I have been reflecting a lot lately on my life. Where I am now, as opposed to where I thought I WOULD be now. Every morning I sit outside on my balcony and stare out at the view. It is a breathtaking view. Rolling desert mountains, spotted with trees and horses and camels. In the far distance, I can see the mountains of Jordan, which means that just over the hills in front of my house, is the Dead Sea.
I heard a woman speak one day and she said "I have a life today that I never even wanted." She didn't mean it in a bad way. She just meant that upon reflecting upon the person that she was a very young woman and what that young woman wanted out of her life was so opposite to how she lived in the present moment.
I so relate to this. After my tumultuous teenage years and my early 20's, I had come to the conclusion that I would probably end up settling in Vancouver, get married, have a couple of kids, who would know the Starbucks menu by heart and enjoy playing in the playground at Stanley Park. I had friends who moved to the suburbs of Vancouver after they got married and had children, but that life so wasn't for me. No way was I going to be a suburban mommy. Ever. E-VER!!!!
Here is a list of things that I never thought would be a part of my life:
Chickens in my back yard
Horses across the street from me
Children who don't like shoes
Children with messy hair, except for on Shabbat
That a "fall" is a type of wig
Shabbat
Saying "I live 15 minutes from Jerusalem"
Being unphased by x ray machines in the bus station
Security guard at my sons school
Seeing people walk around with a huge honking gun hanging from their pants.
NEVER in a million years did I imagine living in Israel. Never did I imagine that I would live in a "suburb" of Jerusalem. Never did I think that I would become more right wing - at least in Israel.
Never did I imagine that I would see a war in a lifetime, let alone two.
My life is SO NOT how I imagined nor is it a life I ever wanted. Funny how things turn out, hey?
The Desert
Friday, May 06, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Laughter Is The Best Massage
I used to dabble in stand up comedy, premarriage and babies. I never really committed myself to it, so I never got very far as a stand up comic. I got too involved in the "social" aspect and as a result, it made the actual writing and performing aspect seem less important.
I did stand up for the first time in 4 years, last year, for a group of women here in Tekoa. I was terrified, as it was in my community, which is very small, and I kept thinking, "This is like doing stand up for your family after Thanksgiving dinner". Afterwards, they may love you or hate you. And I really wasn't crazy about taking the chance that my new community might hate me. But the women at this show were extremely supportive and they mostly laughed.
It was a thrill to be around the yishuv afterwards and have people tell me "OH! You did the comedy!!! You were so funny!"
What was so thrilling for me, is how terrified I was of doing it, but how I did it anyway. I had in my mind that if I didn't feel like doing it, I just would bow out. I gave myself that option right up until the point that I actually went onstage. And while I was doing it, the sense of thrill came back to me. How much fun it is, when people laugh. How interesting it is for me, that when a joke doesn't work, I can move smoothly past it and still keep the audience's interest. How something that I didn't intend to be funny is funny and being surprised.
I once told a Comedian friend of mine that I had decided to retire from stand up. He laughed and said "Stand up comics never retire. We may "rest", but we NEVER retire."
He's right. I really want to do it again. I miss it. There is even the opportunity of where to perform. I just need to write some material and get comfortable with the idea of doing it again. But writing seems to be a difficult task, since I am a full time wife and mother and also work full time.
Last night, I was thinking of how much I miss laughter. I was thinking of who makes me laugh in this world. There are about three people who can really get me belly laughing. One is an old friend of mine from high school, whom I barely talk to or see anymore. The other is another friend of mine, Jenn, who was here in October. She makes me laugh and brings out the extremely silly side of me. She appreciates my sense of humor, so she eggs me on. We can laugh about things, still, after 20 years of friendship that are completely nonsensical to others.
The other person who makes me laugh, is my Mother. My mom is a clown. She is the one who taught me to be silly. She enlisted me in her practical jokes and as a result, I have a great mind for practical jokes. When she and I are together, we can often be found in hysterical giggles. My husband will walk in on us and be absolutely dumbfounded that our sense of humor is so similar. It was not easy for him to spend 3 days at the Dead Sea together with the two of us. Especially because he is about as prone to laughter as Archie Bunker.
I look at my two daughters and wonder which one will by my accomplice in the funny. I used to think it would be Sarah, but I don't know, she really idolizes her father, so my best bet may be Chaya. Chaya, however, tends to the serious side. Sarah is the goofy baby. I guess I will just have to bide my time.
In the meantime, I guess I can bring some laughter into our lives by getting back into it. Let's just hope that it will be soon!
I did stand up for the first time in 4 years, last year, for a group of women here in Tekoa. I was terrified, as it was in my community, which is very small, and I kept thinking, "This is like doing stand up for your family after Thanksgiving dinner". Afterwards, they may love you or hate you. And I really wasn't crazy about taking the chance that my new community might hate me. But the women at this show were extremely supportive and they mostly laughed.
It was a thrill to be around the yishuv afterwards and have people tell me "OH! You did the comedy!!! You were so funny!"
What was so thrilling for me, is how terrified I was of doing it, but how I did it anyway. I had in my mind that if I didn't feel like doing it, I just would bow out. I gave myself that option right up until the point that I actually went onstage. And while I was doing it, the sense of thrill came back to me. How much fun it is, when people laugh. How interesting it is for me, that when a joke doesn't work, I can move smoothly past it and still keep the audience's interest. How something that I didn't intend to be funny is funny and being surprised.
I once told a Comedian friend of mine that I had decided to retire from stand up. He laughed and said "Stand up comics never retire. We may "rest", but we NEVER retire."
He's right. I really want to do it again. I miss it. There is even the opportunity of where to perform. I just need to write some material and get comfortable with the idea of doing it again. But writing seems to be a difficult task, since I am a full time wife and mother and also work full time.
Last night, I was thinking of how much I miss laughter. I was thinking of who makes me laugh in this world. There are about three people who can really get me belly laughing. One is an old friend of mine from high school, whom I barely talk to or see anymore. The other is another friend of mine, Jenn, who was here in October. She makes me laugh and brings out the extremely silly side of me. She appreciates my sense of humor, so she eggs me on. We can laugh about things, still, after 20 years of friendship that are completely nonsensical to others.
The other person who makes me laugh, is my Mother. My mom is a clown. She is the one who taught me to be silly. She enlisted me in her practical jokes and as a result, I have a great mind for practical jokes. When she and I are together, we can often be found in hysterical giggles. My husband will walk in on us and be absolutely dumbfounded that our sense of humor is so similar. It was not easy for him to spend 3 days at the Dead Sea together with the two of us. Especially because he is about as prone to laughter as Archie Bunker.
I look at my two daughters and wonder which one will by my accomplice in the funny. I used to think it would be Sarah, but I don't know, she really idolizes her father, so my best bet may be Chaya. Chaya, however, tends to the serious side. Sarah is the goofy baby. I guess I will just have to bide my time.
In the meantime, I guess I can bring some laughter into our lives by getting back into it. Let's just hope that it will be soon!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
When I worked as a nanny in Canada, one of the things that I very much enjoyed doing, was taking the kids to the fire department. The children loved to have a tour of the firetruck, see the firehouse, complete with the pole that they slide down in the event of an emergency. We would get our pictures taken with the firemen and of the children sitting in the big red firetruck.
And for me...it was always the thrill of seeing the hot men in uniform. If I was really lucky, I would get to catch a sneak peek at the big, hunky firemen playing basketball with their shirts off. It was well known that firemen were great cooks as well. I often saw a team of them at the local Safeway, buying ingredients for the nights dinner. Once, I mentioned to the Captain of the squad near my house, how impressed I was that Firemen were encouraged to develop their culinary skills. He promptly invited me for dinner anytime I wanted.
I never took him up on the offer, but I always knew that it was there and was something I could brag about to my girlfriends. "I got invited for dinner at the Firehall! Anyone want to come???"
Here in Israel, life is completely different. The thrill of the day for children is not a firetruck or a police car. We live in a small community in the West Bank and rarely, if ever, see either of those. But we do see an awful lot of the Army, with their huge Hummers. That is the big thrill for the children.
"Look kids! A Hummer!"
Sometimes, the Army comes to do drills in our community. So we will see many a young soldier, with their big guns, jumping out of their army jeeps and Hummers, ready to do a drill. When I lived in my old apartment, there were a bunch of houses that were in the process of being built, and the boys came to do a drill. I really wanted to volunteer to be Fatma, the female suicide bomber, because it just looked like fun, playing bad guys and good guys. It looked like a good way to get some stress and anger out. And really, who doesn't like playing cops and robbers at any age?
The best, though, is in the summer, when they come to do drills and they all take their shirts off, because the heat is unbearable. Wearing only their saggy army pants, with their nice young, flat boyish stomachs. One can almost contemplate a Demi Moore type relationship.
Of course, the best I can do is say to my little girls "Look! Soldiers!!!!"
Unfortunately, they aren't so interested. At least not yet. In about 12 years, I know it will be a different story, but for the moment, I will just have to work on having a little boy, so we can share in the delight of soldiers...
And for me...it was always the thrill of seeing the hot men in uniform. If I was really lucky, I would get to catch a sneak peek at the big, hunky firemen playing basketball with their shirts off. It was well known that firemen were great cooks as well. I often saw a team of them at the local Safeway, buying ingredients for the nights dinner. Once, I mentioned to the Captain of the squad near my house, how impressed I was that Firemen were encouraged to develop their culinary skills. He promptly invited me for dinner anytime I wanted.
I never took him up on the offer, but I always knew that it was there and was something I could brag about to my girlfriends. "I got invited for dinner at the Firehall! Anyone want to come???"
Here in Israel, life is completely different. The thrill of the day for children is not a firetruck or a police car. We live in a small community in the West Bank and rarely, if ever, see either of those. But we do see an awful lot of the Army, with their huge Hummers. That is the big thrill for the children.
"Look kids! A Hummer!"
Sometimes, the Army comes to do drills in our community. So we will see many a young soldier, with their big guns, jumping out of their army jeeps and Hummers, ready to do a drill. When I lived in my old apartment, there were a bunch of houses that were in the process of being built, and the boys came to do a drill. I really wanted to volunteer to be Fatma, the female suicide bomber, because it just looked like fun, playing bad guys and good guys. It looked like a good way to get some stress and anger out. And really, who doesn't like playing cops and robbers at any age?
The best, though, is in the summer, when they come to do drills and they all take their shirts off, because the heat is unbearable. Wearing only their saggy army pants, with their nice young, flat boyish stomachs. One can almost contemplate a Demi Moore type relationship.
Of course, the best I can do is say to my little girls "Look! Soldiers!!!!"
Unfortunately, they aren't so interested. At least not yet. In about 12 years, I know it will be a different story, but for the moment, I will just have to work on having a little boy, so we can share in the delight of soldiers...
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
How I spent my Chanukah holiday
I am sick.
Again.
This is twice in the last six weeks that I have been truly ill.
It all started almost two weeks ago, when I developed a small cold. I always think that a cold for me, however, is a sinus infection. But it was affecting my voice, so I knew it was a little more serious. But I thought, hey, it's just a cold. It will pass.
I finished up my work week before the holidays and the cold still wasn't going away. I was really looking forward to the holiday, as I had a lot of things that I wanted to do, such as reorganize certain areas of the house, really clean and spend some time with my kids.
I woke up Sunday with a terrible sore throat.
"OK," I thought. "I have a sore throat. It will pass. But I should maybe go to the doctor."
Living on a yishuv means that going to the doctor is no easy decision. Fortunately I belong to a health care company who has an office on my yishuv. However, the doctor is only in every other day and at strange times, which I can never remember. And sometimes the hours change without me being aware of it. This was the case on Sunday. David was in Haifa and I was alone with the kids, well, my father is here, but he is also really sick. I sent Shmuel to check the office hours of the medical clinic and he came home to report that it was now. I had no energy to bundle up the kids and take them with me to the doctor, which meant that I had to wait until Tuesday morning.
"It's okay," I thought. "I am sure the sore throat will pass."
It didn't. And David had some things to do outside of the house, which meant that I had to be responsible for the children. Yesterday afternoon, he went to Jerusalem and I asked him to hurry home, because I really couldn't do it alone. I was exhausted and in pain.
So this morning, I went to visit my doctor, who informed me that I had a throat infection, probably strep, as my older daughter, Chaya, had this last week.
"Do you want a doctor's note for work?" he asked.
"I would like a doctor's note for my husband, informing him that his wife is sick and that she needs to rest." I said.
He didn't seem to quite understand what it was that I wanted and by then, the funny had disappeared.
Fortunately, David took the kids with him to Jerusalem this morning and I finally had some time to rest.
But guess what? I hate resting.
Which is strange, because I keep saying that my dream holiday would be to go to a hotel for three days, alone, with a bunch of books and watch TV, eat, sleep and read.
I have had the day to do exactly that. And I hate it. I was so bored. I made pesto for myself, did a bunch of loads of laundry, even folding two of the loads and putting them away. I did the dishes. I swept the floor. AND I read, watched TV. But no sleeping. Because I can no longer sleep during the day. Which really annoys me. I just can't.
When I heard the little voices downstairs at 2 pm, I have to admit, that I was happy. I don't like the quiet anymore, for too long. I am just not used to it anymore. It kind of freaks me out.
I remember a long time ago, when a mentor of mine pointed out that I didn't like to be alone with myself, I was in shock.
"What do you mean?" I asked, "I am often alone with myself!"
"No," she said. "You're not. You go home and you are alone, but then you turn on the TV or talk on the phone, or go on the internet. You are not alone with yourself, you are ENTERTAINING yourself."
I was so annoyed. It was one more thing to work on, learning how to enjoy my own company. A few years later, I went through a bad depression and would lie on my bed and not move. The good thing that came out of that, was that I didn't feel the need any longer, to entertain myself.
I could lie for hours on my bed. Staring at the walls, contemplating my life, where I was and where I wanted to be.
I could take an hour long bath and just lie there and enjoy soaking in the heat of the water.
I took a bath tonight and after about 10 minutes, I got bored.
I forced myself to stay in the bath, because the doctor told me that steam was good for me. But I didn't enjoy it, like I used to.
It's almost like I now have ADD. I can't focus on one thing for too long. I need constant change, constant going.
I guess that is what happened after children. I now have constant companions and I don't know how to just be alone with me anymore. I always want to be distracted by something and I can always create a distraction. Even if it means cleaning the floor with glands the size of plums. Which is what I am going to do tomorrow, because I know the penicillin will have kicked in by then and I should feel right as rain.
Plus, I don't think my "Boss" will give me more than a day off. Especially because he is at the beginning of an illness too. We have to take turns being sick, this being sick at the same time, just doesn't cut it. Next time, I will make sure to co-ordinate with him.
Again.
This is twice in the last six weeks that I have been truly ill.
It all started almost two weeks ago, when I developed a small cold. I always think that a cold for me, however, is a sinus infection. But it was affecting my voice, so I knew it was a little more serious. But I thought, hey, it's just a cold. It will pass.
I finished up my work week before the holidays and the cold still wasn't going away. I was really looking forward to the holiday, as I had a lot of things that I wanted to do, such as reorganize certain areas of the house, really clean and spend some time with my kids.
I woke up Sunday with a terrible sore throat.
"OK," I thought. "I have a sore throat. It will pass. But I should maybe go to the doctor."
Living on a yishuv means that going to the doctor is no easy decision. Fortunately I belong to a health care company who has an office on my yishuv. However, the doctor is only in every other day and at strange times, which I can never remember. And sometimes the hours change without me being aware of it. This was the case on Sunday. David was in Haifa and I was alone with the kids, well, my father is here, but he is also really sick. I sent Shmuel to check the office hours of the medical clinic and he came home to report that it was now. I had no energy to bundle up the kids and take them with me to the doctor, which meant that I had to wait until Tuesday morning.
"It's okay," I thought. "I am sure the sore throat will pass."
It didn't. And David had some things to do outside of the house, which meant that I had to be responsible for the children. Yesterday afternoon, he went to Jerusalem and I asked him to hurry home, because I really couldn't do it alone. I was exhausted and in pain.
So this morning, I went to visit my doctor, who informed me that I had a throat infection, probably strep, as my older daughter, Chaya, had this last week.
"Do you want a doctor's note for work?" he asked.
"I would like a doctor's note for my husband, informing him that his wife is sick and that she needs to rest." I said.
He didn't seem to quite understand what it was that I wanted and by then, the funny had disappeared.
Fortunately, David took the kids with him to Jerusalem this morning and I finally had some time to rest.
But guess what? I hate resting.
Which is strange, because I keep saying that my dream holiday would be to go to a hotel for three days, alone, with a bunch of books and watch TV, eat, sleep and read.
I have had the day to do exactly that. And I hate it. I was so bored. I made pesto for myself, did a bunch of loads of laundry, even folding two of the loads and putting them away. I did the dishes. I swept the floor. AND I read, watched TV. But no sleeping. Because I can no longer sleep during the day. Which really annoys me. I just can't.
When I heard the little voices downstairs at 2 pm, I have to admit, that I was happy. I don't like the quiet anymore, for too long. I am just not used to it anymore. It kind of freaks me out.
I remember a long time ago, when a mentor of mine pointed out that I didn't like to be alone with myself, I was in shock.
"What do you mean?" I asked, "I am often alone with myself!"
"No," she said. "You're not. You go home and you are alone, but then you turn on the TV or talk on the phone, or go on the internet. You are not alone with yourself, you are ENTERTAINING yourself."
I was so annoyed. It was one more thing to work on, learning how to enjoy my own company. A few years later, I went through a bad depression and would lie on my bed and not move. The good thing that came out of that, was that I didn't feel the need any longer, to entertain myself.
I could lie for hours on my bed. Staring at the walls, contemplating my life, where I was and where I wanted to be.
I could take an hour long bath and just lie there and enjoy soaking in the heat of the water.
I took a bath tonight and after about 10 minutes, I got bored.
I forced myself to stay in the bath, because the doctor told me that steam was good for me. But I didn't enjoy it, like I used to.
It's almost like I now have ADD. I can't focus on one thing for too long. I need constant change, constant going.
I guess that is what happened after children. I now have constant companions and I don't know how to just be alone with me anymore. I always want to be distracted by something and I can always create a distraction. Even if it means cleaning the floor with glands the size of plums. Which is what I am going to do tomorrow, because I know the penicillin will have kicked in by then and I should feel right as rain.
Plus, I don't think my "Boss" will give me more than a day off. Especially because he is at the beginning of an illness too. We have to take turns being sick, this being sick at the same time, just doesn't cut it. Next time, I will make sure to co-ordinate with him.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
My Brain no longer functions. I need some Gingko Biloba.
I made a huge mistake today. But let me start at the beginning.
This morning, my husband set off, fairly early in the morning, to fetch my father at the airport. The airport is about an hour or so drive from here, depending on traffic. He had gone early this AM to meet with a friend of his who was actually arriving today from South Africa. They met briefly and then my husband settled down to wait for my father, who was due to arrive at 11:15 am. At about 12:30, I phoned my husband, to ask if my father had come out yet.
"Nope, not yet" was the answer.
At 1 pm, my husband called me back and asked, "Are you sure he got on the plane?"
I answered indignantly "OF COURSE HE DID!!! If he didn't, he would have called."
We hung up the phone. 5 minutes later, I called back. "Isn't there someone you can ask, what is going on?"
Apparently, the only way you can find out, is to call the airport. Which is stupid, since my husband was actually AT THE AIRPORT. Why should he have had to CALL THE AIRPORT. But...this is Israel...
So, I quickly looked up the number on the internet and with my mind full of thoughts, like "Oh my G-d, for some reason, they have pulled my father to the side and are now searching him. And I know my Dad. After a long journey like this one, he will be overtired and grumpy and probably not very nice to the authorities, which might make it worse." I had thoughts of having to bail him out of jail. My next thought was that perhaps his Israeli passport wasn't up to date and they were giving him a hard time because of that.
I got through to someone at the airport who assured me that all passengers from the flight I had quoted had left the baggage area and made it through customs and immigration. Then she said "Are you sure he is coming today?"
Well...the NERVE!!! Like I don't know how to read an itinerary...
"OF COURSE HE IS COMING TODAY. I HAVE THE ITINERARY IN FRONT OF ME AND IT SAYS NOVEMBER 28, 2010. THAT IS TODAY, AM I CORRECT???" I said with a voice slightly raised, like a good Israeli!!!
"Well, you can call the Interior Ministry at the airport and see if there has been a security or immigration issue."
By this time, I had to go and pick up my daughter from preschool, so I hung up the phone, furious with this idiot of a woman who apparently has no idea who I am.
But her suggestion that I had the wrong day left a nagging feeling inside my head. What if she was right?
I got home and checked the itinerary. This is what it looks like:
EDMONTON/INTL TORONTO AIR CANADA 106 V 28 NOV 10 800A 135P OK
ARRIVES TERMINAL -1
NONSTOP FOOD TO PURCHASE FLYING TIME- 3:35
EQUIPMENT-E90
FREQUENT FLYER -AC 111239513 SEAT-16D
TORONTO TEL AVIV AIR CANADA 84 V 28 NOV 10 520P 1115A OKDEPARTS TERMINAL -1
ARRIVES TERMINAL -3
NONSTOP BREAKFAST-MEAL ARRIVE-29 NOV FLYING TIME-10:55
EQUIPMENT-BOEING 767-300
Now check out the first line of the second paragraph. That's the only part I read. Because the only part that was important to me was when he was arriving. It says 28 Nov 10 520 P 1115A. Which means arrival is at 11:15 am. I didn't bother to read the whole thing, which would have saved my husband a lot of trouble. And money for that matter. There is absolutely NO WAY that anyone can leave the Prairies in Canada at 8 am Canadian time and be in Israel at 11:15 our time ON THE SAME DAY!!!!
Sheepishly, I called my husband, told him my mistake and gave him my permission to come home.
NOW! Here's the amazing part. Even though he has to do this all over tomorrow morning, he came home, totally not even furious with me. Then, he even drove me and the girls to Efrat, some 20 minutes away, for pizza and then grocery shopping. Without a cross word or complaint.
I think my husband is a Tzaddik. Or, for you non Hebrew speakers - a Saint.
Perhaps tomorrow, my Father will actually be here. Who knows? Maybe he's not coming till Thursday!
This morning, my husband set off, fairly early in the morning, to fetch my father at the airport. The airport is about an hour or so drive from here, depending on traffic. He had gone early this AM to meet with a friend of his who was actually arriving today from South Africa. They met briefly and then my husband settled down to wait for my father, who was due to arrive at 11:15 am. At about 12:30, I phoned my husband, to ask if my father had come out yet.
"Nope, not yet" was the answer.
At 1 pm, my husband called me back and asked, "Are you sure he got on the plane?"
I answered indignantly "OF COURSE HE DID!!! If he didn't, he would have called."
We hung up the phone. 5 minutes later, I called back. "Isn't there someone you can ask, what is going on?"
Apparently, the only way you can find out, is to call the airport. Which is stupid, since my husband was actually AT THE AIRPORT. Why should he have had to CALL THE AIRPORT. But...this is Israel...
So, I quickly looked up the number on the internet and with my mind full of thoughts, like "Oh my G-d, for some reason, they have pulled my father to the side and are now searching him. And I know my Dad. After a long journey like this one, he will be overtired and grumpy and probably not very nice to the authorities, which might make it worse." I had thoughts of having to bail him out of jail. My next thought was that perhaps his Israeli passport wasn't up to date and they were giving him a hard time because of that.
I got through to someone at the airport who assured me that all passengers from the flight I had quoted had left the baggage area and made it through customs and immigration. Then she said "Are you sure he is coming today?"
Well...the NERVE!!! Like I don't know how to read an itinerary...
"OF COURSE HE IS COMING TODAY. I HAVE THE ITINERARY IN FRONT OF ME AND IT SAYS NOVEMBER 28, 2010. THAT IS TODAY, AM I CORRECT???" I said with a voice slightly raised, like a good Israeli!!!
"Well, you can call the Interior Ministry at the airport and see if there has been a security or immigration issue."
By this time, I had to go and pick up my daughter from preschool, so I hung up the phone, furious with this idiot of a woman who apparently has no idea who I am.
But her suggestion that I had the wrong day left a nagging feeling inside my head. What if she was right?
I got home and checked the itinerary. This is what it looks like:
EDMONTON/INTL TORONTO AIR CANADA 106 V 28 NOV 10 800A 135P OK
ARRIVES TERMINAL -1
NONSTOP FOOD TO PURCHASE FLYING TIME- 3:35
EQUIPMENT-E90
FREQUENT FLYER -AC 111239513 SEAT-16D
TORONTO TEL AVIV AIR CANADA 84 V 28 NOV 10 520P 1115A OKDEPARTS TERMINAL -1
ARRIVES TERMINAL -3
NONSTOP BREAKFAST-MEAL ARRIVE-29 NOV FLYING TIME-10:55
EQUIPMENT-BOEING 767-300
Now check out the first line of the second paragraph. That's the only part I read. Because the only part that was important to me was when he was arriving. It says 28 Nov 10 520 P 1115A. Which means arrival is at 11:15 am. I didn't bother to read the whole thing, which would have saved my husband a lot of trouble. And money for that matter. There is absolutely NO WAY that anyone can leave the Prairies in Canada at 8 am Canadian time and be in Israel at 11:15 our time ON THE SAME DAY!!!!
Sheepishly, I called my husband, told him my mistake and gave him my permission to come home.
NOW! Here's the amazing part. Even though he has to do this all over tomorrow morning, he came home, totally not even furious with me. Then, he even drove me and the girls to Efrat, some 20 minutes away, for pizza and then grocery shopping. Without a cross word or complaint.
I think my husband is a Tzaddik. Or, for you non Hebrew speakers - a Saint.
Perhaps tomorrow, my Father will actually be here. Who knows? Maybe he's not coming till Thursday!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Control
I have control issues. I know that may come as a shock to those of you who know me (like my parents, who I think are the only ones who read this blog anyway...). However, it is true. I have control issues. Just ask my parents. Well. You won't have to, because they will comment on this entry and confirm this.
This past week has been a lesson from the powers that be that I am not in control of much and how to accept it gracefully.
I don't like to be confronted with my inability to control people, places and things. Somewhere inside of me, I truly believe that if people would only listen to me and do exactly as I say, we all would be happier. Both you AND me!!!
It doesn't help that I am a Leo. Once I read a description of a leo. It said "You can always tell a Leo. They will be the ones at a dinner party who tell the hostess that the food was good but would probably be better if they just did such and such. And they will be right." So even the stars say that I know better. It's hard to fight against the stars...
So it's not my fault that I have control issues.
The other reason that I think that I have control issues, is because, in my opinion, both of my parents have control issues. They will deny this. Watch.
Neither of my parents do very well working for other people. They almost always come into conflict with other people at work, especially those who have authority over them. They do best when they are self employed.
I have pretty much been self employed my whole life. Except for a couple of stints working at restaurants. Which never went over very well. I was not a good waitress. So, I always went back to my old stand by. Childcare. It is something I can do on my own and nobody tells me what to do through out the day. It works for me.
I think it is also one of the reasons I opted for stand up as opposed to acting. In stand up, you are the writer, director, agent, producer, star.
I gravitated toward what I am a natural for.
Well, I am not so sure that the work thing is a problem with wanting to be in control or a problem with authority. It could be either, it could be both.
Either way, my opinion is that it isn't my fault. It is bad genes and being born under a bossy star sign.
I can't help it. I am bossy and controlling. If you don't like it, too bad!
This past week has been a lesson from the powers that be that I am not in control of much and how to accept it gracefully.
I don't like to be confronted with my inability to control people, places and things. Somewhere inside of me, I truly believe that if people would only listen to me and do exactly as I say, we all would be happier. Both you AND me!!!
It doesn't help that I am a Leo. Once I read a description of a leo. It said "You can always tell a Leo. They will be the ones at a dinner party who tell the hostess that the food was good but would probably be better if they just did such and such. And they will be right." So even the stars say that I know better. It's hard to fight against the stars...
So it's not my fault that I have control issues.
The other reason that I think that I have control issues, is because, in my opinion, both of my parents have control issues. They will deny this. Watch.
Neither of my parents do very well working for other people. They almost always come into conflict with other people at work, especially those who have authority over them. They do best when they are self employed.
I have pretty much been self employed my whole life. Except for a couple of stints working at restaurants. Which never went over very well. I was not a good waitress. So, I always went back to my old stand by. Childcare. It is something I can do on my own and nobody tells me what to do through out the day. It works for me.
I think it is also one of the reasons I opted for stand up as opposed to acting. In stand up, you are the writer, director, agent, producer, star.
I gravitated toward what I am a natural for.
Well, I am not so sure that the work thing is a problem with wanting to be in control or a problem with authority. It could be either, it could be both.
Either way, my opinion is that it isn't my fault. It is bad genes and being born under a bossy star sign.
I can't help it. I am bossy and controlling. If you don't like it, too bad!
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Bathing
I never thought that I would come to relish bathing as much as I have since I became a mother.
For me, bathing is like cleaning the kitchen floor. It gets done if I have the time and energy. And I am pretty sure that my kitchen floor gets mopped more often than I take a shower.
This past summer, we were between houses, as we had to leave our previous place at the end of June and our new place was only available on the first of August. Since David's father had passed away in June, his house in Haifa was empty. So we packed up the family and moved there. David left shortly after for China together with Shmuel and I was a month alone in Haifa, with the girls. Haifa has horrible weather. Because it is on the water, it is humid as hell. If one walks outside for two seconds, sweat develops and rolls down your body, like you are a human shower. It is terrible. I hate humidity.
So there we were, in David's childhood home, which does not come equipped with a bathtub. The only shower is stuck onto the wall of the bathroom and is not encased or separated from the rest of the bathroom. At the end of the day, when I needed to give the girls a shower, I would get in with them and the three of us would shower together. I realized after about a week, that it was probably the most I had showered in three years, since I gave birth to Chaya.
Usually, at home, I get busy. I go about my day, then the girls get a shower or bath, as does Shmuel and then by the time the three of them have been put in bed and then gotten up about 65 times for water, another story, pee, poo, a last minute snack and finally asleep, I collapse onto the sofa and have barely enough energy to make it to my bed. So a shower, although seemingly a nice idea, is just that, a nice idea. I don't have the energy left to walk another few steps and do what one needs to do in order to take a shower.
I really never thought that taking a shower would become a task where the amount of energy needed in order to do so would become too much for me.
Add to that, that in Israel, the hot water is solar heated. In the winter, in order to take a shower or bath, one must plan ahead. It takes about an hour to heat up enough water for a good bath, so I favor taking a shower before dark in order to maximise the hot water. However, taking a shower in the daytime, with small children is a juggling act. I have gone days without a shower. And then, all of a sudden, I raise my arms and think "Oh crap, I really need a shower." Because, if you can smell your own body odor, it really means that you are a disgusting pig who needs to bathe.
In Israel, however, body odor seems to be common. Especially in the summer. Because the heat is so atrocious, it is impossible not to sweat, humidity or desert, doesn't matter. And no deoderant works well enough to prevent the odor. Believe me, I know, I have tried. As a result, in the summer, it is easy to get away with not taking a shower. The winter, however, calls your bluff.
Last night, I was in the shower and I thought, "Wow, this is so nice, to take a shower before bed. I won't have to do it in the morning. The house is quiet, the kids are sleeping and I am clean! Good for me!!!" My second thought was "That is so weird Amanda. You shouldn't feel as if you have climbed Mount Everest just because you took a shower." But I did. I felt like I had secured peace between Israel and Palestine. Accomplished this impossible but world changing feat.
I almost called CNN, but my rational voice took over that said "You need to get out more darling." So I settled for putting on clean pajamas and cuddling under my duvet and drifting off to sleep, dreaming that I had won the Nobel Peace Prize for being an advocate for cleanliness.
For me, bathing is like cleaning the kitchen floor. It gets done if I have the time and energy. And I am pretty sure that my kitchen floor gets mopped more often than I take a shower.
This past summer, we were between houses, as we had to leave our previous place at the end of June and our new place was only available on the first of August. Since David's father had passed away in June, his house in Haifa was empty. So we packed up the family and moved there. David left shortly after for China together with Shmuel and I was a month alone in Haifa, with the girls. Haifa has horrible weather. Because it is on the water, it is humid as hell. If one walks outside for two seconds, sweat develops and rolls down your body, like you are a human shower. It is terrible. I hate humidity.
So there we were, in David's childhood home, which does not come equipped with a bathtub. The only shower is stuck onto the wall of the bathroom and is not encased or separated from the rest of the bathroom. At the end of the day, when I needed to give the girls a shower, I would get in with them and the three of us would shower together. I realized after about a week, that it was probably the most I had showered in three years, since I gave birth to Chaya.
Usually, at home, I get busy. I go about my day, then the girls get a shower or bath, as does Shmuel and then by the time the three of them have been put in bed and then gotten up about 65 times for water, another story, pee, poo, a last minute snack and finally asleep, I collapse onto the sofa and have barely enough energy to make it to my bed. So a shower, although seemingly a nice idea, is just that, a nice idea. I don't have the energy left to walk another few steps and do what one needs to do in order to take a shower.
I really never thought that taking a shower would become a task where the amount of energy needed in order to do so would become too much for me.
Add to that, that in Israel, the hot water is solar heated. In the winter, in order to take a shower or bath, one must plan ahead. It takes about an hour to heat up enough water for a good bath, so I favor taking a shower before dark in order to maximise the hot water. However, taking a shower in the daytime, with small children is a juggling act. I have gone days without a shower. And then, all of a sudden, I raise my arms and think "Oh crap, I really need a shower." Because, if you can smell your own body odor, it really means that you are a disgusting pig who needs to bathe.
In Israel, however, body odor seems to be common. Especially in the summer. Because the heat is so atrocious, it is impossible not to sweat, humidity or desert, doesn't matter. And no deoderant works well enough to prevent the odor. Believe me, I know, I have tried. As a result, in the summer, it is easy to get away with not taking a shower. The winter, however, calls your bluff.
Last night, I was in the shower and I thought, "Wow, this is so nice, to take a shower before bed. I won't have to do it in the morning. The house is quiet, the kids are sleeping and I am clean! Good for me!!!" My second thought was "That is so weird Amanda. You shouldn't feel as if you have climbed Mount Everest just because you took a shower." But I did. I felt like I had secured peace between Israel and Palestine. Accomplished this impossible but world changing feat.
I almost called CNN, but my rational voice took over that said "You need to get out more darling." So I settled for putting on clean pajamas and cuddling under my duvet and drifting off to sleep, dreaming that I had won the Nobel Peace Prize for being an advocate for cleanliness.
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