You know what I want to do? Eat lots of cereal and then go to sleep and then wake up and eat more cereal and then watch a movie and then go to sleep and after that eat cereal. I don’t want to go out of the house all day. Just eat cereal and sleep and watch movies and play computer games all the time.
What made you think of that, sweetie? Did you see someone do that?
Yeah. My babysitter in San Francisco
….My four-year-old son Raphael…
Today, Rapha & I visited a friend who lives on Pines Street.
In the transliteration of the word from Hebrew to English, it is spelled as above.
In Hebrew, however, it is pronounced “penis” as in the male organ.
To catch Raphael’s reaction – after all, he is four and things like body parts and bodily functions amuse him to no end – I randomly stopped someone and asked: “Excuse me, can you tell me where Penis Street is?”
Rapha burst into laughter and doubled over. “Penis Street?!? Penis Street?!? Mom, did you just say PENIS STREET?!?“
More laughter as I nodded yes.
“Excuse me,” he calls after the poor innocent Israeli scratching his head as he quickly scurries away. “Can you tell me where Poo Poo Street is? Hey Hey! Where is Butt Street?”
Sheesh. Four-year-olds. Can’t take them into the public realm whatsoever.
See this little kid?
So did I this morning en route to taking Rapha to kindergarten.
See how it looks like his toochas might be hanging out?
It is.
And no, I have no idea either. And neither does the woman to his left holding the purse, for that matter.
Why would someone’s mother take him for a bare toochas walk down a busy city street? Got me.
Or on the same theme, why would a seemingly together, non-inebriated/non-homeless guy sitting the next table over at a city cafe spit such an utterly gutturally horrific loogie into the potted plant beside him as to evoke the gag reflex and morbid curiosity surrounding his clearly un-gentrified upbringing?
I’m having a difficult time coming to terms with Holy Land Central these days. Indeed I am.
Happy Hebrew Calendar New Year to any and all comrades that celebrate (& those that don’t)
Ours was busy. Friday night at a former colleague’s for dinner. Beautiful setting out in the country, thirty+ people, flowing wine, flowing conversation, very good vibe, chill. Caught up with numerous people I hadn’t seen in over a decade and met new ones. The not so good news: Many in attendance are top journalists who have been living in this region for ions. Some have been traveling in and out of Baghdad and neighboring countries for years. The consensus: The outlook for these parts ain’t so good, mein kinder. Some are actively gearing up for the next showdown. Did I tell anyone anything they didn’t know? Probably not.
Saturday night, another chill get-together at the Friday Soup Salon Lady’s aka Dotty. Only this time she prepared a full on meal- incredibly moist stuffed chicken, sweet potato/regular potato mix, carrot soup… and it was fab. Other writer types in attendance included the coolio artist/writer Dan, the quick-witted Noorster and the benevolent Miriam, Dorothy’s close friend. There were others – about 10 of us, I think – and the feel was good.
Now it’s back to business as usual, whatever that means. I will post about landlords SOON because after reading both noorster and yael’s documented experiences and going through my own FUN for the past year, I’m convinced we’re on alien terrain when it comes to matters of housing and the tenant/landlord relationship. But that’s another day.
Tia for now.
A few days ago I wrote/joked about going for medical tests in the middle of the night.
Alas, I was being coy. With so much doom and gloom on the blog front lately – dog dying, cat disappearing and re-appearing, apartment burgled, etc. – I didn’t want to go down more of the same dark tunnel.
THE TEST was actually a Cat Scan. I have a pretty virulent strain of glaucoma in one eye and my treating medical specialist was somewhat alarmed by the severity due to my relatively young age vis a vis the disease and the fact that it’s only affecting one eye.
So that’s what the fuss was all about. He ordered up a CT to ensure there was nothing adding to pressure behind the eye.
Now I will share that I was extremely nervous. And thinking about the end and all of that morose stuff.
But results are in and apparently I am tumor-free. Yahoo! Just in time for New Year. Praise the Lord (not that I’m religious or anything)
Riding home from Jaffa today on the bus with Rapha, we began dueling with a straw (me) and the stick end of a balloon-on-a-stick (Rapha).
We were way at the back of the bus and it was half full. It was one of those double coaches meant to carry masses.
Suddenly, the balloon part of Rapha’s “sword” popped. Loudly. Echoing throughout.
The driver slowed and many heads turned.
OMG! dawned with the implications of what had just happened.
When a balloon is not just a balloon.
Coffee’ing in Tel Aviv this morning, I glanced over at this older woman sitting at the adjoining table. And noticed her arm.
Sometimes you forget things like that here in HLC. That there are people – your neighbors – who at one point in time lived the reality of work camps, death marches, gas chambers and tattoed arm numbers.
You forget but I can testify that when you glance over and remember, it’s shocking.
Okay, now everyone. Pope Benedict apologized. Publicly.
So please, please, please let’s not do a rehash of the Danish cartoon aftermath.
No rioting, public car burnings, embassy stormings or church defacings.
And let’s not take him to task vis a vis demanding a personal apology, you know I mean you Muslim Brotherhood. You want he should go house to house? The Vatican issued a statement. From him.
Yes, times are tense right now but be the bigger party and walk away Let’s leave it at that and not inflame.
your friend, Stef
Older woman at crowded Tel Aviv supermarket checkout:
Well I’ll be. How can my bill be this high? Did I spend that much on these few things? Let me see. I’ll have to go through this and make sure it’s correct
Lady, you need to take your receipt over to the side and look at it there. You’re holding up the entire line.
If I want to stand here and check my grocery bill then that’s what I’ll do! Don’t you tell me what to do! Young people. So rude!
****five minutes later at busy intersection outside supermarket***
Same mature woman:
Do you feel better now that you rushed me? Here we both are at the same time so I see it did you a lot of good. Now help me cross the street. I don’t see well and I’m afraid I’ll fall
(yeah, of course I helped her)
Stefanella's Drive Thru 