Swirling Thoughts #62 – I’m IN and Bob is YES Israeli already

I hear the staff in the consulate is dreamy
Well, I’ve got an appointment, anyway. As if the consulate people were sitting around reading my blog and realized they forgot to open up the appointments. In order to schedule the appointment, I had to name the baby (“Baby”) and give a birth date (I used the due date). They say to get to their (East Jerusalem) office early so you can go through security and to bring all your paperwork (filled out) or they won’t even put you through security. And if you’re late they cancel you. I am more nervous about getting to this appointment on time than I am about getting to the hospital to have the baby. Yeah, that’s normal.

People keep telling me stories about women who deliver themselves
The test run to the hospital has been rescheduled for next Monday, assuming the Grandis makes it through a second Saturday night without falling ill. The hospital is in the hills of Jerusalem. There is a curvy mountainous back road up to the hospital which we sort of know how to navigate but which I would prefer not to take if I am really truly in labor. Did I mention it is steep and quite curvy? The other way (which we’ll test out Monday) is via Jerusalem. Directions we’ve gotten involve a T-junction, a monster slide and a long road that gets skinnier and skinnier. The cool thing, which someone pointed out to me, after asking which hospital I will deliver in, is that no matter what, it will be in Jerusalem. As much as I already knew that, it never really registered. Be’H, my sabra will be born in Ir HaKodesh. And please, Gd, in time for the consulate appointment.

"If the khamsin blows for three days in succession a man has the right to kill his wife; five days, his best friend; seven days, himself." ‘old Arabic expression
We have a friend who’s a real weather guy. He explained to us about something technical and weather related that goes on in September over the Indian Ocean which, in turn, blows REALLY HOT WINDS into Israel in the fall. I expected the hot winds in September but they never materialized. Until now. There are different names for it – khamsin or sharav –scorchingly hot, dry desert wind which blows for two to five days at a time. Even Bob agreed. Until now I never heard him say the words. This Shabbat he said it twice. “It’s really hot!”

I keep offering Bob silk scarves to wrap around his neck in the house (like the old ladies in shul do) - to keep him warm as I try to keep myself cool. He just looks at me and says, "Pshhhhhhhhh"
When I was training for the half-marathon in New York (side note: training interrupted by pregnancy) my favorite running weather was between 36°F and 42°F (the latter being on the warm side). Anything warmer was passable but I could never get the right mix of layered clothing to stay comfortable for a good long run. Fast forward to Bob’s plane landing in New York this morning. This whole past week, Bob couldn’t wrap his brain around the weather difference. He insisted on wearing shorts and shep sheps (sandalim) on the plane. I warned him he’s become Israeli already – you know – complaining about the bone-chilling cold when it drops below 60°F. I’ve been listening to him complain about the ceiling fans since August – there’s no way he’s going to be happy in New York in shorts and shep sheps. Anyway, it’s a mind blowing 100°F in Efrat today. Most definitely the hottest day since we’ve been here. The wind itself is hot so that even if you find a shady windy spot, there is no respite. And so, from the comfort of my air conditioned car, I phoned Bob. I could hear him shivering over the phone. He was not even out the door at JFK and he was shaking. “It’s…freezing….here!” I had visions of us returning from Florida during mid-winter vacation and my father-in-law bringing blankets into the airport to cover up the kids in their strollers because it was 10° outside. I thought of Bob in his shorts and cringed. Then I came in and checked the weather in New York. It’s 50°F.
Pshhhhhhhhh!