I'll call Baila

Tell the world he's coming home

2011-10-18T00:56:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, on July 4 1976 an elite commando unit of the Israeli Defense Forces stormed the Entebbe, Uganda airport and freed the 102 Israeli hostages held there after they were hijacked on an Air France Flight by terrorist palestinian organizations. It was a bold and daring raid by the Israelis, indeed a national victory that the entire country celebrated.

But of course, as always, the joy felt was tempered somewhat by tragedy: some of the hostages were killed in the crossfire of the raid; one hostage, Dora Bloch, was brutally murdered by the Ugandans in the aftermath; and Yonatan Netanyahu, a commander of the raid was killed in the firefight between the commandos and the terrorists.

After the raid, Yehoram Gaon came out with a song that became very popular at the time and now is considered an Israeli classic (Lyrics by Telma Eligon Rose, music by Dovi Seltzer). There is a line in the song that to me describes perfectly life in this little country of mine. Living here in Israel, it is a line I think of often. On this historical day, I especially feel it. The line goes like this:

"עצבונה וששונה הם שתי וערב בבגד יומה"

"[a country whose]...sadness and happiness
are interwoven into the fabric of her daily life".

I don't think I need to review for you all that is happening here today. That our soldier, Gilad Shalit, "everybody's child", is coming home. That the Israeli government decided to pay a very heavy price for his release. That out of the 1027 prisoners that are being released in exchange for one Gilad, about 400 of them are true murderers and masterminds of horrific terrorist attacks. That since the deal has been announced families of the victims of these murderers have appealed to the supreme court to take the murderers off the list. That the supreme court said, no. That there are people who say the price is to heavy for one soldier. That the deal emboldens the terrorists. And that there are others who say we are a country who can't leave our soldiers behind. That we are a country with values and that human life is valuable. That we are the only country in this neighborhood of the world that values life, whereas our neighbors value death. That our soldiers serving and being drafted today need to know that we will do anything to get them back should, G-d forbid, another soldier be kidnapped.

I read it all. The papers, the blogs, the opinions. And I go back and forth. When I see the families of victims of terror in so much pain today, my heart goes out to them. One of the masterminds being released today was responsible for the Sbarro terror attack in August, 2001, in which Liat's teacher, Morah Shoshana Greenbaum was slaughtered. She was an only child, pregnant with her first child and this deal likely pours salt on a wound that has never, that will never close for her parents.

But yet, Gilad. How can we leave him there any longer? He needs to come home, to be held by his parents and embraced by his people.

Today is one of those quintessential Israeli days: exhilaration and heartbreak, tears of both joy and sadness intermingling for all that Gilad has been through, all that our nation and our country has been through.

Gilad, you have been "everybody's child" for five long years. We have cherished and missed you without even really knowing you. Now that you are coming back, we will give you back to your parents, Noam and Aviva. You belong to them.

I for one, give you back wholeheartedly and with love.

********

(Here are the words to the song Eretz Tzvi, along with an accompanying video I found on You Tube. All the words are appropriate today).

בחצי הלילה הם קמו

והיכו בקצה העולם
כבני רשף חשו הרחיקו עוף
להשיב את כבוד האדם

אל ארץ צבי
אל דבש שדותיה
אל הכרמל והמדבר
אל עם אשר לא יחשה
שאת בניו לא יפקיר לזר,
אל ארץ צבי שבהריה
פועמת עיר מדור לדור
אל ארץ אם לטבורה
קשורים בניה בטוב וברע.

בחצי הלילה עוברת
בשדותינו רוח שרב
ערבה אילמת תרכין אז ראש
על אשר עם שחר לא שב

אל ארץ צבי
אל דבש שדותיה
אל הכרמל והמדבר
אל עם אשר לא יחשה
שאת בניו לא יפקיר לזר,
אל ארץ צבי שדמעותיה
נושרות על שדה חמניות
שעצבונה וששונה
הם שתי וערב בבגד יומה.

At midnight they arose
and struck at the edge of the world
like sons of ghosts they hurried to take flight
to return the honor of humanity

To the land of the deer (Israel)
to the honey of her fields
to the Carmel and the desert
to a nation who will not be silent/still
who will not abandon its sons to a foreigner
to the land of deer, in whose mountains
a city beats from generation to generation
to the motherland to whose navel
her children are bound in good and in bad

At midnight passes
in its/our fields a blistering wind
a willow then bows her head for those who
with the dawn did not come back

To the land of the deer (Israel)
to the honey of her fields
to the Carmel and the desert
to a nation who will not be silent/still
who will not abandon its sons to a foreigner
to the land of deer, whose tears
fall on a field of sunflowers
whose sadness and happiness
are interwoven in the fabric of her daily life.

The little cherry tree on Woodmere Blvd., ten years later

2011-09-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

At 321 Woodmere Blvd., in the Five Towns of Long Island, New York, there stands a mansion-like building. It is an attractive, red bricked edifice with a large circular driveway leading up to its doors. On either side of the entrance are some bushes that flower in the spring, but are rather boring the rest of the year. As you face the building, all the way to the left stands a small cherry tree. I haven't seen the tree in years and I have no idea if it has grown or if it is one of those dwarf trees, meant to stay small forever. But I am sure the tree is still there and I am sure there is a group of people who think of that tree every year on September 11.

I was there when the tree was planted.

On September 11, 2001 I was at my job at the Hebrew Academy for Special Children (HASC). Many of us saw the second plane hit the twin tower and watched in horror as the towers fell. The only work that got done that day was arranging for the children to go home early, making sure there would be someone home for them when they arrived. Many staff members frantically tried to contact loved ones who worked in or near the towers before leaving for home. One of my colleagues left and did not return for months as she mourned her husband who perished in the towers and began raising her two young daughters without him.

I went home to a silent house as I waited for the girls to come home. They were 7, 5 and 4 years old. Today I asked Liat what she remembered about September 11 and it was minimal. Tali and Orli don't remember the day at all. Liat said she remembered that Isaac was home that day. He wasn't. He came home very, very late as he had to walk to Queens from Manhattan. From Queens he caught a ride home with his friend Nahum. There were no subways or railroads running. He did stay home the next day. We all did. The whole city did. That is, except for the search-and-rescue people, the firefighters, the policemen, the volunteers...and the men and women who never returned home from work the previous day. The next few days were quiet, the skies were blue. No planes were flying and it seemed as if a hush had fallen over the entire world. I remember being relieved when it rained a few days later. "What took so long for G-d's tears to fall?", I thought. The rain was more in keeping with our collective mood.

Over at HASC, we didn't really know what to do with ourselves. Several of our own had experienced close calls on that day, but one of ours had lost her world in those towers. One morning months later our principal, Clare, gathered us together outside. I don't remember what she said, but I'm sure we cried as we watched her plant that tree. The tree was in honor of Megan's husband and all the others, in honor of all the people that rushed into those buildings to save others, in honor of all the people that volunteered in the aftermath of that day and in honor of our beloved New York City, so wounded and yet so proud.

Megan came back a few weeks later, bearing a huge basket of chocolate kisses to thank us for our prayers and support. She got right back to the business of doing her job. We all took our cues from her and did the same and pretended that life was normal. But it wasn't.

My life changed on that cloudless day and in those hours of silence that followed. I felt fear. Though the fear has receded, there are times it comes back to me. In the weeks and months that followed, everytime I would drive through the tunnel at the end of the LIE that emerges out onto the Gowanis before the BQE, I would look at the skyline and search for the gap of where the towers were and I would wonder, I still wonder, how could those buildings not be there. Gone. Vaporized. "Take nothing for granted", I would tell myself as I drove down that road. And then would come the question--"What am I doing here? In New York, the city I love, but I have a home somewhere else."--a question that I answered six years later when I boarded a plane for my one-way flight to Israel.

Some of you have been kind enough to share your memories with me:

One Tired Ema had this to say on Facebook: The documentaries have begun. Honestly watching the video of the towers falling looks like movie special effects--still completely beyond belief.

I remember some things so clearly, what the weather was like, who I was with, that we could see smoke up by Yankee Stadium. But I was at work--and I can't remember how I got home. But I remember that I invited colleagues who lived in Queens and Brooklyn to come home with me.

Hadassah visits Ground Zero and remembers.

Mrs. S. expresses dismay that little has changed since that day.

Contrary to the title of her post, I thought Lisa was pretty good at recalling the day's events.

A Mother in Israel also recalled on Facebook: My husband called me from work and told me to turn on the TV. I had a baby who was 2 months old. That was the summer of the Sbarro bombings and others here in Israel.

Shari is no longer afraid.

Tomorrow I will go to work and I will ask everyone where they were on that day. I will tell them where I was and what I experienced and what New York City was like before and after. I will them about the people I was with, people of different faiths and color and how we mourned together for all that was lost. And I will describe that little cherry tree on Woodmere Blvd., sure that it is thriving and cared for and in its own way, honoring and remembering.

Where were you when....?

2011-09-06T09:55:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking alot, since the beginning of the month about 9/11. I can't wrap my head around the fact that ten years have passed. I have half a mind to take this Sunday off from work so I can stay home and watch the memorials and just feel, rather than the day being lost in the hustle-and-bustle of life.

This year, to honor and remember the day and those who perished, I'd like to try a round-up of sorts.

I'd like you to answer some questions:

Where were you on September 11, 2001? Who were you with, what were you doing? What is your most vivid memory? What did you feel?

Did your life change in the immediate aftermath of 9/11? Did it change in any way later or is your life affected now, ten years later, by the events of that day?

If you blog, you can put it there and send me a link in the comments and I will post it. If you just want to write in the comments, that's great as well. I'll put something together on 9/11 to mark the day.

Thanks, everyone.

What I learned from my summer vacation and yeah, we're celebrating an anniversary

2011-09-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

The Chofesh HaGadol has come and gone and I thought I would blog about it every week, but well, you see how that worked out. Truth be told, there wasn't much to write about. Sure we did have our arguments about curfews and the like, but nothing out of the norm. The kids spent alot of time on the computer, but, hey so did I, and they did do other worthwhile, and even at times, productive things over the long summer.

And I had an epiphany of sorts this summer. I know some people reach this conclusion early in their parenting careers, but me, well I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Here it is:

Our kids are not computers, or robots to be programmed to be the way we want them to be. Or, to put it mildly, they are not us and maybe, just maybe, they want different things for themselves than we want for ourselves/them, think different thoughts and feel different feelings.

I know, sometimes I also surprise myself with my brilliance.

Case in point:

One of the things I very much looked forward about living in Israel was involvement in the Bnei Akiva youth movement. I was very active in the movement in the states during my college years and loved the philosophy, which believed in, among other things, Jews living in Israel. When we arrived here I very much ~~forced~~ encouraged the girls to join. I felt it would help them integrate, learn the language and make friends. It didn't work for Liat--she came in the ninth grade and it was a bit late for her to start. But I thought it would be good for Tali and Orli. Orli jumped right in, made friends, and started speaking Hebrew like a native. Tali also attended, but wasn't as enthusiastic. She has a really good friend who went with her and mostly stuck to this friend and other English speakers. Over the years she went on hikes and camped with BA and seemed to enjoy it, although never with passion. This summer, Tali did not go to camp, she worked and played and I really wanted her to go to the BA camp which was over a Shabbat (weekend). I just felt it would really be good for her and I signed her up even though she expressed to me that she didn't want to go. I didn't care. I wanted her to hang out with the girls who were going. A few days before the trip she finally had it out with me, telling me, "Mommy, I go to Bnei Akiva because I want to make you happy, not because it makes me happy."

When she said that, she looked so sad and all of a sudden I knew it was true. She never really loved going, but I always pushed her. Maybe, when she was younger it was okay to push. But she's 15 now. Her own person. She knows what she likes and she certainly knows what she doesn't like. How could I force her to go on a trip that she really didn't want to go on?

Why am forcing her to be more Israeli??? She has plenty of friends, most of whom do not attend Bnei Akiva, and she is happy with them. Yes they are anglo, but that's who she's comfortable with. They're nice kids. She speaks hebrew and does nicely in school. She seems to have found her place here. Why am I pushing her so much to be somewhere else?

So I've taken a step back with both her and sisters. Given them a bit more leeway in making decisions. It's hard to find the line between being a controlling parent and setting appropriate limits; I admit I struggle with this all the time. But there is a change in Tali, a tension that doesn't seem to be there anymore. She seems relieved. I only wish I had figured this out sooner.

Tomorrow, we celebrate the fourth anniversary of our arrival here in Israel. In some ways my life in the states seems further and further away and in others I still feel so strongly connected to the US. I came with three children, and four years later they are young women, each with their own individual personality, trying to figure things out for themselves. They are different here than they would have been had we stayed in the states. How could they not be? They still need me, but not necessarily for the things I think they need me for. And that's okay. Because at every stage of the game, whether here or there, they teach me, and make me a better parent and indeed a better person.

Blogging the chofesh hagadol (Big, huge, no-end-in-sight, looong vacation) Week 1

2011-06-26T12:04:00.000-07:00

The "Chofesh HaGadol", or "long vacation" is the term given for the summer vacation that Israeli school children have every year. All elementary schools here finish on June 30 and begin on September 1st, thus leaving two full months for vacation. The teenagers (yes, that would be my kids), finish about June 20, giving them an added bonus of ten days.

In America, the bulk of the summers were nearly as structured as the school year. When they were younger the kids went to day camp and were out of the house from about 7:30 in the morning until about 4:30 in the afternoon. As they got older they started going to sleepaway camps and could go for four or seven weeks. The summer we made Aliya all three were in sleepaway camp for a month. I would have sent them for the entire summer had we not moved here.

In Israel the younger kids also attend day camp, for a shorter day and a shorter period of time. Older kids (over 16, I think) can get working papers and find jobs, but there are alot of kids competing and it's not easy to find summer work at that age.

The toughest ages to deal with in the dog days of summer are the kids who consider themselves to old for day camp (and there really aren't programs in place for this age anyway) and are too young to work. I have two such children, and well, it's going to be a long summer. (My oldest, Liat, found a job working in Camp Moshava, [IO], so she is not part of this discussion).

Both will be attending their Bnei Akiva (youth movement) camps for about a week, and Orli is signed up for a two-week camp that combines volunteering in the morning, with trips and activities in the afternoons, and Tali has a two week job in a day camp. Which leaves 7 additional weeks with not much planned.

When we first arrived here in Israel, I arranged my work schedule so that I was home by 1 and then we'd pile into the car and go to the beach. Good times, those. Now my girls make it abundantly clear that they want to go places with their friends and they want to go alone.

I need to point out here (and I plan to write more about this in follow-up posts) that parenting teens is much more.....~~difficult~~, ~~annoying~~, ~~complex~~ challenging than parenting the little ones. Yeah, I know some of you reading this with kids, say 9 and under, don't believe me. And that's okay, we all have to go through what we have to go through, but I'm telling you it's true (parents of teens, help me out here, wouldya?). I was a confident parent of little ones. I knew how to handle them, how to set limits, how to talk so they would listen and listen so they would talk. I am having a much more difficult time now with them as teens. I second-guess myself all the time. Sometimes, well, it's not pretty.

Several weeks ago I was contacted by some parents of the 8th grade who wanted to set up some guidelines for the long vacation. Things like curfews, making sure the kids have a parent to accompany them when they leave the city. I went to a couple of the meetings, agreed with some of what the parents said, but was also turned off by some of the parents saying things like "my son/daughter is a good kid". Hey, let's agree that all our kids are good kids. Sure some of them are rebellious, some of them are starting to do things that are not good for them, but let's just assume they are all good. I couldn't quite put a finger on what else bothered me until Carol clarified it for me. She noted that there are always parents who are willing to abdicate their parental responsibility to the group. "I don't want my kid traveling to the mall by himself, so let's set up a rule that none of the kids can go unless a parent accompanies them and then I don't have to be the bad guy to my kid".

But here's the thing. We all have different views about what is permissible for our kids. You might think I'm to permissive, I might think you're to controlling and the other guy is waaaay to permissive. As a parent, I have to decide what is the red line for my child and then stick to that. I'm not going to let other parents decide what is right for me. Sometimes I struggle with what the right limits are, but in the end I have to do it on my own and not rely on some committee to establish rules for me.

Tali and Orli started their vacation last Tuesday. Since then, they've been to the mall, to the pool, to the beach. Both have babysat and done some "mother's helping", they have hung out with friends. We've ~~argued~~ discussed curfews and bedtimes, and I see that it's not going to be easy. Hopefully, we'll come through this in one piece. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

That was week 1 of the chofesh hagadol. Looking forward to telling you about week 2. Not.

How I met my husband, or the story of our Aliyah

2011-06-16T10:08:00.000-07:00

I was definitely a late bloomer when it came to men.

I knew alot of guys through Bnei Akiva, which I became active in after high school. And they were all great friends, but that's where it ended. All around me my friends were dating seriously, but not me.

I didn't mind that much because I was having fun with the single girls. I traveled a great deal, to Israel, to Europe and all over the states. I had a great apartment, first with one friend, who got married, and then with another, who got married.

Through all this I contemplated moving to Israel. After my year in Israel on a kibbutz through the Hachshara Bnei Akiva program, I vowed that I would return here to live as soon as I got my act together. I became part of a "garin", a group of like-minded people who would make Aliya together, to the same place. Those were exciting, fun times.

But then a few things happened that pushed off my move. First, I got cancer. Big downer, but thank G-d, I got the "good" kind and after about a year of treatment I found myself in remission.

Next my friends started coupling off and the garin was made up of mostly married people. There were a few singles and a couple of the guys did go to Kibbutz Ein Tzurim single, but I wasn't relishing making Aliya as a single person, let alone to a kibbutz.

All my bravado and talk about Israel being the place where we belong, and honestly?--I was scared to do it on my own.

And then I found that I was 26-years-old. I was going on singles weekends and blind dating, and well, those of you who have done that scene know it's not fun. My good friends were all leaving for Israel. I was feeling it was time to put my money where my mouth was and book a flight.

And then the Persian Gulf War of 1991. When the scuds started hitting Tel-Aviv, I couldn't stand it that I was in Brooklyn when I wanted to be here in Israel. So I started the Aliya process. Got in touch with a shaliach--the person at the Jewish Agency who facilitated the process at the time. Started stocking up on things like toothpaste and shavers. Told my friend Marta of my plans and she said, "what the hell. I'll join you even though I'm not a zionist."

I booked the flight for July 28, 1991. Was given a good-bye party in which my aunt bought me a beautiful set of linens and Suzanne bought me a beautiful gold heart with an inscription that said "friends forever".

And then, in early June a woman I worked with told me about her tenant, Isaac. Another blind date. I accepted, thinking that nothing would come of it, because nothing ever came of those dates.

Isaac picked me up promptly. He was charming and talkative, taking the pressure off of me to converse. He took me to a great restaurant. He told me that he had been very active in Bnei Akiva in Venezuela and that he also dreamed of making Aliyah. He talked and talked and eventually I felt relaxed and I started talking, and well, it was a really. good. date.

And then there was a second date. And a third one. And so on and so on. And then it was July and I was in a panic. I was leaving in 4 weeks, but I really liked this guy.

(Note: I went up to find my old diary where I wrote everything down about how I was feeling. I was going to quote, but I found myself blushing from all the mushy-gushy stuff. So you'll have to trust me when I say I was a mess).

Should I stay or should I go? We had only been dating weeks, neither one of us was 100% ready to commit. But the chemistry was certainly there. I don't think I slept for weeks.

And then one night, clarity. I woke in the middle of the night with this thought: ISRAEL WILL STILL BE THERE IN SIX MONTHS. If things don't work out with Isaac, I'll leave then.

Slept like a baby that night.

We got engaged three months later, promising ourselves that we would make Aliyah in two to three years.

Life happened. Babies. Jobs. We bought the house. We fixed it up. School. Community obligations. Liat's illness, which brought home the fact that life is so precious and short and if you have a dream, you need to try to achieve it.

Sixteen years after I postponed my Aliyah for a man, we stepped onto the tarmac at Ben Gurion airport as a family of six (five humans + one canine). I don't regret those sixteen years in America for one moment, just as I don't regret our decision to move our family here either.

By the way, Marta did make Aliya without me. She's still a bit grumpy that I left her high-and-dry. Until I got here, she used to say, "How is it that I, who am not a zionist live here in Israel, and you, who are, live on Long Island??"

Life is full of twists and turns. We try to enjoy the ride.

Shiva call

2011-06-02T04:58:00.000-07:00

You all know I have honed the doom-and-gloom thing to perfection. Horrific things await us, I know it and that's why I think it's important to try to find joy in something everyday, to see good in everyone I meet, and to try to be thankful for all I have. What can I say? It's a basic philosphy of my life.

You would think that the story I am about to tell you would reinforce the doom-and-gloom theme of my life. But it does not. I'll go into why after I tell the story.

About two months ago a woman I'll call Amy (okay, I'll call her that because it's her name) contacted me via e-mail. She was a reader of the blog and was in Israel with her husband and triplet 7-year-olds on an extended (6 weeks!) pilot trip in preparation of her Aliya this coming July. One of the neighborhoods she was considering was the one we live in and she asked if we could meet for a cup of coffee so I could answer some questions she had.

Always eager to recruit people to the 'hood, and never one to turn down a cup of coffee (which we all know is a euphemism for Breakfast! or Lunch!), of course I said, yes and we agreed to be in touch the following week.

Amy has an unusual last name and it turns out her husband was a cousin of a friend of mine. In further probing I found out that her husband was the son of members of our shul in the Five Towns, whom we knew.

I never did get to meet Amy. Several days after speaking her husband fell ill with Pneumonia. Very ill. He was hospitalized here in Israel and the situation became increasingly critical. I became a follower of Amy's on Twitter and looked for her frequent tweets. At one point her husband seemed to be improving but as the days and weeks on, the situation became more and more critical. I could not put Amy and her husband out of my mind. They had been through so much with his illness (he was in remission from lymphoma). They were so excited about planning their new life here. And then, this. As I followed her tweets, I got to know Amy a bit. She is a strong person with faith in G-d and an amazing sense of humor. The tweets for tehillim (psalms), challah baking and starting Shabbat early for her husband kept coming fast and furious from her and her faithful 'twitpacha' (twitter family).

While this was happening Amy made a huge decision: she decided to move up her Aliya date. While her husband lay ill she went to all the necessary offices, and completed all the necessary paperwork to declare her and her family Israeli citizens. And I kept checking her tweets, kept hoping, praying that a miracle would happen for her family.

You know from the title of this post that that that miracle did not come. Her husband, sadly, passed away last week.

Last night I went to see Amy, who was sitting shiva. In Israel, when doing this, one uses the expression "לנחם" [lenakhem]--to comfort, rather than the expression used in the states "paying a shiva call". Even though I never met Amy, I felt a pull to go see her and pay my respects-- for whatever small measure of comfort that would bring her. Isaac also felt a need to join me to see our old shul friends.

We walked into the home, to find a small, lively crowd there. Amy and her sister-in-law (also a former Five-Towner--I know I've met her before, or perhaps stood behind her in line at Gourmet Glatt) were joking around--that dark, black humor that is really funny, and really sad and scary at the same time. Isaac and I looked at each other and smiled. We know that humor and used it all the time back when Liat was ill. I'm not sure people who have not had these kind of experiences understand the jokes, but Isaac and I definitely got it.

Amy was exactly as I expected. She had a commanding, vibrant presence and an open and engaging personality. When I introduced myself, she smiled warmly, knew exactly who I was and made me feel good about my decision to come. I thought it would be a very difficult shiva call to make, but Amy made it easy.

I did almost lose it at one point. Amy told us about her decision to move forward her Aliyah. Most people in her difficult situation would have likely given up and said, you know what, much as I believe in living in Israel, I have a husband who is not well and as soon as he is recovered enough, we are going home where I know what-is-what, where I have plenty of family and friends and speak the language. Not Amy. When she realized that her husband's situation was very, very serious, she decided to make his lifelong dream come true. She said, "I wanted him to die an Israeli. I know that is what he would have wanted." She continued to tell us that she intends to stay in Israel, she is determined to make her life here, raise her children in our land to fulfill her husband's last wish.

I am in awe of this woman, of her love, of her strength, of her humor, of her raw honesty, of the comfort that she brings to people at a time when she is the one who should be comforted. I didn't feel doom-and-gloom, but rather hope and devotion.

מי כעמך ישראל?

Wishing Amy all the best. Her husband's name was Eliezer Baruch Chaim ben Rochel Leah. יהי זכרו ברוך. May his memory be for a blessing.

Update: (from In the Pink) Amy and the triplets will need continued financial help as they learn to live without Barry. The expenses are significant, and they will continue for years to come. To ease their considerable financial burden a trust has been set up that will help with both immediate and longer-term expenses such as bar/bat mitzvahs, tuition, weddings, etc. Please contribute. Checks should be made payable to “Barry Shuter Family Trust.”

Please send to:
Adam Hofstetter
441 Oak Avenue
Cedarhurst, NY 11516

In addition, money can be donated via credit card to the Barry Shuter Family Trust at Rootfunding.

Thank you so much for your help.

I was going to put up a different post but then decided to hold it for a day

2011-05-31T12:43:00.000-07:00

Because it's Yom Yerushalayim! Or Jerusalem Day. It's the 44th anniversary of the day Jerusalem, our capital, the holiest city in the world was liberated and united. It is a day of joy and pride for us. I'd like to remind everyone that in 1967, Jews were denied access to our holy sites, then under Jordanian rule. Jerusalem was liberated after Israel fought a defensive and decisive six-day war. Yes, we were defending ourselves. Had it not been for Arab aggression, parts of Jerusalem might still be under Jordanian rule. (Gee, I wonder how the Jordanians would feel about handing it over to the Palestinians would that be the case).

Under Israeli rule Arabs and Christians have access to their holy places. The Palestinians want Jerusalem in any kind of peace deal they may negotiate with us.

Do you think we'd be given access to those places should such a scenario take place?

In any case, Happy Jerusalem Day to all. In honor of the day, I'm posting a recipe for Meurav Yerushalmi , or Jerusalem mixed grill. It's yummy, but you should know I skip the livers,hearts, spleens and kidneys in the recipe. And some of the spices. Which basically leaves chicken and onions.

Meurav Yerushalmi

The traditional “Jerusalem mixture” is a medley of local meats and spices served mainly in market eateries. This version comes from Sherry Ansky, author, Eating in Jerusalem and The Food of Israel.

Ingredients:

Chicken breast, liver, spleen, and heart (small morsels)
Beef kidney (small morsels)
Steak pieces
Whole egg yolk (optional)
Coriander seeds
Turmeric
Cardamom
Cloves
Sumac
Curry powder
Black pepper
Salt
Cumin
Grilled chopped onion
Garlic
Pita bread

Directions:

Mix meat and egg ingredients. Season with spices, grilled onion, and garlic.

Heat an open grill plate or skillet. Place the mixture over the heat and sear, then lower the heat until the pieces cook on the inside. When cooked thoroughly, briefly increase to maximum heat before removing from grill.

Stuff in pita bread and serve immediately.

The Jewish Dog (no, not Ozzy) or three+ years in and there are still firsts for me

2011-05-18T09:35:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me, know that I love to read. When I was a kid, we were allowed to take out ten books at a time from the Brooklyn Public Library. My mother would take us there every Friday, so I pretty much read ten books weekly--sometimes more when I read the books my siblings took out.

As an adult I continued to read voraciously. Not ten books a week, but I used to be able to polish off two or three for sure. With the advent of Blogger, Facebook and all that other stuff, I read less books, but I read many, many articles and blog posts. I still average 2 to 3 books a month.

When we moved here to Israel, I started reading the newspaper in Hebrew and I have to say I was pretty pleased with myself about this. But I never thought I would want to read a novel in Hebrew. Reading is such a pleasure for me that I thought reading in Hebrew would slow me down. If I have to work at reading, where's the pleasure? I have plenty of sources for English books, including my book club here in Modi'in, my book sistas (including Hilary who sends us books from the US), and various other sources. Sometimes I even buy books.

But this week I was inspired to read an actual Hebrew novel. (Okay, I wasn't really inspired. What actually happened was that on Shabbat morning I was downstairs and had already read all the papers. The English book I was reading was upstairs on my night table and I was too lazy to go upstairs to get it).

I sat down in our Archie Bunker chair and began to read the book titled "The Jewish Dog" by Arthur Kravitz. It is a holocaust story, told from the perspective of Koresh, dog of the German-Jewish Gottlieb family. From page one it grabbed me. It's fairly obvious that Kravitz parallels the holocaust experience of the Jews through Koresh. This dog goes through everything: he wanders and hides in the city, Selection, Treblinka, escape from Treblinka, is hidden by a sympathetic Pole. He even joins a partisan group. The book focuses on the dog's relationships with the humans in his life, the most important one being with his first Jewish master. The irony of the dog's humanity versus some of the animal-like behavior of the humans in the story was not lost on me.

The book was a page turner that had both humor and of course, much sadness. I had my handy-dandy Hebrew-English dictionary close by, but I only used it occasionally. There were times when I may not have understood a word, but if I understood the sentence I let it go, because I didn't want to lose the flow of the story to often. I looked up words only when I felt I wasn't getting it, which was rare.

I learned something from the experience. A good story is a good story in any language. I fell in love with the title character of the book. I've always been an avid reader of holocaust literature, and well, you know how I feel about dogs. So the book was for me, a perfect introduction into reading a full-fledged adult novel in Hebrew.

Being ~~lazy~~ inspired really pays off.

And a happy Naqba Day to you, too

2011-05-14T13:02:00.000-07:00

I never heard of it until a few years ago, but the Naqba thing is definitely growing. Naqba (in Arabic) means tragedy. It is the day that Israel received Independence, our Yom Ha'atzmaut that the Palestinians commemorate their Naqba Day. For them it is a day of mourning the destruction and occupation of their land.

I'm sure I've said this somewhere or other on this blog, but I'll say it again.

A bit of history:

There has always been a Jewish and an Arab presence on this land. But until the late 19th/early 20th century, it was mostly unpopulated; the land was desert and undeveloped. At that time Jews started arriving en masse from Europe. And they started to work the land, to bring the desert to life if you will. By this time the land was under British rule. Tensions between the Arabs and Jews intensified until the UN granted Israel independence.

In November, 1947 the United Nations partitioned the British mandate to look like this. The Jews were to be granted what appears on the map in blue. Over 75% of the land allocated to the Jews was desert. We accepted the plan; the arabs didn't. After Israel declared independence in May, 1948, Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon and Syria attacked Israel, vowing to destroy us.

They attacked us. We were willing to accept partition. We were willing to share; they were not. Note that Jerusalem was given to the Arabs--and we were okay with that. Well, maybe not okay, maybe we were heartbroken, but we were willing to accept that partition in order to live peacefully with our neighbors. They were not. They attacked us.

They attacked us!

People who just have vague knowledge of the Arab-Israeli conflict don't know this. THEY DECLARED WAR ON US! THEY ATTACKED US! In commemorating their Naqba day they conveniently forget this fact.

It was war, people. Five countries attacked us, vowing to drive us into the sea. We had a right to defend ourselves. To defend our borders.

We still do.

Today Hamas and Fatah are friends again, in what I am sure is a marriage of convenience, not true love. Hamas has stated that they are willing to return to the 1967 borders, but they will never recognize the right of Israel to exist.

How in the world will we ever have peace with people who don't recognize our legitimate right to exist??

Best Yom Ha'atzmaut ever

2011-05-10T07:13:00.000-07:00

Today, instead of having the traditional mangal, or barbeque with friends, we decided, together with those friends to take the mangal to an army base.

I'll explain.

Several weeks ago a message was sent out to the Modi'in listserve (You know the type of internet list where people post things like: "If you're giving away your I-Pad for free, I'm looking for one". Or: "For sale: 20 year old couch that the dog only peed on once a day for 20,000 shekel" [just kidding!! The list has actually been very helpful to me]) Anyway the list posted a message from the organization Standing Together. This organization, run mostly by volunteers, is dedicated to showing the people who protect Israel, its soldiers, our appreciation for their hard work. With their truck and "hospitality trailer" volunteers visit IDF soldiers at their bases and offer support, gratitude, treats, hot and cold drinks etc. One of their biggest events is their Yom Ha'atzmaut barbeques, where they try to reach as many bases and soldiers as possible.

Understand something about Yom Ha'atzmaut in Israel. It is in my opinion the most celebrated holiday here. People go crazy getting ready for their mangal. Cows, sheep and chickens have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide this time of year. The supermarkets are busier than before Passover. (Trust me on that one, I stood on the line at Rami Levi day before yesterday). And most importantly, it is a time for families to come together.

I suppose that bringing barbeques to army bases on Independence Day is not something that many native Israelis do. Most of them have seen enough of army bases in their lifetimes and they have their families to celebrate with. For us, olim, immigrants, well, our friends are our families. So when Ahuva decided to organize things, well, Casa Baila was in.

Our young men and women get drafted here at age 18. This is the price we have to pay to remain strong, to defend our country and its right to exist. Some of these young men and women do get the day off for the holiday, but you just can't close down an army base for the day like you would a toy store. The day, one of the happiest of the year in this country, can be sad and depressing for soldiers who are away from their families and their own personal traditions.

And so off we went. Standing Together provided the meat and we provided the grills, charcoal, manpower. The pita (in Israel they don't do buns), chumus, tachina, salad, ketchup, mustard (yeah they don't do that either....), potatoe chips, drinks, paper goods and various desserts (Elianna's rice krispie treats were a big hit after being eyed suspiciously by those tough soldiers). We were four families who were friends from Modi'in, and we were joined by a lovely family from a nearby moshav.
We fed two shifts of soldiers, male and female, about 70 in all. Their average age was 19-20. The commander of the base was 24-years-old. They are young, strong, intelligent beautiful men and women.

I didn't think I would actually have conversations with the soldiers because it is hard for me to speak to strangers (nothing to do with the language, my Hebrew is good). But I did, mostly because they spoke to me. They were curious about why we made Aliya, about our kids and how they adapted, about what New York was like. And I asked them questions. About their work, about what their plans were when they would be done with the army. In speaking to one of the chayalot, she told me a bit about what she does. She's fairly new, been serving for about six months. She told me that the soldiers from this base work the nearby machsom--which is the checkpoint. Their job is to check both Israelis and Palestinians crossing through the checkpoint. She does this for 8 hours a day every day for two weeks and then gets two and a half days off. Sometimes she does 16 hour shifts (with a two hour break between). She misses her family terribly and even though the other soldiers in her unit have become like family, she told me she feels very lonely at times. She said that the most difficult part of her job was the relationship between the soldiers and residents of the area. "The Palestinians?" I asked, and she answered, "Actually both the Palestinians and the Jews". She told me that both have to pass through the checkpoint and both can be asked for ID for various reasons, and both can get angry about that.

At the end of the day, many of the soldiers came over to thank us. We made the day "שמח"--happy, and "חגיגי"--festive. Thank us???? The sacrifices that these young people make are astounding and they are thanking us for a couple of hamburgers and some Fanta. And rice krispie treats. I guess the treats makes us even.

I have a job to do, the soldier-girl told me and I will do it, and serve my country and protect the people in it as best as I can. But she said, "הלוואי שיום אחד לא יהיו מחסומים ויהיה שלום".

"How I hope and wish for the day when there are no checkpoints and there will be peace."

Me, too. And for the day our young men and women can spend our Yom Ha'atzmaut with their families at home, far, far away from any army bases.

***For more pictures, visit me on facebook. Feel free to friend me to see them. I won't be insulted if you later de-friend me.***

22,867

2011-05-07T13:50:00.001-07:00

This is the number of sacrifices our people have given so that we can have our own state.

Yom HaZikaron, Israel's Memorial Day began this evening. Take a moment to think about all of the soldiers and citizens who have given the ultimate, and their families who remain behind.

For them, Yom HaZikaron is everyday.

Note: This is a post that I've updated from 2008 and 2009. (I missed 2010 due to the death of my father). Today, more than ever, Israel finds herself having to justify her right to exist even though she is surrounded by terrorist, despotic states.

An unfortunate name

2011-05-03T09:25:00.000-07:00

Four years ago, Liat was recovering from a severe infection and was just moved to a regular bed from the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Every morning nurses or doctors would come around to take blood and Liat quickly became an advocate for herself, not allowing just anyone to stick a needle in her.

One morning a young doctor cheerfully walked in and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Osama", he said. (The doctors in the pediatric unit tended to introduce themselves by their first names, probably as per some memo from the higher-ups).

"Osama?", she asked.

"Yes, I'm here to take some blood.", he answered, reaching for her hand.

"Are you a resident?" she asked.

"Yes".

"I don't let residents take my blood", she said. "I prefer for the ICU nurses to do it, when they can".

He looked at me and I shrugged.

"Okay", he said. And left.

When he was gone, Liat said to me, "I hope he doesn't think I didn't want him to take my blood because of his name".

Again, I shrugged.

"Although", she added, "it is an unfortunate name".

Osama, as a name, will go down in the annals of history with that other name that personifies evil, Adolf, moniker of both Hitler and Eichmann.

I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad they dumped his body into the ocean and didn't bury him somewhere where the loonies of the world can go visit his grave.

But I'm not so sure his death brings closure to the families of his thousands of victims. They still live with the gaping hole Osama left in their lives.

At Ground Zero, yesterday there was dancing and celebrating. At the 9/11 memorial site someone had placed a sign.**

"Freedom, hope, peace, USA", it said. Written on the sign's side, someone added,

"Wish you were here".

**Seen in the Jerusalem Post, Print edition, May 3, 2011

Today I remember

2011-05-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

Eight years ago I visited Israel for a week together with my friend Carol and her family who were celebrating her son Ilan's bar mitzvah. It was my first trip to Israel in 12 years and I was thrilled to be here and drinking it all in.

Our first night here we strolled along Ben Yehuda Street in Jerusalem, talking and laughing. At one point I found myself sitting next to Carol's father and he said, to noone in particular, and to all of us, "58 years ago today I was liberated from Matthausen. If someone would have told me then that I would be in Jerusalem almost 60 years later with my children and grandchildren celebrating the bar mitzvah of my grandson, I would have laughed hysterically".

I cannot imagine what it was like for Carol's father and so many men and women like him who picked themselves up, literally from the ashes, and moved to strange countries, built families and businesses and were able, in spite of it all to laugh and sing and show their children and grandchildren, and all of us what it means to be a Survivor.

Today I dedicate this post to Carol's father and all my friend's parents (much to many to recount here) who survived the Nazi horror and raised their daughters and sons, my friends, to be strong, proud Jews.

Today, I remember.

You could say I cleaned my kitchen for Passover yesterday. Or you could say I did this.

2011-04-15T05:44:00.000-07:00

1. Wiped and cleaned down display shelves; walked to various places around the house putting things where they should go (books in their owner's rooms; sunglasses, too; assorted wires and chargers in his junk drawer).

2. Cleaned 8 dining room chairs and the accompanying table.

3. Started making a pile of chametz things by the porch door that were going out to the shed. Cookbooks and challah board were first.

4. Designated which cabinets in the kitchen would hold our Pesach stuff.

5. Moved all the stuff out of those cabinets and stuffed them into other cabinets.

6. Cleaned butcher block island; added more stuff to chametz pile.

7. Cleaned out really annoying corner cabinets that I had to crawl into to get to get to everything. Founds tons of paper cups, napkins and assorted stuff that I keep buying new thinking I had run out.

8. Went out to the porch, emptied a plastic closet in the shed, hosed it down to clean it, left it there to dry.

9. Did I mention 4 loads of laundry? (True not a kitchen chore, but I thought you should know).

10. Cleaned the microwave. (yeah, I should do that more often).

11. Cleaned the toaster oven. Put it in the going-to-the-shed pile.

12. Put everything in the pile in the shed.

13. Swept and washed the dining room floor.

14. Moved the plastic closet into the dining area.

15. Washed, dried and put away remaining dishes.

16. Scrubbed the counters.

17. Scrubbed the sink.

18. Swept and washed the kitchen floor. (Several times; it was really gross).

19. Poured boiling water over the counters (you're right, I should have done that before I washed the floor).

20. Covered the sink with Israeli heavy duty aluminum foil. Which means it's not.

21. Shlepped the Pesach stuff (which had been placed in the family room a few days ago) into the kitchen.

22. Found a space for most of the stuff.

I started at 10 a.m. and finished at 7 p.m. (Yeah, I took some short breaks. Sue me.) When Isaac came home from work at 8:30 p.m., he said to me, "Why didn't you wait for me, we could have done it together?"

So yes, we are commanded to observe Passover for 7 days, but here at Casa Baila, we are very stringent--we're doing 11.

Wishing everyone a wonderful Pesach.

Definitely not Costco, but still... (Or why I cried tears of pure joy today)

2011-04-06T04:36:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, in the Jerusalem Post I came across an ad splayed across two pages from Supersol EXTRA Deal (emphasis on EXTRA because the Supersol I usually shop in is just plain "Deal"; nothing extra about it). The ad said, if I remember correctly, "Costco in Israel". Costco, as many of you know is one of those giant warehouse shopping centers in the US where you can buy a 5 gallon jug of milk and a package of 300 rolls of toilet paper. Size matters at Costco. You buy in bulk and if you're smart about it you often save money. Most Americans I know living in Israel miss it.

The buy-in-bulk phenomena has not as of yet penetrated the Israeli psyche. On a practical level, Israeli kitchens and homes are generally smaller and do not have much space for storage (although this is changing somewhat). Mostly, though I think Israelis are very much live-in-the-moment people. (When an Israeli friend recently told me she found Purim costumes for her kids for the ridiculously low price of 9 shekel, I asked her if she bought some for next year as well. She answered, "I should worry now for next year?", which is perhaps the quintessential Israeli response).

My friend Tammy saw the ad as well and when we discussed it, we both snickered, "Costo in Israel? Yeah right". But we decided to put our cynicism aside and today took a trip out to Nes Tziona (about 15 minutes from Modi'in) to check things out.

I should mention here that two weeks before Pesach, or Passover, the entire country is in a frenzy. Everyone here, religious or not is getting ready for the holiday. People are cleaning and redoing their homes and there is an orgy of cooking happenning everywhere. I really didn't want to be in a supermarket this time of year, but there is no choice; I, too, have to get ready for the chag.

And so the parking lot was crazy. It's a good thing Israeli drivers are so polite or we would never gotten the spot we did. We then went over to get a shopping cart, which were the big "Costco-style" carts. The carts were not locked in and no coin was necessary to free them of any chains. Tammy and I each took a shopping cart, paused, and looked at each other in disbelief.

This is where the tears of joy came. If you have ever shopped in a supermarket in this country, you will understand. The back wheels of the shopping carts were locked. The cart could be steered left or right, according to MY will.

Dayenu. If that would have been the only positive thing about the experience, it would have been enough. But it wasn't.

We found some really good buys at Supersol EXTRA Deal. Items were not larger-than-life-sized, but rather what they do is give you a better price if you buy three of an item. So for example, a box of Honey Bunches of Oats Cereal was 19.99 shekel instead of the usual 24 or more shekel--but you had to buy three. (One Israeli woman said to me--what do I need three items for? This is a stupid store.) Even singly, many of the items were lower priced than the regular Supersol (except fruits and veggies; those seemed to be more). The store also had greater variety than in the supermarket, a really nice home goods area, a pharmacy, electronics, and (coming soon) an organic food section. Workers milling around were very helpful. It was also fun seeing everything stocked up way high, just like in Costco.

There were some negatives: like Costco, the store was huge and it took forever to shop and wait in line. This store in particular seemed a bit shabby, although it was clean. But overall it was a pretty good experience and we saved some money.

Only things missing: free tastings and blueberry muffins the size of my head.

That would have been perfect.

I just wanted you to know

2011-03-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

I know that many of you (readers and facebook friends who sometimes tune in to the blog) may not be aware of what has happened here in Israel over the weekend.

I just wanted you to know.

On Friday night, in a place called Itamar a "yishuv" in Judea and Samaria* at least one terrorist infiltrated this place; that is they cut through the fence. Friday night marks the beginning of Shabbat, our Sabbath here in Israel. At approximately 10:15 PM this person or persons broke into a home where two adults--a man and a woman, parents, and their five children were sleeping. This person(s) went from room to room with his weapon and quietly stabbed the parents, Udi, 36 and Rut, 35 and three of the children, Yoav, 11, Elad, 3 and Hadas, 3 MONTHS. Two other children, ages 2 and 8, were apparently sleeping in a side room missed by this person(s) and were physically unharmed. At approximately 11 PM, the 12-year-old daughter returned from a youth activity and could not get into the house, but heard her two-year-old brother crying from inside. Alarmed that noone seemed to be responding to him, she ran to a neighbor for help. The neighbor and the child broke into the house to find the carnage left behind by the murderer(s).

I suppose, in light of the devastation in Japan and the tragic bus accident in New York City, that one single Israeli family being murdered in cold blood while they were sleeping may not garner the attention of the media where you are.

But I just wanted you to know.

I am well aware of how my country is portrayed in the world media. We are, according to many, occupiers, oppressors, an apartheid state. But there is another side to the story, the side where the people we are supposedly oppressing want us dead. That's me, my husband, my children, my neighbors, my fellow countrymen and their children. And their infants.

On Friday night, they in no small way succeeded.

I just wanted you to know.

Birthday wishes

2011-03-09T05:00:00.000-08:00

In Israel, there is a very nice custom in which the birthday person gives special blessings to those around her. I happen to be celebrating a special birthday (no not an even number, I just think all my birthdays are very special). In this tradition, I bestow my blessings upon you.

May your home look the same way when you walk in the door after a long day as you did when you left it. May there be no cups on the table, crumbs on the floor or food in the TV room.

Unless of course you want your home to look different from what you left in the morning. Then I wish that for you.

May your teenagers answer their phones whenever you call them.

May they still have their phones for you to call them.

May all your cabinet doors be closed, especially if you're standing up after bending over to get something. And if it wasn't may the swear words that pour forth from your mouth go unheard by your teenagers.

May your car stop making that funny noise that sounds like this: KA-CHING.

May your boss not tell you, when you ask for a raise, "Excellent timing, Bibi is making us give you a cost-of-living raise of .02%".

May your dog always greet you at the door (because L-rd knows your teenagers won't).

(For you younger moms--this is an equal opportunity blog)--May your kids get into and out of their carseats by themselves (including the 'click'), shower by themselves and yes, wipe themselves. On that note, may you be able to use the bathroom by yourselves, with the door closed.

(For the men out there): May you always shower your women with compliments and love. You know they deserve it, even when they order you around.

May your children always forget to log out of their facebook pages so you can see what's going on in their lives.

And may you find no surprises there when you do.

May you always get a cart at the supermarket with wheels that work. (Hey, a girl can dream.)

And may you be in the fast lane when you get to the cashier.

And may the cashier say to you, "Would you like some help with the bagging?"

May you always remember what you went upstairs to get. Or at least remember it before you give up and go back downstairs.

May the TV show you are downloading do so quickly.

May your printer always have ink.

May your internet always be up.

May your blogs be filled with comments [almost] as witty as your post.

And finally may your lives be filled with health, prosperity, peace and love and many, many more birthdays.

Waxing poetic about Tuna Casserole

2011-02-20T12:56:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid there were certain meals that my mother made that became legendary.

On Thursday nights she would bake challah, and set some of the dough aside for pizza.

Once she started working, home cooking became a bit scarce. By this time I was a teenager and I'd tease her about throwing the bologna and rye bread on the table, with the bellow, "Supper's ready!".

Not exactly healthy living, I guess, but to this day those foods evoke in me memories of that time, where I can almost reach out and touch and taste and feel--and be there.

But there is one dish that I have missed. I've never seen this dish served in a restaurant, nor have I heard my friends discussing their recipe for it. When the girls were much younger, I tried to re-create it for them. The vehement negative feedback I received from them and from Isaac was such that, traumatized, I have never attempted to make it again.

What is it about Tuna Casserole that brings out this impassioned response in people?

"I hate the word casserole", shudders my friend Efrath.

Huh?

Is it the noodles, flat and broad, with just the right texture?

Is it the tuna fish--only American used for this recipe?

Is it the cheese, liberally sprinkled through and on top, melted and browned to perfection?

Or is it the Cream of Mushroom soup, so thick it doesn't pour when you open the can? That when mixed with the noodles, cheese and tuna makes this satisying slurpy, wet sound?

Alas, it had been years and years since I inhaled that essence, heard that sound and savored that taste.

And then I moved here. And met and befriended Tammy and Alan. And discovered, a mutual affinity between Alan and myself for this gourmet dish. We found our memories of how the dish was made similar and began to plan for a time when we would sit down and embrace this meal again in spite of the ridicule of our respective families.

Alan and Tammy provided the Cream of Mushroom and American Tuna. I provided the other ingredients and baked it. Tammy made pizza for the rest of our families.

Last night we sfinally sat down to dinner together--in the middle of the week! on a school night! As I took that first bite, I closed my eyes and saw my mother pulling the white scratched casserole dish out of the oven in our tiny Brooklyn kitchen. I remembered that sometimes I'd sneak in and pull the cheese off the top and when she'd ask who did it, I'd say , "Not me". I can still see that dish soaking in hot water and soap after it had been devoured and her putting it away in its spot to wait for next time.

Isaac and the girls wouldn't go near the stuff last night. Neither would Tammy and Alan's daughter. But their son did try it, and--surprise--asked for more.

The next generation of Tuna Casserole lovers has been born.

In case I had you salivating, here's the recipe:

Tuna Casserole

1 package of broad, flat pasta, cooked al dente
2 cans American white tuna fish
3 cans Cream of Mushroom soup
shredded cheese, lots of it

Boil up the noodles according to instructions. Place in a lasagna (9 X 13) pan or aluminum tin. Add the tuna, flaked. Add the mushroom sauce (You can also add mushrooms) Add the cheese, mix it through and sprinkle on top. Bake, covered for about 20 minutes and then uncover. Continue baking until cheese is browned.

My poor, abandoned blog

2010-12-23T23:33:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to say.

I have no excuse.

I still write blog posts in my head. I still get inspired.

I just don't feel like putting it to the screen.

I've thought of bowing out gracefully, ala my old friend SuperRaizy.

But I don't want to let it go. I feel like I'll be back. Really.

I still read blogs. Occasionally comment.

But the actual writing--well you see what's happened.

When I started the blog, I committed, in my head to writing two posts a week, with a goal of ten a month. I just like nice round numbers that way. If you look up my stats, you'll see that's just what I did--until this past April, when I took a month off after my father passed away.

I wonder about that connection. It's been 8 months since he left. In my day-to-day life you would not know that I am in my year of mourning. There are certain things I won't do until the year is up, but those are mostly things you wouldn't notice. And yet, I've been meaning to write a post about my father, one with pictures, one that will show the world who didn't know him just how special a person he was. But I haven't been able to do that and maybe, just maybe that is why I pay minimal attention to Calling Baila.

Or maybe that's not it. Maybe I'm just to busy with all the other things in my life: work, TWO book clubs, my crocheting chug, pilates, walking all over town because my car died and, oh yeah, let's not forget those other four creatures that live in my home. (Oops, Sorry Ozzy, five creatures. Sheesh I hate it when you read over my shoulder).

Whatever it is, know this: I'm not throwing in the towel. I love this blog. If the posts are down so be it. I know I'll get back to it on some sort of regular basis and when I do, I hope you'll continue to stop in.

Because you guys are what make blogging so much fun.

Where everybody knows your name

2010-12-05T12:58:00.000-08:00

The fires that have raged through the Carmel Mountains and Forest area are apparently coming under control. This has been a devastating blow to us. Thousands of dunams destroyed, millions of trees, wildlife, homes, and of course the highest price paid, the lives of 41 men and women.

When I heard about the 40 victims on the bus filled with prison guards that was on its way to help evacuate a prison because the fire was getting closer, I knew something that every Israeli knew, and feared. In a country as tiny as ours 41 is a huge number. No doubt many people would know someone who was connected to one of those killed.

One of the men killed in the bus incident was from a nearby yishuv (suburb). When I got to work this morning, I found out that the man killed was the uncle of one of the children I work with. The child's father is sitting shiva for his brother, who died in a horrific way and I will go to pay my respects at some point during the week. The men and women on that bus came from all over the country, from all walks of life, Jewish and not. We are a country with barely six degrees of separation. Another man on that bus came from a Yishuv called Ginot Shomron. We have several friends who live there--very likely they know this person, a 32-year-old father of five.

I guess my point is the connectedness you feel here. In a country that you can cross in six hours by car across its length, and probably less than two across its width, its impossible not to feel it.

It was only a week ago that Isaac and I traveled with friends to Zichron Yaakov--a stone's throw from where the fire took place. I do not know the area well, but my kids have hiked there and friends tell me it was a beautiful area of Israel, where mountain and sea came together. Here's a picture I found of the area, before the fire:

I can't bare to show you a picture of after.

May the families of the fallen find comfort, may the injured heal quickly from their wounds, and may our charred land recover its beauty.

And, G-d, please send the rains we so desperately await.

Preventing pre-marital sex in religious teens/twenties and other assorted dating and marriage issues

2010-11-09T07:55:00.000-08:00

There's an interesting discussion going at A Mother in Israel regarding a trend where fearful parents are promoting the young marriage of their children (young being 19-22 years old, presumably ages where these young men and women are not finished with army service or university, and likely not yet in some kind of profession).

My eldest recently turned 17 and although I am not losing sleep over the issue yet (I lose sleep over other things at this point), I know that it is not far off. Whereas a few years ago it seemed like I was constantly busy with bar and bat-mitzvah, recently I have been going to more and more weddings and with G-d's Help, I expect to attend more and more over the coming few years. I have a number of friends whose kids are of the age.

Here's my question about this trend: What exactly are parents fearful of? Are they afraid their children will turn out to be old maids? Are they afraid their young children may--gasp!--be tempted to engage in pre-marital sex? Are they afraid all the good matches will be spoken for?

But why are they not afraid of their children not being mature enough to handle living with another person? To making adult decisions regarding building a life together? To dealing with adult problems? To making a decent living? Why aren't they afraid that they will have to support their young, married children--and very likely, grandchildren--for the foreseeable future? Why aren't they afraid that if they support the first child to get married, they need to support all their siblings in their marriages as well? Why aren't they afraid that the well will run dry?

I am very afraid of those things. We live a nice life, Thank G-d, and are very grateful for it, but I certainly can't afford to support my kids completely when they begin their married lives.

While I am on the topic, I have something else to rant about. When Liat came home this summer she told me that her friends in America were talking about their upcoming yearbook pictures. She explained that most of her friends were going to get their make-up done professionally, and that some of them were even planning on photoshopping their pictures because these pictures were going to be looked at by matchmakers; some would even go on their shidduch(matchmaking) resumes.

What is a shidduch resume you want to know? Well apparently it is a piece of paper that lists all of the essential items necessary to get married. First, from what I understand, the girl (through a matchmaker) sends the boy's family her resume. After the boys parents check things out and accept one, they send their son's resume to girl's family. If things check out there, the young people can meet for a date. Sometimes phone dates are recommended (the woman I know told me her son had one phone date that was limited to 45 minutes). The things on the resume are not things like "I enjoy romantic walks along the beach at sunset", but rather the yeshivas the kids went to, both in high school and for their year in Israel. I imagine physical attributes are included, perhaps stuff about the parents of the prospective couple. The woman I spoke to told me her son's resume was rejected several times because he stated that he may someday want to live in Israel.

I hope this trend doesn't come to Israel. It makes me want to throw up a little bit in my mouth.

Here's what I propose: how about letting our kids be kids? Why not let them hang out together in groups, go to movies, to the pizza place, bowling? When they get to university, why can't they hang out at the cafeteria together, laughing and teasing each other and setting each other up with their brothers and sisters? I'm talking about religious kids. Many of them will wait until they get married to have sex, simply because they were brought up that way. Some won't, it's true. But do we really all believe that no religious teenagers are having sex because we are tightly controlling when and with whom they get married?

Really???

Some thoughts on my trip back to the old country

2010-11-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

When I got off the plane at at Newark Airport in New Jersey, I thought to myself, "whoa, the air conditioning is really strong here", only to realize that I was outdoors, and that cool, crisp feeling was in fact, the weather. As Mazi and I chattered in the car on the way to her house, I could not help but notice the fall foliage the Northeastern USA is known for. The trees were beautiful shades of yellow, orange and red; it was spectacular scenery to start my trip with.

The old country is indeed beautiful.

It was a great trip. I spent quality time with my mother and siblings, watched my nephews run the whole tefilah (prayer service) for their bar-mitzvah and bonded with my niece over some shopping at Macy*s. I shopped Target, Walmart, Nike, Joyce Leslie, Kohl's, Macy*s, Bed Bath and Beyond, Costco,and Art Brown (for the beloved pen afficionado in my life). I saw my Venezuelan nephew and spent a day traipsing all over Manhattan. I laughed with old friends, my "people", picking up right where we left off three years ago. I ate at restaurants, walked, walked and walked more. I bumped into Ben the mailman, who not only remembered my name, but my girl's names as well.

By Wednesday, I started to think about returning home. Home to where my children were. Home to Isaac.

By Thursday, I was sick of shopping.

By Sunday, I was counting down the hours to get on that plane.

I think that ultimately you can go home again. At least for a brief time. I love that place and it will always be the home of my past, the home I was born in, the home that helped shape the person I am today.

But now I live in a place that I chose. And you know what?

It's good to be home.

(Special thanks to Mazi and Sarah who insisted I make myself comfortable in their beautiful homes. Which I totally did, and is partially the reason I gained two pounds on this trip).

In honor of Coffee and Chemo

2010-10-29T13:41:00.001-07:00

I've read RivkA's blog almost from the beginning. She never failed to inspire with her humor, her honesty, her parenting skills, her love of Israel, her love of her husband and children, and her courage.

As a cancer survivor, I very much related to her battle. As the months and years passed I, and so many others, became increasingly inspired by RivkA. Through her brutal treatment she was determined to live her life. She continued to work, to play, to do the things she loved. She went camping with her kids only two months ago, driving them up North and spending two days in a tent with them.

I can't say that I knew RivkA personally. We met at the Blogger's conventions, where I was charmed by her humor and we had some great conversations. We commented on each other's blogs and occasionally e-mailed each other with more personal questions or observations. And yet, I considered her to be a friend.

Some of my friends think this whole blogging relationship is just plain weird. They wonder why I talk to "strangers". They don't quite understand why I am so saddened by a death of someone who, in their mind, I barely knew. It's hard to explain to you non-bloggers. I don't quite understand it myself. But after blogging for some time, we find that the lines of our real and blogging lives somehow blur. RivkA wrote so honestly about her disease and her struggle that I feel like I did know her. I will miss her--I checked her blog daily, even before the last week. She posted almost everyday.

I wish I had the words to comfort RivkA's family. I wonder if they understand that besides all the friends they actually know, there are so many more that loved RivkA, that were inspired by her and share in the pain of her loss.

RivkA, your legacy lives in your words. You will stay on my blogroll for a long time to come and I will remember you always.

May your family be comforted amongst the mourners of Zion.

Hey! How come I didn't get the memo?

2010-10-21T11:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I've arrived here in America and while waiting for my sister, I've been doing what I do best--tooling around the internet. You know, catching up on my favorite blogs, facebooking, watching terrible TV.

And suddenly I see other bloggers reviewing Susie Fishbein's new cookbook. Not just one: Check out Mom, Hadassah, Batya and Miriyummy (a blogger I've just started reading and have to put on my blogroll).

What gives, guys? A free cookbook?

Sign me up.

I know Susie Fishbein. Well, not personally, but I have most of her cookbooks. She once did a cooking presentation at my friend Laura's house for our shul sisterhood, which was great fun, and tasty, too. Her first cookbook, The Kosher Palette was done as a fundraiser for Kushner High School in New Jersey; it was the first fundraiser kosher cookbook that didn't look like a sad eighth grade yearbook production. It was beautifully photographed, with great recipes, anecdotes and how-tos. It was a "foodie" cookbook and my copy is dog-eared with use.

It's interesting to me that Susie is using bloggers to market her latest cookbook. I feel like I'm seeing it everywhere. I've seen her on facebook and Twitter as well. Ah, the power of social media.

Maybe I'll go out and actually pick up a copy while I'm here.

Unless, (cough, cough), someone out there notices this free publicity.

Coming to America

2010-10-19T14:31:00.001-07:00

Six months ago I dropped everything on Chol HaMoed Pesach (the middle of Passover) and ran to America to see my father who was extremely ill. That was the first time I had been back in the country of my birth since we moved to Israel three years ago. Because of the circumstances, I did not fully absorb the fact of being back in America, in New York City, the city I grew up in. I did take breaks from my father's bedside to wander the streets of Manhattan. It was springtime, the air was beautiful and crisp, the daffodils were everywhere and the tulips were pushing through thte softening earth. But I didn't care about where I was because I was busy being with my father for what turned out to be his last days....

Tomorrow night, I return. The reasons this time are bittersweet. First, I get to attend the bar-mitzvah of my nephews (2/3 of a triplet set) and, a week later I will attend the unveiling of my father's gravestone.

When I first made Aliya, I was once admonished not to call America, or New York "home". But, Israel, much as I loved her, did not seem like home in those first months. Everything was strange, from the house where we lived, to the products in the supermarket, to the way people drive here. Home was America, New York, Cedarhurst, in a little beige dutch colonial with green shutters. Home was shul on Edward Ave., friends surrounding me for a five-mile radius and work at 177. Home was seeing my mother, and my father and my siblings on a regular basis.

Now things have shifted. We've bought a home here. We are speaking the language. We have jobs here. And friends surrounding us for a five-mile radius. We are happy to be here, living as Jews in a Jewish country.

But I would be lying if I told you I didn't miss America.

Mostly, I miss my people, but I miss other things, too. I miss the changing seasons and pedicures. I miss being the one to make the joke at meetings (but I'm getting closer, I can feel it). I am looking forward to my visit, to hitting the shops and the restaurants and to seeing my people. I wonder how I'll feel wandering around my old neighborhood. Will Sarge at the candy store remember me? Have the stores changed? Will it feel like home?

For 40+ years New York was my home. Not to be morbid or anything, but there's a good chance that at the end, my years there will outnumber my years here (with G-d's help, NOT!). Living in America shaped who I am and what I think. She will always be a part of me.

Can home be two places?

Family meeting, Part II

2010-10-10T08:12:00.000-07:00

I know all 5 of you have been waiting with bated breath to see what happened on no TV/computer day, but there really is not much to tell.

Were you expecting all peace, love, joy and harmony? Hours spent productively: doing homework, studying, cleaning rooms, helping mom put dinner together, engaging in stimulating conversation?

Not quite.

But I'll tell you this: At one point my kids were sitting at the table doing homework and talking to each other and laughing together. At another time, I caught a child reading a book. My biggest kid took a snooze on his Archie Bunker recliner. (We'll have to work on that one).

No, it was not all peace and love and joy and harmony, but you know what? It was quiet. It was relaxed, not rushed. It was bedtime at a decent hour for all of us. It was enjoyable. This was last Sunday, and in the following days, I was very firm about limiting the computer/TV time. And I found that it was a quiet, productive week for all of us.

We did have to do some tweaking with the schedule. Liat requested we move the day from Sunday, because she is still in touch with friends in America and that is the only day she can video-skype with them. So this week we're trying Monday--tomorrow. I am determined to see this through. I'll keep the five of you posted every now and then.

For those of you that wanted to know who said what in the last post, I've updated it. You can check it here.

Family meeting, Part I

2010-10-04T14:58:00.000-07:00

On Thursday night when the holiday of Simchat Torah was over, I called a family meeting.

The inhabitants at Casa Baila understand that these meetings are not usually good news. We are not the type of family that has regular formal meetings. The last one we had took place almost two years ago when Isaac lost his job and we had to tell the kids about the new austerity plan. No shopping, no eating out, no movies, stuff like that. They loved that meeting.

Now the kids know that, Thank G-d, things are good as far as work goes, but they took their places very suspiciously, wondering what I was up to now. Isaac himself was raising an eyebrow, as meeting was called unilaterally.

Here's the thing: Our family has become very addicted to the internet. For myself it's facebook, blogging (okay, maybe I'm not writing quite as often, but I'm still reading. Alot.) and ~~downloading~~ streaming TV shows. The kids are also watching TV online and facebooking. Isaac says he's working, but to be frank, I don't believe him. At least not all the time. So it's conceivable that on a given night you'll walk into the house and find Isaac and I on our lap tops, Liat holed up in her room on her computer that she bought with bat-mitzvah money, and Tali and Orli arguing over who's turn it is to get on (the loser watches TV).

A common sight for the modern family. But this is my family, and it's not pretty.

Now I've imposed some limits on all this. When there is school, the kids are limited to an hour of internet. But when there's no school (and we've just come off a three month vacation, with a week of school thrown in somewhere at the beginning of September) the number of hours spent in a sitting position is just mind-numbing.

I don't like it for myself. I don't like it for my kids. And I don't like it for my family.

So I started my meeting and told them how I felt. And I proposed this: one day a week (BESIDES Shabbat), we were going to be a completely computer- and television-free family. I didn't really care which day, but I told them this was a fait accompli.

I know you're as surprised as I was that the troops didn't jump up for joy and thank me for saving our family. Nope, they weren't grateful at all. Here are some of the reactions I got (I think it'd be a fun exercise to match the comment to the person who said it, for those of you who really know my kids), and my responses:

"I guess I'll be well-rested 'cuz I'll be going to sleep at 3:30 [when said-person gets home from school]" (I think you'll find things to do). [Orli]

"Look, if I need to do school work on the computer that's going to be a problem". (Not a problem, there will be special dispensation for school work, but understand that the work will be closely monitored). [Liat]

"Hey, I need to work" (Then stay at the office until you're done. One night a week you will come home to your family and be with us, not working on the computer). [Isaac]

"Does this mean we'll go out to eat at Burger's Bar, you know for the family to be together?". (No it means we will have to find ways to fill our time that are more productive. If it means doing something together like going for a walk or a swim, that would be great). [Tali]

No, the troops were not happy or grateful. But I felt I had to do something. I've thought about more strict restrictions--getting rid of the TV and not allowing them to use the computer for the internet at all, or putting some blocking software in. The fact is, I'm not willing to do that at this point, but felt I had to do something.

We chose Sunday, and yesterday was our first day without internet or TV.

I'm going to tell you how it went--in my next post.

And this is the blessing

2010-09-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

I was struck today by several thoughts as I listened to the last Torah portion of the year. וזאת הברכה (V'zot Habracha)--"And this is the blessing". Moses, before he takes leave of his people, the Jewish nation, blesses each of the 12 tribes according to its national responsibilities and individual greatness.*

I was struck by the women in this tefillah (prayer) group. These are women who want to express their devotion to G-d and take the initiative to do something about it in a halachically respectful way.

I was struck by the last, and then the first portion of the Torah. After we got to the end, two women rolled the entire scroll back to the first portion (Bereishit-Genesis), which was also partially read. This is the symbolism of our cyclical lives, how the Torah never ends, it just goes on year to year, generation to generation. Long after we are all gone, this tradition will continue; there is comfort in that thought.

And finally, I was struck by Moses himself. At the very end of the portion, G-d takes Moses to Mount Nebo and shows him all of Israel.

ויאמר ה' אליו זאת הארץ אשר נשבעתי לאברהם ליצחק וליעקב לאמר לזרעך אתננה הראיתיך בעיניך ושמה לא תעבר

And G-d said to him, This is the land which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob, saying, I will give it to your offspring. I have let you see it with your own eyes, but you shall not cross over to there.

All Moses wants is to make Aliya, to get to the promised land. He was the greatest prophet to ever live and for one seemingly small transgression he is given this huge punishment. I know there are many reasons, explanations, midrashim etc. of why Moses was not allowed into Eretz Yisrael. Whatever the explanation, it's one of those things I just can't make sense of--the punishment is just so much greater than the crime. And so every year when I hear this, I shed a tear for Moses for not being allowed to fulfill the one thing he always dreamed of; and am reminded of how priviledged I am because I was.

*(source: Artscroll Tanach, Stone edition)

9/11

2010-09-11T15:03:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe that 9 years have passed since that black, horrible day. If I close my eyes I can transport myself back to that time, to the fear and the silence and the tears.

It ushered in an era that I don't think is over yet. And though the horrific events of the day briefly united us as a nation, ultimately it has torn us apart. How does America deal with terrorism? Do we react with force or do we try to engage our enemies? These political differences have created an ever-widening rift in the country of my birth. Indeed, these differences divide the people of Israel as well.

There are no easy answers to these questions. But just for today, I am taking the time to remember and to honor the victims, those who died trying to save them and all of the rest of the amazing people who came out to rebuild my broken city, as well as those who died at the pentagon and on Flight 93.

A new table, a new year and new gas masks

2010-09-07T14:52:00.000-07:00

I vaguely remember getting up this morning, getting myself and everyone ready for school and work. Then work, where I thought I worked hard, but turned out to be the easiest part of the day. After that I went to visit a friend who was just released from the hospital following some surgery. Two more stops at two different supermarkets to find fish heads (I like the real thing on my Rosh Hashana table. It totally grosses the kids out).

Then Isaac calls me. "The table's going to be delivered between 2 and 4 PM". We had ordered a dining room set eons ago and Isaac's been calling the store daily to nag them to get it to us before the upcoming holiday (we were told it was coming three weeks ago). Great, I said. I'll head home (it was already after 2).

But first I squeezed in a visit to pick up gas masks for the entire family. That was fun. I also made a trip to the money changer, who for no apparent reason was closed. I got home at 3 PM to find no new table anywhere.

I baked a Better-than-Drakes Coffee cake, prepped my meat dish, marinated a whole chicken, made Mimi's stuffed turkey breast. Carol dropped by and chatted while I contined cooking. I went to get my haircut, where I bumped into my friend Lisa. She must live at Dani Mor, she's always there when I get my haircut and I only go twice a year. Come to think of it her hair always looks great.

I returned home to find no new table. It was now 6 PM.

I cooked the Carrots for Mimi's Morrocan Carrot Salad (not as successful as the turkey), made the sauce for the Morrocan fish we're having on Thursday, and set up the pumpkin soup.

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law arrived and I chit-chatted a bit with them, but then went back to work in the kitchen.

I called some family and friends in the states to wish them the best for the new year.

Still no table.

I blended the pumpkin soup with my handy-dandy immersion blender, got pumpkin soup all over my shirt, an opportune time for three men to show up with my table.

I really like the table. Of course I can't be 100 percent sure that it's the one I ordered because it's been so long I really don't remember any more.

Whatever.

Here's hoping that you and yours have many happy gatherings around your tables this year. That all gas masks gather dust, or dare I say it--are returned because peace reigns in the world (hey, a girl can dream).

And, always in my heart and prayers: Gilad. I hope this is the year you come home.

Three years and counting

2010-09-04T13:43:00.001-07:00

I couldn't let the day go by without acknowledging it. Today we celebrated our third anniversary here.

I guess it says something that I thought about letting the day going by without a post. We're old hat here. "Vatikim", they call us--old timers. And when I look at my friends who just arrived last month and other friends who arrived less than two weeks ago I feel a little bit of that. I can answer their questions. Understand thier experiences. I know the joy and pride they are feeling now and can almost predict some of the other, more complicated emotions they are going to feel as they continue their journey.

And I hope they arrive at the moment I am enjoying now. The moment when it seems so natural to be here that they almost--but not quite--forget that the date is the anniversary of one of the extraordinary events of their lives.

As a family, we've gone through much. I still feel that my kids are my heroes. Liat, finding her place here and proving that teens can make Aliya (move to Israel)and maintain their academic excellence. Tali, who has thrived and matured and has an amazing circle of friends. And Orli, who you'd think was Israeli if you saw her hanging out.

I'm glad I didn't just let the day go by. I'm proud of what we've all accomplished here.

And I'm looking forward to more.

(beh)

Woof! A report from Ozzy the wonderdog

2010-08-19T12:23:00.000-07:00

Finally,it's my turn! That woman, my so-called mom, never gets off the darn computer. I mean, I know I don't have opposable thumbs, but these paws manage. You'd think she'd let me have my say every now and then. Well here I am, about to tell you the real story.

The past few weeks have been very, very difficult for me. First, they start bringing out boxes, which made me quite nervous. The boxes just sat there for a long time and nothing happened, so I start to relax. But every so often one of the big ones says to the other, "honey we really need to start packing", and the other one says, "Yeah, we should. Tomorrow". (You have never seen procrastinators like these people. How they ever get anything done at all is beyond me).

One day, a couple of weeks ago my mom, who you call Baila, starts to put things in boxes. She takes lots of breaks and mutters stuff under her breath. I don't quite understand what she's saying, but it doesn't sound very nice. As she's packing, I'm getting more and more panicky. This is bringing up some very bad memories.

We've been through this before.

A long time ago they started putting stuff in boxes. Then one day some people came and took everything away. Then they stuck me in my crate for 12 hours and put me a place that was really loud with no food and some ice. I was petrified. Still, I managed to hold it in for the whole trip. Really. I wasn't going to go where I sleep! A dog has got to have some standards. When they finally let me out, I found myself in a new place. There were no squirrels to chase and everyone talked funny. I was depressed for weeks, but then I realized how nice this place is. I learned the language, made some friends and I was feeling pretty good. And there are way more cats here than there were squirrels in that other place.

But now, again with the boxes. And slowly, but surely, they started to fill them up. Mom talked to me. "Ozzy," she said, "I don't want you to be surprised, so I gotta tell you we're moving. It's not like last time, we're just moving a few blocks away. There'll be some changes for you, but I think you'll like it there. I'm sure you'll see lots of cats there, too." All I really heard was "Ozzy, blah, blah, blah, blah, cats, blah, blah, blah". But I gave her that look where I look like I really understood what the heck she was talking about and she seemed satisfied.

The big day came and these big guys with long arms started to shlep things out of my house. They put me in the cage so I wouldn't be in the way. How insulting. Me in the way. These people are carting things out of my house and I'm the one in the way. At some point mom took me over to Monty's house. As she walked me there she talked to me again.

"Ozzy", she said, "Today is the day we're moving to that new place I told you about. You're going to spend the day at Monty's and tonight Abba and I will pick you up".

Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. "I'll show you", I thought to myself. I had a plan.

I trotted into Monty's house, went over to the carpet and promptly marked my territory. I NEVER do that in a house. NEVER. But desperate times call for desperate measures. My mom was really embarrassed and apologized to Ilana a thousand times. I had her right where I wanted her!

About Monty: We have an agreement. His mom, Ilana, loves me to pieces. She is always scrinching my neck and cooing with me. I find her to be kind of hot. But everytime she does that Monty lumbers over. He's jealous and then Ilana always says, "Oh, Monty, I love you best". Annoys the hell out of me. Finally, I just told Monty that I will tolerate him but I don't have to be friends with him just because our moms are friends. He got mad and I was kind of afraid because he really is so much bigger than me. But I stood my ground and now when we see each other, which is pretty often, we just ignore each other which is just fine with me.

It was a pretty miserable day with Monty. Ilana and all the others left us alone. I ate all of Monty's food, so that made me happy. I would have peed a couple more times on the carpet but it's not worth it if noone's around to see it.

When my people came to get me, they took me to this new place. Very nice, but lots of boxes everywhere and I don't like that at all. I found a corner and lay there. My new plan was to lay there all the time and look depressed so we could go back to the other place.

That plan didn't work quite as well. We're still here. There are alot less boxes, so I'm feeling a little better. There's a field down the block where they take me to, so I get to run around and have even chased a cat or two there. (I never seem to catch them, but it's the thrill of the chase I enjoy). Up at the new house there don't seem to be that many cats, but there are lots of pigeons. We're on top of a hill and I see them fly by all the time. The other day one even flew into the house. Boy, did I have fun barking at it. Mom wasn't as thrilled about that one as I was.

I guess I'm settling into this place. Change is difficult, but it happens in life. You learn to go with the flow, if you know what I mean. It makes me a better ~~person~~ dog.

Uh-oh, there she comes again. She wants her computer back. I'm glad I got a little time in to tell you what's been going on here at Casa Baila. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay.

And I bet Monty never posted on anyone's blog.

There we are looking like best buds. But you know the truth.

The view from here

2010-08-17T08:23:00.000-07:00

Last week we moved from the rental we have been living in since we made Aliya to the apartment we bought here in Israel.

Isaac and I feel so blessed that we are able to own a little piece of this land of ours. As a constant reminder of our blessing, I get to look at this all the time:

With G-d's help we look forward to making many happy memories in our new home with family, new friends and old, for a long time to come.

Closer to perfect

2010-08-02T07:49:00.000-07:00

For me, the most difficult thing about making this move to Israel is leaving the people I love behind. At first it was a huge void for me, a mourning of sorts. Slowly, the void turned into a little ache that I could wrap up neatly and tuck away. Every now and then (as in true mourning I now know) the ache rises to the surface.

It could be when I see someone on the street that bears a striking resemblance to someone I miss.

It could be a wedding I missed.

It could be followed by a visit which invariably comes to an end.

Sometimes when someone from America asks me how my Aliya is going, I answer, "if you were here, it would be perfect."

You know the challenges we've had here: the cultural and linguistic difficulties, the lice, watching my kids struggle, financial issues, the heat (Oh G-d, the heat). And yet, the feeling of accomplishing something I dreamed of for so long makes me unbelievably proud. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, I will always have this.

Still, I miss my people. If they would all come here, life for me, would be as perfect as it could possibly be. Sure I joke about missing Target and good pedicures. And I would miss the places, but if the people were here, I think I'd miss them alot less.

Tomorrow, I get just a bit closer to perfect. I've known Carol and Stuart for over 25 years. You know the kind of friends they are, because I know you all have friends like this--the ones that drop everything for you before you even know you needed them to do it.

A story about Carol and me: We were both thrilled when we learned we were due with what turned out to be our youngest kids at the same time. Throughout the pregnancy we made plans as to what we were going to do when we started out maternity leave, before the babies actually arrived. We decided we would go see the first showing of Harrison Ford's new flick Air Force One. We must have also planned lunch, although I don't specifically remember that. Of course, on the first day of our leave I went into labor. I called Carol from the labor room to let her know. As soon as she picked up the phone, she suspiciously asked, "Are those beeping sounds [from one monitor or another] what I think they are? I will be very annoyed if you're canceling our date!"

Tomorrow, Stuart and Carol and their kids, Adina, Ilan, Gilad and Dafna (born three days after Orli) will step off that plane into the blazing Israeli sun. Like us, they've dreamed and talked about this day for years. Like us, they face many challenges as they settle into their lives. They will probably be dazed and exhausted. They will have days when they will have serious doubts about their decision. But like us, they have a clear vision of what they are doing and why. Tomorrow, the Katzes will have made it to the Holy Land.

And my life will be one step closer to perfect.

My weird summer

2010-07-28T06:38:00.001-07:00

Liat is away in America. She's having a great time there, although I'm glad to hear she misses Israel.

Tali just left for camp for two weeks, after working at a "kaytana" (day camp). Now Orli's taking a two-week stint there. Orli has loads of friends in town and is busy with them and with Bnei Akiva, her youth group.

Last year, I'd get home from work, settle in a bit and we'd be off to the beach by 3 or 4 and stay there till dark.

This year my kids don't seem to need me to take them any more. They are managing on their own, thank you very much.

It's every parent's dream, huh? But I'm finding it a bit...disconcerting. Maybe even lonely.

It's not that I don't have what to do, or have my own peers who have similar schedules; it's just that--I kind of like hanging out with my girls. (Except for shopping. That drives me nuts).

The empty nest lurks...

**************************************************************

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ORLI, WHO IS OFFICIALLY A TEENAGER TODAY!!! (Although who are we kidding, she's been behaving like one since she turned three).

Here's a really useful cooking tip

2010-07-08T08:51:00.000-07:00

If the recipe you're working with calls for a jalapeno pepper, DO NOT think "That doesn't look very hot", and proceed to put one of the little seeds on your tongue. Trust me on this one.

(Yes, I did.)

Now that we got that out of the way, here's Abuelita's Eggplant Spread.

1 large eggplant
1 large onion
1 red pepper
1 hot pepper (the long green one was hot enough)
2 TBS. tomato paste
2-3 tsp. vinegar
salt
water

Peel and cube the eggplant, salt it and put in a colander until it "cries"--liquid will drain out and the eggplant will be softer.

(I didn't rinse the eggplant, but I probably should have, it is a tiny drop on the salty side now).

Saute the eggplant in a bit of vegetable oil until it looks cooked. Abuelita (that's my mother-in-law) said to do it until it's "transparent", but I never could see through the eggplant, so at one point I said, "that's enough, you looked cooked".

Remove the eggplant and in the same pan saute the onion and the peppers without tasting any errant seeds.

When that's done, add the cooked eggplant, a bit of water, the tomato paste and the vinegar. Leave it on a low flame for a couple of minutes stirring frequently. (Or don't bother stirring it frequently, that's an annoying instruction).

It's a nice treat with crackers or to serve at the beginning of a meal with your chumus and other "salatim" (little salads that Israelis serve at practically every meal).

Now excuse me while I go ice my mouth.

A birthday, an interview and a mystery

2010-07-04T13:11:00.000-07:00

I no longer live there, but I'd be remiss in not mentioning a very special birthday. America is 234 years old today and I pray that she will continue to stay strong. I am proud to be American--living in Israel does not negate that pride.

In other news, I was interviewed by Ilana-Davita. I love her blog and she has been on my blogroll from the beginning. She is doing a series on Israeli bloggers (now why didn't I think of that?) and I was honored to be included. You can read the interview here.

Finally a weird thing happened here at Casa Baila. We were away for Shabbat and when Isaac and I returned late Saturday night, we found that the glass table on the furniture was completely shattered. As in a gazillion pieces. Noone was home for the weekend, nothing else was disturbed, I didn't see a stone or anything near the table.

What do you think happened?

Ahh, and let me not forget--Haveil Havalim is up here. If you want to know what's happening around the Jewish blogosphere that should be your go-to place.

Can you miss someone you've never met?

2010-06-25T07:06:00.000-07:00

It's June 25, 2010. That means Gilad Shalit has been held in captivity by Hamas terrorists for four years.

Here in Israel, I often hear a phrase spoken by a family member, mostly parents, to describe another family member; they will say about the person, "our ________ ". So for example, when a mother talks about her daugher Keren, she will often say "קרן שלנו" ["Keren shelanu"]--our Keren. There's something very poignant about that to me.

Me, I can't believe our Gilad has been gone four years.

There is another soldier, an air force pilot whose name is Ron Arad. Arad was captured in 1986, and aside from some correspondence in 1987, has not been heard from since.

That's 24 years.

While tooling around the blogosphere, I found this video on Lion of Zion's blog. The song is "Keshetavo"--"When you will come back". On that day, the singer says "נשיר ברון" [NaShir beron]--"We will sing with Ron". "Ron", Arad's first name, in Hebrew means joy.

I think the song is appropriate today, as we remember and pray for both Gilad and Ron.

May that day that we sing with Ron--and Gilad--come soon.

Summertime, summertime

2010-06-12T14:50:00.000-07:00

It seems the hot weather is here to stay, and it's only going to get hotter. I think I'm learning to tolerate the heat better; still, the person who invented air conditioning should have won a Nobel Prize.

Of course in this weather, only the barest of shoes can be tolerated and we went sandal shopping (oh joy! you know how much I love shopping)* the other week. After two weeks the soles Orli's sandals were already splitting. After lamenting the poor quality (but still high prices) of shoes here, I stopped in the store on a lark to let them know. To my utter surprise the sweet girl there told me to bring them in, that the shoes in their store were under warranty.

How could they put such cr@#%py shoes under warranty? Never mind, I brought Orli back, she picked out another pair and we all walked away happy. I guess if I have to, I'll exchange the shoes every two weeks.

Tali chose open sandals with embellishments...

...while Orli liked the trendy gladiator style

And both come with a warranty! (Now I feel much better about the not-so-great quality)

For more summer pictures visit Robin's Summer Stock Sunday at Around the Island.

*NOT!

Is school over yet?

2010-06-09T10:42:00.000-07:00

My younger two, Tali and Orli, attend the local Ulpana (girl's high school) here in Modi'in. Both of them are happy there, have lots of friends and are even learning a bit.

But this drives me insane.

School uniforms.

Now, I think school uniforms are fine. Certainly makes a mother's life easier and theoretically should cut down on the clothing budget.

But.

The local ulpana's school uniform is a baseball jersey that comes in a variety of lovely and gruesome color combos with the school logo on the front and something else on the back of the shirt. It's not particularly flattering, but that probably is the point.

As you can imagine the girls just love wearing that uniform. Meaning they do everything they can to get out of it.

I insist they wear it, but I am met with resistance from....the ulpana itself.

As soon as the winter comes (which means, here in Modi'in you may need to don a light sweater), the kids are no longer required to wear them, because it's cold and they're wearing sweatshirts anyway.

Also, some teachers (like Orli's) are very strict about the uniform and others (like Tali's) aren't.

Finally, if you are tiny, big, skinny, fat, tall or short you may be excused from wearing the uniform because the shirt may not fit properly (which is such a load of...).

So I argue all the time with the kids about putting on their uniform and then drop them off at school listening to them say, "you see how many kids don't wear it".

When I ran into Orli's teacher the other day, she complained about Orli's lack of consistency. And I in turn complained about the school's lack of consistency (and felt much better after I did so, I might add). The teacher seemed just as frustrated as I was--because she knows she is strict about this and doesn't have the back-up of the school.

I mean if you have a rule, stick to it.

Which is what I'm doing now. Everyone wears their uniform, whether their teacher cares or not.

It's fun times in the morning here at Casa Baila.

What a way to make a livin'

2010-06-07T06:58:00.000-07:00

Just some news from the work front.

I've now been 2+ years at my current place of work. I know how the place works, the politics. People know me and I feel comfortable there.

Professionally, I'm excited to say that the politicians have come to their senses and I will be receiving a license here in Israel. It should arrive within the next decade or so, but in the meantime I am working legally and can say my education, license and experience is recognized by the Ministry of Health.

I've been attending a Continuing Education course on Alternative and Augmentative Communication (AAC) once weekly since January. The course was sponsored and completely paid for by my place of work. It was given by one of the top people in the field, worldwide, who lives here in little 'ol Israel. She has become a mentor of sorts. It was an amazing opportunity and I am very appreciative of it. It seems that after all these years of being a practising speech therapist, I am finally developing an area of expertise. I am debating taking this to a whole new level by getting even more training and then marketing myself to this niche here in Israel.

On the last day of the course I was asked to present an example of some treatment based on the theories we had been learning. It was to be presented to the other attendees as well the people in charge of organizing the course and the college through which some of the others got credit for. Of course I had to present in Hebrew. I was a nervouse wreck. I sped through the thing, knowing that had I presented in English I would have done a much better, thorough job. Still I got some Kol HaKavods [atta girl] and I just responded by saying thank you, rather than saying, "Oh but I was awful", which I was.

I guess that's the update. If any of you know anyone who needs some speech therapy in the Modi'in area, I'm your girl.

Be an informed person, like Danny

2010-06-02T11:04:00.000-07:00

What did your teenager do today? One of mine practised Beatles' Songs on her new electric guitar. The other started packing up her room for our upcoming move. The third one went swimming with her friends. Good kids, all.

But Danny's parents must be really proud. Look what he did:

When Danny is asked by the media how he knows what happened (at about 3:38 minutes), he answered, "I'm an informed person".

You think you can no longer defend Israel? You can, if you are an informed person like this high school kid.

......and so the world condemns us. Again.

2010-05-31T13:04:00.000-07:00

Though this is not a political blog, I can't help but comment on the events of today. I am aware of how the world perceives us and the truth is I am outraged by it. Today's tragedy was preceded by a clear intention to provoke and ambush the Israeli Navy; and resulted in the lynching of our soldiers.

Our army has a right to defend our country. Weapons smuggling into Gaza, run by Hamas, a terrorist organization, is not a secret. The Israelis told the people on that ship that their aid could be sent into Gaza after it was inspected. They refused. Here's a look at some of their "peace activists":

And this guy looks like a real humanitarian, no?

I received an e-mail from Rabbi Hershel Billet, Rabbi of the Young Israel of Woodmere, sent out to the community. I thought it described the situation quite well and he kindly allowed me to post it here:

NEWS ALERT:BACKGROUND ON FLOTILLA INCIDENT

As many of you may be aware, a major confrontation took place off Israel's coast
earlier today. We wanted to bring you the most up-to-date information from
JFNA's Israel office, for your background. We have summarized the major points
below. This is followed by additional facts and links to other important
materials on this incident.

* Early this morning (May 31), Israel Defense Forces naval forces
intercepted six ships attempting to break the naval blockade of the Gaza Strip.

* The intercept took place after numerous warnings from Israel and the
Israel Navy that were issued prior to the action. The Israel Navy requested the
ships to redirect toward Ashdod where they would be
able to unload their cargo which would then be transferred to Gaza over land
after undergoing security inspections. The IDF stressed that the passengers
could then return to their point of departure on the same vessels.

* During the interception of the ships, the demonstrators onboard attacked
the IDF naval personnel with live gunfire as well as light weaponry including knives, crowbars and clubs. The demonstrators had clearly prepared weapons in advance for this specific purpose.

* According to reports from sea, on board the flotilla that was seeking to
break the maritime closure on the Gaza Strip, IDF forces apprehended two violent
activists holding pistols. These militants apparently grabbed the pistols from
IDF forces and opened fire on the soldiers.

* The activists were carrying 10,000 tons of reported aid to Gaza. Israel
provides 15,000 tons of aid weekly to Gaza.

* As a result of this life-threatening activity, naval forces employed
riot dispersal means, including, when they determined that their lives were in
immediate danger, live fire. According to initial reports, these events resulted
in over 10 deaths among the demonstrators and numerous injured.

* A number of Israeli naval personnel were injured, some from gunfire and
others from knives and crowbars. Two of the soldiers are moderately wounded and
the remainder sustained light injuries.

* All of the injured, Israelis and foreigners, are currently being
evacuated by a fleet of IDF helicopters to hospitals in Israel.

* Reports from IDF forces on the scene are that some of the participants
onboard the ships had planned a lynch-mob attack, using lethal force on the
boarding forces.

* The events are still unfolding. Israeli Naval commander, Vice Admiral
Eliezer Marom is overseeing the activities.

* In the coming hours, the ships will be directed to the Ashdod port,
while IDF naval forces will perform security checks in order to identify the
people on board the ships and their equipment.

* The IDF naval operation was carried out under orders from the political
leadership to halt the flotilla from reaching the Gaza Strip and breaching the
naval blockade.

Other important facts:

* The provocateurs were organized by an Islamist organization that has
links to fundamentalist jihadi groups.

* The extremists brought small children on board knowing that they
intended to violate international maritime law.

* The activists were carrying 10,000 tons of what they said was aid.
Israel transfers about 15,000 tons of supplies and humanitarian aid every week
to the people of Gaza.

* "We fully intend to go to Gaza regardless of any intimidation or threats
of violence against us, they are going to have to forcefully stop us," said one
of the flotilla’s organizers.

* Using the Arabic term ‘intifada,’ Hamas spokesman Sami Abu Zuhri said
"We call on all Arabs and Muslims to rise up in front of Zionist embassies
across the whole world.

* Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh said this week: "If the ships reach Gaza it
is a victory; if they are intercepted, it will be a victory too.

* Israel left Gaza in hopes of peace in 2005 and in return received more
than 10,000 rockets and terrorist attacks.

* Israel has said that it will deliver any humanitarian aid to Gaza, as it
does daily.

* No country would allow illegal entry of any vessel into their waters
without a security check.

* Earlier this week, Noam Shalit, father of Hamas-held Israeli soldier Gilad
Shalit, approached the flotilla's organizers asking them to take supplies to
Gilad. He was refused.

Just another day in the Holy Land.

(Oh, and yeah, Jameel is the one to go to for up-to-the-minute reporting as the situation continues to unfold).

Ode to Ozzy

2010-05-25T09:06:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me, or have been reading for a while know about Ozzy, our wonder dog. What you may not be aware of is how Ozzy came to be a part of the family.

~~It was a dark and stormy night~~Isaac and the girls always wanted a dog, but I resisted. It wasn't that I didn't like dogs on principle; I just knew that the girls would be to young to care for a dog and with Isaac's long work hours, the responsibility would fall on me. I didn't want to be forced to run home to walk the dog or to clean up after it's mess at home. So I firmly said no, time after time. I did agree, though to dogsit for some friends; I thought this was a nice compromise, where the girls would get the experience of having a pet and I knew said pet would be going home shortly.

All was well, I thought.

But it wasn't good enough for them.

They -- all of them, the three girls and my husband, did not stop asking, cajoling, needling, begging, demanding, beseeching me for a dog of their own.

Still I said no.

And then, in November, 2005 when Liat was diagnosed with her Hodgkin's, of course the issue was resolved. There was no way we were bringing a new pet into a house where someone was undergoing chemotherapy.

Several months went by, and thankfully, Liat's treatment went as expected. After chemotherapy, she began a course of radiation.

And during that time the pleading started up full force again. "No way", I said. I was exhausted and traumatized after our experience with childhood cancer. I didn't have the strength to even think about it.

But Liat didn't give up. She got on the internet and researched different breeds of dogs. She decided she wanted a westie and kept on telling me how good they were with children and whatever other things the breed had going for it. I paid her no attention.

The last day of Liat's radiation treatment came and of course we were all excited about it. Isaac was taking the day off to accompany her to the treatment. As was customary, he called me as soon as it was over to let me know it went okay, and to let me know they were on their way home.

"But first", he teased, "we're going to stop and buy a dog."

"Hah hah", I snickered. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

When I got home from work, Nadine's car wasn't in the driveway. "Strange", I thought. "Where could they be?" Liat was exhausted from the radiation and needed to be home resting. A few minutes later, Isaac and Liat pulled up in the borrowed car.

Liat walked in with a huge smile on her face, followed by Isaac, who looked like he was coming home from the hospital holding a newborn wrapped in a blankie. He was beaming even more than Liat.

"What the--?", I said. When I peaked in the blanket, I saw a snout and two [sweet] brown eyes looking up at me.

"Very funny", I murmured. "You took the neighbor's dog to play a trick on me. I'm laughing inside. Now take it back."

"No, honey, it's not a neighbor's dog, he's ours. Meet the newest member of our family." And he showed me the receipt from the pet store he had bought (which was, by the way, way more than we could afford).

I put my face in my hands. What had he done? I felt Liat looking at me, expectantly. "I can't do this, Isaac. Take it back. Take it back before Tali and Orli get home and fall in love. TAKE IT BACK!!!"

Liat started to cry. "Abba", she said. "You said Mommy wouldn't be mad. Let's take it back."

I left them and walked into the kitchen. I was angry, upset. What now? I heard Tali and Orli walking in, their squeals of delight washing over me.

I felt myself weakening.

Isaac walked into the kitchen.

"Please", he said. "This family has been through so much the past few months. Don't you think a dog would help the girls? He will add so much to this family."

I was gone. Totally manipulated. How do you say no to a child with cancer? To her sisters who could not help but feel like they were taking a backseat, much as we tried to pay attention to them? To a husband who had been a rock throughout it all?

You can't. Say no, that is.

"I won't walk him", I mumbled.

"No", said my husband.

"And I won't clean up after him."

"Absolutely not".

"And if he gets sick, we will not pay one red nickel for medical bills for him", I added.

Isaac didn't answer that. But he was smiling, and tearing up at the same time.

In the living room, the kids whooped it up. They had heard it all, and knew victory was theirs.

Yesterday, we celebrated four years since that day. Four years of recovery, of growing up and moving on, of a gratitude that I feel every day.

I can honestly say that Isaac was wrong. I have walked Ozzy, cleaned up after him, ran home to be there in time for him. That dog has chewed up my good leather gloves, several pairs of swimming goggles, eaten stuff out of the garbage can and ripped our leather sofa to shreds.

But for the most part, Isaac was right. Ozzy has been so good for us. He is always there for us. He has healed us. He loves us.

And I say this unapologetically: I love him, too.

Happy anniversary, Ozzy.

Nope, not a Westie, but a Shetland Sheepdog. Liat fell in love with him as soon as she saw him.

Feels like June in New York City

2010-05-24T09:18:00.000-07:00

In NYC, it was a rite of passage.

Every year, without fail, an enterprising young person would somehow manage to get a hold of the Regents Exams a few days before the test took place. This person would then begin selling the exam. Many kids too lazy to actually study would buy the answers and then spend days memorizing them or figuring out how to copy the answers onto a pencil or the bottom of their shoe. Stupid kids for several reasons. One, if they spent all that time studying, they'd probably do okay on the exam; and two, if they waited until the night before the test, they could get it for free. (Don't ask me how I know that).

The thing was it always seemed to be a Jewish kid, often from a Yeshiva that stole the exam. Really embarrassing.

Here in Israel, starting in the tenth grade, the kids take what are known as "bagrut". These exams are similar to what the regents are in New York, a standardized exam designed to make sure the kids are receiving an education worthy of them entering a university in the future (as far as I know, you need to have a Bagrut Diploma in order to even apply). The kids are under a great deal of pressure this time of year.

Liat, who is in the 11th grade, is in the throes of exam season and is scheduled to take the 4-point Math Bagrut (the Bagrut work in categories of 3 to 5 points) tomorrow afternoon. Last night she got a phone call from her friend: the 4-point bagrut had been leaked, and it was unclear if the test would be re-scheduled. Liat had spent several days studying and did not want the test pushed off.

Thankfully, the test will go on, as scheduled.

Of course, Liat and her friends are concerned that the new test will be deliberately be made harder as a kind of "punishment" to the kids. But I doubt it. Once you've seen one integral/differential/inferential/sine/cosine/whatever you've seen 'em all, no?

I'm not exactly sure who is responsible for the leaked Bagrut, but I imagine it's also someone Jewish. Which Israeli leader was it that dreamed of the day Israel would have its first robbery so that we would be a "normal" country? Does a leaked Bagrut fit with that vision?

Good luck to Liat and all her peers tomorrow and throughout Bagrut season.

I guess you'll have to save it for next year

2010-05-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

I didn't get to post my famous cheesecake recipe before the Shavuot holiday and for this I truly apologize.

I got this recipe from Dena Feldman, a colleague of mine from way back when. I didn't even like cheesecake in those days because it always tasted so...crumbly. She swore to me that this is the creamiest cheesecake ever, and I tried it for my first Shavuot with Isaac. He loved it and we've had it every year since, except for once. That year I decided to make a low-fat cheesecake. After the holiday, Isaac begged me, "Please. We only eat cheesecake once a year. Can't we have the real thing?" And it's been the good stuff ever since.

Of course when I moved to Israel, I had to make adjustments. This

became this

and this

became this

The variety of cheese products here in Israel is amazing and in honor of the holiday new products are always introduced. These substitutes work great and we've of course continued our cheesecake tradition here. Only problem is, because the holiday is only one day here, there is usually a leftover piece for us to pick at...

Here is the recipe, in both American and Israeli amounts:

Honey graham crackers (petit-bars work fine here in Israel)
453 grams (16 oz.) cream cheese--trust me, use Tempt-tee in the US and Napolitan here in Israel
453 grams (16 oz.) sour cream
3 eggs
1 cup of sugar (divided in thirds)
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Pre-heat oven to 191 degrees (375 in the US)

Crumb cookies and press them into 8 or 9 inch (no I don't know the centimeters) springfoam pan.

Whip cream cheese and sour cream, well--NO LUMPS! Add one egg and 1/3 cup of sugar three times. Add vanilla extract and pour into pan.

Bake for thirty minutes and then turn oven off. Leave the cake for an hour, and DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN.

My cake always cracks and I'm okay with that. I know there's a way to prevent it, but the cracks don't bother me, I rather like them. You can always cover the cake with strawberries or caramel if you want. I've tried baking it in a water bath, but it came out the same so its not worth the effort, if you ask me.

I know it's to late for Shavuot, but hey, you can eat cheesecake anytime, no?

I'm no longer in contact with Dena, but I'll always remember her fondly for giving me the best cheesecake recipe ever.

Gotta be in it to win it

2010-05-14T07:45:00.000-07:00

Two and a half years into our new life here in Israel, the "firsts" are fewer and further apart.

But today I had one.

When I first moved here, a cashier at the supermarket asked me if I was interested in a lottery ticket. "Sure," I answered, already counting my shekels, "how much?"

"Forty shekel", she answered.

"Forty shekel???", that's like ten dollars. There was no way I was going to pay that. My gambling days were over, I sadly thought....

And yet, the lottery here is a popular business. Lots and lots of people play, and there are stands all over the city. I can even hum the jingle of the radio commercial. Surely if it were that expensive, it wouldn't be so widespread.

So today, while shopping, Isaac and I stopped by a stand and asked how it works. Turns out it's very similar to the New York City lottery. All you is need is about 6shekel and a dream.

Wish us luck.

(This could be us in a couple of days).

In the past month...

2010-05-09T07:56:00.000-07:00

...The European economy has taken (another?) nosedive.

...all of a sudden everyone's worried about Israel and her nukes, rather than another unnamed country whose name starts with I and ends with N

...a terrorist event was thankfully averted in Times Square. And, oh yeah, surprise, surprise guesswhodunnit?

...an ash cloud covered most of Europe, stranding thousands and causing the loss of bajillions of dollars to the airline industries.

...my country commemorated Yom HaShoah V'HaGvurah (Holocaust Day), Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) and celebrated Yom Ha'atzmaut.

...I have appreciated the love of my husband, my kids, my family, my old friends in the US and my new friends in Israel, in a way I haven't done in a long time.

...and I've missed blogging.

It's good to be back.

Taking some time

2010-04-14T05:05:00.000-07:00

My father, Moshe ben Akiva and Devora Breindel passed away on 24 Nissan (April 8) at 2 a.m.

I was at his side and it was one of the most painful and astounding experiences of my life.

Judaism has its own specific laws and practices regarding mourning. Today, I entered the Shloshim period. As far as I can tell, there are no specific laws or recommendations about the use of Facebook or blogging during this period, but I have decided not to post until the Shloshim period is over. I need the time for reflection and recovery, to turn inward. The joy and interactions of my virtual world do not seem appropriate at this time.

Before I take leave, I wanted to thank you all for your support, good wishes and prayers for myself and my family at this time. It's a modern, hi-tech world, and I have received many "virtual shiva calls" through the blog, Facebook, e-mail and SMS. My friends enveloped me with their love as they met me at and then took me back to the airport, escorted me to the cemetery, fed me, came to visit me in New York and at home in Israel, cleaned my home, and shopped for me. I will always be grateful.

I have much to say and will be back after the Shloshim. In the meantime I wish you all the best of what life has to offer you: good health and all the time in the world with those you love.

Having my sandwich and eating it too

2010-04-07T04:44:00.000-07:00

On Thursday of last week, I got the call that over the holiday my father had taken` a turn for the worse. I was lucky enough to speak to the doctor who was at my father’s bedside. He described my father’s symptoms, explaining that he was a “very, very sick man.” When he started to talk about intubation, I knew that I had to go.

I called our travel business friend Stuart, who put me on a 1 am flight to JFK. It was 11:30 PM. By midnight I was at Ben Gurion. I kept it together until I reached the check-in line. No one was there and when I ducked under the line separators the woman-who-asks-you-if-you-had-packed-a-bomb yelled at me. And I promptly burst into tears. She felt terrible and then told me (after asking me all those security questions) I could go right through. Which would have been helpful, except that I was the only one left checking in at that point.

It was an uneventful flight, thankfully. I wasn’t sure exactly what the plan was when I got to New York, but I thought I would take a taxi straight to the hospital and then figure the rest of it out. But when I got out, to my utter relief, my friends Nadine and Carol were there to greet me and help me sort out my plan for Shabbat. They took me to Nadine’s home where I showered while they bought food for me for Shabbat. Then I was driven to the hospital by Stuart.

Is there anything in the world as sweet as friendship?

When I finally got to see my father, after 2 ½ years, it was devastating. He was inert and barely stirred at the sound of my voice. He did not open his eyes. He was thankfully, not intubated, but was one step away from it. A doctor explained to me that since my father had not left any instructions as to what to do, and since neither had the next-of-kin (that would be my mother), that by default he would be intubated if the medical staff felt it was necessary to keep him alive. When I asked if there was any possibility of my father recovering from this illness, or if there was any way of knowing what his cognitive functioning was like, the doctor said he did not know yet. Some tests were being performed that could help answer those questions, but it could be some time before we had any results and my dad may require intubation first.

I spoke to my father’s Rav, who has been our family Rabbi all my life. He promised to get back to me with some answers. I knew that my mother, who never watches shows like Grey’s Anatomy, had no clue where to begin with all this, and that my father would have wanted rabbinical guidance.

I stayed with my father for several hours. I arranged to stay in an apartment maintained by the Satmar Bikur Cholim over Shabbat. I then went to take my stuff to the apartment, and get it ready for Shabbat. And when I returned to the hospital, the nurse told me my father had awakened and was speaking. The relief I felt was enormous.

Oh, he was still “very, very sick”. But when the nurse asked him who I was, he answered clearly, “my daughter”; and when she asked my name, he said, “Baila”. I cannot describe to you the joy this gave me. Now, no matter what the future holds, I know that my father knows that I dropped everything to see him.

It’s been a few days now. My father seems to be getting stronger. When the doctor asks him those are-you-oriented-questions, it goes something like this:

Sir, do you know where you are?

I’m in the hospital and I want to go home.

What year is it?

Twenty…..twenty….ten.

Who is here with you?

Baila.

And I feel liked he aced the master exam.

It’s not easy or fun to keep vigil. As he gets stronger, he gets more demanding (“No, Daddy, you can’t have matzah”) and at times belligerent. He’s been in a bed for about 4 weeks now and I think he’s going stir-crazy.

I can’t say I’ve always been the best daughter in the world. But as I sit here, knowing I’m doing the right thing, hoping that it maybe starts to make up for who I’ve been, I can honestly say there is no place else I’d rather be.

(Update: I wrote this a few days ago, before I had internet access and could post it. In the interim, my father has taken a turn for the worse and is, in fact intubated. Your prayers would be appreciated. His hebrew name is Moshe ben Devora Breindel).

Vacation musings

2010-03-31T00:19:00.000-07:00

G-d, I love vacation.

The seder turned out to be really fun. After a few tense-filled teenage/parent moments, everyone settled down to a good time. This year we had my sister visiting from the states, Abuelita (Isaac's mother, who usually does a large chunk of the cooking) and Marta and co. Marta's daughter brought some Pesach riddles to the seder and at lunch we had Charades and Taboo, courtesy of Tali and Liat. Both meals were really enhanced by these games. Food was great, too, and we are no longer starving.

Last night my sister did her own private seder as she observes two days of the holiday. That was a first for all of us. We did not sit with her, but I didn't turn the computer on until she was done. Liat did sit with her, but I'm not sure if it counts if she was reading the latest Jodi Picoult book. Orli did read the Mah Nishtana for her.

We have lots of fun activities planned for the intermediate days. Today we are going ice skating in Tel-Aviv, but until it's time to leave, I'm having a lazy day. House is clean, leftovers or matzah and cream cheese for dinner and I-am-lovin'-it!

What are you all up to over your vacation?

Here's a yummy, easy, one-bowl Passover recipe

2010-03-28T01:13:00.000-07:00

Pesach Blondies, that I got from my friend ~~Ruthie~~ Sharon Z, who got it from our friend ~~Sharon Z.~~ Ruthie.:

1 cup brown sugar
1 cup regular sugar
4 eggs
1 cup oil
2 tsp vanilla extract
3 tsp baking powder
1 cup potato starch

chocolate chips, as much as you can stand (I used the whole bag)

Mix it all together, fold in the chips, bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes and VOILA!

If you make them today it won't make it to the seder--just warning you.

Okay, mine don't exactly look like these....

Something cute I saw in the local paper yesterday

2010-03-27T13:09:00.000-07:00

ועדת השמות העירונית דנה השבוע בבקשה חריגה לאחר שדיירי בניין מספר 9 ברחוב אב בשכונת הכרמים פנו אליהם בבקשה להחליף את שם הרחוב. לדבריהם הקונוטציה השלילית הנובעת מהקישור בין מספר הבניין לשם הרחוב פוגעת בהם. בוועדת השמות הוחלט ללכת לקראת התושבים ולהמליץ על שינוי השם לרחוב ט"ו באב.

The Modi'in Name Committee discussed an unusual request this week after the inhabitants of building # 9 at Av Street in the Carmim neighborhood asked them to change the name of their street. According to the inhabitants, the negative connotation between the number of the building and the name of the street is troublesome to them. It was decided by the committee to honor their request and to recommend changing the name of the street to "Tu B'Av". (Source, here).

For those of you not understanding this, the residents who live at 9 Av street are uncomfortable with having an address commemorating the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, Tisha (9) B'Av. This is the anniversary of the day the Beit Hamikdash (Holy Temple) was destroyed. Their request to change the name of the street was honored and it will be now be called Tu B'Av Street. Tu B'Av is the 15th day of the month of Av on the Jewish Calendar, and is a much happier day for us.

Items like that in the paper just tickle me.

Wishing you all a great week.

When my pet name reduces me to tears

2010-03-25T00:22:00.000-07:00

I received a phone call several days ago that my father had fallen and was taken to a local hospital.

My father has not been well for some time now. It's not a specific illness, but rather a general sense of non well-being. A touch of high-blood pressure here, a fall there, a heart thing somewhere else. Over the past, say 10 years, he has been hospitalized on a number of occasions, most of the time for a couple of days and always returning home and back into the fabric of his life with relative ease.

But this time, the phone calls have had more of an urgent tone to them. Thank G-d he is stable. But he is not recovering as quickly, isn't cooperating at the hospital and according to my mom and siblings is at times disoriented.

Herein lies the obvious dilemma for someone like me. Some who made the decision to move thousands of miles away from aging parents.

I guess it doesn't really matter at what age you move to Israel. Even if you are young and your parents are fine, eventually we all age. And if your parents haven't followed you to Israel at some point you will have to deal with their aging from a distance.

It's hard to watch from the sidelines. I am lucky I have siblings who are there who can advocate and care for my parents, and I know it must be harder for them. Maybe they even wish they lived thousands of miles away. They are figuring out ways to be with my father as much as possible as they navigate their own lives. With the holiday looming, this means two days of my father possibly being alone if he is not released--and it does not seem likely at this point that he will be...

All I can do from here is worry. And feel guilty. And try not to annoy my siblings by being a know-it-all from far away.

When this started, Isaac told me I should consider "hopping over there for a few days". But that is not so simple. I know some people have the resources to fly in and out for a couple of days to check things out, but we don't. That, and everything that needs to be done to get ready for Pesach. I have to decide if it's a true emergency, if it's imperative that I am there. There will likely come a time when it is, but I'm thinking this isn't it.

But when I spoke to him and he said, in a weak voice, "Hello, Bailkaleh" using the pet name of my childhood, I have to wonder if I'm making the wrong call.

Because you never know.

My father's name is Moshe Ben Devora. He could use your prayers.

Finally, swedish meatballs

2010-03-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

Today, to celebrate our (18th! [bah]) anniversary, Isaac and I left the girls in the dust (literally; we had them sweep and do the sponga) and took a trip out to Rishon L'Tzion, which recently acquired the newest branch of Ikea.

(Sometimes I think Israel is looking more and more like a Long Island mall. Between Gap, H and M, Ikea, all that is missing is Old Navy and Target.)

The place is huge. Since Friday is Israel's Sunday, it was packed. This is after all, the time of year when people are busy cleaning their homes for Passover. This has nothing to do with being religious; the non-religious clean just as zealously as the religious. Everyone not only cleans, but paints, repairs, buys new towels and shower curtains and adds new touches to their homes, large and small in honor of the upcoming chag (holiday). And so we joined the horde of people converging on the store.

Ikea, as you may know, offers babysitting with a fun-and-saliva-and-other-bodily-excretions-filled giant ball pit. Unfortunately, lots of parents didn't take advantage of this so there was lots of whining from little ones as the big ones admired wooden hangers for 6 shekel a piece. Most of them didn't find it at all helpful when I suggested the service. Oh, well.

I enjoyed the models where they showed how you can fit a whole apartment worth of Ikea stuff into a home the size of 22, 35 or 55 square meters (230-600 square feet). Makes the place we bought look huge by comparison.

We didn't go for any serious buying. Isaac wanted a feather pillow to replace the one that is falling apart; he loves that pillow and stapled it together, but I refuse to go near it, as in change its pillowcase, because everytime I do, the feathers fly everywhere. He found one and is testing it out even as we speak. From the sound of it, I think he'll be happy with it.

But the highlight of the day was visiting the massive cafeteria and eating those KOSHER swedish meatballs. As Isaac and I sat there, reminiscing about the Plainview, LI and Elizabeth, NJ Ikeas we had visited in the past, we both felt amused at the self-satisfaction a little 'ol meatball eaten in an Israeli Ikea could bring.

Shabbat Shalom, have a great weekend!

Tips for getting ready for the biggest, most annoying Jewish holiday of the year. That would be Pesach/Passover.

2010-03-14T12:20:00.000-07:00

If you actually thought you were going to get that here you obviously are not a long-time reader.

I mean, seriously.

But there is a method to my Pesach-Prep madness. (And it is madness, trust me). A couple of weeks before the actual holiday (like yesterday, in this year's case) I figure out when the kitchen is going to be changed over from Chametz to Passover. I then work backwards. I'd give you the details, but to be honest, it's really not that effective.

One excellent thing that got us started this year: Isaac saw a vacuum cleaner on sale and bought it. When he came home, he immediatedly took it out of the box and spent hours vacuuming behind beds and sofas. Which is why I encourage him now to buy any home appliance he wants to.

I am clever enough to write a list every year at the end of the holiday of things I do and don't need to buy for the next year's holiday. (Gila, who inspired this post actually keeps all her lists and has a kind of time capsule of all her previous Passovers). I don't have lists for previous years, but the list contains things like, "Buy another pan for dairy" and "Don't need another turkey baster, you already have three". One memorable year, I think it was after 9/11 and I thought the world's end was imminent (I still do, actually), I titled the list "Pesach, 2003. If we make it till then."

Back to the list, delivered to you exactly as I wrote it last year:

Pesach 2010, Be'ezrat Hashem (G-d willing--I see I'm still not taking chances)

Need: 1 sharp knife for dairy
1 measuring cup
a milk pitcher (our milk comes in bags, not containers)
ONLY 1 potatoe starch
2 bags of ground nuts
3 containers of oil
DO NOT BUY COLD CUTS. NOONE EATS THEM.
3-4 bags of matzoh meal.

WE DON'T NEED

glasses (uhm, yeah, we do. We broke all our chametz glasses early this year and had to take the Pesach ones down).
wine glasses. You buy them every freaking year.
sucra-lite yellow poison packets for coffee.
cake meal
alumininum to cover sink.

I helpfully added this to myself:

Baila, don't be such a dumba** next year and read the list BEFORE you shop.

And on the side, an addition from Orli:

Don't forget to buy Orli lots and lot of clothes for Pesach.

Which reminds me how much I hate taking my girls shopping.

What's on your list?

(If you really need some Passover tips, you'd do better, here).

Yachdus is hosting Haveil Havalim here.

What's been playing on the radio

2010-03-12T06:23:00.001-08:00

As a Shabbat/weekend present, I'm leaving you all with this song that's been in my head. Orli and her friends love this guy. Apparently my taste in music is the same as pre-teenage girls. Sophisticated, I know.

Enjoy:

Happy birthday to moi

2010-03-10T13:05:00.000-08:00

If your a blogger, you probably understand this:

You'll be driving somewhere, or sitting on a bus or train, or laying in bed, when all of a sudden an idea for a post comes to you. You start writing the post in your head, sometimes even finishing it.

The problem is, of course, when you sit down at your computer and try to access that information stuck in your brain.

I had a birthday today and I had a post stored up there somewhere in the gray matter that was both witty, yet bittersweet, poetic yet sensible.

But then our internet went down. As in, kaput, a problem with the line somewhere outside that not even Isaac could fix. And with the internet being down, that meant my American phone line was down.

And now I don't remember that great post that was in my head.

I do have to admit that the numbers are starting to feel big. For this I'm grateful, truly I am. I just wish I still had that young, dewy look.

Several years ago, while still in the US, my madrich (counselor) from my year in Israel happened to be in town and called to say hello. He asked how old I was and I said, "38-rapidly approaching middle age", to which he said, kindly, "Lots of people don't make it to 76; I'd say you're no longer approaching the middle age mark", thereby forcing me to remind him that he is ten years older than I am.

But he was right--now I'm in the throes of middle-age (my kids wouldn't agree, they just think I'm old). In some ways I really feel my age in terms of the life experiences I've had. In other ways, I still feel really young and vulnerable. I don't know enough about the world to be the age I am, you know?

It was a good day, quiet without the internet. Gave me time to think. In Israel, there is a very sweet tradition in which the birthday person gives out blessings to those around her.

My wish for all of you is that you, too, celebrate many, many happy birthdays with those you love...

They bought the farm(ville)

2010-03-08T10:00:00.000-08:00

I know people call it a time waster, the domain of couch potatoes and other derisive mongers, but I gotta tell you, I love Facebook. I know that I probably would not be in touch with many of my friends from different parts of my life if it weren't for Facebook. It's impossible to stay in touch with all the people that walk through the different doors of your life, but through Facebook I see what many people from my past and my present, are up to. I enjoy hearing that they are buying and selling houses, changing jobs, their children are getting married or their husbands came home from Iraq. I like that feeling of connection, of remembering that all of these people have impacted my life in ways big and small.

Still, I know that like blogging, Facebook can be addicting.

Last night I met my friends Marta and Pearl for dinner and as always when three intelligent, witty women who have known each other for years get together, the conversation was, well, intelligent, witty and I'll throw in stimulating, as well.

Most of it was anyway.

At one point we got to talking about addictions, both general and personal. We discussed whether our time on the computer keeps us from being functional in our parental and professional roles.

And then the two of them started talking about their farms. And this is where I lost them.

All of a sudden my two dear friends, city girls both, started talking about neighbors and barn-raising, about crops and gold nuggets and blue ribbons. They asked each other how many neigbors they have and what crops they were raising and what they were harvesting and selling. They talked about cows and pigs and chicken coops and compared notes on what levels they were on. Marta befriended a bunch of strangers on the Farmville Fan Page so she could have more neighbors. She chose what she described (her words, not mine) as "old, fat women, who are as pathetic as I am" to befriend in order to increase her chances of succeeding at the game. Her goal, she noted, was to reach Pearl's level. She also mentioned the merits of playing Farmville on her new 42 inch plasma TV screen, as opposed to a regular old computer screen.

And Isaac thinks I waste my time on the computer.

So what did I do after I heard this conversation? I did what any good friend would do: I introduced them to my other Farmville obsessed friend, Andrea, so the three of them can help each other out and raise barns together.

Which makes me a total enabler.

PS If any of you are ~~crazy~~ Farmville players and need friends, let me know, I'll be happy to make the introduction.

ImaBima has Haveil Havalim up at her site.

The long walk

2010-03-03T13:40:00.001-08:00

After the orgy of Purim sugar, where I may just have hit rock-bottom, I decided to take control. By this I mean, no sugar, as in no Mekupelets, kif-kafs, pesek zmans, nestle's crunch bars (I think I finished all of yours, Tammy) or mentos will cross my lips for the foreseeable future.

Not exactly the Atkins Diet, but its a start.

And I'm going back to the gym/pool. Because when Isaac tells me in May (when the membership expires) that there is no money in the budget for something we don't use, I'll be able to say we use it all the time.

Today I called Monty's mother, Ilana, and asked her if she wanted to go to the gym with me. Without hesitation she said yes, which made me throw up a little in my mouth.

She offered to drive and when we arrive at the gym, she takes out two bags which make it look like she's planning on sleeping at the gym for a few days.

"What's all that?" I ask.

She tells me that after her workout she likes to shower at the gym, thereby using their water and not her own (I keep telling you water is expensive in this country, don't I?)

Which means I will have to wait for her, since I didn't bring shower stuff or clothes to change into.

How long do you work out for?, I ask her.

"One hour", she glibly answers.

ONE HOUR? I will drop dead of a heart attack, I think to myself. When she asks if it's okay, I say "Sure, no problem", but I gotta tell you, I was worried.

Thankfully, I had my headphones. All the treadmills in the gym have their own individual TV's, with cable. That was the only way I was going to get through this hour. I started walking. So did Ilana. Then she started running. I tried to ignore that. I kept walking, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. After 45 minutes I slowed the thing down to a stroll. I was watching The Chamber with Chris O'Donnell and Gene Hackman and it was getting really good. Then Ilana says she's going to shower, so I told her I'd stay and watch more of the movie. I was still walking and watching when she came back. Unfortunately, it was a short shower so I didn't get to see the end, but I assume the guy dies.

I walked for a total of 78 minutes. That, combined with another chocolate and sugar-free day and I'm feelin' pretty darn good.

And next time I use the gym's water for my shower...

PS Happy birthday to NW. I wish I was celebrating with you!

Double Celebration

2010-02-28T09:09:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's Purim, but it's also Tali's 14th birthday.

I adore that kid. I love watching her grow into the person she is becoming. She is one of the lights of my life and I wish all her dreams come true.

Tali, may you be blessed with many, many years of health, love and friendship in your life.

I love you....

Some thoughts, as I listen to the thunder, before we sit down to eat our Purim Seudah

2010-02-28T04:23:00.000-08:00

Purim around here starts on Rosh Chodesh Adar (the first day of the Jewish month). For the past two weeks, very little in the way of formal learning has been going on. I try to tell myself that the girls have been getting a different kind of education:

Liat's grade (11) is always responsible for the annual Yerid Chesed--a carnival they organize to raise money for charity. It's a huge project, with all kinds of activities for kids, sales of new and used stuff, food and entertainment. The girls pretty much independently find donors, organize everything, plan and execute the whole thing. I'm thrilled that Liat was very involved this year. I went to the event and it was huge. Her class raised 32,000 shekel for their chosen charity.

Tali had her "hachtarah", of which the literal translation is "coronation". This is basically a series of "Purim Spiels [skits]" and dances. She was busy at nightly rehearsals for her performance. There was also a hachtarah for school, at which the "takanon Purim" was decreed. These are rules given by the students that are strictly enforced in the week before Purim. Some of them include allowing the use of cell phones during class. Another one is if the teacher steps on a particular, unknown square in the tile floor, the rest of the period is free. Like I said, not a whole lot of formal learning.

There were costume parties, "erev kitot" [night "classes"--dinner together prepared by the girls], sing-offs and more parties.

As for me, well I've been eating chocolate.

Yesterday, the girls and I went to listen to "Zachor". I heard it 6 times, so I figure I'm covered for the next 5 years. During the main reading, it was read 4 times--one time according to the Ashkenazi tradition, then the Sefardi one, then the Yemenite one, then--and this was strange--the American tradition. I didn't realize we even had a tradition; the truth is it sounded strange to my ears.

Last night we heard megillah with friends, followed by a pot luck party. This morning we went to a women's megillah reading, very popular here in Israel.

Soon, we'll sit down to our Purim Seudah [festive meal]. Hopefully, noone will have gone into diabetic shock and we can enjoy our double celebration.

Wishing all of you who are celebrating a very happy Purim.

A little perspective

2010-02-25T11:17:00.000-08:00

Gil Troy at the Jerusalem Post tells us that March 1-14 has been declared "Israeli Apartheid Week" and there will be many fun and varied activities to celebrate on college campuses across the US.

There are so many other bloggers who can respond to this better than I can.

The problem is that so many people out there don't really know the history of this place. Of my country. It is to long, varied and complex to recount here.

But I do have this to show you:

This is a map of the British mandate of Palestine (1920-1946). Notice how the mandate includes both present-day Israel and Jordan. Jordan is a muslim country.

Next:

In November, 1947 the United Nations partitioned the British mandate to look like this. The Jews were to be granted what appears on the map in blue. Over 75% of the land allocated to the Jews was desert. We accepted the plan; the arabs didn't. After Israel declared independence in May, 1948, Egypt, Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon and Syria attacked Israel, vowing to destroy us. This marked the official beginning of the modern "Arab-Israeli Conflict". 62 years later, we're still fighting for our right to be here.

And one more:

Look at Israel on this map (or feel free to go to any map or globe) and compare this one Jewish country and its land to all the Arab-muslim countries surrounding it. How many Jews do you think live freely in these countries?

NOW talk to me about my apartheid country.

####################################

Haveil Havalim is up at my friend Ruti's place. She did such a great job, you won't believe it's her first time!

A very personal story

2010-02-21T10:45:00.000-08:00

A very vivid memory that occasionally comes back to me:

I don't recall how old I was; probably between 7 and 10 years old. Very, very young and very, very innocent.

At the time, we lived at 153 South 9th street, in a walk-up railroad apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Next door to us was a church. 153 and up were 4 to 6 story apartment buildings, filled with chassidic Jews. Below the church lived the Puerto Ricans. That's just the way it was.

On the corner, across Driggs Ave. was Bahndo's Grocery. Mr. Bahndo was an old chassidic Jew. At least he seemed old to me--his beard was filled with grey and he had lots of kids, some of them teenagers.

At the time, there weren't many supermarkets. People shopped in these little corner grocery stores, where the owner knew you by name and if you needed a little credit, you said, "write it down" and he would find the page that had your name in his book and he would write-it-down.

All my siblings and I ever wanted was for my mother to allow us to go to Bahndo's alone. After all, this meant crossing the street alone. Driggs Avenue, corner South 9th was a tiny intersection, but to us kids it was the end of the world. Across the other street was the candy store, and we knew that if we could get to Bahndo's it would be no time at all before we would be allowed into that candy store (where all those yummy chocolate bars like Three Musketeers and M and M's would all-of-a-sudden-one-day be declared not kosher; we'd have to wait years until they were no longer forbidden again).

I can't remember exactly when my mother allowed my brother and me to go to Bahndo's on our own, but when she did, we were thrilled. I loved picking up a rye bread and some milk and saying to Mr. Bahndo, "Mymothersaidyoushouldwriteitdown." I felt so big, so grown-up.

And here's where the scary memory comes in.

One day I walked into Mr. Bahndo's alone. His was a tiny shop that had everything you wanted at the time: milk, eggs, bread, cereal. I remember going to the bread section and picking up a rye bread. I walked over to the counter and handed it to Mr. Bahndo to slice. He took it and as he went over to the slicer, a chassidic (we used to say "chasseedisha") man came to stand next to me. To this day I remember what he looked like. He had a reddish beard and he was tall and heavy. He was wearing a long, black, satiny, bekeshe (coat) and the black velvet hat the chassidim wore during the week.

What happened next still gives me the chills.

As I waited for the rye bread I felt something moving on the side of my outer right thigh. When I looked down, I was horrified and terrified to see the man's hand on my skirt, trying to lift it up from the hem. I felt the skirt creasing and moving along my thigh.

And that's all.

Mr. Bahndo handed me the bread and I ran home. I don't recall if I paid him or told him to write it down. I burst into our apartment, hysterical, telling my mother exactly what happened.

She grabbed me and took me back down to Bahndo's.

She entered his store, screaming like a banshee. She shouted, "Who was that man that was just here while my daughter was here??!!" And she told Mr. Bahndo what I had told her.

Mr. Bahndo stuttered, "It can't be. That man is a "chooshiva yeed" (I remember those words)--an "important jew". "She is a CHILD!" my mother said, "She couldn't make such a thing up!" I don't remember exactly what my mother said next. Knowing her, she probably told Mr. Bahndo that if that pervert ever came near me again she'd kill him.

I buried that incident and I don't think that it had lasting psychological effects. But every so often it resurfaces and I remember a little girl's fear, a little girl wanting to say, "stop!", but being afraid to. Years and years later, I began to wonder just who this man was. If he could not help himself in so public a space, what was he doing--who was he hurting--in private?

Was this an isolated incident or were other children really and truly harmed? I shudder to think about it.

Many of you reading this probably know why this memory comes to me now.

Who can we trust if we can't trust our religious leaders?

What are we supposed to tell our children? We send you to religious schools, but don't have a meeting alone with your principal's or teachers because really they are just men (and women) and you never know what their very real and very damaging human failings can be? How do you say that to your kids without scaring the living daylights out of them?

Because we live in a different world than I grew up in, my daughters are not as innocent as I was at their age. They know way more than I did. So we found ourselves, at our Shabbat table discussing the events of the past week. Pretty honestly and matter-of-factly. To be safe, they have to be aware.

But when I think about the disappointment and devastation of so many people because of the actions of an "important Jew", I just have to cry for that little girl who I so vividly remember. And for so many, to many, others like her.

It just can't be

2010-02-14T11:18:00.000-08:00

How old are you?

Never mind, that's a rude question.

Are you old enough to remember 25 years ago?

Yes?

25 years ago, I was--25 years younger. And, if memory serves there was a great famine that affected most of the continent of Africa. To help those poor people, Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie** wrote a song called We are the World. They,and producer Quincy Jones gathered together some of the most popular recording artists of the time. Remember Cyndi Lauper? Tina Turner? Kenny Loggins? Bruce Springstein? And dozens of others. The song became hugely popular, raised tons of money and spawned other songs and concerts that raised money for various causes (Farmaid, anyone?)

You'd have to be living under a rock to not know that Michael Jackson is no longer with us. But his partners Richie and Jones had decided to do 25th anniversary video of We are the World. They were scheduled to do so on January 28, 2010. In the interim the earthquake in Haiti happened causing unspeakable loss of life and damage to that already poverty-stricken country.

And so was born We are the World 25 for Haiti.

And I love it.

There are lots of performers in the video. A number of them I don't know. But you'll be surprised (and my kids were, too) that besides recognizing Barbra Streisand, Tony Bennet, Celine Dion and Natalie Cole, I also recognized Jennifer Hudson, Pink, Usher, Fergie, LL Cool J, Will.i.am and Snoop Dogg, among others. Oh yes, and Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers. (And I actually know who Lady Gaga is even though she wasn't in the video).

My two favorite parts of the video were when they used the footage from the old version of Michael Jackson singing the refrain; he is joined by his sister Janet. And toward the end of the video Jamie Foxx does his Stevie Wonder imitation (Wonder was also in the original video).

All that being said, it's weird to me that I remember so vividly (well, more or less) that time in my life when the first version was so popular. Since that time, I got my bachelor's, two+ master's, got married, bought a house, had three children, developed my career, dealt with a couple of medical and financial crises, sold my house, moved to Israel, bought another one.

I can't fathom all of this. I still feel like that--very young woman of 25 years ago. I don't know enough to have been through all of that.

It's all happening to fast.

Yeah, well, in the meantime, here's the new video. Enjoy it, let the memories wash over you. Two points for those of you who can identify Will.i.am and Snoop Dogg. And Enrique Iglesias.

Haveil Havalim is up at Batya's place. Check it out.

**Please accept my apologies for not linking all these celebrities. If you google them, you'll find plenty of information.

Swearing in

2010-02-11T13:51:00.000-08:00

Last night I had the honor and privilege of attending my friend Susan's son's Hashba'ah--swearing in ceremony--into the army. Susan is an old friend from high school who lives in the states. Her young son made Aliyah about a year ago and has been attending university while awaiting his draft into the army.

I can only imagine what Susan felt as his mother.

At the ceremony, the young soldiers were given both their gun and a Tanach (bible). Their commander told them, "Take this gun with you to protect and defend yourself in battle, but know that you have the Tanach, which tells the story of how our people were given this land and how G-d is with you all the time". He quoted Joshua (1:9) הלוא צויתיך חזק ואמץ אל תערץ ואל תחת כי עמך השם אלקיך בכל אשר תלך
In truth I commanded you, Strengthen yourself and persevere. Do not fear and do not lose resolve because G-d is with you wherever you may go.

When I looked at this soldier, young, fit, handsome, proud, I was so moved. Though his parents raised him to love Israel as the homeland of the his people, I don't think it was their idea for him to serve in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). That was of his own initiation and volition. Here is a young man who loves his country and his people so fiercely that he swore three times to protect it and defend its freedom from any enemy that threatens it. And we know our enemies are many.

Susan, I will pray every day for your son's safety and for all of our sons and daughters who place themselves in danger's way. May G-d watch over them until the day comes that we no longer have to send them off to battle because there will finally be peace and freedom throughout our homeland.

Srugim, or my current favorite show on Israeli TV

2010-02-09T09:07:00.000-08:00

***************WARNING......SPOILER ALERT........***************

Srugim (which is ridiculously translated as "Knitted Kipas" in the TV listings) is an Israeli TV show about the lives of single religious Israelis living in Jerusalem. It was a big hit its first season out and recently began its second season.

This season, two of the main characters got married and the show is dealing a bit with their first year as a wedded couple. Other characters are still dating in search of a lifelong mate. One woman has decided to leave religion behind and the show effectively portrays her struggles with her new found identity.

And a new character, just introduced this season is gay.

I wasn't surprised about this because I'd already read that it was going to happen at the Muqata (I couldn't find the exact link, but I'm pretty sure that's where I read it).

It was a good episode, but I've got some comments and questions:

I think it's fair to deal with homosexuality in the single (and married) religious Jewish community, but I think it's a bit early in the series to do so. The series probably has a shelf-life of four-to-five seasons (trust me, I'm a very experienced television watcher) and I think the creator and writers should have delved deeper into the characters before introducing this topic.

I know the writers were probably going for a surprise element here, but there was no realistic build-up to this. After all, Roi (the gay character) really seemed very into Reut, one of the women on the show. He asked his brother, Nati about her. He called her in yesterday's episode to get together for another date. Yeah, I get that he's trying to build a traditional Jewish life by finding someone he can have good conversation with (as his married, but gay chavrusa (learning partner) was advising him. But I don't buy it. The writers sprung this out of nowhere (unless you also read the Muqata) and it just didn't ring true to me.

I'm a bit surprised that Roi would come out to his brother, Nati. They didn't seem so close (in spite of their mother's recent death) and well, I wouldn't expect Nati to be particularly tolerant of his brother's homosexuality, and true to form, he wasn't.

One more thing: Why does the guy playing for other team have to be so darn good looking?

Here's some background on the main characters:

Hodaya. Daughter of a Rabbi, no longer religious, but struggling. Currently works in a bar and seems to be living with her boyfriend, who also recently left the fold.

Reut. A successful career woman, recently returned from a trip to India, which apparently wasn't so great. Feminista.

Nati. A doctor. Has trouble with commitment. Doesn't treat his family or friends too nicely. Put on weight recently.

Yifat and Amir. Now happily married and trying to marry off all their single friends.

The newest character, Roi. Now out of the closet. Better looking without the beard.

It will be interesting to see where the show goes with this...

Reporting on the blogger's event

2010-02-09T08:05:00.000-08:00

Nah, I'm not really going to go into great detail right now. It was great fun, Mother-in-Israel does a good job of reporting on it and providing links to all the bloggers who attended. She was the keynote speaker. (Okay, she was the only speaker, but still). She discussed how to be creative with your blog and was very helpful to me. I'm hoping to put some of her ideas into motion, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, Haveil Havalim is up at Simply Jews. Enjoy.

A peaceful Shabbat

2010-02-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

I love the feeling of Shabbat (the Sabbath) as it descends over the household on Friday evening. I've loved it ever since I was a little girl. The house is at its peak of cleanliness, the table is set (most of the time, anyway), the silver candlebra is waiting. When my mother used to light, I used to feel a sort of...glow come over the house, and now I feel it as well when I am the one lighting.

We often have guests for one of the meals on Shabbat; either friends of ours or friends of the girls. Good food, good conversation, laughter, even some words of Torah. This Shabbat we were on our own for the first time in quite a while. (Well actually, I'm not being completely truthful here; Monty the Big Black Dog was visiting, but he didn't actually sit at the table with us). Sometimes, when it's just us it can get tense around the table (the bickering--you know what I'm talking about?). I like to envision us as a harmonious family and when the tension sets in--well I hate that. This Shabbat, for some reason, everything felt right. We talked, laughed, spoke about the parsha. We even sang together. We were going to play Rummikub, but toward the end of our meal the lights went out (Shabbat clock mishap). The girls set up sleeping bags and pillows in the bathroom so they could read and Isaac and I read in our room by our bathroom light.

Today at shul ~~two~~ three! people actually spoke to me. Then we went to our "Rambam" group for kiddush (does that count as a mention, Ora?), followed by lunch, after which we actually did play Rummy (Team Liat/Tali swept all three games) my book + nap, a visit to Tammy....and here I am.

A pretty perfect Shabbat.

(How do you spend your Shabbat? Do you sing? Have guests often? Bicker around the table? Play games? Learn? I'd love to know. Especially about the bickering ;-) )

The Doctor is in

2010-01-31T11:56:00.001-08:00

As I mentioned here earlier, my friend Sarah was in visiting for the week. It was wonderful seeing her, and of course, spending all that time with her makes me miss her more than I did before.

Sarah spent most of the week running around with her kids, but did reserve Wednesday (remember, my day off of work?) to spend with yours truly. I decided to take her to Neve Tzedek the first neighborhood to crop up in Tel-Aviv, a stone's throw from the ancient port city of Yaffo. In recent years, Neve Tzedek has become gentrified and is filled with upscale galleries, shops and restaurants as well as beautiful architecture, lovingly restored.

Unfortunately, Sarah and I met way past the lunch hour and neither of us had eaten. Both of us have been blessed with healthy appetites and it was difficult to appreciate the beauty of Neve Tzedek in our hungry states. Lovely as Neve Tzedek is, none of the scrumptious-looking cafes there seemed to be kosher.

What are two hungry friends to do?

By this time, in our agitated, hungry states we had wandered down to the shore, where off in the not-to-far distance I saw Yaffo. I knew from my recent trip that there were kosher places to eat there, so we walked on over.

We walked past the famous watchtower, hung a left, and came upon this:

Yes, Dr. Shakshuka, a mainstay of Yaffo for about 50 years, famous for its, well, food. I had read about the restaurant before, and heard about it from friends and was thrilled to find it. Knowing it was kosher, Sarah and I walked in and fell in love. The atmosphere is casual, the decor unusual (all kinds of old (antique?) lamps and pots hanging from the ceiling, shared tables with non-matching chairs that looked like they were obtained from the nearby flea market). We sat down, grabbed a menu (a laminated, handwritten photocopy) and decided to go with the "tasting", which meant that our lovely waitress brought us a variety of salads and main dishes to taste.

The food is "Tripolitan", from the owner's native country of Libya.

Here is the vegetable soup that came with the cous-cous, both cooked to perfection.

This is the meat cooked with tomato sauce and beans.

I have no idea, just meat so tender it melted in your mouth and flavors that make me want to stop writing and run out to Yaffo right now.

Is this the famous mafrum, potatoes stuffed with meat, and of course some meat on the side?

This is the table before all the dishes were brought in. I see I didn't photograph the meat with eggplant and okra dish, the most scrumptious dish there. Once I put down my camera and picked up my fork, I was done.

I'm guessing you want to know how much all this cost us. I've gotta tell you I goofed here. The menu said 85 shekel, and I knew that had to be a mistake, it was just to much food for the money. We asked the women sitting next to us and they said it was 130 shekel, which made more sense. When the bill came it turned out to be 170 shekel (85 per person); the women had them omit some of the dishes to get a better price. Had we known, we would have done the same thing--there was way to much food there for the two of us, even with our voracious hunger. Still 170 shekel is about 23dollars each when split two ways. (Have I mentioned the price included fresh lemonade, tea and dessert?) I've eaten alot less for alot more at the "fancier" restaurants. And if you decide to order normally and just get one dish, the prices seemed very reasonable.

After our meal, Sarah and I ~~rolled~~ walked through the flea market and Old Yaffo, but I was way to stuffed to care about taking pictures.

If you live here, go get some. If you visit, put it on your must-do list. Because a walk around Yaffo and a meal at Dr. Shakshuka with a good friend is as perfect a day in Israel as I can think of.

Blog business

2010-01-31T11:30:00.000-08:00

Haveil Havalim is up and running at Israel Situation.

The 50th Kosher Cooking Carnival is up at Batya's place. Batya is the organizer of this carnival and Kol HaKavod to her for doing such a great job with it.

Finally, I'd like to remind everyone about the Blogger's Event taking place next week (February 7th) at my place. Remember, it's your chance to meet Ozzy in person. I'm even trying to convince him to sign autographs, but he's very modest...It's also your chance to hear Hannah Katzman of Mother-in-Israel and Cooking Manager speak. For more information and to register for the event, click here.

What I like about Tu B'Shvat

2010-01-29T04:54:00.000-08:00

Tu B'Shvat, the "holiday of the trees" is upon us. It' a nice little holiday, tucked between two biggies, Chanukah and Purim.

What I like about it is that ~~you don't have to cook and clean like a maniac for it~~ it has become a holiday very connected to the land of Israel. I just read in the Jerusalem Post this morning that when the first olim arrived back in the late 1800's, they realized that the country needed to be built and the land cultivated, because there was nothing here. They decided to take Tu B'shvat and connect it to the land of what would become Israel more than half a century later by planting trees. Indeed, it became mandatory for schools to take the children on outings to plant little saplings. Today we see great forests all over our country because of what these early settlers did, and the tree planting tradition continues on Tu B'Shvat and beyond.

There is a commercial on TV now running for Tu B'Shvat that has a beautiful song that I always enjoy hearing on the radio. It is a reminder that our land, and indeed, the entire planet is a gift from G-d, that we must not take for granted. Very appropriate for Tu B'Shvat and the whole year.

Wishing you all a great holiday, Shabbat Shalom and a peaceful weekend.

Bedtime, or do my teens have colic?

2010-01-23T12:24:00.000-08:00

When the girls were all little, cute and cuddly, I would give them their baths, often at the same time, put them in their footsie pajamas, cuddle and tickle with them, read them a story, have the "I-love-you-more-no-I-love-you-more" arguement, say Shema, kiss the mezuzah and turn out the lights. By 7:30, it was all over and I had blessed peace until I myself turned in. (Okay, it wasn't exactly that idyllic. There was of course, the hour of I'm thirsty, I need to pee, so-and-so is looking at me, the other so-and-so threw up, the hour after lights out, but still, I had a fair amount of quiet time between the time they went to sleep and the time I did).

And it was a sweet bliss that now lives only in my memories.

Now they are teenagers (cue horror music). Okay, well, Orli is only 12, but that's just a technicality. She's been acting like a teen for what seems like a decade now.

And the bedtime issue drives me nuts. I know that some limits have to be set and they are. But sometimes I feel like the arguement isn't worth it. At what point do you leave it up to them? What if you have a responsible kid who knows her limits and is asleep at a decent hour, except for some occasions when she is up late talking to friends or listening to music? What if you have a kid who just wants to stay up a little longer every night?

What if you just don't want to see the little runts (who are more precious to you than anything in the world) anymore, but they are still roaming around your house like a bad movie that never ends?

I'd say the girls get an average of 8 hours of sleep a night, this with some encouragement from me to GET TO BED!

At what point do I stop policing their bedtimes?

Because I gotta tell you, I am so ready.

What would you ask for?

2010-01-21T13:31:00.000-08:00

My friend Sarah's arriving tomorrow. She's the kind of friend who you've known forever, can laugh and cry with, and most importantly doesn't mind bringing you lots of STUFF from the alte heim (the old country for those of you who don't speak Yiddish).

I have been killing myself to get ready. I want the cooking and cleaning done tonight so I can have the day with her tomorrow. I'll give her my usual Modi'in tour (if you come visit, you'll get it as well, and it's fabulous if I say so myself) which ends, duh, at the mall. Hey, I don't want her to get homesick or anything. She can even have McDonald's if she so desires--it's kosher in Modi'in. I'm lovin' it.*

I put in a pretty big order for Sarah to shlep over from the states. I'd give you a list, but I still have to shred the cabbage, make the schug (recipe here) and clean the kitchen and it's 11:30 P.M. so I need to end this post.

Anyone care to guess what I asked for?

*Actually, I hate McDonald's. I'm a Burger's Bar girl myself--and only the grilled chicken sandwiches.

Avi goes to Haiti

2010-01-15T04:35:00.000-08:00

My neighbor Avi is the kind of Israeli who has said to me, "Why would I travel anywhere in the world when I still haven't seen all of my own land?". He is an Israeli who loves Israel in that old-fashioned way. He has literally dedicated his life to his country as a career army officer.

Avi is an officer for Unit 669, which is a Search and Rescue unit. He may not have traveled for pleasure outside of Israel, but he has traveled for work to places like Kenya, Turkey and Thailand, always with a contingent of Israeli soldiers and civilians trained to help when crisis strikes.

Last night he got the call again. He left at 5 a.m. this morning for Santo Domingo. From there he will travel to Haiti, a country devastated by Wednesday's earthquake. His wife tells me he will be gone for at least two weeks, probably closer to a month. He is an expert at providing this kind of aid, as he has been doing it for years.

Shabbat begins shortly, and this week, as I light the candles I will say a prayer for the people of Haiti, for Avi and all other Israelis on this humanitarian mission and for all people who dedicate their lives to answering the call when disaster strikes.

(FYI:

The Orthodox Union is serving as a collection point for donations to Haiti, which will be directly forwarded to the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee. The JDC has already helped send an Israeli relief team of medical, search and rescue, and post-trauma counseling experts to assist survivors and will continue to assist with the help of our contributions. Your support is needed immediately. Go to www.ou.org to donate.)

May you all have a peaceful Shabbat and weekend.

Wanna meet Ozzy in person?

2010-01-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

Guess who's hosting the next Blogger's event. Yup, I am! And I'm thrilled! I hope you all come. Here are the details:

BLOGGING EVENT IN MODI'IN

What Do I Write About Next?

Generating Ideas to Keep Readers Coming Back

Time and Date: Sunday, February 7 at 8:00 PM

Speaker: Hannah Katsman, A Mother in Israel

Location: My house (Details and directions to be provided after registration)

Cost: NIS 20

Join us for an evening of networking and creative thinking. Through discussion and an exercise, Hannah will inspire you to find new ways to engage your readers and attract traffic and comments. For bloggers at all levels.

Hannah Katsman has been blogging at A Mother in Israel on parenting, Judaism and life in Israel since 2006. She recently launched Cooking Manager, a site to help home chefs save time and money in the kitchen.

Advance registration is required. Click here to register.

Ozzy's just as excited as I am.

Why I don't want to know what color your bra is

2010-01-08T06:03:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago over on Facebook, I started noticing people's statuses popping up with just one word--something like this: "beige" "polka dot" "white", "black lace" etc. I had no idea what this was all about until I got a message asking me to participate to spread breast cancer awareness by announcing the color of the bra I was wearing and to see how long it would take the men to realize what we wacky women were up to.

The thing spread like a disease (look! awareness already!) and is all over Facebook. Apparently it has also been picked up by major news services. What I'm not clear about is exactly why everyone knowing the color of my underwear spreads breast cancer awareness.

Here's the thing: I'm pretty aware of breast cancer without having to let you know the status of my skivvies. My mother's twin sister died of the disease last year and both my father's two sisters are survivors, although one aunt has the chronic type and will be on chemotherapy, G-d willing for a long time to come. (Which means, by the way, that I need to get tested for the BRCA gene to see just how high-risk I am for getting the disease, because oh yes, I'm in a high risk category anyway because of the radiation I had years ago for that other cancer of mine).

Let's see now, what else? At least three close friends whose mother's faced the disease, with one of them succumbing. Two good friends in their thirties and early forties who are survivors. One survivor friend who produced and directed a short film to make a statement about the disease. One friend seriously considering getting a preventative mastectomy because she says that statistically it's pretty much a sure thing she'll get it. And one blogger-friend who lives with the disease and posts about how she does that almost daily.

These are just women I consider friends. How many more are there that I know of--friends of friends, family of friends, friends of my mother, people in the community that have faced the disease? To many to count.

And I know I'm not alone. Surely all of you have been touched by the disease as well.

Why do we have to be titillating to increase awareness? Wouldn't it be better to use the Facebook status to remind women to get a mammogram? Or to donate to a specific foundation that is engaged in research or is devoted to helping women fighting the disease? And I don't dare imagine what the men will do to increase awareness of prostate cancer.

So no, I won't be telling you about my undergarments. I'll be glad when this thing runs its course.

And by the way, is it time for you or someone you love to have a mammogram?

What I would say at a Chug Aliya

2010-01-06T18:22:00.000-08:00

Friends of ours back in the states back in the states have started a Chug Aliya--an Aliya Club. This is a group of people planning on or thinking about moving to Israel who get together to discuss issues related to the process of making the move. They often invite people from Aliya organizations or the Jewish Agency to speak on specific topics such as health care, mortgages, education etc. as related to Israel. Occasionally, they have someone who actually made the move speak about their first-hand experiences.

I have not been asked to speak, but figured I should prepare something just in case an e-ticket suddenly appears in my inbox.

Here's what I would say: (Of course, I'm leaving some stuff out; if I tell everything here, there would be no motivation to have me tell my story in person, would there now?)

I would tell the crowd (I assume a crowd would be gathered to hear my pearls of wisdom, no?) that the younger they and their children are the easier it will be for the klita (absorption/integration into Israeli society). I would tell them that even if they are not ready to make the move now, but are hoping to do it some day in the future, they should be talking about it all the time at home to make the children aware of what they are thinking. But I would also add that we made Aliya with older kids (ages 11-14) and that though there were some really tough times, all are doing well now.

I would tell them to think carefully about the kind of community they want to live in and to think about their children and where they would fit in. I would remind them that in Israel most schools are "public schools" and their expectations of the services their children receive and the length of the school day are very different from what they may be used to in the states. Not necessarily better, or worse, but different.

I would tell them that health care in this country is very, very good, even excellent but culturally very different than what they are used to in the states. I would even have one or two funny stories to tell them to point this out.

I would tell them to of course prepare financially for the move. Many people who make Aliyah these days choose to commute back and forth. It works well for many families, but I also know of some families who chose to go back to the states because it was just to difficult. I would advise them to speak to the people doing it. For those who plan on working in Israel, I would tell them that it can be very, very tough finding work here and they have to expect to be unemployed for a significant period of time (Nefesh B'Nefesh said 6-9 months when me made Aliya, but it may be longer in today's economic climate). I would point out that salaries are much, much lower here and that yes, tuition and health insurance cost a fraction of what they cost in the states, but that still doesn't make it easy financially.

I would tell them to bone up on their Hebrew to the extent that they can, but in the end the way they will really learn the language is if and when they become immersed in it through their work and/or communities. I would tell them that language struggles are difficult at every level and can sometimes make you feel, well, like old Tante Minnie when she got off the boat at Ellis Island.

I would tell them that sending a lift costs a ton of money and that they can probably buy everything here for the same or less money without the hassle and to consider just sending the sentimental stuff.

I would tell them that everyone will say that making Aliyah is hard, but you can't imagine how hard it is until you are in the thick of it. I would tell them there will be days they will ask themselves, "WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING, LEAVING A PERFECTLY NICE PLACE FOR THIS?"

I will tell them to search deep into themselves for the reasons they want to make this move.

Because in the end, Israel will not solve the problems you are having in the states. No matter how much planning and preparation you do you are taking a leap of faith. And you will need that faith and a core belief in what you are doing to sustain you through those hard times.

I would end by saying this:

I believe I belong here and I have no regrets.

(Then I would open it up for questions. What would you ask? Or if you're already here, what would you add to this presentation?)

A first I never wanted

2010-01-02T14:42:00.000-08:00

Early in my days here in Modi'in I passed a sign that said בית עלמין, Beit Almin. "What's that?", I asked Isaac. "That's the cemetery", he replied. I digested the fact and tucked it away.

But now I know, and I wish I didn't.

I wish I didn't now know exactly where it was. I wish I didn't now know that to get there, you have to drive up a smooth, curvy road, park and then hike a bit uphill. I wish I didn't now know that the cemetery of Modi'in is nestled on a beautiful, green hill on the edge of the Ya'ar Ben Shemen, the Ben Shemen Forest, where on a clear day you can see Tel-Aviv in the distance. I wish I didn't now know that minutes away from my home are dozens of hiking paths where flowers bloom in January and trees grow so tall they brush the perfect, blue sky.

And I wish I didn't now know how the silence of a Friday morning in the forest can be broken by four sobbing children who, the previous day said good-bye to their mother in the morning and returned home to find out that she was no longer with them. And a husband who said as he buried her, "I loved you, I love you and I will always love you."

She was a colleague of mine, a native Israeli who greeted me warmly when I started a new job in a new language in my new country. She always had a smile, a warm greeting, was beloved at work, and apparently throughout the city of Modi'in and beyond from what I saw at the funeral.

I wish I still didn't know exactly where the Modi'in cemetery is.

But I'm proud to have known Tchiya, z"l. המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלם
May her family be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Is promoting American Aliya "an exercise in futility?"

2009-12-30T13:55:00.000-08:00

I've been mulling this over all day, trying to get here to the blog to organize my jumble of thoughts. Michael Hirsch wrote an article for the Jerusalem Post, saying that Nefesh B'Nefesh "NBN" and the Jewish Agency (agencies which promote and assist with American Aliya [immigration to Israel]) are "pre-doomed to failure". Sure there were about 3,000 American olim (immigrants) to Israel this year, but really, that is the proverbial drop in the bucket of the millions of Jews living in the states.

Mr. Hirsch states, "I have often said to religious friends living in the States that prehistoric man would have greater luck extracting mastodons from the La Brea tar pits, than NBN or the [Jewish] agency would have extracting a religious Jew from the Diaspora."

Before I made Aliya, when I would read an article like this, I'd feel guilty. I'd show the article to Isaac, saying the guy is right. Isaac would say something about he thought we belonged in Israel as well, but really how the hell would we make a living there and that would be that.

Today I read the article sitting on this side of the ocean and felt a different emotion. Reading this article made me angry. Mr. Hirsch called NBN and the Agency "well-meaning" and advised them in his last sentence, to "save your time, money and effort".

I guess what he's trying to say is that those coming to Israel are those who would have come anyway, irregardless of whether some agency helps them out or not. But I'm not so sure that's true. Isaac and I have always been pre-disposed to Aliya, but when I read about NBN's first flight in 2002, well that triggered a process that lead to our move 5 years later. Would we have come without NBN? Impossible to know.

The overall negativity of the article is depressing. I'd rather look at NBN differently. Americans are coming. One-by-one. I find joy and encouragement in that. One person makes Aliya, and suddenly people in a community are talking. It put a germ in people's brains--hey if they could do it, maybe I can. Then others come--their friends, sisters, parents.

To say NBN is wasting their time and money is not fair to an organization that has made it easier for those who want to come and has put the idea of Aliya on the radar of many who would not have thought of it otherwise. In addition, the rate of Americans who stay in Israel has increased dramatically, I believe thanks to the support of NBN.

Could there be more olim? Of course. There is work to be done. Imagine how different the Israeli landscape--geographical, political, social--would look if 100,000 American Jews made Aliya every year? But that is not the current reality, for reasons I don't need to go into here. People come when they are ready. In the meantime, the several thousand a year that have come spread out throughout Israel, impacting the communities they live in, I daresay in a positive way.

Sometimes, it's better to look at the glass as half full.

Haveil Havalim #249--the Israeli Blogger's/Welcome 2010 edition

2009-12-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

Welcome, everyone to Haveil Havalim #249. Just a quick mention about last night's Israeli blogger gathering. Organized by Mimi (Israeli Kitchen) and Hannah (Mother-in-Israel and Cooking Manager) and taking place at Sara's (FoodBridge) beautiful home, about 25 bloggers living in Israel gathered together to share ideas. Jacob Share of JobMob was a very entertaining and informative speaker (he had lots to say about increasing traffic and monetizing) and of course, there was food and socializing and networking and just plain fun. If you weren't there, you should try it out next time. I hear the next event is already being planned.

And so it was that I began to work on this edition of HH after I returned home from the blogger's event. Even working diligently until 2 a.m., I didn't get it done. But here it is, posted on Sunday, as it should be. Sometimes the US-Israel time difference works for me.

Founded by Soccer Dad, Haveil Havalim is a carnival of Jewish blogs — a weekly collection of Jewish & Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It’s hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by Jack. The term ‘Haveil Havalim,’ which means “Vanity of Vanities,” is from Kohelet, (Ecclesiastes) which was written by King Solomon. King Solomon built the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and later on got all bogged down in materialism and other ‘excesses’ and realized that it was nothing but ‘hevel,’ or in English, ‘vanity.’”

Without Further Ado:

Israel

I am so impressed with Batya and her dad as she continues to tell the tale of his Aliyah at age 89. She presents I DID It! The latest episode in the saga of my father's aliyah at 89 posted at me-ander.

Batya also presents "Orange," as a Label posted at Shiloh Musings.

Lady-Light presents Archeological Find Proves Ancient Jewish Ties to the Land of Israel at Tikkun Olam.

This book has been getting quite a bit of buzz. Jacob Richman presents I highly recommend the book: Start-up Nation posted at Good News from Israel.

Mrs. S. presents You Just Might be a Religious Zionist at Our Shiputzim.

Harry tells us about a recent trip to the shuk in Hanukah in Mahane Yehuda and India and gives us the Picture of the Week: The shots that won’t make it to the catalog posted at ISRAELITY.

Joel Katz (a fellow Modi'iner, I'm proud to say) presents Religion and State in Israel - December 21, 2009 (Section 2) and Religion and State in Israel - December 21, 2009 (Section 1) posted at Religion and State in Israel.

Leah Aharoni presents The Gilad Shalit Deal as a Mirror of the Israeli Society posted at Ingathered.

Jessica gives us some information on the cosmetics business in Israeli beauty posted at ISRAELITY.

Yisrael Medad presents JPost.com | BlogCentral | Green-Lined | Yes, there is a difference posted at Green-Lined.

Shmuel Sokol presents illegal arab buildings legitimized posted at Torat Yisrael.

Shiloh's fire skies turned Yisrael Medad to his camera, then his blog in My Right Word: Shiloh's Skies On Fire posted at My Right Word.

Politics

Mottel asks Is Universal Healthcare a Jewish Imperative? posted at Letters of Thought.

Batya presents Dear Obama Claus, posted at Shiloh Musings.

Ilana-Davita presents a fascinating piece in National Identity posted at Ilana-Davita. Be sure to take a look at the comments.

Sammy Benoit asks two questions: Is Joe Lieberman a Good Jew? Does the Media Have the Right to Ask That Question? posted at YID With LID.

Anti-Semitism

Is Garrison Keillor being tongue-in-cheek, or just plain anti-semitic? You decide, after checking out Sammy Benoit's Garrison Keillor: The Jews Have Screwed Up Our Christmas posted at YID With LID. Sammy Benoit also presents Jimmy Carter Did NOT Apologize to the Jewish People.

Lion of Zion wonders about the church's new efforts to beatify Pope Pius in The Pope and (le-Havdil) the Bishop: A Lesson in Moral Courage.

Judaism

Shira Salamone presents Xmas eve dilemmas past and Bugged, or Score Another One for the Rabbis at On the Fringe.

Here' a blog that's new to me that I enjoyed. Shorty presents Last year, at this time... posted at Shorty's Adventure.

Berel Dorfman discusses the robbery of the notorious "Arbeit Macht Frei" sign at Auschwitz in Chabad Representatives Near Auschwitz Say Interest in Polish Jewish Life Strong posted at lubavitch.com Chabad-Lubavitch news site.

Friar Yid presents A History of Lawlessness posted at Friar Yid.

David Morris presents Tropper-Gate and Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Blog? posted at Tzedek-Tzedek.

I cried the day we moved from Flatbush out to 'burbs. Apparently not everyone feels that way about my old hometown (which I daresay has changed since we moved from there). Check out why Lion of Zion says I Hate Flatbush.

Hadassah Sabo Milner compiles a list of terms that the layman/laywoman can use to understand the torah talk on the web in Beit Twidrash Dictionary posted at In the Pink.

Jacob Richman presents his useful New Website: My Hebrew Programs posted at Good News from Israel.

Torah

Joshua Waxman presents How many are the days of your life, as question or exclamation? and The Gra's famous peshat on Vayigash posted at parshablog.

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver presents Torah illuminates and enables discernment posted at A Chassidishe farbrengen.

Read Yisrael Medad's dvar Torah in My Right Word: My Shabbat Dvar Torah posted at My Right Word.

Personal

Batya tells us why she doesn't celebrate the [secular] New Year in New Year, What Year? posted at Shiloh Musings.

Culture

Batya finally gets to make this yummy dish in Finally, Fruit Salad posted at me-ander.

Ilana-Davita tells us about her Favorite Books of 2009 posted at Ilana-Davita. Now there's an idea for a blogpost.

Hadassah Sabo Milner notes it's the comments more than the article that are worth a read (and after perusing them, I can tell you she's right!) She presents Kids are too smart these days! posted at In the Pink.

Robert J. Avrech tells us of when he worked with Brittany Murphy in Brittany Murphy: To Remember posted at Seraphic Secret.

Leora gives us JPIX: Fall Holidays Edition posted at Here in HP.

Humor

Lady-Light gives a comedic clip here at Tikkun Olam.

Heshy Fried presents Woman sues missionary organization that gave her faulty�menorah posted at Frum Satire.

See how The Rebbetzin's Husband deals with his new hi-tech device in Blackberry Blackout.

And thus concludes this week’s edition of Haveil Havalim.

Submit your blog article to the next edition of Haveil Havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.

Wishing a Happy and Healthy 2010 to all!

Just another day

2009-12-24T06:34:00.000-08:00

This year I haven't spotted any Santas like I did in '07 and '08. I guess I haven't been out and about that much.

Lots of friends and former colleagues are starting their big vacation today. I always say the best part of the vacation is December 24, that first morning of not having to get up and get ready for work. Hmmm, to savor and relish that moment....after that the vacation just speeds by and before you know it you're back to the old grind again. I must admit I miss this vacation.

Over here December 25 is just another day for most of us. Sure, there are a number of Christians living here. A couple of weeks ago Isaac spotted an item in the Jerusalem Post stating that free trees were being given out. (To bad I didn't go, wouldn't that make for interesting blog fodder?) Still, being a Jewish country, Christmas in not officially celebrated. It's that dominant culture thing.

Wishing all of you who celebrate, a very Merry Christmas, for those of you don't but are still on vacation--savor today, it's almost time to go back....

Catching up

2009-12-22T10:56:00.000-08:00

Haveil Havalim is up at Frume Sarah's.

I for one am glad I checked it out, because I had completely forgotten that I am hosting HH next week! Oh, eventually I would have checked my calendar and seen it, but that would have totally stressed me out, doing it at the last minute. Except that I always do it at the last minute.

All the blog carnival submissions are going to spam, not sure why. I'll have to ask my IT guy (that would be Isaac) to fix that. I haven't gotten very many submissions, so hop to it, people. It makes it so much easier than having to go fishing around the 'net for posts.

In other news, my SAD has kicked in. Winter is here and I feel blah. I guess that's why I've been neglecting the blog, which I hate doing. Plus I'm still traumatized by Nablopomgoshodowo.

And finally, it seems that Arthur has finally gotten the best of the IBA; they have removed him from their harassment list, hopefully forever. I'm sure if he were here he would thank those of you that helped him out. Of course, I still don't know what to do about my bill, but that's another story.

More soon.

You can fight city hall (another guest post!)

2009-12-17T13:42:00.000-08:00

My friend Arthur has been having trouble with the IBA--he'll explain what it is--and feels that 'the people' can affect change in the way it handles its customers. Here is his story. I have some thoughts, or rather questions, on the other end.

First of all, thank you Baila for allowing me this platform.

When Baila gave me permission for the guest posting I was actually going to write something very “angry” about my interactions with the IBA Collections Department. Since then there have been some new developments, so here goes.

One more thing before we get to the meat of the matter, Baila thinks that the New York Yankees are the best team ever. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, that is part of what blogging is all about.

The IBA, Israel Broadcast Authority, Collection Division has a particularly thankless task. They are the ones who must collect the Television Tax or "agra". Some background on this: years ago, and I don’t remember exactly when this changed, one had to pay the same type of agra or tax on the radio in one's car. “Am Yisrael Mamtzie Patenttim”—we Israelis are quite creative, especially in getting around things like this. Before going with the car to its annual safety inspection many would remove the radio from their car in order to NOT pay this tax. Today, however, thanks to collective punishment, we pay this tax in the license renewal even if we don’t have a radio in the car.

With televisions it is the same. If, when the letter comes from the IBA people one does not answer it, then quite miraculously one stays off this tax role. If, however you do answer, you pay. We used to live on kibbutz so the kibbutz paid, but once we left, the kibbutz transferred the agra to us. The tax is for owning a TV. Even if you do not get reception, you still must pay the tax if you own a television.

Rewind to 2006,when we left Israel for 2-3 years with my company. Before we left we thought that we had settled up with the IBA. We paid the pro-rated agra for 2006, told them we were leaving; alas the bills kept coming in 2007, 2008 and even in 2009. We recently got the latest collection notice that says they were going to come and repossess furniture, cars etc, G-d Forbid!

Since we have returned we have been writing letters to the IBA and their agents, a law firm in Tel Aviv that just does collections for the IBA. No one wants to pay the tax because it is silly. (Just as an aside, if you have Yes or cable you are paying this tax twice, once directly and once through the content provider).

While we have been writing to the IBA and their agents, we have received no response except more bills, some with higher values and some with lower. Before Shabbat we received the most recent bill and since I have a new all-in-one printer HP J6480, I began to fax the IBA repeatedly in order to get their attention. I also looked on line and found a bunch of e-mail addresses, the ‘Ombudsman’ among them. He replied that this was a collections issue. I replied back to him that it is not a collections issue it is one of harassment.

Enter the web. I posted my story on my facebook page and lo and behold there was someone else with same predicament. I e-mailed the ombudsman on her behalf and I guess there were some that e-mailed the ombudsman for us because this morning I received an e-mail that said that my case and the whole collection scheme of the IBA was going to be re-evaluated!!!!! YAY TEAM!!!!!

I also have in writing an admission that the agra for the first half of 2009 has been cancelled since we were not in the country. I don’t know why they did not cancel the debt for 2008. I also have in writing that they are going to investigate our claim that we do not have a television in order to never have to pay the agra again.

This is only half of the story. More people are needed to e-mail the Ombudsman at OMBUDSMAN @ iba.org.il to explain that the way that the IBA conducts itself is brutal and harassing and should be changed. The ombudsman’s name is Elisha Spiegelman. Letters should be polite and can be written in Hebrew or English. The argument of whether the TV tax is right or wrong is not the issue here; Mr. Spiegelman’s job is to oversee those who collect it. AviK at iba.org.il is the person in charge of the collection division. Please write to him as well.

Together we can recreate the IBA and help them to become transparent, and perhaps lead the way for the rest of Israel’s bureaucracy.

Suggestions for the IBA:
1) Post the rules and regulations regarding the agra on the web site
2) Include all information on both the Hebrew and English Websites, the various fax numbers for the Collections Division and all pertinent e-mail addresses.
3) Increase to 5 days a week 14 hours a day the availability of the call centers. Currently they are only available three days a week
4) Treat the people who pay the tax like the customers that they are and not like criminals waiting to be sentenced

Add your own suggestions as well. Remember to be polite, no bad language when writing. Together we can make change happen!

Arthur Rabinovitz – Guest Post

Here are my thoughts, or rather questions: Why am I paying a television tax if there are so many commercials on television? (I've timed it; there can be 10 minutes of commercials on Israeli TV).

I received a bill from the IBA. It says, "If you have not paid since 2003, pay x, if you have not paid since 2004, pay y". Does this mean I should choose 2009? And, Arthur, if I respond does that mean I am opening up a can of worms? Should I just ignore it and just not answer the door in case Repo-Man comes to the house?

Finally, how come some people get taxed and others don't? My sister-in-law who has had a television from the moment she moved here, (16 years ago) has never received a bill. That just doesn't seem fair.

Readers, how have you dealt with this issue?

Festival of Lights

2009-12-13T11:14:00.001-08:00

Chanukah is here, the princesses are on vacation, but I, alas have to work. It's going to be a low-key week. We were going to do a tiyul (trip), but everyone has something else planned on different days. I'm kind of glad, because I'm still trying to beat this chest cold and feel totally wiped out after a few hours at work focusing on not coughing so that people don't think I'm Typhoid Mary. It's exhausting not coughing when you need to.

Last night, I coughed my way over to Tired's house for a Chanukah party. I had a great time and she served yummy cheese puffs. I also met Aliyah-by-Accident's Gila there. It's always wild-and-crazy when bloggers get together.

I'm curious as to what you guys all do about presents on Chanukah? Do you give them or do your kids not even ask for them? My kids were raised in the Five Towns, Long Island, and just love getting presents. I feel an awful lot of pressure. When they were little I'd get them cute little things like pencils with dreidels on them and note pads and they were thrilled with that stuff. I want them to know that the holiday is not about the presents, on the other hand, it does give me joy to make them happy.

Sufganiyot. In other words, Israeli donuts. Have I ever mentioned that I hate them? I mean the ribat chalav (caramel) ones look amazing, but the only part I like is the caramel. The actual dough part of the donut is usually bland, often greasy and just plain unappetizing. And yet billions of them are being sold (and eaten) as we speak. When I went to buy some for the first night of Chanukah, I was going to go Roladin, a bakery /cafe at the mall whose sufganiyot looked the most appealing. Then we bumped into friends who told us the donuts there were 8 shekel a piece, when next door, at Cafe Hillel they were 4 shekel a piece. So off we went to Cafe Hillel. Sure enough, they were sold out. So much for saving money. We went to a third place, the famous Maape Neeman, where that spoonful of ribat chalav looked cost 6 shekel. The doughy part covered in powdered sugar was free.

In other Chanukah news, my beloved digital camera has broken. I sent it away for repair and they'll call me to tell me if it's worth fixing. I used Liat's camera for these pictures, and well, I know they're not exactly photographic genius.

Oops, well, no pictures. Liat's memory card doesn't fit in my computer and I'll be durned if I'm going to search for that wire thingie to attach to the lap top. So I guess we'll have to wait a few days until I hopefully get my camera back. And now that you can't see the photos, I should tell you that they actually were, ahem, genius.

How is your Chanuka going?

Fear

2009-12-09T09:34:00.000-08:00

I worked today, even though it's Wednesday. I wanted to make up some of the time I took back when I was sick.

This of course, throws off my whole schedule. As you know (if you are a loyal reader), Wednesdays is the day I do my big weekly shopping. If I go to work, when am I supposed to shop?

I decided to shop on my way home from work. I went to Rami Levi, which is right on the way, rather than going all the way to SuperSol, which would be totally out of the way. A few days ago, my friend and excellent lice lady Pnina (if you need her, e-mail me and I'll pass along her info)* told me that you could park underneath the store, and take the elevator up to the store, thereby avoiding the death-defying parking lot.

I decided to give it a go even though the word "elevator" makes my heart race. But I really didn't want to deal with that parking lot.

I parked the car and went looking for the elevator. It was off to a deserted corner that just shouted CREEPY. When I pressed the button the door lurched open. I decided to walk up the stairs and proceed with my shopping. I tried to forget that I would have to return via the dreaded elevator.

An hour later, with my shopping cart bursting at the seams, I had no choice but to take the elevator. I walked to it slowly, partly because I was hoping someone else would come along to ride with me and partly because Israeli shopping carts just don't go in a straight line. (Ever). When I got to the elevator, I looked around. I was on my own. I pressed the button and there again was that lurching door. "Well", I thought, "if I get stuck, at least I won't starve to death."

But as the door closed behind me, I felt that rising panic within me. I have no control over it. It's not a rational thing and has nothing to do with being stuck or not. It's just fear. I don't experience it when I'm with someone else. I held my breath until the elevator came to a stop and then muttered to the door, "Pleaseopenpleaseopenpleaseopenpleaseopen". When it finally did, I quickly escaped as relief washed over me. This is something I always experience when I am in elevators alone, which is rare. I'd rather climb 20 flights of stairs than be alone in an elevator.

I also have a fear of heights. I hate ski lifts and cliffs. That panic I feel with elevators also rises within me when I am in those situations, even if I am with someone. Especially when that someone laughs at my fear and starts shaking the ski lift chair. Whenever we go hiking Isaac and the kids are always going near the ledge to tease me and I'm practically in tears from the fear. Usually they laugh because the ledge is about a foot off the ground, but still, I think they are cruel and inconsiderate for laughing. Sniff.

I have no idea where these fears came from. Was I born with them? Did something happen in an elevator or on a high mountain when I was a little tike? (The elevator is possible, but there are no mountains in Brooklyn).

For now I'm glad to have my two feet firmly planted on the ground.

What are you afraid of?

*(How's that for a plug, Pnina?)

As promised, a guest post

2009-12-05T09:26:00.000-08:00

My friend CK, has agreed to do another guest post (you can read her first one here). CK and I became friendly, about a thousand years ago when she began dating her husband, whom I was friendly with in Bnei Akiva. We especially bonded over our pregnancies with my Orli and her youngest daughter. We were both beginning our maternity leaves the same day and had plans to go to the movies together. When I called her from the labor room, she asked, "What are those beeps I'm hearing in the background? Are you cancelling our movie date?!" We never did make that date up.

Anyway, as promised, without further ado:

I just returned from a week long trip to Israel. Like many Jews, I have a deep connection to Israel (maybe Baila will let me muse about that someday on her blog), and my trip was filled with many small moments that touched me. I call them small moments, even though they were anything but small, because the “big moments” I reserve for seeing my family and friends there. I am deeply moved by my friends and family who live in Israel, make their home there, and build our country every day just by being there. But the small moments are things that I just stumbled upon unexpectedly that made me nod and say “only in Israel” So in no particular order, here are my small moments:

1. While driving out of Jerusalem, you will note a trempiada next to a gas station. Let me explain: Many people in Israel stand there to await rides with neighbors and strangers. Tremping is catching a ride. A trempiada is a spot where people who are tremping wait for rides. ( I will avoid the word hitchhiking, and if my children are reading this, they know how I feel about that! ) While driving past, I saw many soldiers awaiting rides, and one soldier, was sitting and playing guitar while strangers sang along. I wish I had a camera. (And I wish I knew how to take good photos). In this case, a picture WOULD have been worth a thousand words.

2. We rented a car AND a GPS. (Shout out to my wonderful husband, S. , who navigated over 1200 km with great skill.) As you may know, GPS’s include landmarks and buildings for easier navigation. This GPS actually had on it the Bnei Akiva snif! Bnei Akiva is the world’s largest Religious Zionist Youth Movement. Baila wrote about it here and here. I owe so much to BA – including, but not limited to that this is where I met my beloved. It has also been an important part of our children’s lives and we are VERY indebted to this wonderful organization . But to see it noted on a GPS – that is VERY cool.

3. The mall in Modiin, Baila’s hometown, is beautiful. I didn’t spend nearly enough money or time there this trip. But I did get together with some girlfriends there. They took time out from getting ready for Shabbat to sit, sip coffee, talk , laugh raucously and just do what girlfriends do (God bless every one of them!) While walking into the Cuppa Joe where we were meeting, right at the mall food court, There was a BLOOD DRIVE going on!! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MALL. No privacy screens – just generous people rolling up their sleeves, lying on the gurneys, giving some much needed blood in the middle of the mall. Getting their juice and cookies afterwards. And of course doing an incredible mitzvah. Maybe if you’re squeamish this would make you uncomfortable. ME? I just loved it. Of course I wish that blood wouldn’t be in such great demand in Israel or anywhere. But the fact that those gurneys were all filled with people taking time out before or after running their errands to help out made me enormously proud.

Those were my top 3 small moments that touched me. What are some of yours?

I'm sorry. I've been busy.

2009-12-02T10:31:00.000-08:00

Here's what I've been doing: after listening to the kids leave to school, and Isaac leave for work, I'd lurch out of bed, throw an anti-biotic down my throat. Then I'd drunkenly move toward the laundry, put a load in, hang some out to dry. I'd do some straightening. Then I took inventory:

Remote control. Check.

Cell phone. Check.

Land Line phone. Check.

American Line phone. Check.

Tissues. Check.

Water bottle. Check.

People Magazines (Thanks, Fern!) Check.

Book. Check. (Finished Jodi Picoult's new one. Read the first five chapters first, then the last five, and then random chapters in the middle. You can do that with JP's books. Now I started Annie Freeman's Traveling Funeral).

Thermometer. Check. (I tried not to obsessively check my temperature, but...).

Once I was sure all my supplies were in order, I'd climb into bed. Then I'd get out again to go to the bathroom, and then I'd get back in. The rest of my days passed in a haze of dreams, sounds and sights. (Did you know that Marlon Brando did not "respect his own talent", thereby causing his self-destruction? This from True Hollywood Stories, which I guess I watched).

Yesterday, I began to emerge from my fog. Today, I basically followed my (non-working day) schedule, and I seem to be okay. I'm still coughing, though, and am debating taking the last day of the week off tomorrow and calling it a week.

I never did get to finish Nablopomo. And I'm not sorry. I learned something about myself; daily blogging is not for me. I didn't like the quality of my writing.I felt like it made my blogging boring. It bored me.

So I'm back now to my regular posting schedule. And there are many new and exciting features coming. Okay, really only one--A GUEST POST!!! Look for it, it'll be here soon.

In the meantime, Haveil Havalim is up at Torah from Zion.

Cough, cough

2009-11-28T09:59:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning with a little tickle in my chest, but still managed to get my Thanksgiving Lunch together and on the table. At about 5 o'clock I felt really cold and as soon as Shabbat was over crawled into bed, barely saying good-bye to my guests. I must give a shout-out to Stuart, who did the dishes (and there were alot!) and Isaac who did all the post-lunch clean-up. I think the Advil has kicked in as I'm not shivering quite as hard, but I still feel pretty lousy and will spend the rest of the evening in bed. Hopefully, I'll have the stamina to stay up for Hisardut--Israeli Survivor.

Have a Shavua Tov--a good week.

Shabbat Shalom

2009-11-27T05:39:00.000-08:00

Today I spent a good chunk of the day at Cup-o-Joe with my friends Carol and Fern. Both of them are librarians and are very up-to-date on the latest good reads. I have so much more to say about this, but since I whittled away several hours with them, I am way behind on Shabbat preparations. I plan to blog more about librarians, libraries in general, libraries in Israel, books, english books in Israel, how to get english books to Israel easily and cheaply (hint: having a librarian friend in America is a good start), and how having friends who love books as much as you do is amazing.

But I can't do that right now. I'm sure you understand.

Wishing you all a Shabbat Shalom and a great weekend.

Day of Thanks

2009-11-26T13:03:00.000-08:00

As I sit here writing this, many of you in the United States are ~~stuffing your faces~~ sitting down to eat your Thanksgiving dinner. No one needs me to remind them to be thankful. We are so blessed to be walking this good earth, grabbing the opportunities that G-d gives us daily and trying to make the most of the time we have.

This year we aren't doing the traditional dinner today. Instead I spent the day getting a traditional turkey dinner ready for some friends (really good friends) who are in town for the week and will come for Shabbat Lunch. On the menu: turkey london broil, chicken with stuffing, cranberry sauce, cabbage salad, sweet potatoes, string beans, apple pie and pumpkin pie. I hope it's enough.

Wishing you all a great Thanksgiving, stuffed with only the best life has to offer.

The study center, my kids and me

2009-11-25T13:11:00.000-08:00

Now that the month-long color war is over, it's time for the kids to buckle down in school. At least for the next two weeks until their Chanuka vacation starts.

All of a sudden all my kids have lots of tests on lots of material. And I'm feeling the pressure, even though they don't seem to be.

Modi'in offers a very nice program for olim (new immigrants) called the Merkaz Limmud--Study Center. Merkaz Limmud is an after-school program where extra ulpan (classes strengthening Hebrew), homework help and math tutoring are offered. The program first started when we made Aliya two years ago. That year, I made my kids go, even though they hated it. Truth is, because it was its first year it really was what we call in Hebrew a "balagan"--completely unorganized. Sometimes my kids got tutored and sometimes they didn't. It drove me crazy that they would be there for two or three hours to get help with their homework, but would come home and first have to start. By the time the program got its act together, it was Passover. Last year my kids refused to attend and I didn't push it. But I've heard that this year the program has improved a great deal. There is plenty of staff and kids are really being helped.

I decided that we would give it a try again. The kids of course put up [an excellent] fight, but I held my ground and took them over there today. When we got there, I was extremely disappointed to see only one staff person there with about ten kids. She looked completely overwhelmed. She told me some of the other volunteers were sick (these are Sherut Leumi Girls, girls who opt to do community service in lieu of army service) and that several others had to attend some kind of course. I did not want to take my kids home and have to argue with them again next time. I wanted them to stay, and hopefully have a positive experience, so that the next the protest would be weaker (there is no doubt in my mind that there will still be protests).

On the spur of the moment, I offered to stay and help. If you're thinking about what an altruistic person I am, you are completely off-base. What I said was, "I'll stay and help the other kids, while you help my kids." Yup, just like that, tit-for-tat. The girl took me up on my offer and we were good to go. I had been planning on making dinner when the kids were at the center, but we know what happens to the best laid plans.

I worked with two girls, one in the first grade and one in the fourth. Both of them arrived here just before the school year started and were clearly struggling with the language. "Hang in there," I wanted to tell them. "You'll get it. Eventually." Both kids seemed happy, in spite of their difficulties. I made them laugh a few times, and that felt good. Truth is, it felt good to work with kids who communicate so well. It felt good to be helping these kids. "Maybe I should do this regularly", I thought to myself. Volunteer for a couple of hours a week. (Then I really would be altruistic). But then I cautioned myself not to jump in and do something I may regret, like commit to something that takes me away from my home during hours I know I should be there. So I kept my mouth shut, figuring I could always volunteer at a later time if I still have this good feeling about wanting to somehow give back.

While I worked, I surreptitiously checked the girls. Tali and a friend were studying for a test with a high school volunteer. Orli was reading a page in her history book and summarizing it. She was working by herself and I gotta tell you, I was impressed.

All in all our visit to the Mercaz Limmud turned out be a good thing for all of us.

Only downside was that I had to order pizza for dinner. Which, in my mind, isn't really a downside at all.

I am definitely losing steam....

2009-11-24T11:43:00.000-08:00

....as we head into the final week of Nablopomo.

In the spirit of that, I'm posting just to tell you that Mom has Haveil Havalim up at her blog. She did a great job.

[Shoulda done Nablopomo in February].

The flash mob phenonmena

2009-11-23T12:12:00.000-08:00

What is the deal with flash mobs? It's getting so that you can't walk through a mall or train station without half the public "spontaneously" breaking into some kind of joyous song-and-dance routine. (Okay, I admit, I never actually participated in or witnessed one of these things, but they are all over YouTube. The Black-Eyed Peas got into the act, surprising Oprah Winfrey with this:)

Now, that was a really good one.

Well, Nefesh B'Nefesh, the people who bring people to Israel, got into the act last week. Apparently, they planned a spontaneous dance on Ben Yehuda Street in Jerusalem. As these things go, it's okay. Doesn't seem very exciting to me from the video, but I'm sure it would have been fun to be there.

Tsk-tsk-tsk. Anyone note the mixed dancing?

Totally shocking.

Restaurant Review: Alberto's

2009-11-22T11:58:00.001-08:00

Tonight we celebrated my mother-in-law's birthday at Alberto's of Ligad Center in Modi'in. Well, it's sorta in Modi'in. Ligad Center is a commercial center comprised of three different buildings where some catering halls, a couple of restaurants, offices and odds and ends stores are located. It is several miles out of Modi'in and when you drive there you feel like you are in the middle of nowhere. I am not sure why the city planners put the place so far out, rather than start at the edge of the residential area of the city and expand outward. Or at least put it closer to the end of the residential area.

But I digress, because I am here to talk about Alberto's. If you think it serves Spanish or Italian cuisine, you'd be wrong; the restaurant is a typical Israeli grilled meat restaurant. When we walked in, I thought they were having a party, because the tables were set up in rows. It looked like a kibbutz dining room. But no, there was no party, so I guess it's set up this way to save room, although we were the only patrons in the restaurant for most of the time we were there.

Three minutes after we sat down a jug of lemonade was placed on the table. Two minutes later an abundance of salads was delivered. These included cole slaw, purple cabbage salad, several different kind of eggplant salad, onion salad, hot peppers, pickled vegetables, chumus, techina and Israeli salad. Then the laffa bread, fresh from the stone oven came. All of this was delivered before we even got the menu. It was all fresh and tasty. Finally, the french fries arrived, also piping hot and fresh, along with a bowl-ful of Heinz Ketchup packets. We started eating before we ordered and throughout the evening the waiter kept on refilling what was ~~scarfed down~~, ingested.

The pricing works something like this: You order skewers of meat or chicken or kebab. For 45 shekel, you get one skewer and for 55 shekel you get two. (There was also something for 65 shekel, but noone ordered that and I don't remember what it was). For 45 or 55 shekel you get the skewers you order plus all you can eat and drink of what I described above. There is also a kid's meal, which cost 26 shekel.

Most of us ordered the pargiyot (deboned chicken thighs) skewers, while some ordered the kebab. These also came to us fresh off the grill, with just the right moisture and flavor. But, I'm afraid to say by the time they got to the table, I was stuffed.

The bill for seven people was 330 shekel, which is not unreasonable. This included a special birthday dessert we ordered in honor of Abuelita's birthday. And we were indeed stuffed to the gills. I still am. But I have to say, if you're watching your carbs, you really have to be careful here. Those laffa breads keep on coming, and they are pretty irrestible.

All-in-all, I'd say Alberto's is a fun family-restaurant that serves delicious Israeli salads and grilled meats. It's worth a trip....and, well, you'll stick to the low-carbs thing tomorrow.

I got nuthin'

2009-11-21T13:35:00.000-08:00

I'm pooped out. Uninspired. Sure, two of my three kids are G-d knows where. Tonight is a big night in Bnei Akiva. New Shevet got their name (Mazal Tov, Shevet Lehava!)* My kids, who are not in the new shevet are out celebrating at barbeques and in the park. Tomorrow my three princesses will sleep in, while I get up to help bring home the bacon (soy only, of course).

But tonight, I got nuthin'. Except for a picture I took in Jerusalem the other night. This thing was so huge, it left the cat category and moved into the lion one:

I know it's not a great shot, but like I said, nuthin'.

I'll be back again tomorrow.

In the meantime, wishing you all a good week.

*I explained all about Bnei Akiva and the new shevet name here.

How can anyone ever be that desperate for Bamba?

2009-11-20T03:44:00.000-08:00

Bamba, in case you didn't know is Israel's unofficial national snack (actually, it may even be official, for all I know). Basically, bamba is a cheese doodle without that ghastly orange cheese flavor that I love. Instead it has a ghastly peanut butter flavor with the texture of the Herr's cheese doodle. As soon as Israeli kids are weaned, they graduate to Bamba. I believe a gajillion bags of the stuff are sold annually. Last year, they came out with a chocolate stuffed Bamba that really was disgusting. But hey, different strokes for different folks.

You get my point. Israeli's love their Bamba. Still an item I read in the Jerusalem Post this morning had me scratching my head in disbelief. I couldn't find it on the website, so I'm taking time to type out the item here:

Bamba Burglar Busted

A 35-year-old Beersheba resident with a strong late-night craving for bamba recently picked the lock and broke the door of a store across from his home in order to get some of the peanut-flavored snack. He ravaged the store until he found a bag of bamba and then proceeded to consume the contents of the bag, exited the store and left the packet behind.

The next morning the store owner discovered that his shop had been broken into and the only thing stolen was the bag of bamba. The owner contacted the Beersheba police, who came to the site and took fingerprints from the empty bag. These were matched up the fingerprints of a man the store owner identified as a frequent purchaser of large amounts of bamba.

On Wednesday the Beersheba police department claims bureau filed charges against the defendant, who was released on bail. His case is scheduled to be heard in court in the near future. "I'm crazy about Bamba," the defendant told investigators. "I was hungry and all the stores were closed, so I broke into one of them."

Crazy about Bamba, indeed.

Shabbat Shalom, and have a great weekend.

When I last left you...

2009-11-19T13:37:00.000-08:00

...a man in a car stopped me while I was on a walk with Ozzy. He had seen me give directions to another who stopped me. He told me he was a policeman and needed to know where that man was headed.

It was so strange. I felt in my gut that the man was not a policeman. Why would there be a man in the passenger seat who seemed to be dozing? If he was close enough to the first driver to see him asking for directions, why didn't he just put the medal to the pedal and follow him? The first person asking for directions didn't seem to be trying to evade a tail. He seemed fairly relaxed.

I didn't ask for ID. The thought occurred to me, but the interaction happened very quickly. The second time he asked me, I answered him by saying disbelievingly, "You're a policeman?? Really???". The man gave an exasperated sigh and pulled away. I started to try to recall some details about the guy in case I heard of something strange happening later and would need to come forward to perform my civic duty. Things like the make and model of the car (a Mazda 6), what he looked like (like many Israeli's, dark with dark eyes and dark, curly hair), what he was wearing (a brown and white striped polo shirt).

And then--this really amused me--a third car stopped me. But this guy really did need directions--I almost chortled out loud as I told him I couldn't help him.

So that's that. I guess this will end up in the annal's Baila's Unsolved Mysteries. Feel free to speculate or make up a story about what this was all about. I was going to do that, but I'm really tired.

Incidentally, to those of you who accused me of getting as much mileage out of Nablopomo as I can by putting this into two posts--you are absolutely right. I hang my head in shame.

And now I better hit publish to get this in on time.

This is weird

2009-11-18T08:35:00.000-08:00

What do you make of this?

Today, Wednesday,(remember? my almost-favorite day?) is my day off. The weather is refreshingly perfect these days and I decided to go for a long walk with Ozzy. On the way back, a car stopped and asked me for directions to a nearby street. After giving them to him in a fairly competent manner, I continued with my trek. Several seconds later another driver rolled down his window and stopped me:

(Do I even have to mention that all of this took place in Hebrew?)

Man: Ehhhhhm, giveret (lady), I am a policeman. That car that just asked you for directions--where is he going.

[That's funny. You don't look much like a policeman. Are you undercover? And why is your "partner" in the passenger seat dozing? Hmmm.]

Me: Excuse me?

Man: (speaking slowly--did he hear my American accent from just one word?) The car before me that stopped you for directions--where did he want to go? I'm a policeman.

[Let's freeze right here for a while.]

Don't you think this is strange? Has anything like this ever happened to you?

Before I tell you what I did, I want to know what you would have done. Would you have told this guy? Or moved on?

This enquiring mind wants to know.