Now that bain hazmanim (loosely translated: 'summer') has officially started, my days have been a whirlwind of errand running, school supply shopping, and of course - work.
There's nothing like 80 women with double strollers crowding into the streets of Geula in 110 degree whether to fight to the death, using pocketbooks as weaponry if need be, over the last 15 shekel glue stick. (Same glue stick at Staples: .19 cents.)
I took a bus ride with my daughter yesterday to the mall to get her earrings fixed.
The bus was quite crowded and we were standing and holding onto a poll. The bus stopped and the two front seats became available.
"Ma! There are seats there! Let's go!"
"We can't, dear. Those seats are for old people."
"But Ma, you ARE old."
Thanks, kid.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Only In Israel, Only Me
There are certain things that I believe would only happen in Israel. An obviously secular cab driver expounding Erev Shabbos divrei Torah, an elderly woman yelling at you to put a hat on your child, only to have her friend yell at you to take the hat off your child, and so on.
Then there are certain things that would only happen to me. Things like walking across a crowded wedding dance floor only to land on my bottom. And of course, the previously discussed chicken underwear fiasco.
Not several moments ago, I had one such experience. My husband and I usually do our monthly shopping together. I don't trust him to get the correct things, and by the last aisles I can no longer push the cart(s!) on my own, so it's usually a combined effort. What with summer vacation, I stayed home with the kids today and tentatively sent my husband shopping this morning bracing myself for things like marzipan nuggets and olive chips ("But dear! It was on sale!").
Well as dusk turned to twilight, and the delivery still hadn't arrived, I started to get antsy. My husband opened our front door to go to Maariv, and low and behold, there lay a pile of 10 large garbage bags full of groceries, as well as several packages and cartons. We start dragging in the bags until we notice a large puddle of liquid at our doorstep. We start to search the bags frantically for what might have cracked or burst. After several maniacal minutes of flailing foodstuffs, we stood there, befuddled, staring down the mysterious liquid wondering what on earth it could be.
I strike upon a genius idea. I'll smell it. I get down on my hands and knees, (My workout for the day.) I gingerly put my nose to the ground, and I inhale deeply. It wasn't sweet, but it wasn't sour. It smelled sort of tangy, if you will. My husband, ever the active participant, decided to be as helpful as possible by standing there and calling out foods. "Is it juice? Is it toothpaste? Is it sprite? Is it marzipan?"
"No..."
"Soy sauce? BBQ sauce? Duck sauce? Oil?"
"No..."
"Shampoo! Ketchup! Wine! Fabric softener!"
As I'm prostrated there on my doorstep, nostrils pressed to the floor, husband excitedly yelling out random groceries, as if participating in some sort of foodie-themed charades, my upstairs neighbor's 8 year old daughter comes bounding up the steps, takes one look at me, and said, "That's cat pish. I saw him do it." and continues on her way.
Only in Israel.
Only me.
Then there are certain things that would only happen to me. Things like walking across a crowded wedding dance floor only to land on my bottom. And of course, the previously discussed chicken underwear fiasco.
Not several moments ago, I had one such experience. My husband and I usually do our monthly shopping together. I don't trust him to get the correct things, and by the last aisles I can no longer push the cart(s!) on my own, so it's usually a combined effort. What with summer vacation, I stayed home with the kids today and tentatively sent my husband shopping this morning bracing myself for things like marzipan nuggets and olive chips ("But dear! It was on sale!").
Well as dusk turned to twilight, and the delivery still hadn't arrived, I started to get antsy. My husband opened our front door to go to Maariv, and low and behold, there lay a pile of 10 large garbage bags full of groceries, as well as several packages and cartons. We start dragging in the bags until we notice a large puddle of liquid at our doorstep. We start to search the bags frantically for what might have cracked or burst. After several maniacal minutes of flailing foodstuffs, we stood there, befuddled, staring down the mysterious liquid wondering what on earth it could be.
I strike upon a genius idea. I'll smell it. I get down on my hands and knees, (My workout for the day.) I gingerly put my nose to the ground, and I inhale deeply. It wasn't sweet, but it wasn't sour. It smelled sort of tangy, if you will. My husband, ever the active participant, decided to be as helpful as possible by standing there and calling out foods. "Is it juice? Is it toothpaste? Is it sprite? Is it marzipan?"
"No..."
"Soy sauce? BBQ sauce? Duck sauce? Oil?"
"No..."
"Shampoo! Ketchup! Wine! Fabric softener!"
As I'm prostrated there on my doorstep, nostrils pressed to the floor, husband excitedly yelling out random groceries, as if participating in some sort of foodie-themed charades, my upstairs neighbor's 8 year old daughter comes bounding up the steps, takes one look at me, and said, "That's cat pish. I saw him do it." and continues on her way.
Only in Israel.
Only me.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Tisha B'Av
Wishing all my readers an easy and meaningful fast.
I remember how meaningful shul on Tisha B'av used to be for me. With 4 young children now it just doesn't happen. Instead, I watch certain movies on www.Kiruv.org. There's a particularly moving one about the holocaust that has sort of become my Tisha B'av tradition, and it gets to me every time.
As busy mothers, just because we can't be in shul like we used to, we can still do everything we can at home to get into the proper mindset.
May Tisha B'av soon be restored to a Yom Tov speedily in our day.
I remember how meaningful shul on Tisha B'av used to be for me. With 4 young children now it just doesn't happen. Instead, I watch certain movies on www.Kiruv.org. There's a particularly moving one about the holocaust that has sort of become my Tisha B'av tradition, and it gets to me every time.
As busy mothers, just because we can't be in shul like we used to, we can still do everything we can at home to get into the proper mindset.
May Tisha B'av soon be restored to a Yom Tov speedily in our day.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Coupons!
Who doesn't love to coupons? I'm going to be one of those annoying little old women taking half an hour at the express checkout while I present 12 coupons for 4 items including discount prunes.
Anyways, this website is amazing! Everything from Cheerios to Listerine. Just print and shop!
Website: CLICK HERE AND SAVE!
Anyways, this website is amazing! Everything from Cheerios to Listerine. Just print and shop!
Website: CLICK HERE AND SAVE!
Wrong Number!
I've had another 3 wrong number calls this morning and frankly, I'm fed up.
Apparently, my phone number is just one digit off from both a local funeral home and the most popular neighborhood burger joint. Just imagine the enormous burden this places on my monolingual shoulders. One wrong answer to, "Is my fifth order free?" can have catastrophic results.
From now on I'm just going to answer the phone with a neutral 'May I take your order?' so as not to offend either party.
Can I get you fries with that?
Apparently, my phone number is just one digit off from both a local funeral home and the most popular neighborhood burger joint. Just imagine the enormous burden this places on my monolingual shoulders. One wrong answer to, "Is my fifth order free?" can have catastrophic results.
From now on I'm just going to answer the phone with a neutral 'May I take your order?' so as not to offend either party.
Can I get you fries with that?
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Some Assembly Required
My son's Birthday present arrived yesterday. He had been asking for a certain Playmobil set pretty much from the moment he blew out last year's birthday candles.
The box says, "Requires one and a half hours of assembly". They must be referring to a team of Japanese neuroscientists because there's no way the average layperson can put that thing together without a PhD and a nap.
Well...no less then four hours and several mishaps later, it was all set up and now he's happy. Until he starts kvetching about what he wants for his next birthday.
The box says, "Requires one and a half hours of assembly". They must be referring to a team of Japanese neuroscientists because there's no way the average layperson can put that thing together without a PhD and a nap.
Well...no less then four hours and several mishaps later, it was all set up and now he's happy. Until he starts kvetching about what he wants for his next birthday.
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