling, and I am on the lowest ring of survival. I am in survival mode.
I am struggling to stay warm and look somewhat presentable.

Creative Inspiration is not at the top of my list of priorities at this moment.
Nor do I have much to work with.

It'd be like trying to paint a masterpiece with just red and a tiny bit of blue,
but no yellow or white.

When I said to my kids the other day, "I'm not as stylie as I used to be", my one daughter said, "No, you're not. You just need to wear jeans and some high fuzzy boots."

We came across a pair of low fuzzy boots on the street the other day. In Israel - people just put things out when they are done with them. I took a look at them, they were very nice, but they were three sizes too big. My kids didn't care. "Mom, just take them! Your feet will grow into them." I tried to explain that I am (almost) 40 and my feet don't grow anymore.... but they didn't buy it.

I have tried to go shopping here - but ... I can't find stores that suit me. And that suit my budget. So until next summer, I'm going to get by with my one nice pair of jeans, my donald pliner patten leather go-go boots, and my asics trail shoes. And a few fun scarves.

Next summer, when I go back to the states,
I will hit up all my favorite shops.
(can't wait!)

Hopefully, my fashion challenges this winter won't scar me (or my children) for the longterm....

You must go to the party!!

2011-12-02T22:57:00.008-07:00

Last night my kids went to a b-day party, against their will.

I told them that they must go to the party because they must integrate, socially, in school.
It's really important! Plus, we already bought a gift and said we'd be there.

One of my kids, in particular, is more likely to say "No" than "Yes" to most new experiences. She puts up a crafty fight, but then always has the best time of anyone else in the room.
(I remind her of this constantly - so hopefully it will be a lifelong joke and not a lifelong therapy issue.)

They preferred to stay home and watch Friends re-runs,
but they reluctantly agreed.

It was a fifteen minute walk from our house, and I had to do it 4 times.
I pointed this out to my children.
(Am I teaching appreciation or guilt? TBD.)

On my way there - it was uneventful.
I was just trying to find the right house number, and keep my kids positive and calm.

When we got there, a mom dropping off her kid at the same time was shocked to find out there was a new student in her daughter's class. She couldn't believe the teacher didn't e-mail everyone and tell them!?! We've been here for almost three months, and have hardly gone unnoticed. No offense lady, but what rock are you living under?!

It was hard to tear myself away from my children, who looked terrified. (One last minute protest from my other child: "Since these kids are not in my class, can I come home with you?" "NO! You must stay.") I snuck out while they were distracted, as if they were two and I was dropping them at preschool for the first time.

On the way back home (this first time) I was alone. I enjoyed the silence, but that did not last long. Silence was replaced by brain-chatter of the worst kind.

Scary thoughts circled around my brain. All those annoying questions/comments were popping up (AGAIN) for me! Like, How could I do this to my children? They were so comfortable in their old lives. They had hit their stride, and now they are like toddlers. Learning a new language, building up their confidence so they don't trip over their own feet, developing a pallet for new foods. I started to feel like I wanted to run away (permanently. from everything/everyone/myself.) That is when I came up with the analogy for how I feel right now:

That I am being held together by very cheap glue.

I had a couple hours to myself. I got out a better bottle of glue and started mending the places where the glue had come undone, with the help of a dear friend via incredible technology!

All of a sudden it was 8:45.
The party started at 6:30 and was ending at 9. (normal for kid's b-day parties in Israel)

Dishes still piled high in the sink - it was already time to get the kids!
I put on my fancy boots and hiked back to the house.

This time on the walk, I smelled all the flowers. Literally. Without even having to stop. It was the most fragrant walk I've ever experienced. It was as if all the flowers were reminding me how beautiful it is here. How lucky I am to be here, in this moment. That everything is going to be alright. Everything is alright. Already.

I looked around and fell in love with all the trees - and how twisted
and emotional they are. I fell in love with Venus - who is
always the brightest being in the sky. I fell in love with
walking at night - and vowed to do it more.

When I arrived to pick up my children - they didn't want to leave.

The one who didn't want to go at all, she hugged *every*single*person good-bye.

The girls talked and talked and laughed and told stories of the party the ENTIRE walk home!!! When they stopped to take a breath I told them about my walk - and how fragrant it was. I opened my nostrils wide and tried hard to suck in the nectar with them, but I got NOTHING.

This is when I realized that to really smell requires great silence.

I am so proud of my children for having fun at a birthday party - I could burst with joy!!!

just say YES!

2011-12-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

home sweet home

2011-12-01T12:07:00.004-07:00

Now that I am living in a foreign country, far away from *home* (or at least my last home),
I am thinking about what home means....
What having a hometown means.
What it takes to be rooted in one place.

Because we moved around a lot when I was a kid, and because I am an only child with a fairly scattered extended family --- I don't feel like I come from one place. I call my hometown "Jacksonville, Florida", because I lived there six years of my childhood (the longest place between ages 0-18), because I graduated from high-school there, and because my two best friends still live there. My parents lived there for many years after I graduated - so this could be why, too?

I moved back there for three years in my late twenties.
Although I loved living near the beach, and I loved living near loved ones!, it was not the place for me. I didn't feel like I was home. It was familiar - yes. And familiar is good. But it wasn't the right fit for me. I am not a southerner. And I don't like strip malls very much.

My two best friends still live in Jacksonville. They were born up north, their parents are from up north, but their children, nieces, and nephews are from Jacksonville (or near to there). Their parents all still live around there. Each family now has three generations living and taking root in that region (compliments of two wonderful matriarchs!).

If home is where your family lives, then I'd live in New York. This is where the highest concentration of my family still lives. It's where my grandparents started their lives as new immigrants, a hundred years ago. But there is no strong matriarch carrying forth the torch of family and tradition. It's been lost.

In Israel, families are very close. They have Shabbat dinner together *every* week. Being close with your family is a given. Israeli families have strong matriarchs upholding the traditions, keeping their sons and daughters close at hand. There is so much respect and love!

I have a new friend from South America. She told me that she has never felt like she has a homeland. She was raised by bi-racial, multi-cultural parents, and no matter where she lived, she was asked where she came from. Now she lives in Israel - where no one asks - and she feels more at home here.

I lived in Colorado for the better part of the past fifteen years, but I don't feel like that is my homeland, or my hometown, either. I'm not a westerner. I'm not a skier. Although I appreciate the rural, and the desert, and the mountains - I feel more at home in a city. Having a coffee in a park with people walking by.

My children feel that Colorado is their homeland. That Silverton is their hometown. I love this for them! I love that they feel such a strong connection to a place! I love that their dad still lives there, and always will (as far as I can tell). I want this for them. I also want them to know the bigger world - first hand. That is my gift to them, as their mom. It's what I can offer them that makes their life experience unique and special.

Maybe home is where your mother is?
I don't feel that for myself, but hopefully, my children will....
mostly, I want them to feel at home wherever they are,
that home is within themselves.

Now, I am living in the Jewish homeland as a new immigrant (olah chadasha).
Will this feel like my homeland some day, too?
Will Herzliya be my hometown some day, too?

For now, I am homesick for some place that is a quilt of so many places, and so many people.
There is not one place that I come from.
There is not one place I miss.

Spiritually speaking, I am a nomad.
Rooted in myself.
Knowing that where I truly come from is within.
and beyond this one life.

but sometimes, I wish for something different.
something that I've never completely had,
that I don't really know how to have,
and that I'm not even sure I want.

one of the hardest parts of my job

2011-11-30T11:28:00.006-07:00

Tonight a mom called.

Her daughter is in my daughter's class, and the mom told me that her daughter and my daughter want to have a play-date together.

The way she worded it, I though it was something the girls had discussed.
I had remembered my daughter telling me about a girl she wanted to have a play-date with, so I assumed this was the friend.

I wanted to check first with my daughter (anyway, and just in case.)
She held on. I asked. and...

It wasn't.

(OMG!!!)

I had to get back on the phone with the mother and make up excuses.
I had to say that we are busy with a b-day party, and with evening ulpan, and that maybe she can check in again at a later date?

I tried to be nice, but it was so awkward.
I could tell from the mother's brusk response that she understood,
and that I had offended her.
(I've had to ward off play-dates before, but this is the first time I clearly offended the other mom.)

I am so embarrassed.
And frustrated.

I want to honor my children (always),
but I feel like I am offending people I've never even met before.
I feel like I'm blowing any chance of ever having a social life with the parents at school....

And I don't know the norms here. I don't even know who is friends with whom in the parent world. I could have a whole army of people who hate me and think I'm a total American bitch? or snob? or both? They may have a group e-mail going around about what a horrible person I am?

I don't think they understand what it's like to be a new immigrant in their country. They know how bossy and overbearing they can be. How spoiled and entitled their kids can be. They are very loving, too. And kind, generous, and so very well-intended. But we are overwhelmed!!! We just need time to learn the language, feel comfortable and secure in our new lives, and in our own skin.

What if I had said the truth?:

"My daughter does not like your daughter. She thinks she's annoying. Please don't call again, and ask your daughter to leave my daughter alone. Thank you!"

The way the mother reacted, that's what she heard, anyway.

Sometimes, I hate my job.

2011-11-29T21:39:00.001-07:00

Addendum to Little Buddy post (see below)

LITTLE BUDDY IS A GIRL!!!
(or so we've been told.)

Lucky Little Buddy

2011-11-29T12:03:00.009-07:00

Since we moved to Israel, we got a pet.
His name is Little Buddy, and he's a Siberian Hamster (aka dwarf).

Little buddy is an albino, so his eyes are red.
At first, this was a little creepy, but he's so darn cute that it's not creepy anymore.

Another interesting thing about Little Buddy's eyes is that when he is thirsty, they start to close, like he's staring into a bright light and falling asleep at the same time.

We were inspired to get a Siberian Hamster when we met one the night Vivian broke her arm. The family that gave us a ride home from the hospital made a pit stop at their house, and we met their hamster, and it's best friend: a 12 year-old chocolate lab. The hamster would crawl all over the lab and the lab didn't mind. One night the hamster's cage was left open and evidently, he explored a bit and then went back in.

We were sold on the hamster.
(on the lab, too --- but not quite yet.)

Little Buddy lives in his cage.
He runs on his hamster wheel.
He burrows in our sleeves.
He burrows in my hair.
He camps out in his toilet paper tunnel.
He hangs out with us when we read at night.
He (sometimes) eats breakfast at our table.

And ...

he eats people food.

That's right! No hamster-kibble for our Little-Buddy-Love.

Little Buddy is little, and he will always be little (he's a dwarf),
but he was also way too skinny.
He was all bones. (that was creepy.)

And he was hyper. Like he was so hungry that he was a ball of nerves.
He never stopped moving.

He was not eating his food. The bowl stayed full. Untouched.
This was not good.

The Jewish mother in me HAD to step in. IMMEDIATELY!!
LITTLE BUDDY MUST BE FED!!
(so I got on-line and did some research)

The girls kept referring to me as his mother, but I kept saying that I did not feel like his mother.

Well, now that I feed him people food - I feel like his mother....

HIS very JEWISH MOTHER,
"Eat! You must eat, bubbula!"

Each night I fill a lid with a little frozen sweet potato, ground beef, and rice (all cooked from scratch) - and in the morning, I offer it to him.
He nibbles on it throughout the day.

HE LICKED HIS LID CLEAN by the next morning.

Sometimes, he also likes some yogurt, the yellows of hard boiled eggs, and cottage cheese. He eats a lot for him, but really, it's such a little amount of food that one sweet potato can last him six months. At least.

The web-site I referenced said to stay away from sweet foods - that hamsters can develop diabetes. It also said to stay away from meats - that hamsters may develop into cannibals.

SO FAR SO GOOD.

I don't like you. (and it's not you - it's me.)

2011-11-27T07:13:00.004-07:00

I thought I loved people

as in *ALL* people,

everywhere, and
*ALL* the time.

I was always able to find some common ground.
Was always able to strike up a conversation with someone new
wherever I went.

well...

I don't feel this way anymore!!!

I don't enjoy *people* (plural, at large) anymore!!!

Either people are getting more and more annoying?, or boring?
or both?

it's me?

Maybe I'm getting more discerning?, less tolerant?, and ...

more confident in who I like, and who I don't.

what I like, and what I won't.
(no matter how hard you may try...)

I have some friends out there who are going to be very happy to hear this!!!
Friends who have been annoyed by people for years.
(friends who never quite understood this about me.)

I can say, wholeheartedly, that I now
UNDERSTAND
them.

I officially do not love *everyone*
(sorry, it's not personal)

pita

2011-11-23T10:36:00.004-07:00

I went out into the world in a little way this evening.

It was 5:30 pm. It was dark. The temperature was a warm 62.
It was the perfect *winter* evening.

First, I went to the bank machine, to the post office to pay my tax bill, and to the health food store to buy peanut butter (to feed to our dwarf hamster, Little Buddy, who is currently sleeping on my shoulder.) All three of these stops happen on two floors of the same circular building, dotted amongst a few hair dressers, a dry cleaners, and a bakery that's buttery-heavenly smell permeates the entire building.

I picked up my children from the park and we all went to the other grocery store to buy:
cottage cheese, gum, and pita.

Crossing the street together, people drinking coffee together,
mother's with children, the elderly with their care-givers,
a business man on his computer drinking tea.

There was life everywhere in the dark!

We left with only gum and cottage cheese (which we later discovered was actually yogurt. oops!) and decided to walk to the French Bakery in Ramat Hasharon for the best pita around.

The girls jerked their scooters along the uneven brick sidewalks.
I smiled at people. I window shopped.
We watched people eating falafal and pizza, and ballroom dancing.
We planned our next five meals as if we were on vacation.

I am so happy to be in a city I could burst!!!

chaim.

2011-11-21T07:26:00.005-07:00

I learned the verb for life yesterday, but I already knew it.
It's the one that looks like a horse when mass produced in yellow gold and worn on a braided chain.
("Hey, is that a horse?" "No. It's life, in Hebrew." "Oh.")

Life as a Jew in the deep south.

Today we learned the verb for going up - lalechet.
In past tense, feminine-you - lalechet becomes "alta".
I immediately thought of the ski town, Alta (even though I've never been there before, I surely heard enough about it.)
Could Alta (the ski town) be named for Alta (the Hebrew verb)?

Life as a Jew in the southwest.

Thanksgiving is on Thursday.
If I lived in my normal/regular/other life...
My fridge would be filled with: cream. butter. sage. cranberries.
Mushrooms. a huge turkey. and potatoes of many colors.

My counter would be topped with ciabatta and baguettes, growing staler and more perfect for stuffing by the day.

Right now in my fridge I have two different hummus's, some pickles, hard-boiled eggs, tuna salad, and a bunch of cucumbers.

Life as an American Jew in Israel.

MY LIFE.
RIGHT NOW.
L'CHAIM.

care package

2011-11-20T07:46:00.008-07:00

I didn't understand much in Hebrew ulpan today.

Some days are like that.

We were learning about Ethiopian Jewry - all in Hebrew - which was very interesting. Our teacher did a presentation. I had a million questions - only I barely had (or have) the words to get out one - and even that question would make me sound (and feel) like a two-year old.

so I asked nothing.
and I understood little.

(I felt really bad about myself. I felt like I was going backwards on a treadmill.)
(at full speed.)

After the presentation, my friend read the same dialogue to me, about Ethiopian Jewry - which helped. I am a better reader than him. Usually. But his calming presence was enough to make me feel more human again. More my age, again. And not like a toddler about to throw a tantrum, screaming:

"I want to speak Hebrew. NOW!!!"

As he read I realized that the one word I didn't know, the one I kept glossing over and ignoring, held much of the meaning of the passage. AND it was a word I knew - I just forgot I knew it.

(happens way too often to many of us grown-ups in class!)
(I know I'm in good company.)

Once I figured that out - I understood A LOT more!!! Had those simultaneous feeling of:

"Ah!" and "Duh!"

By now I felt I could almost ask a question and sound like a seven year old.
YES! (only I dare not go there. too much effort at that point in the day.)

After ulpan I biked home.
It was a wonderful ride.
Cool and clumsy; sore thighs and laughter.

(sigh. the highlight of my day.)

I ordered a pizza from around the corner - our Sunday lunch ritual -
and I was able to say a few things, like:

We eat pizza every Sunday. (Anachnu olechet pizza rak rishon.)
I want to pay now. (Ani rotzah l'shalem acshav.)
I will return soon. (chazaret blah-blah-blah ---- I needed a little help w/that one.)

I was feeling quite hip and literate, in that moment.
Pizza dudes are cool. It's universal.

THEN I got a care package - FILLED with my favorite dish detergent (3 bottles) and toothpaste (4 tubes) and PEANUT BUTTER CUPS (two packs - although one pack has already been gobbled up.) AND THERE'S EVEN MORE THAN THAT!!! (mac-n-cheese and chocolate and cookies and a SARK book and chocolate!) there was so much love bundled into that box I'm shocked it didn't spontaneously combust upon arrival.

Like I felt might happen to me.

Tears came to my eyes.

"It's OK mommy. Don't cry."

So I didn't. Haven't.
For the time being.
(later. I will. If I have any energy left by then.)

When I got on-line to write this entry, I quickly checked my e-mail, too.
There was an e-mail from a Professor at a college nearby, and she sent me a document filled with all the classes I will need to take in order to become an ENGLISH teacher in Israel.

ONLY I CAN'T READ A SINGLE WORD OF IT!!!

It's important, and I feel useless.

Am back to feeling like a helpless child.
(in this moment.) (for this moment.)

And this is how my days go...

I teeter on the totter between feeling like an infant, and an adult.
between clarity, and confusion.
between great purpose, and lack thereof.
between connection, and alone-ness.

My emotions flow.
Questions arise.
All those:

"Why's?"
that lead to depression in most people.
like me. like now.

Grateful. Conflicted.
Contented.

Confused.
(alone)

MY CARE PACKAGE
reminded me today
that
I AM
LOVED.
I am supported.

each article in the package is a symbol of
that love and support.

(thank you, dear friend.)
(I am so very grateful for you.)

where is the love?

2011-11-19T03:27:00.007-07:00

The song by Black Eyed Peas is playing on my children's Jango station.

Where is the love?!

It's Saturday.
Our only day off.
Our only day to explore as a family.

My children are tired.
They slept til 11am. It's now 12:30.
They'd be happy to stay home all day.
They want to stay home all day.
They'd prefer it if I left them at home.

My children are home-bodies.

I get crazy if I stay home too much on a day-off.
I like to be engaged in the world.
To feel alive, connected, inspired!

I sometimes feel like I'm in a relationship with TWO people who don't want to ever do anything FUN. Ever.

A relationship that I'd promptly break-off if it was with a man.

Once we go and do and be --- they are fine.

But getting them out the door (one of them in-particular!) is really challenging.
You'd think I was forcing her to donate an organ. Or chop off her hair.
Or give up her favorite skinny jeans. (no matter how skinny they get, G-d forbid she give those up!)

Really --- I just want to go for a nice family bike ride, go see a baby giraffe, and enjoy the leisure of a coffee. I've taken everyone's preferences into consideration when constructing our day. Not just mine.

Yes, I could have had them plan the day with me.
I've tried that tactic before. I even tried today.
BUT I want to see something new today.
They want to see something old today --- something we've already seen before. (or nothing at all.)

I am not in the mood for a re-run movie!

I could go without them.
That would be easier in many ways.
But then I think,

"Why the hell did we move here if not to have adventures and see new things?!"
(together.)

and I don't want to go alone.
I want their company.

Even if it's not always the best.

They act as if they are waking up from a depression.
or from a deep sleep.
Cranky, moody, and unenthusiastic.

WAKE UP!!! It's time to live!!!

Where is the love!?

she came back. again.

2011-11-16T06:22:00.009-07:00

Every day we get more and more French students entering into our class.
There may be more French than Russians soon?

The French girl I lost my cool with, the one I also had an intervention with, still has no French friends.

The ulpan's plan is not working.

French was never the problem. Or English. or whatever.... the problem was, and still is, HER.

She still wants to be with us.
She can't just move on.

She can't accept the fact that she has nothing in common with us.
That it's not just the language, or her age. It's everything.

She breaks up our conversation and has nothing to add.

She talks to almost everyone but me.
She chases after them and corners them, accosts them in the bathroom.
They are too nice to ignore her (like I do).

Apparently, she's been asking my friends why I don't talk to her?
Why I ignore her? (I'm not as nice.)
(this was after she followed me into the bathroom and I walked out without saying hello. or good-bye. or boo! she was in a line of four people and I walked by each of them without saying a word.... it was a bathroom!)

My friends told her that we don't talk about such things. (which is true.) It's also true that no one in our group can tell her how they feel (it's cultural) --- BUT ME (the American)--- so she thinks it's only me she bothers, and that everyone else loves her and wants her there. So all her energy around rejection, fitting in, belonging, etc. - is focused on me. As if I am the cause of her social-dysfunction.

And I don't ignore her completely.
Just sometimes.
And it's out of a justifiable fear that if I make eye contact with her, let alone smile,
she'll see it as an invitation to start joining us again.

Today she got brave and decided to confront me.
As the first hafsica began - she asked me if I have a problem with her?
I said that No. I don't.
That I just want her to find some friends her age who speak French.
I think I even called her "Sweetie"?
(I was really trying to be patient and calm.)

At the second hafsica she came up and told me that she graduated. That she is mature now, and she speaks more English now.

She really wants me to like her.
To see that she's cool.
That she's different now.
That she has changed.

News flash: trying to prove you are cool is not cool. at all.

PLUS, I was in the middle of sharing a very significant story of my life, and she completely interrupted. That is not a sign of maturity!

UGH!!!

I had to launch-into it again with her.... and it went something like:

Why do you care about me? Why do you care what I think of you?
I am so small.
You are not my family, or my friend.
I am not your family, or your friend.
Just go where you feel good.

Or something like that. I don't remember exactly.
I do know that my throat was very dry after that - and my friend was kind enough to fill my bottle with water and offer me an orange.

She clearly can't seem to let it go. If I knew more about French history, I'd cleverly equate her to some event like the French Revolution.... only French history never interested me that much....

There are other people she can be friends with.
There are other people she can harass - in her native tongue, even!

And I know she has at least one friend. I see them together all the time.

Please. MOVE ON!!!
let this one go.

We all have to learn at some point that we are not everyone's cup of tea....
and thank G-d! there are so many people in the world,
that would be way too exhausting!!!

a philosophical moment

2011-11-13T11:15:00.005-07:00

I could rant in metaphors in the vaguest terms possible,
but that takes ingenuity of the brain, and soul -
both which are congested at the moment with
Hebrew verbs yet to be conjugated,
adjectives yet to find meanings,
and straight-up, old-fashioned, mucous.

I could make up some story about disappointment, and frustration.
About great challenges, greater defeats, and the greatest triumph imaginable.
But that story is being written, and I have no interest in
baring my truth, altering my reality, or jinxing my future.

I am living proof that:
Making a very big change does not mean that the small things are different.
Doing one small thing differently can make for a very big change.

Each day I am confident in the fact that I do some small thing that is moving me forward.
The exact direction is unclear, but I know I am moving.

a wholesome flirtation

2011-11-10T10:13:00.008-07:00

My kids were at ulpan tonight - which means I had almost two hours to myself.
So what did I do?

I grocery shopped.

First I went to the regular store (our City Market); next, to the convenience store (a mini-mart with great produce); and last, to the health-food store (our DNF).

It was at my third and last (and most wholesome) stop of the night that I got hit on by Cute Clerk.

First though - before getting hit on by Cute Clerk, I got accosted by Nosy ND - who wanted to understand my diet and need for sugar and whether or not I had parasites and needed phyto-planktins.... (or some such green thing in a capsule.) Did I have fungus in my toes, or in my vagina? (I'm not kidding! she really asked me that!). This all stemmed from an innocent question about sesame seed candies made with honey - and did they carry them?

I made a narrow escape to the grain aisle where Cute Clerk came and rescued me, and offered some assistance. I was looking for ingredients to make granola and could use his help since the store is still a mystery to me.

This is a rough version of our conversation:

Cute Clerk: You don't need granola. You are already fit.
Me: Thanks, but that's why I'm fit. Because I eat well.
Cute Clerk: Are you alone here? Do you have someone?
Me: Just me and my kids.
Cute Clerk: Why don't you have someone?
Me: I don't go out, really. I just hang with me my kids, and with my friends from ulpan.
Cute Clerk: Why don't you get a babysitter and go out with me tonight?
Me: I don't have a babysitter. And don't you have a girlfriend? (he told me about her last time)
Cute Clerk: We broke up. Get a babysitter.
Me: Where are the oats?

He helped me find the oats.
Then he helped me find the sesame seeds.
Next, the wheat germ (Cute Clerk: Do people really eat this stuff? Me: Yes. In their granola.)
Mixed in with the shopping I said I was sorry about his break-up. He said he was fine with it.
I didn't probe further, but I had a sense that it wasn't really over. That it just wasn't great, and he wanted to bail for the right reason.
Or the right person. Or the first person to come along to rescue him....The was the last thing I needed right now...

And the last thing I needed at this store was some nuts.

Cute Clerk: Can I help you find anything else?
Me: I also need nuts.

By American standards, this was a very definite sexual innuendo!
But I wasn't sure if he'd get it (given that we speak different native tongues).

But he did.

He got it. (Cute Clerk listens to enough American music to know about American *nuts*.)
(I know this because both times we've spoken, he's brought up music.
I added some lollipops at the last minute to my order, and he said I should watch Little Wayne's song about lollipops on youtube.)

At the register, I further inquired about his single status as he was checking me out. I learned that he's still living with his ex. My intuition was confirmed. And in my book, he is not single. Just looking for an out.

Cute Clerk may have gotten my sexual innuendo, but he did not get my number.

my friend Shookie: the mover, and the shaker, and the match-maker

2011-11-07T21:32:00.006-07:00

I ran into my friend Shookie (the mover) outside of his synagogue a couple of weeks ago. I was surprised to see him there because I did not expect Shookie to be religious. But it's Israel --- it's black and white in some ways, and very gray in others.

He took my number because he didn't have it anymore, and had some things to give me for the kitchen. I thought he said a stove. I was thrilled!

He never called.

The next week I ran into him twice - once outside of Zion's cafe, where he told me that I have to practice my Hebrew, and that we should only speak in Hebrew --- and they he proceeded to speak to me only in English.

This same thing happened in the grocery store the next day.

Only this time - he asked me if I'd be home in thirty minutes so he could come by and bring me some stuff for my kitchen. I asked again if there was a stove. It seemed like he said a vague "Yes"... and I said yes, that I would be home. I made sure I was (even though I had a bit of free time to myself and that was not how I wanted to spend it).

I waited and he never came.

The next night, Shookie called me. He was sorry he never came yesterday, but he fell asleep. Was I home? Yes. Could he come by in a few. Yes.

And he did. With one milk crate of very sandy (?) and somewhat rusty (?) kitchen utensils (only 1/4 of them were decent enough to put in my camping box....), and with a man who carried a circular tin container with lid (as if Shookie, the man who carried my fridge by himself, needed help).

Shookie was happy to tell me that his friend is: an excellent cook, a computer genius, speaks perfect English, can help me with *anything*, and... a single-dad of a girl the same age as my daughters. He had me take this guys number and told me his schedule with his daughter so we can get the kids together to "play."

At first I didn't understand.... but I quickly caught on.

Shookie was not bringing me kitchen utensils. He was bringing me a husband.
and he didn't come the night before because his friend wasn't around to *help.*

The guy seemed nice enough, but I was not attracted to him. At all.
He was out-of-shape and frumpy.
Not at all my type.

Thanks, Shookie. I know you meant well, but...
what I could've really used was

A STOVE!!!

(but I bought one myself, so now I'm all set.)

I got very pissed off at hafsica yesterday (part 2) (or, "please say we're done with this!!")

2011-11-03T06:16:00.007-06:00

After all that - she followed us to hafsica today.
(yes, "hafsica", not "hafs *l* ica" - learn something new each day!)

I was at the coffee shop first.

I was sitting there on my own, and was feeling very peaceful.
I was thoroughly enjoying a mocha, each bite of my cinnamon pastry,
and a bag of mixed nuts that brought me back to life ...
when, all of a sudden,

things got balagan (nuts)
(and stayed nuts).

Evidently, she had followed the rest of the posse to coffee,
but they didn't see her til that moment.

They couldn't wait to tell me, and to look at my face. I think one of my friends even took a picture of my reaction (?), but it all got so intense (again) so fast, I never found out....

Anyway,... I looked over at her, she looked at me.

I said:

"It's not just me.
It's everyone."

She yelled something at me in French (again)

(I think it may have been that I'm an awful person, or something like that?)

and she ran off.

We finished our coffees in peace.
For the most part.

When we got back to class, she walked up to me with her phone to her ear,
held the phone up to me, and said,

"My mother wants to talk to you."
(the truth is, I *knew* this was going to happen at some point.)

I said,

"No. Absolutely not. I am 40 years old.
I am NOT going to talk to YOUR mother."

(I'm close enough to 40 to say it, and it sounded better than "39" in that moment.)

She ran off crying, just as Dafna, our morah (ulpan teacher) walked by.

I told Dafna briefly what was going on.
Dafna ran off to talk to her.

and then, just like that,
we were all back in class, back in our seats.
She was crying.

We were about to take a test!

Dafna chose this moment to give our class a lecture on morality, and how we
should/should not treat each other.

I said to Dafna (and the class):

"I am 40." (yes. used that power-number again.)
"There were years when I didn't get to chose who I spent time with,
and what I did. Now I do."

It was a balagan!!!

We ended up having an intervention with Dafna during our second hafsica.

(really, it was not how we wanted to spend our break.)

We all explained to the girl, through our strongest French speaker, that it's not personal. That when she speaks French it breaks our connections with each other. That she invades our personal space and it makes it hard for us to communicate with one another. That we like her. We think she's nice, she's generous, she's a good artist, and a good baker, and she loves flowers --- but, we want her to find people that she feels good with. She is trying so hard to fit in with us --- but when you really fit with people, it should not be so much work. We can understand how she feels, but she has to understand how we feel, too.
etc. etc. etc....

(I was very moved by my friends words as they let go of their frustration and spoke from their hearts.)

We all touched her hand or shoulder, offered up some tissues, and went back to our seats.
(hafsica was over, once again.)

Dafna's solution is to bring more French speakers into our class.

I think that may be a very Israeli way of dealing?!

I know for a fact that it won't make a difference to this poor girl's social-life.
(it will probably make it all worse.)

HER PROBLEMS ARE BIGGER THAN LANGUAGE.

What will make a difference is:

some therapy.
some life skills.
some better tools.
finding some friends her age.
moving out of her mother's house...

That's our take, at least. And one of us IS a doctor. :)

When the day ended (and the week ended)... I wanted to keep the kindness flowing, so

I said good-bye to her, and
"Shabbat Shalom."

She asked me if I
"keep the sabbath?", and I said "No."
(and smiled.)
She then said that I
"should do something, even small, for the sabbath."

(deep breath.)
(her world is so very small. as is she.)

If she tries to join us again -
I'm not sure what we'll do?

I though I was done before, but now

I'm REALLY DONE!!

(but my ability to be kind in class in limitless)

I got very pissed off at hafslica today

2011-11-02T06:37:00.005-06:00

I screamed at someone today.

This is not typical for me...

I got pushed to my limits and made a decision and then

shouted it out!!!

I had no choice.

In ulpan, we have two hafslicas (breaks).

I have four friends I adore! We laugh, joke, and have a great time together.
You know when you meet people and love them right away? - well, that's us.
We come from five different cultures, but we share a love of life.

We all speak English.
We are all educated.
Most of us are married (or divorced, or both).
Most of us are parents.
Most of us are Jewish.
None of us is religious. (at all!)
And only one of us keeps kosher (by circumstance, not choice. and only in her home.)

The person I yelled at does not speak English.
She's 20.
She has not been to college.
She's most definitely single.
She still lives with her mother.
She's religious. (and has little tolerance for people who aren't.)
And she keeps kosher (and she has little tolerance for people who don't.)

We have NOTHING in common with her.
Yet she decided that she could join us everyday,
twice a day, for our hafslicas.
(hafslica=the only time in my day I have to be social with English-speaking adults during the week.)
(hafslica=my favorite time of the day.)

The only reason she clung to us is because two people in our group speak some French. That's it. There is NO other common ground.

So everyday she'd come to have coffee with us during our first haflsika. During our second, she'd come to the park with us. It was clear to everyone (but her) that no one wanted to get stuck walking with her, and that no one wanted to get stuck sitting next to her. Especially not the French speakers!

She was smothering us. Completely.

At first everyone felt compassionate:

she's just a kid
she doesn't know anything
etc.

But why should our time be ruined by someone we don't even know?!

Our body language and manners spoke of our frustration with her -
but she does not seem to understand social cues.

I tried to ignore her. And I succeeded, for the most part.
Since I don't speak French, that made it easier for me.

But for me - the not-speaking-French part is minor.
I can have friendships with people who speak other languages.

It's her energy that I couldn't take anymore.

It's heavy and negative
and takes up too much space.

If I could understand her, I would have heard her complaining a lot, about everything! Especially her mother.

I decided that she has to stop joining us. Today.
I was that done with everyone being so uncomfortable because of this girl.

Culturally, as the only outspoken American in the group, it became MY JOB. (I chose this.)

so....

When she followed us to the coffee shop, I basically told her that:

I don't feel good when she joins us.
That the constant chatter in the background frustrates me.
I don't like it when she speaks French the whole time the
rest of us are participating in group conversations...
I get enough of chatter in ulpan. (with the Russians.)

She was saying something back to me in French -

that she is French, and she is not English,
and she can not speak English, and.....

blah blah blah.

This is when I lost it.

I stood up and yelled,

"I am a single mother. This is my only time to be
with my friends and enjoy my adult time.
When you come it changes the dynamic.
You are not welcome to join us anymore!"

or something like that. And really, it didn't matter what I said. Or if she understood my words. (which I'm fairly positive that she didn't.)

She understood my anger.

Moments later, my friends each looked me in the eyes and thanked me.

I did not feel good loosing my temper and yelling...
but I did feel very good taking care of my friends.

She will not be crashing our hafslika party anymore.

Halloween and ice cream

2011-10-31T12:00:00.009-06:00

I ate ice cream for dinner.

It was a white-chocolate-magnum-bar: vanilla ice cream covered in white chocolate, on a stick.

It came in a package of six, so it was smaller than the kind you buy from the guy at the beach. Even so, I only ate one. (it took a moderate amount of self control to not have two, but I succeeded).

My house was quiet.
It was dark out.
I sat on the couch, looked out the dark window, and enjoyed each and every bite.

There were no trick-or-treaters (or offspring) ringing my bell,
interrupting my perfect moment.

I was brought back to the summer of '93, when eating white-chocolate-magnum-bars was a daily ritual, and the calories melted off my body as fast as the cream melted off the stick.

How I pine for those days....

I ate in while my kids were at their Hebrew lesson, so they don't even know that I ate one. If they knew, they'd think that they were entitled to have one, too. But they are not. They went trick-or-treating on Saturday, and all I got was a lousy butter-finger-mini.

Happy Halloween!

Campari!

2011-10-27T07:10:00.006-06:00

Today I went to Ulpan.

I go there five times a week, for about five hours each day.

My teacher's name is Daphna.
She's very sweet, patient, and determined that we embrace our new life as Israelis.

My ulpan is made up of about 25 people. The majority are Russians in their early 20's.
I've never hung out with any Russians - so this is as knew an experience for me as being in Israel.

There are so many Russians here in Israel, that there is a joke that Russian is Israel's first language. I can say that I hear almost as much Russian in a week as I do Hebrew, thanks to my ulpan. But this is not true where I live.

What I know of the Russians so far is that the ladies like to dress up, even when just going to class, and that the 80's never died in Russian-fashion! Acid washed, very high-wasted, jean-pedal-pushers are the norm. As are very tight, very short skirts, with stilettos.

The Russians in my class all seem very nice. They are a happy bunch, always laughing and joking. The problem is - this constant chatter makes it very hard to concentrate on the Hebrew that we're supposed to be learning.... Sometimes I loose it and yell "sheket" to the boy behind me! That works for about three minutes, then he's back at it.

Sweet Daphna is very tolerant. As Israeli students are not known for their classroom manners, the Russian's disruptions are quite normal for her.
They are not, however, normal for me.

We Americans are used to a LOT more order....

For the last 30 minutes of class on Thursdays (which is like a Friday) -
it is very hard to concentrate and learn.
Daphna knows this.
To make the last 30 minutes more interesting today, she brought in a song on cd for us to listen to, along with song sheets for us to read from.

The song she played was about a guy going to a bar and meeting a cute lady. I think.
It's a song that is popular in discos right now. I only know this because my Thai friend next to me heard it in a disco. She said that all the young teens were dancing to it.

There was one line I understood for sure:
"Campari!"

So we were all sitting there: reading, then listening. Listening and reading.
Then listening, again.

While the music played, the Russians were all laughing at some inside joke that I will never understand. Nor did any of the non-Russians around me. But we all laughed along, too, until we couldn't anymore.

I was pretending to dance with my Chilean friend, using subtle arm movements,
but it was only in our minds.

Then, my friend from Portugal held up a sign for me to read that said
"WTF"
I wrote back
"LMAO (later)"

It was around this moment that I started to think about the rest of my world.

Here I was, sitting at a small desk,
surrounded by these new people from Russia, and some other places;
learning this new language like a kindergartner,
listening to dance music from my seat.

I started to wonder, how did I get here? again?
What am I doing here? again?
What is all of this?! again?
WHERE AM I?? AGAIN?

It all felt so weird and crazy.

Then my Portuguese friend said perfectly,
"I feel like I'm on a different planet from everyone else around me."

My eyes got teary.
I noticed that Daphna was looking at me with concern.

I blotted the corners of my eyes while looking up at the sky.

I'm sure I'll laugh later with my friends who shared that moment with me,
but not quite yet.

Not until I'm back on my own planet again.
Safe and sound.

stored up north

2011-10-23T13:19:00.005-06:00

smoked paprika. dried fennel.
chaid with too many cloves.

fried red lentils. dated syrup.
dated paste.

ate fresh dates that made time stop.

skinned pomegranates,
seeded black cumin.

strung chili peppers on a
sunny egg spatula.

it's time to eat, again.

front yard barbecue

2011-10-18T07:47:00.003-06:00

The girls and I walked to the mall together today. It's a substantial walk for them.

On the way home they were so preoccupied with talking about names for our future hamster, they actually forgot to complain about the walk.

And then we saw the tiniest kitten. Which changed the subject yet again away from complaining about the walk.

We were walking down a street we've been down before, where we've seen a very little kitten before. Sometimes we see him, sometimes we don't -- but we *always* look out for him.

We saw him in front of a house where there was a front-yard-barbecue - with lots of people and music. A real party!

We were so happy to see the kitten! We were only focusing on him, and not the party. He's just so little and cute!

As we were walking by, there was a man in the yard who was calling out to us in Hebrew. I looked back in my friendly way and said, "Ani lo medaberit Ivrit." (I don't speak Hebrew.) He motioned for us to come closer, into the yard. I thought he wanted to show us more kittens. Maybe offer us a sweet baby? I said so to the kids as they asked me: "Ma?" (What?)

Before I knew what had happened, the man was smiling at us, and wagging his tail like a dog, showing off his most prized bone: a ram's head.
It was bloody and fresh and wearing a red bandana.

It was the honorary guest at their barbecue.

I turned around and walked away. In shock.
My kids told me that I squealed, but I don't remember making a sound.

I had expected to see a litter of kittens, not a dead ram's head.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

true love

2011-10-17T07:38:00.008-06:00

I didn't realize that I had stopped believing in romantic love. But I did.

Now that I know this, I also know when it happened (this last time).

It happened when I fell deeply in love, and my lover turned his back on me.
He cut me off completely.

Not one time. Or two. But three times.
Three different lovers in two different decades of my life.

The first two times - I allowed myself to feel all of it. To heal all of it.

I drove on the interstate with my car top down.
I belted out Barry Manilow. Billy Joel.
and some Journey, too.

It took me a while, but I shook the etch-a-sketch clean.
I believed in love again.
I trusted my heart and opened it up for the business of love, again.

But this last time my heart broke, things were different.

I no longer had a convertible, or the freedom to be honest.
I lied to myself about how badly I was hurt.
Everything was too close and blurry. I couldn't see, or feel.

My life was too complex. I lost too much at once.

I got stuck in a space of deep rejection (of self) for months.
I treated myself like I was worthless. I believed I was worthless.
I drank too much and I partied too much and I felt like shit too much.
I masked all the pain with a perma-smile, a shot of tequila, and another notch in my bed post.

Then, I woke up.
I sobered up.
I caught up with myself.

I started to feel good again.
I liked myself, again.
My smile came naturally, again.

And life moved on.

I've stayed single for several years now.

I haven't met a man I've connected with romantically and intellectually, and one who is actually available, in a long time.

And this has been ok with me.

Two nights ago, I sat on the beach with my new friends. We were in the dark, sharing stories of our lives. I listened to the waves carry in love story after love story. The stories that brought them all to this moment. They had to learn new languages, and move to different continents, to be with their par amours.

When it comes to romantic love, they are completely guided by their hearts,
like I once was.

Two nights ago I realized that the part of my heart
that believes in the power of romantic love
never healed.

It's time to heal.
I am ready to believe again.

a family

2011-10-14T00:08:00.003-06:00

When the girl's dad left yesterday, Josephine sobbed.

I went in and rubbed her back.

She had so much fun with her dad - it was hard for her to see him go.

But there was more...

The longer I rubbed her back, the more she shared.

She felt like we were a family again:
mom, dad, kids ---
eating meals together, going to dinner parties together, living under one roof together.

She was sad to have this picture come to an end.

I understand.

I hoped this would happen.
I hoped our move would offer opportunities for healthier co-parenting.
It seems like it has.

We NEVER could have lived together this way for five days in Colorado. EVER.
We tried here and there even, for brief overnights, and it never worked.
We could get through the occasional dinner - but it never felt that great.

There is a great blessing to living this far apart. For our children, and for us - as their parents.
I felt like I had a partner in parenting. And yes, even a friend. One who still doesn't communicate enough for me --- but that's ok. He tried more. And I'm not trying to fix him or change him anymore. So it doesn't matter so much to me.

I know Josephine was sad --- but that sadness came from
a profound happiness of feeling like a family again.
As her mom, being able to provide that experience is priceless.

I'll take the five days we just had over what we had the past three years. Any time.

my morning by the sea

2011-10-13T06:22:00.005-06:00

I slept with the sliding glass doors open wide.

All night long I nestled into the sound of the sea.

The breeze trickled in

then it stopped to reverse.

gently I was woken up.

To perfect calm.

I did some yoga.
I went for a walk in the sand.

I held the cliffs hand in shade.

People with all sorts of bodies, in very little clothes, jogged by.

Naked toddlers roamed around like birds.

I cooled off in the pool.
I dined on the patio.

I biked home gradually --- allowing emotions to wash over me

like the surf.
Finding my own sweet spot in my heart where

everything feels good again.

I am stirred.
I am calm.

I know I'm not perfect

2011-10-10T10:59:00.003-06:00

My children's father/slash/my ex husband is visiting us in Israel.

He's staying in our two-bedroom apartment.

He's sleeping in the living room - where we are all hanging out right now.
(He's doing a puzzle, the girls are playing with sculpty, I'm on the computer.)
(We look like a regular Normal Rockwell family.)

He's an easy guest.
Low impact, quiet, compact.

We've been living apart for about three years; divorced for almost as long.

Since we've been apart - we have not spent time together like this.
Considering how different we are --- we are doing amazing living under one roof.

Tonight, while I made then served dinner, old feelings came back to me.
The feeling that I had to do it all on my own.
That I had no support.
That there was no one *participating* in my version of *family life* along side me.

I felt horrible.
And angry.
And resentful.
And I kept feeling worse and worse.
Digging my self deeper and deeper in self-pity.

I thought of saying something like, "See... this is how I always used to feel!"
But I didn't.

Rather, I opted to accept the things I can not change.
I remembered that this is not my life anymore.
I am not married to this man anymore.

There is nothing wrong. There is nothing for me to fix or change.
It just is.

The fact that I didn't say a thing about my *FEELINGS* shows me how much I've grown!

It took me a few bites and a few deep breaths to be kind again.
To smile at my children again. To make some small talk with their dad again.

Before I knew it - dinner was over. And it was delicious.

As clearing the table I joked that "I wish I had a dishwasher".
It was an appropriate comment as we *just* got a washing machine.

Their dad said, "I'll be the dishwasher."
And so he was --- not just for one round of dishes (the ones for eating) but for two rounds (the ones for serving and cooking.)

The fact that he offered to do them without me having to say anything about my *FEELINGS* shows me how much he's grown!!

I am once again feeling supported and good in this moment.

Our first Yom Kippur in Israel and a trip to the hospital

2011-10-08T11:07:00.007-06:00

On most holidays in Israel - you can still drive. On shabbat - you can still drive. Even on holidays where there are no buses, you can still drive.

Every holiday except for Yom Kippur!

On Yom Kippur, not only are there no buses and no taxis, but there are no cars allowed on streets. This is a biking holiday for most Israelis! It's quite amazing to take cars out of the equation of life and have all this open space and free time!

Yesterday, we got to experience what happens in Israel on Yom Kippur when you have an emergency.

As the sun was close to setting, Vivian fell and broke her arm. She came home in dirt and tears.
I couldn't tell if it was broken or not? I never can. I always need a few other opinions.
I gave her an ibuprofen, called a few people I knew to ask about homeopathics (thinking a couple doses of arnica and she'd be perfect), and had her take a shower (she was leaving piles of dirt wherever she stopped.) I tended to her and observed her - and was still not sure?

I figured it was a bad sprain and not broken, so we moved forward with life. We went for a walk. We iced it. I rubbed some arnica on it. We made a makeshift sling out of a scarf.

My one friend, whose husband is a doctor, saw that she missed my call and called me. I told her what happened. They were out and about biking around (like all the other Israelis we knew) and would stop by to take a look at it when they were done. From my description, they didn't seem to think it was broken either.

Our doctor friend came to our apartment around 9 pm, took a look at it, and pronounced it broken.

We proceeded to call an ambulance. Our friends wanted us to go to Tel Aviv, where they believe the hospitals are better, but that left us with the dilemma of how to get home!? As we waited in the middle of the street, we pulled over ambulance after ambulance. Each driver looked at Vivian's arm and confirmed that "yes, it looked broken", but it was not the ambulance for us. About twenty mintues later - the ambulance for us arrived to take us to the hospital in Kfar Saba, not Tel Aviv. We were told we could take the shuttle back from there, plus it was a lot closer. My friends thought that it would be ok.

Just as we were taking off in the ambulance, a group of Vivian's friends magically appeared to wave good-bye to her --- giving her the send off of a hero. Word spreads fast in this hood!

So, we had our first family-wide ambulance-ride on Yom Kippur in Israel!
Obviously, there was no traffic. That was a bonus!

Vivian was very angry at herself for falling and "ruining" our weekend.
Sweet girl.
I explained to here that we are exactly where we are supposed to be.
That even if we don't understand why, we have to believe that we are.
Life is so hard sometimes to get....

We got to the hospital, got checked in, and got x-rayed.
Then we waited.

The ambulance was cleaner and more sophisticated-looking than the hospital.
The hospital had a low-tech, circa 1970's feel to it. It's not like the pristine, fancy places we are used to going to in the states. It was dingy, people were free to scream, and some patients roamed around like homeless people.

While we waited, we heard this boy screaming and screaming from the room we knew Vivian would have to go to next. That was a bit unnerving.

The family next to us offered the girls some wafers and then gave us their phone number, "in case you ever need anything." My list is around 50 people long already!

Their little girl had her fingers slammed in a door by her older brother. We also met a baby who had a toy thrown at his eye by his two-year-old brother. But mostly, the kids at the ER had bike injuries that night. It's the most popular night of the year for bike injuries in Israel, every year!

By the time we were taken to *that* room to have Vivian's arm set --- she was a mess. She was shaking. Her lips were chattering. She was crying uncontrollably. It was terrible. I explained to the doctor and the nurse, and anyone else who looked official and was walking by, that she was scared, that the screaming boy freaked her out. They each said, "He's a screamer. He was screaming even when nothing was happening to him and no one was touching him." This made me feel better, but didn't really help Vivian much.

I sat behind her, covered her in wool blanket, and smoothed out her heart in between getting the shot of Novocaine and having the bone reset. She had started to calm down a little, but then was completely thrown off when the "shot" of Novocaine was not merely inserted into her vein, but rather, distributed into the area over what felt like ages. This turned out to be painful and long.

The bone setting was equally traumatic, and even with the Novacaine, it was extremely painful. It took them about four twists and pulls to get it back into place - which was truly amazing to watch.

Next, she got casted.

The cast is solid - like wall plaster - and has no fiberglass coating.
It looks like a high-school art sculpture needing some more time to dry.

Then we waited.
Got another x-ray.
Then we waited some more.

There was a tense moment in there when the doctor (I think he was the doctor?!) thought that the setting did not correct the arm to the right percentage - and that he may have to re-set it. That was stressful. The thought of going through ALL THAT again was unfathomable.

He went to another room, consulted with some people and some web-sties, and pronounced her perfect. Thank G-d!

By the time we were done - it was around 12:30 am.

During the second round of ex-rays, we met a family from Ra'anana. The mom was Australian, the dad Israeli, but they had lived in Boston for ten years and spoke English at home. Their pre-teen son had some battle scars from his biking adventure, and they were there making sure nothing was broken above and beyond the various patches of missing skin and blood.

We talked a little, and they kindly offered us a ride home. I thought we'd take the shuttle, but the shuttle had stopped working - so if it wasn't for them, we'd have been stuck! The dad drove very slowly and with his hazards on - breaking a big rule for his child, and for us.

Once again, I am struck by the total kindness of complete strangers.
It's unbelievable.

As we heard the shofar being blown at the end of Yom Kippur at sundown tonight, I felt connected to all my friends and family, all over the world. We are all so supported and connected. I felt how important it is for my children to hear the sound of the shofar each year, wherever they may be.

Although I did not get to spend Yom Kippur on a bike ride to Tel Aviv as I would've liked --- I instead spent it napping and eating chocolate, feeling grateful for my children and the pure love they offer.

Tomorrow, I will go to the health insurance agency and deal with the bills.
Yet another adventure awaits!

I'm in love with Shookie

2011-10-06T12:09:00.004-06:00

Shookie came over today.

He delivered our washer and dryer.

He's (just about) old enough to be my (very fit and sexy) father.
But it's not that kind of love. Or infatuation.

No. This is different.

I want Shookie to be my children's grandfather, but I don't want to marry his son. Nor do I want him to marry my mother.

Rather, I want Shookie to be my surrogate father. My children's surrogate grandfather.
I want him to adopt us. Me. The girls. All three of us.

When he comes into the room - I feel so taken care of.
When he says, "don't worry. everything is going to be ok"
I believe him.

And it's not like I'm even saying to him that something is wrong.
His desire to take care of us is pure.

To me, Shookie is magical.
He's big and powerful and soft and big-hearted and
I'm in love with him.

Israelis eat sugar

2011-10-05T13:25:00.011-06:00

We had a play-date today with a very nice family.
They are Israeli, and they eat sugar.

Before we even had a chance to sit down in their car on our way to the park (we were carpooling), my kids were offered a marshmallow-chocolaty-sweet. Of course my kids said "Yes!" - but I reminded them that they just had an ice-cream so I had to say "No!" I got a mini-lecture from this new friend about having balance so they don't go overboard at birthday parties, and on how these treats were actually not very sweet, and really only made with egg whites. She's a doctor, so she was using this opportunity to teach me about nutrition....
(I had tried them before. I could barely eat one it was that sweet!)

I got defensive. "Um, they *just* had some ice cream. They are not deprived!"

At the park an hour or so later, my kids were offered a "granola bar" - it was half chocolate and have chocolate-rice crispies. This was meant to be "health food" my friend told me. (because it contains rice?) My kids tried a bite to be polite, and even they thought it was too sweet. They chose to eat the pomegranate seeds I brought instead. (A proud mommy moment, indeed.)
(They chose, however, not to eat the tahini and honey sandwiches I brought. See! They're balanced!)

After sharing an impromptu dinner with them at their house - the kids were offered more sweets! They each got a chocolate-kinder bar.
It was small, but also *very sweet*. Then the dark chocolate came out, and it was a free-for-all.

This was over the course of less than three hours.
Now... it's bedtime.
I really hope they can sleep!

And at least it's sugar and not high-fructose-corn-syrup (also known as "corn sugar").

Things could be worse....

thanks, friend

2011-10-04T13:07:00.003-06:00

This was sent to me by a dear friend.

It's written by: William Kloefkorn, in “Poetry”

How is it I did not see it before,
this doorway I am walking toward,
I know I passed this way.

I was perhaps distracted by leaves
or more likely lost in my own dreams
but now there’s no missing it.

I can be so serious. So literal. So dense.
I like my invitations to tell me where and when
and what I might expect.

But here it is. The door. Small and getting smaller.
And if I do walk through the door, will there be another?
The mind it wants to know.

But the soul, the soul is more like light
that leaks through whatever cracks it finds
not caring where it arrives.

It does not knock, would stream on through,
though the mind puts on its leaden shoes
and insists on having a map.

newspaper that I can't read!

2011-10-03T22:57:00.001-06:00

There is one at my
front door every day and I
have no idea why?

Josephine Gagnon lost her wallet!

2011-10-01T08:06:00.001-06:00

If you find it - she lives in Herzliya, Israel.
Please call us: 052-346-7044.
thanks!

down time

2011-09-30T12:29:00.004-06:00

We went to Rosh Hashana dinner with our "Israeli family" on Wednesday, and it was lovely. The food was delicious - and I really enjoyed observing what a big, close, loving family looks like. I did not grow up with this type of family experience. It was mostly me, my mom, and my dad --- all watching tv in separate rooms. (the Israeli family doesn't know this about me. they think I'm just like them, but only American. they are offering to replace something they assume I've lost, without knowing that they are offering me something I've never even had before.)

The Anthropologist in me loves being with them!
The American/only-child in me gets overwhelmed.

It's difficult being around people for hours and hours who do not speak English as their native language, and who all know each other so well. I am happy, but also lonely. Everyone is so incredibly sweet and loving, but still... I'm the outsider. I don't speak the language. I haven't been around my whole life doing this every week or every year like everyone around me.
This is new. I am new.
I sit there and smile. A lot. And eat. A lot.
It's exhausting!

I'm the outsider much of the time in Israel, not just there, so I'm used to that. It's just a little more intense when surrounded by people who are so incredibly close knit, and who honor the tradition of family with such devotion.

When we were invited to dinner the next night, I said "Yes! We'd love to."
The Aunt/chef invited me, and even though we can't communicate, I feel so loved when I look in her eyes. Of course I said yes!

We got home from dinner at midnight that first night.
The next day I realized in the early afternoon that my family was not up for a repeat performance. Perhaps if we had stayed inside, in our pj's, all day, until dinner (Rosh Hashana II) that night (like the rest of the families) - we'd have been prepared. But alas, it is not my style to stay in my pj's all day unless it is cold and snowing outside, or unless I am sick. We biked to the park, we hung out at the mostly closed mall. We used up too much energy in the day to be up for another Rosh Hashana party til midnight, eating too much and smiling too much and having no one to really talk to.

Tonight is Friday - Rosh Hashana III/Shabbat.
The girls and I got into our pajamas to watch a movie around 6 pm, right after our early dinner. At around 8 pm, we got a phone call from our Israeli family inviting us to Shabbat dinner tonight.

I had to explain that we are already in our pajamas and watching our second movie of the night.

Although I am "honoring" myself, and my children -
I am also, at the same time, feeling pretty lame.

These wonderful Israelis are embracing us - at a pace that is greater than our capacity.
I wish we had prepared better for the holidays. I just didn't know.
Now I know what to expect for next year, and the next year....
By year three we'll be going to their house for three nights in a row - easy!
If I didn't offend them too much this year, that is... I really hope I didn't.
I hope they forgive me for being so new at all this.
Israeli's do seem very laid back - but also, sensitive around tradition.

Anyway - I'll get there. I know I will.
And it could be worse - I met one woman from Chile who didn't leave her house for two years upon moving to Israel - she was that overwhelmed! Luckily, my mountain is not as steep as that.

our new fridge

2011-09-29T11:18:00.008-06:00

Apartments in Israel come without major appliances. Up until yesterday, we had been using a hotel mini-bar fridge from the 60's.
I had to turn a key to open it.

A friend of a friend gave us a fridge. Very sweet.

Another friend of a friend found his friend, "Shookie", to move our new fridge. For 300 shekels - Shookie moved our new fridge from one block and two stories away. Although he could have lifted it by himself, he preferred to order around his humble laborer, who apparently knew nothing. In the process of moving, one of the wheels fell off the fridge, the laminate off the kitchen bar is scratched raw - but it works perfectly. He checked before he brought it over. Shookie is thoughtful like that!
Shookie's favorite hobby is fishing - so he said he'll bring us some fish.
(sweet, I'll blend it up into gefilte!)
Shookie has this mafioso disposition that makes him impossible not to love!
I've never had a friend named Shookie before now.

As for the fridge - it's a Frigidaire - which seems to impress people!, and
this is the hugest (and loudest) fridge I've ever owned!
It's size is considered standard, maybe even a bit small, by Israeli standards.
An Israeli told me that this is because the Jews like to eat -
hence making this truth universal:

the Jews like to eat!

Since I shop everyday (or just about, Jews also like to shop for food!),
the amount of food I actually use the fridge for is scant
compared to how much room there is.
The contents of my fridge look like a poorly attended art-house film.

But it's fine. Two hours of elbow grease later, some magnets from home, and a quick
pre-holiday shop for staples as the store was about to close for four days - and voila!
our apartment is feeling a lot more like home.
I'm feeling more inspired and capable of cooking - which is also feeling very good.
Especially to my children. They feel like I'm back from a vacation :)

I'm still cooking on a camp stove.... That too will come soon.
Oh, and a washing machine would be nice --- except that means I won't be able to justify
sending my laundry out to be done anymore.... (there's no self-service laundromats where I live, gosh-darn-it).
For better, or for worse, this will make life here feel "more like home" too.

homemade gefilte fish

2011-09-28T22:01:00.003-06:00

I had no idea that you could even make *homemade* gefilte fish!?
I've only ever seen it in a jar - all gelatinous and soggy and pale.

Evidently, you can make it from scratch.

It's basically a fish burger.... the fish parts are ground up and made into a patty.
I imagine the parts must have come from the body of the head that was displayed at the Rosh Hashanah cedar table, passed around for the children to each have a little taste. For brain development, or something?

(one word: Yuck!)

Everyone around me loved it, and had seconds. Maybe thirds?!
Including one of my children.
Which for some strange reason made me proud.

I have no doubt that it's some of the finest, most delicous gefilte fish on the planet!
Everything this woman makes is superb.
Still, no matter how delicious, it's gefilte fish!

As for me, I'd rather eat cake.

the in crowd/in a crowd

2011-09-27T12:08:00.004-06:00

Today at Lev Tov (Good Heart), the girl's new school, Josephine's class did a Shana Tova performance in front of all 700 kids and some parents. She did amazing! I could not tell that she's only been there two weeks. I am so proud of her.

so I sat there in the top row
surrounded by parents who have all known each other for years
(maybe. probably. or so it seemed.)

All I did know for sure was that I only knew a few people.
None of them were within arms length, or an ear shot,
and there were people they know so much better than me
who they sat with.
I felt invisible.
Not like the cool new girl. Not like my children feel:
accepted. embraced. adored.

(thank G-d they are having a better experience than me!)

I felt so alone.

but it's not much different from how I felt in the states at the girl's various schools. even when I've known tons of the parents, or, in some cases, all of the parents... there is something about being in that institutional/auditorium-like setting that has never felt right to me.

Maybe it's like being a kid? - unless you have that one person, or two people, you totally connect with - it's easy to feel all alone in the crowd. Maybe it's because my own mother did not show up for me at school, so the road has not been paved?

That is how I always seem to feel at those things - so alone.

This feeling brought up harder feelings for me. I started to focus of all the things I don't have. All the things I haven't done. My eyes started to tear. I caught myself just in time with reminders of all the things I do have. All the things I have done. And quickly, I felt better. Not great, but better.

Thus is the teeter-totter of my emotional life.

When it came time to stand at attention and to sing the Ha Tikvah
I felt appropriately moved, for more reasons than anyone around me could know,
or maybe imagine.

my day today: Sunday

2011-09-25T09:42:00.004-06:00

A friend asked me what I did today, so here it goes....
(and this is me procrastinating - b/c really, I *should* be studying Hebrew/ivrit.)

Woke up around 6. It was painful.
Made a cup of black tea with milk and honey (of course).
Putzed around on the computer.
Made some hard boiled eggs.
Drank the tea.
Downloaded photos - which means I putzed on the computer for too long, which left very little time for me to do my yoga. (got in 5 sun salutations - maybe?)

Woke up the kids.
Put out some breakfast.
Got ready for the day (clothes. makeup. hair. all of it comfortable and plain.)

Walked the girls (along with my bike) to school.
Kissed them goodbye at about 7:45 at the front gate.
Jumped on my bike and rode to Ulpan (Hebrew class) in Ra'anana -- arrived 8:20....

Had to dodge trees and trucks and potholes and cars and people and... mostly biked on uneven cobblestone sidewalks. It's quite intense, really, for the morning!

Sat through Hebrew for a little over an hour - understanding a tad more than last week. Ate an apple. Got the hairy-eyeball from Daphna, the teacher, for not doing my homework. (yeah, yeah. I know!)

Had a twenty minute break which I used to sprint to the coffee shop and the bakery for a cappuccino and a couple small pastries. My almost-daily breakfast of choice... (Thank G-d I'm not gluten free!)

Talked on the phone to the insurance agent about renter's insurance.

Back to class. About 10 minutes into it I got a phone call from Vivian - her head and eye hurt and she wanted to go home. It was Josephine whose eye hurt earlier, but whatever.

I left class, reversed my bike route, discovered the existence of a modern art museum in Herzliya, and picked up Vivian from school around 11.

I found her some food at the local restaurant - shnitzel. Deep fried protein.

She rested. I putzed on the computer more - only this time I actually did some job-search stuff.

Got Josephine. Was given some sheets from a friend who had extras to hand down. (A bag filled with packages of brand new sheets - four sets!)
Made Josa some lunch.

Laid down on the make-shift couch for 10 minutes.

Got up from the couch when the phone rang.

Girls played at the park while I applied for more potential jobs....
Called my family in Israel - who could not be less interested in our aliyah.

Went to pay a bill at the post office!
Shared a price fixed lunch with the girls at around 5. More shnitzel!
Went for a walk up a street in a different direction.

And now --- here I am!

So much of this is normal life. Wherever I go as a mom I still have to pick up under-the-weather children, make meals (or go out for them), do dishes, put out snacks, remind them to take a shower, keep track of them when they go to the park.

It's the nuisances of where we live that remind me we are not in Kansas anymore. It's a Sunday - and everyone works and goes to school! W e have dozens of affordable options of places to eat in a 3 block radius. I feel little incentive to cook....

When Vivian left school because her head hurt - I knew she was hungry - for protein! My new friend at the store around the corner told me to go buy a raw shnitzel at the grocery and she'd have the man with the cafe next door cook it for us. Instead, we went to the Arab restaurant and ordered shnitzel there (already cooked). Once he started I discovered that we could get in in a pita instead of in a plate for half the cost. He gave it to us as a plate (more food) and only charged us for the pita price. And this was all communicated with me speaking English and him speaking Hebrew!

When I went to pay the bill the clerk at the post office had to write the check out for me. And this was ok.

I got mail today and have no idea what it says, or who it's from, but I know it's for me because I can read my name in Hebrew.

In my ulpan there are young people from all over the world. There are at least 7 countries represented in a room of 25 people - and for once, the Americans are in the minority!

Totally beat, pretty thirsty, and I still have to study ivrit....

lilah tov.

if you need anything, call me

2011-09-24T10:27:00.005-06:00

I hear this all day long:
"If you need anything, call me!"

The lady at the intersection, the mom at the school,
the dad at the bowling alley, my religious neighbor.

EVERYONE!!! EVERYDAY!!!
wants to help us in some way.

(and they mean it.)
(and they are not keeping tabs.)

I have more phone numbers than I can keep track of.

The Israelis are amazing.
It's unbelievable how much support we have.

The other day we went to a birthday party and the mom who hosted the party woke up feeling satisfied because everyone had a good time. It didn't matter that she spent $600 on the party, or that none of the kids (except mine) said thank you,
or that she ate a slice of pizza while walking around serving soda.

Earlier that same day a new friend rode me around on his scooter to introduce me to the principals of various schools in the area to
help me find a job as an English teacher.
Then he refused to let me pay for my soda and borekah!

My children have been so completely embraced at their new school.
Josephine got a note (and present) from a new friend that read:
"Josephine, because you're a new and very nice, so...
I wanted to bring you a present.
love you."

Vivian receives dozens of hugs a day.

The Israeli's really care about others in this completely selfless way.
I'm blown away and amazed, and am
deeply touched by everyone's kindness.

my clumsy life

2011-09-23T03:30:00.004-06:00

yesterday, I fell off my bike.

I was jumping the curve where there was a small gap in the pavement when my bike shimmied and I ended up chin-planting and bracing myself with the right side of my body. It happened so fast, but in slow enough motion that I managed to get out one "fucking bitch." (my token go-to curse when it all goes to hell.)

I did not cry.

I was handed a wet one to wipe off all the dirt and blood.
I was handed a glass of water to drink.
I was offered a chair in the hair salon to sit.

Then, I was back on my bicycle, continuing with my life.

Later the same night I was doing dishes after dinner and
I broke a bowl that was in the sink. We are now down to two bowls from four.

Before bed I went to spray my eyes with Rose Water but instead I sprayed
Rose Deodorant. It stung like a thorn.

This morning...
I put the milk back in the fridge upside down and open...
It's easier to do than you think with these cardboard boxes of milk that have no plastic screw on top, and not enough extra material to create the illusion of a resealable flap.
The milk went down and
underneath the cabinet that holds the mini-bar fridge that is our source of all coldness.

Now - it's shabbat. An opportunity for a new beginning.
Which is perfect timing - for I can really use one.

married, or lonely?

2011-09-19T21:35:00.006-06:00

there was a time in history when for women, if you weren't married, you were lonely.
being single was wrong and had to be fixed. as soon as possible.

and choosing to be single meant assuming a societal label that had a negative, needy, unwanted connotation. like announcing to the world,
"I'm not worthy."

the desire and expectation to be paired up was the same for men, too. only the choice not to wasn't coupled with the same labels.

this is such an old world belief.
yet, today I was asked at the beach,
"are you married, or are you lonely?"

the man who asked me was from a different generation, and a different culture.
I'd go so far as to say he's from a different planet! but as I'm the one who's been
plopped down in his world - I am the one from somewhere completely strange and foreign
and perhaps unimaginable: A whole country of liberated women!

we were both picking up things from the sea. I was finding cool rocks. and shells.
I never quite figured out what he was picking up - (besides a wife) -
I did not stay long enough to see.

we were standing outside this extraordinary house - built into the side of cliff, in rocks, with colorful tile mosaics and sculptures and shapes that reminded me of Gaudi,
or the Ilhara Valley of Turkey.

perhaps he lived there and wanted to take a wife?
damn!
I could've have been privy to prime Mediterranean real estate...,
if only I had admitted my truth in his eyes,
that I am not married, but lonely.....
o'well!

I know there are many men(!) and women who carry this belief around with them, still.
they live in fear of being alone --- because for them being single is
still something that is wrong
and has to be fixed.
as soon as possible.

I was very lonely a lot of the time in my marriage.
I am quite complete most of the time in my single-hood.

it's not so simple.

I did not chose to stand there and explain myself to this old man
who may or may not be looking for a nice Jewish wife?!
this idea, my truth, may be too big a leap for him to make in one lifetime.

our second Shabbat in Israel!

2011-09-17T02:42:00.005-06:00

It's 11:42 am and we are barely out of our pajamas.
Saturdays are our only morning to sleep in.

This is a very new rhythm for us - especially after a lazy, fairly structureless summer.
And in the states - a weekend consisted of two mornings, not one....

The kids would stay home all day - home in our humid, furniture-free apartment - if I said it's fine. There's plenty of room to scooter around inside, and they're completely content.
Alas - I am taking them on a walking adventure of our neighborhood.
There is still so much we haven't yet seen.

I was under this impression that the whole country shut down for shabbat. Evidently, it's not true. The local buses here don't seem to run, but there may be some that do? The major grocery store in the hood is closed, but the AM/PM is open. Banks and government municipalities are closed, but apparently - our mall stays open!
After my walk today - I will know a lot better, first hand, what stays open, and what doesn't.
I could really use a coffee!

Last night was our 2nd shabbat dinner since our move to Israel.
We were invited to the home of the American Ambassador and family.
We happen to know them - and have for 20 years or so.

It's my best friend from college's sister and husband, and they are extremely lovely people.

The whole life of an Ambassador and family is so interesting! It's the small details that are unique, like having a chef (who in turn has a sous chef), managing a house staff of six people, hosting parties of 300 for a Rosh Hashanah toast on a Thursday night, the baby grand piano, a gift of wine and jellies from the head of the Israeli Army, the chauffeur and bodyguard, never being alone in public as a family, eating on embassy china, and being *served* dinner. etc., etc., etc....

As my mind gracefully jumped from question to question, I could have listened for days and days to Daniel and Julie speak.
I felt so intellectually stimulated I could have burst with joy!

And not one person talked about a run, a bike ride, or a
cherry pow-pow day in the backcountry.
It was so nice!!!

There's also a side to Embassy life that's very much like regular, normal, real family life:
a mom, a dad, some kids, and a swimming pool.
Playing hide-and-seek in the curtains.
Slurping up soup from the plate with a straw.
Putting on cheap make-up from Claire's.

It was a delicious and peaceful shabbat dinner.
Not having to bring a covered dish, and not having to help with dishes, made it extra luxurious.

Was definitely *not* like the potlucks we are used to in Colorado :)

one week mark

2011-09-15T10:29:00.003-06:00

A week ago today we sat in this same room, with a pizza and soda - just like tonight. only a week ago - the room was covered in baggage and boxes and an exhausted family.

I'd say we are all pretty tired, still --- but it's better.

The boxes are all gone - all our stuff is put away.
We have some recycled furniture, some borrowed furniture --- just enough so there's a place to eat, sleep, and watch a movie.

We have a fan - which has improved our quality of life greatly.
And we have a broom - the best broom ever.

I am loving our neighborhood more and more all the time. It starting to take a shape - a form --- and isn't just a monochromatic back drop.

Friend's moms are calling for play dates - the first one is scheduled for tomorrow. We're going to check out the scouts - it's bigger here than in the states. I'm having to advocate for my children at school (inpatient Hebrew teacher). I've been buying school supplies and uniform shirts and packing lunches - which is all making mom-life feel more normal.

I am going to the grocery store almost daily - but am not in any sort of real rhythm in that department - but that could take me a while since I don't have a full sized fridge, or a freezer, or a stove or oven. The camp stove I had been using stopped igniting - so I officially can not cook anything.

Sometimes - I just can't get to dinner. or lunch. I seem to come up one meal short on most days.... Thank G-d for Pizza Angel- I can smell their pizza from my building. It's excellent and cheap! (especially compared to everything else I bought today....) And thank G-d for Israeli street food - falafel and shwarma. Oh - and I found this eggplant spread at the grocery store that I could live on - and I have been.... (when I'm not eating out I'm eating that @ home.)

I've also this past week: signed my lease, opened a bank account, signed up for health insurance, created auto-pay feature on my bank account for paying rent, got my Israeli social security card (teudot zehot), registered kids for school (and have been taking them 2 days now)... brought my laundry in to be washed, went to a shabbat dinner, attended an open house for a store in the next town over, spent a shabbat at the beach, an afternoon at the mall, have walked up and down the street here so many times I almost have my bearings... got a cell phone plan!,

and ... I'm getting used to all the windows of my apartment and how best to use them throughout the day to keep the apartment feeling really good despite the intense humidity and (hopefully) without an exorbitant electric bill.

So I guess you could say I've had a busy week, and the mezuzah blessing is still on my counter.

blessing for my door. how serious is this religion-thing, anyway?

2011-09-14T13:33:00.003-06:00

I have so many "to do" lists I can barely keep track. It is the major source of my jet-lag at this point.

Unless something is jumping on me - like the bug crawling up the wall (Israel has bugs!), or it's written in five different places (my spiral, my calendar, my paisley notebook, purple journal, and on scrap in bottom of my purse)- I may not ever see it, let alone get to it.

If it's sitting on my kitchen counter and is actually in my way --- that is another route to jumping off the "to do" list and into the "done did" list (aka the garbage bag - that hangs from a drawer knob at the moment.) (buy garbage can is on my "to do" list - but it's only written three times thus far. it's getting closer.)

Such is the parchment - sitting on my kitchen counter - begging me
not to forget it.
(don't worry, I won't.)

It never even crossed my mind to add "parchment blessing for the (plastic) mezuzah" to any of my to-do lists what-so-ever.

Even though mezuzahs are everywhere, I did not think that it could be empty, without parchment, without a blessing.... who new?

Mezuzahs hang on every door frame everywhere you go in Israel. It's fairly impossible to walk through a door in Israel and not get blessed.

Evidently, however, my mezuzah at my front door has no blessing in it.
I've been walking through the door and receiving no blessing, at all.
and I had no idea. (oy vey)

It's my job upon moving in to add the blessing.
I should know this. I've seen it in children's books, for g-d's sake.
Only I didn't think it pertained to me.
There's already a mezuzah up, right!?
I'm a new immigrant - can't someone do this for me, just to be nice?! I have enough to do, for g-d's sake!

It wasn't until today, a week after I arrived, that I was also told that it's urgent that I get one. Immediately. Like it should have been done already. duh?

A few shops were pointed out to me, immediately, as to where I can buy this bless-ed parchment. It was not only being put on my "to do" list --- but it was being put in bold black permanent marker on my "must do now" list.

I started to freak out.
What else have I forgotten to do that is this urgent!
oh no?!

I was laughing because I don't even have a couch. Or a kitchen table. Or a refrigerator, actually. I was laughing because I was nervous. and indignant.

There are other things much higher on my list, thank you.

I happened to be having this entire conversation while at the open house of a new Jewelry Store. While I was scarfing down cookies, a rabbi arrived to take the parchment out of the mezuzah of the store and replace it with a new one - because a new business needs a new blessing. (like a house. ok, I get it.)

And just like that I was blessed with a perfect, in-tact, fully recycled and reusable lambskin parchment - neatly rolled up and presented in a blue box with red flowers.

Thank you, dear God,
and Drora (the jeweler), and
Alon (my realtor, for brokering the deal).

I now have my very own parchment for my plastic mezuzah at my front door of my new home.

Once again - a sign of abundance.

Everything I need I have in this moment.
Even things I didn't know I needed - I have in this moment.

Once again - I am doubly-blessed.

blog time, in haiku. what time is it?

2011-09-13T21:39:00.003-06:00

my posts are jet-lagged,
like my body, and brain --- we
are on mountain time.

the f-n alarm clock

2011-09-13T21:34:00.003-06:00

sometimes, the alarm clock gets incorporated into my dream,
like a sweet lullaby.

at other times, it serves as a gentle reminder to get up and start my day,
when I'm already mildly awake.

this morning - it scared the shit out of me ----
and my heart is still racing.

it's almost time for the girls to get up for their first day of school at
Lev Tov - Good Heart.

this is an exciting day for us all.

in the middle of the night

2011-09-13T16:00:00.001-06:00

sweeping the floors,
eating pita & hummus,
skyping with friends,
having time for me!

Thanks Cindy!

2011-09-13T02:16:00.004-06:00

I've been in Israel for five days now - counting today - and I've walked out of two stores while waiting in line. Last night was almost three.

I was standing and standing with exactly two items in my hand: nail file and foot file; and the line *just*wasn't*moving*. The lines never seem to move in Isarel....

The man two people in front of me was stocking up for a hurricane.

As I was standing there, I said what I was thinking:

"I don't care how long I live here!
When it comes to standing in lines -
I will always be American!"

As most people around me do not know much English, talking out-loud was like talking to myself. Only it wasn't this time. I was wrong.
There was a lady standing next to me who knew *exactly* what I was saying.
She has lived in Israel 35 years - but I could still hear her New York accent.

She appeared to be cutting in line, but she did not take what I said personally. She assured me that she wasn't cutting in line. She gave me a brief yet friendly lecture on savlanut (patience), and I listened, agreed, and that helped pass the time. We shared our aliyah stories. Turns out my kids will be going to the same school her kids went to. I learned her name (Cindy). I felt like I had made a new friend.

The next thing I knew - the cashier was on to me, only he wasn't! --- he was helping Cindy. Cindy, who assured me that she was not cutting me in line. She was only returning something. yada-yada-yada.

I don't know, Cindy? Sure felt like you cut me in line.... hmmm????

When I run into Cindy on the street, I am certain I'll be happy to see her.
She seemed like a nice person.
But if I see her at the grocery store, I'm going to a different cashier.

I did learn something, though.
Cindy's coping skills will not be mine.

No matter how long I live here, I will always be American. It's true.
But I never want to be that pushy ex-pat!

I must learn how to have savlanut --- or times and places to shop that aren't quite as busy.

Thanks for the lesson in savlanut and civility, Cindy!
See ya around.

environmental Israel

2011-09-11T06:53:00.003-06:00

examples of a few things I've seen that are respectful to the planet:
* solar hot water heaters on rooftops
* huge plastic recycling bins on just about every street corner
* very compact cars
* placing any and all household items and clothing on streets for people to find and take

(more on this as I make more observations)

because of the organic eggs

2011-09-11T00:19:00.003-06:00

I barely made my way through the grocery store today.
Picking up a handful of things is very different from doing an actual shop.
I was fairly lost - like a puppy. A very jet-lagged puppy in need of caffeine.
And some eggs for breakfast, along with some cheese, and some yogurt.
Oh, and water!, which my children can not believe I forgot.... but I did.

The woman at the cheese counter could not be bothered to help me.
Evidently she was busy and it was not personal.

The shoppers in the dairy aisle were more than happy to help me as they loudly argued over whether the milk was indeed milk or yogurt. I never figured it out and went in two different directions entirely. As did they.

I found organic eggs, which was amazing!, but when I went to check out it turned out they were 30 shekels - which is around $8. The cashier was nice enough to leave her post and help me find normal eggs, which were more like $1. My presence in the dairy aisle stirred up another loud conversation with may or may not have been an argument. I couldn't tell.

When I finished checking out I was going to return my cart, and get my refund of 5 shekels - but my cart was gone. And no one could help me.

5 shekels is the price I had to pay for exchanging the organic eggs for normal ones... so really, I saved 20 shekels. Not bad! and lesson learned.

I will never leave my shopping cart unattended again!!!

the kindness of a woman every shabbat

2011-09-09T21:24:00.005-06:00

She starts cooking at 6 am. She's done by around 1 or 2.
She's alone in the kitchen with her beloved ingredients,
her pots and pans, her wooden spoons and ceramic dishes:
she creates her masterpieces in silent devotion.

With each bite of food I can hear her mantra:
three generations together at one table, each week, for all my days.

This is as ancient and as universal as the moon.

Her table is filled with laughter, and with real conversation.
There is no alcohol, save for the kiddish cup.
Intoxication is genuine of the heart.

The house is filled with hugs and kisses and squeezes on the shoulder that start the moment you walk through the door.
Initially, my children are overwhelmed by this brand of
in-your-face, old-world love.
By the end of the evening, they are nourished and satisfied -
completely at home with their new extended family.

Our invitation for Rosh Hashanah has already been procured.
We are blessed.

can't open my eyes all the way

2011-09-09T09:25:00.004-06:00

just found out
where North is
so I can easily
find east. and west.

That helps.

Have been plopped down
in an apartment I
spent all night cleaning.

there is a park and
there is a coffee shop.

I can see my kids
play while I guzzle
my creamy cappuccino.

The cream is so rich
I can barely tell
that the espresso is
only so-so.

I have a list of
things to do
but alas, it's Shabbat
and not much is open
so really.... what can I do?

will have to
stick with the
short list, for now.

(adapters.
bank account.
a fan or two.
a basket or two.)

find a pay phone
to call my mother.

(a cell phone plan.)

suspended. somewhere
between living and
traveling ---

between having some
bowls but no fridge.

between dirty laundry
and a place for
a machine.

between listening to American
women sing the
blues and writing a blues song
myself. (so much rich emotion).

this is perfect
like this weather.

closing time

2011-09-05T21:48:00.005-06:00

This is my last night in Durango; my last night in my apartment.
My last night listening to the subtle hum of the refrigerator and fan as I sit on the gray, speckled linoleum. I type til my back hurts.

Random piles of discarded clothes and cleaning supplies surround me.
Box me in. Rendering it difficult to walk. Or think.
Which is good - because I'm done thinking.

Tomorrow, it will all be gone.
The boxes. The bags. The manilla envelope with a license plate and bill of sale.
Even the last bits of grime around the stove -gone.

as will I.

Good-bye Durango.
Good-bye American Southwest.

Good-bye dear friends.

I'll be back soon, for a visit.

let's get emotional

2011-09-03T21:43:00.003-06:00

so far, my experience of moving has been very mental.
there's a lot to organize.... so much paperwork, and longs lists of e-mails.

now my e-mail box is empty.
there are no more copies to be made.

it has also been very physical.
have been moving out furniture for weeks now.

now all that is left is a step stool
and a futon mattress. literally.

next is the emotional.

I can feel it sneaking up on me.

all of those around me have been sad for a while.
now it's my turn.

only it's more complex than just sadness.
and it's not exactly fear.

and there's a very thick layer of the excitement
that couples true adventure.

and yes, I know I am very brave, and courageous. and somewhat crazy...

I hope there are some tissues left in the box.
I need some.

work, it's over

2011-09-01T05:30:00.003-06:00

I've been wanting to leave my job for a while.

It's the kind of job that, by it's very nature, has a high burn out.
Typical career-life of a social worker is about six years.

I burnt out in about a year, but I stayed for two. I get things pretty darn fast, I guess. Or get over them, at least.

My need for variety is getting greater and greater!

Now that it's over... it's weird to think that I don't have a place to go anymore - to "work." Soon, I won't have a home here anymore either - so then it won't be so weird, because I won't even be here anymore.

My co-worker and I developed a deep and loving friendship that I will miss.
My clients and I developed a quirky friendship (where I shared my spiritual beliefs and they shared their soap opera lives) that I will miss.

After our staff meeting yesterday, on my last day, as everyone was disbanding, I said:
"Bye everyone! It's been great working with you."

I got a hug from the Director.
Within an hour, my supervisor presented me with a lovely card and gift (she didn't waste any time - it was a furlough day and I only had two more hours of work.) (I love my supervisor).

If I hadn't said good-bye, I'm not sure they would've remembered I was leaving....

That part I won't miss.

awaiting for the watch-pot to boil

2011-08-29T20:36:00.005-06:00

It's almost 9 pm on a school night.

At any given moment there is something wrong with someone at my bosom: an allergic reaction to a bee-sting that requires medical attention; a potential strep throat outbreak; a heart that is so cramped from running that it hurts to yawn, or breath.

We are moving half way around the world in 9 days:
to a place no one in their school can find on the map,
to a place where we don't speak the language,
to a place where kids go to school on Sundays.

Now that's scary.

on bacon, Israel, and the irony of good-byes

2011-08-23T06:20:00.006-06:00

Last Saturday, on Shabbat, we went to the county fair.
We looked at some pigs.
Mostly, pigs are like sloths, with little red eyes and tiny, squiggly tails.
Giant gerbils.
They are, of course, a very nice shade of pink.
(and, they make very cute babies. and very yummy bacon.)

Last night I went to a friends. She hosted a get-together in my honor:
A hookah/slash/pork splitting party (four of the people there went in on a pig.)
The pork was an afterthought. Or maybe the hookah was a afterthought?
Regardless, the pig had just been processed, and it had to be deep freezed and divided.

Their pig had no name.
She (or he?) was raised by a fifth grader from the elementary school across the way.
The fifth grader showed her pig at the county fair.
We saw him (or her). Probably.
(they all look pretty much the same.)

My children are in fourth grade.
They will not be raising a pig next year,
(or probably ever. but I guess you never know?)

As we meandered through the pigs, I was talking about our move to Israel.
the usual: Why? How? When?!
(OMG! We are moving to Israel!)

As I exhaled the sweet tangerine tobacco,
I said good-bye to the southwest, good-bye to all the lazy Wilburs at the fair, good-bye to dear friends,
and Good-bye to Sunday bacon....

five rolls of toilet paper

2011-08-20T20:45:00.002-06:00

the other day a man cried because I was leaving. moving. it was not meant sexually. he's married to a lovely, soulful woman and has a pretty, athletic daughter. no - this was his heart. his heart that said: "I like you. I like your children. I want to be around you more. Please stay." while my mind was saying "What? I've been here three years, and you are just now noticing how cool we are." alas, it's too late. we are not going because of a sense of lack of real connection to a community. nor are we staying for the opposite.

then today, I ran into a man who I've always fancied as handsome. so much so. he's always been friendly, but never very available. upon learning of my imminent departure, he asked me out.

believe the mere intention of leaving,coupled with a concrete plan, is rendering me more attractive and intersting.

life is funny.

regardless if I fell madly in love today, or tomorrow, or anytime in between today and tomorrow and the end of the month - I am going anyway.

for the sea beckons us.

and, as soon as the toilet paper runs out, we are out of here.
I'm not buying any more!

You bring out the best in people

2011-08-12T06:49:00.002-06:00

I was feeling lost -
like I had forgotten who I am.

Wading in this great big gray area -
which I'm told is good.

Or better, at least -
then spinning along with all that is changing

like a top
out of control, only more original than that.

Then, there was laughter.
the kind of laughter that is mixed with tears

and no one in the room except for the lovers
are in on the joke.

the time could be soon to blog again!?

2011-07-30T06:40:00.001-06:00

am getting a big inspired to start keeping my blog again....

haven't had much time/energy ---
but am missing the creative outlet.

stay tuned.

xo

2011-07-09T20:39:00.001-06:00

HI RENEE!!!

time

2011-03-26T08:53:00.004-06:00

All of the random bits of my creativity and free time are being absorbed into the building of a business:

Natty-G's
Live life. Love food.

Please check out my web-site which is still under construction -

and please...

stay tuned!!!!
On both the business front, and the blog front.

I will blog again some day :)

anxiety, in haiku

2011-03-14T20:27:00.001-06:00

heart a slimy sponge
on the verge of soaped water
waiting to be wrung.

spring in the rockies, in haiku

2011-03-09T06:02:00.001-07:00

wind and snow. then-more
wind and snow. the flowers fight
for life as they know.

Eric's annual movie list!

2011-02-28T18:33:00.001-07:00

This was not a banner year at the movies, in at least this film lover's humble opinion. As I sat to consider the films I'd seen this year, I had my shortest list of candidates in a decade of compiling such a list. That said, the films in at least my top 5 I consider to be generally excellent, whereas in past years I've had longer lists but fewer films that I felt actually achieved such heights. With all that in mind, my top ten films for 2010 are:

10. The Fighter: There is nothing revelatory about the script for The Fighter-- the boxing story is completely paint-by-the-numbers (albeit true) and the family dysfunction has been handled more deftly and deeply in many other films. But what really elevates The Fighter are the juicy performances, by not only the stars-- Amy Adams playing against type, Melissa Leo with big hair and bigger attitude, and Christian Bale in a performance that will win Best Supporting Actor (and rightly so)-- but perhaps even more richly, the smaller character parts (sisters, trainers, crackheads) which appear to be not so much cast as lifted directly from Micky and Dicky Ward's working class neighborhood in Lowell, Massachusetts.

9. Blue Valentine: Here is another film which makes the list chiefly based on acting prowess- Ryan Gosling and especially Michelle Williams don't perform so much as completely inhabit the lives of a couple coming apart at the seams. But interestingly, Derek Cianfrance's film itself has ambitions beyond a mere journalistic snapshot of a marriage undone-- there is actually a gentle poetic symmetry between the film's depiction of the young couple's current struggles and flashbacks to their initial rosy courtship. We might first encounter a song, a fistfight, or a promise, each wrapped in romance in a vignette from the beginning of their relationship -- and only later find it has a poignant, darker corollary in the gritty, deteriorating hangover that is their present lives.

8. Another Year: Another Year will not be everyone's cup of tea. It meanderingly follows four seasons in the lives of middle aged couple Tom and Gerri, and the less fortunate friends and family in their lives who gravitate towards the beacon of stability they represent in an otherwise unforgiving world. In truth, I much preferred director Mike Leigh's recent Happy-Go-Lucky, but I couldn't help but notice that Another Year is his less optimistic take on the same theme-- perhaps the most important theme of all-- namely, how do you find happiness, or once finding it, hold on to it? Another Year does not offer the tightest narrative and it's not exactly a walk in the park, but Leigh's films push profoundly into the conundrum of human existence in a way that makes most other films seem downright superficial by comparison.

7. Inception: Inception hands-down featured the ballsiest, most bombastic film-making of the year, and it was surely the most fun I've had at the movies in quite a while. But you have to give a few demerits for the script, which though often pleasingly loopy and brain-teasingly fun, also has moments of eye-rolling silliness. It was a film best experienced by way of full surrender- to its visuals, its propulsive and labyrinthine plot, its heart, if not its head.

6. Tangled: I did not jump on the Toy Story 3 bandwagon this year. Although the ending of that film is inarguably beautiful and touching, I was left a little cold by the chain of action sequences that constitute its first two-thirds, where a more compelling story might otherwise have been. But not so Tangled, which is my favorite animated movie of the year. Perhaps it is not receiving the same embrace because it's really just a fresh twist on the same old school Disney princess theme, but I will never object to expertly-executed takes of a familiar formula-- especially when the sidekicks are so cute, the hero and heroine have such chemistry, and the animation is so gorgeous, frame by frame.

5. The King's Speech: The favorite to win the Oscar race this year, this is historical docudrama done about as well as any one could ask. The performances-- Firth, Rush, Bonham-Carter, and Pearce- are really so full of life that there is no sense of that musty/fussy/ British stuff that sometimes gives this genre a bad name. And director Tom Hooper wisely filmed this not as a constrained period piece, but as something more personal, vital even-- we practically live inside the king's head, hanging on his every stutter.

4. Black Swan: Dazzling film making by a director in complete control of his craft, Darren Aronofsky's movie is deeply disturbing but also wildly exhilarating. It actually gave me a nightmare the night I saw it, a testimony to the power of its images and Portman's uncompromising central performance.

3. The Kids Are All Right: The most emotionally satisfying film of the year is not a piece of alternative family propaganda. In fact one of the bravest things about The Kids Are All Right is how flawed its central characters, a lesbian couple, actually are. Lisa Cholodenko's script is far more concerned with emotional honesty than political correctness and the result is one of the most richly rewarding family dramas in recent memory. There always seems to be one and only one movie on my list each year that made me cry, and this time it's The Kids Are All Right holds that honor.

2. 127 Hours: Perhaps no director served himself up a bigger challenge this year than Danny Boyle, who set out to tell the true life tale of adrenaline-junkie Aron Ralston who spent the titular 127 hours with his arm trapped under a rock (before sawing it off). How do you take such a grim, static story and make it into a feature length film? If you're Danny Boyle, you cast the supernaturally charismatic James Franco, you shoot in the kinetic style that is your hallmark, and you dare to incorporate flashbacks, hallucinations and fantasy sequences that aren't mere filler-- they elevate a survival tale to a meditation on life, love, and what really matters.

1. The Social Network: Other films on this list-- Black Swan, 127 Hours, and Inception-- were more show-offy achievements by their respective directors, but The Social Network's gorgeous sheen, breathless pacing, and razor sharp wit place it on top for me. Completely timely and yet sure to withstand the test of time, David Fincher's masterful handling of Aaron Sorkin's hyper-intelligent script raises the bar for excellence in adult cinematic storytelling. Regardless of how ultimately "true" it may or may not be, you can't help but be riveted by this morality tale of a young man (and Jesse Eisenberg nailed the part) who connects the world, yet struggles to have any meaningful connections of his own.

Honorable Mentions: Rabbit Hole, I Love You Philip Morris, True Grit, The Ghost Writer, Waiting for Superman, Get Him to the Greek, Splice

thanks, Eric!!!!

b-day wishes

2011-02-19T19:20:00.003-07:00

it's birthday time.

I wish always for good health for me and my family, for even greater inner peace,
and for the continuous gifts of clarity and comfort.

I wish to continue to feel this good, and for good to keep feeling
this much better, and better.

I wish for the courage to keep moving forward in my business.
I wish to have the on-going faith that I will find my sweetheart soon.

I wish to keep focusing on the creation of my vision.
I wish for great creativity and creation this year!

oh, and I wish for world peace :)

more than hope: vision, in haiku

2011-02-19T19:17:00.002-07:00

from rock island I
look back and see how far I've
come on this journey.