When we hosted bar-b-q during hol hamoed Sukkot I ran to ShefaShuk to buy beef hot dogs. I searched the shelves high and low. I found them in the back. The ones that didn’t say AUF (chicken) or HODU (turkey). The ones that said VIENER must be beef. Or so I thought. Until one of my guests commented that he doesn’t eat any chicken, including chicken hot dogs. No, no, I protested. These said Viener! Chicken, he told me. Unless they say something to the effect of Viener Amerikayim they are still chicken. What a let down.
When the midnight delivery butcher shop called to see if I want to place an order this week I remembered that they have the best beef hot dogs in town. And so, in addition to steak (which I can’t wait to try), roast (which feels downright indulgent, even for Shabbat) and several different forms of chicken (because I’m really trying), I ordered two packages. The lady on the phone was very apologetic. She didn’t have any more chicken hot dogs. Only the kind that come from the egel (cow). This might have been a Twilight Zone moment if we were speaking to each other in English. The Hebrew kept me grounded in my new reality. And so I clarified for her. I wanted the beef hot dogs. Two packages of them. The ones from the egel, yes.
When I brought the kids in to the Kupat doctor she demanded to know which of them she’d seen before. None, I told her. But she insisted. I reminded her I’d been here the day before – for my blood work. Ah, yes. She had the results of my blood work. My iron is low. I am anemic. That explains my fatigue. But how isn’t this entire chicken eating country anemic? That’s what I want to know.
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