Swirling Thoughts #233 Who's more Israeli than me?

If you asked me yesterday, I would say nothing here surprises me anymore. Someone did ask me yesterday about my blog. What could I tell them without sounding stoic. I can’t write a blog about hilarious Israeli idiosyncrasies that catch the unsuspecting American by surprise because I’ve seen it all – the multi-racial mascot on the package of chocolate and vanilla cake, the 9-year olds taking 6- and 3-year olds to the park, the cashier’s limp hand dropping a shopping bag in my general direction so that I should be better able to quickly bag up my own groceries, the parking lots with entrances (but no obvious exits) into dead end mazes – I’m used to it. I stopped recognizing those types of things as strange.

I like to think I’m less American now, more Israeli. American, in this context, is both literal - seeing things through American lenses - and a euphemism for 'not totally acclimated to life in Israel'.  I  make fun of Bob – since he travels, I say he’s been here just about half as long as me.  When things strike him as odd I tease him for being so American still.

But then today happened.  

And suddenly it’s like I just fell off the Nefesh b’Nefesh flight. Like I’m still in the airport in a delirious tailspin wondering if I made the right choice between the four national health insurance providers. Feeling So. Very. American.

What happened?

My oldest daughter left the house yesterday morning at 5:30am to get a ride to meet the school bus for her class trip – an overnight somewhere in the north. Mind you, I start out so very Israeli in the beginning of the story, not sweating the details, knowing it’s all under control, that my independent daughter can handle her packing, her transportation, her trip-related responsibilities.

She called me an hour later from a friend’s phone to let me know she’d lost her phone, probably in her friend’s dad’s car. I told her not to worry.

Next I heard from her was 9 o’clock this morning. She called from a counselor’s phone to let me know she is sick with fever. And that she is in Katzrin (4 hours north of Efrat). And that she was told the best thing to do was to take a bus from Katzrin to Tiberias, from Tiberias to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem to Efrat.

Me: They want you to go alone with fever for 4 hours on an Egged bus?

She explained how it was 40 degrees Celcius (104F) in Katzrin and there was no way she could stay in the campground or go on the tiyul or sit on the school bus.

The air conditioned Egged bus was sounding better already.

She needed to hang up and I used the opportunity to quickly consult with an Experienced Friend.

Me: Babs needs to get home from the tiyul in Katzrin. She has fever. They want to send her on the Egged bus. She doesn’t have a phone. Is that okay?

Experienced Friend, clearly understanding my hesitation: Listen - it’s Israel. She will be okay. She can borrow someone’s phone on the bus if she has to reach you. Send her on the bus. It will be fine.

OMG.

I called the number from which she had last called me. The madricha (counselor) answered. I told her to make sure Barbara left with money and Tylenol.

Suddenly she called me from a new number to let me know her friend had loaned her a phone. I wished her a good trip and thought to myself it’s good she will arrive home before Bob even wakes up in NY because if he knew this was going on I don’t think he could handle it.

As she told me later, she did have a good first leg of the trip. The bus was filled with older Russian Israeli women all speaking to each other in Russian. The driver took a most scenic route, down the eastern side of the Kineret and back up to Tiberias.

When she called me from the Central Bus Station in Tiberias to tell me she had a 2 hour wait for the Jerusalem bus I cringed. At this point, I know for certain, Bob would have FREAKED OUT.

Me: Stay near soldiers. And women with babies.

Two hours is a long time for a 15 year old with fever and a suitcase to be loitering in a bus station. In any country.

As it turns out she found a group of English speaking tourists. Christians from South Africa doing a Global Challenge where they spend a year visiting every country in the world carrying just their backpacks and living as locals.

She helped them figure out the bus schedule and eventually they all boarded the crowded bus to Jerusalem (after which they were moving on to Bethlehem).

Three hours later I met her at the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem.

On the way I had called back Experienced Friend because I just had to understand what was happening.

Me: my daughter is on a tiyul in the north, is SICK WITH FEVER, and they send her home alone on an Egged bus?

Experienced Friend: Yup.

Me: No teacher calls me?

EF: Nope.

Me: This is normal?

EF: This is Israel. Kids are independent. Kid gets sick on a tiyul, they put that kid on a bus home.

Me: Wow. Just wow.

And so I finally got my independent Israeli teenager back. She had been ready to take yet another bus back to Efrat and was none the worse for the wear, excited to tell me about all the old ladies and young tourists she’d met along the way. Also she was thrilled to have gotten a map from the (fancier than Egged) bus she took out of Katzrin. She looked a little worn but she clearly was okay.

When I told Bob the story via Face Time I could see his mind working, thinking how he would have reacted if he’d been here. He looked pretty freaked out as we spoke!

About 7 hours later as she lay on the floor and I recognized the tell-tale signs of dehydration, I was grateful she was home. I was sure to include the fact that she’d made a four hour bus trip alone from the north with fever on a 40C day part of the intake at the local medical center when we went for some IV fluids, and she got the requisite sympathy from the American nurse and doctor. Except she didn’t need it. Only I did.

swirling thoughts #230 LESS is MORE (on expectations and happiness) as illustrated by the Toshiba situation

It started out with a brief email conversation between me and Bob from Israel to New York.

Toshiba laptop battery not holding a charge. Pls advise.  

A week later we revisited the Toshiba situation with customer service. A benign phone call from Bob’s home office would have gone unnoticed if Bob’s office wasn't also the bomb shelter and a rocket alert hadn't also sounded mid-call. Continuing his call, now with an audience of 7, Bob quickly realized Toshiba was less than amenable to helping us fix the laptop in Israel (and as such, the kids got a lot of giggles when Bob told the customer service rep that, although she had been most pleasant to deal with, he was VERY DISAPPOINTED in Toshiba). The kids laughed about this for days.

Many animated phone calls and emails later, it turns out a Toshiba laptop CAN be fixed in Israel. Fast forward to today. Our big adventure. A Bob and Lisa special day. First we figured out that the Toshiba service center in Petah Tikva was closer than the one in Netanya. Funny that neither of us instinctively knew this. Then we phoned ahead. They assured us it would be no problem to diagnose and fix the computer. Based on that assurance, we lowered our expectations accordingly. 

Bob said he'll be happy if they don't take the computer for 2 weeks. 

I said I'll be happy if they don't break it more.

We both agreed we'll be pleased if we arrive at the address and there really is a Toshiba repair shop there.

I recently pointed out the difference between new Israelis and veteran Israelis is all in their level of expectations of customer service. When you lower your expectations, you will just be happier!

On our drive to Petah Tikva we passed a Coca Cola tanker. We had passed a tehine tanker on our last "getaway" to the Carmel Spa (definition of “getaway” has been somewhat broadened). We debated then whether or not the tanker was filled with tehine (I said yes) or oil with a tehine advertisement on the truck (Bob’s argument).  We never settled that debate. This time, however, I think I made a strong case that the Coca Cola tanker was indeed filled with the syrupy beverage when, just after we saw it, we passed a Coca Cola distribution center. I mean, come on! What are the chances?

Toshiba was exactly where the GPS said it would be. Parking was as expected - more than one turn into a promising lot resulting in several minutes of awkward backward maneuvering to exit said (full) lot. We found a 13 nis/2 hour lot right next to a 15 nis/full day lot but chose the former as it was slightly less full. The attendant, a woman who could have easily been one of Bob’s Tel Aviv aunts, asked how long we'll be.

Bob: I just don't know!
Attendant: Well, it has to be less than two hours.
Bob: It could be 20 minutes. Or it could be 2 days!
Attendant, laughing: 2 days? Go home!
Bob, explaining: We have to fix the computer so it could also be that I won't survive the ordeal and then someone else will need to pick up the car.
Attendant, laughing: For a computer it's not worth it. Buy a new one!

And so we went. And they took the computer and sent us to lunch.

Toshiba lady: We will fix it now. Go get lunch.

Bob: We only have 2 hrs parking! What does now mean?

Toshiba lady: Don't worry. Now means now. It will be ready before 2 hours.

And so we had lunch. Breakfast really.

Me: Do you think they will have fixed the computer when we go back?

Bob: No. I think they will be out on lunch break when we go back.  

Alas they DID fix the computer (note: this was not even on our radar as a remote possibility!). We got the computer and left Petah Tikvak in exactly 2 hours. And spent the rest of the day HERE. 

 

Thank you, Toshiba!

While bob did point out that the El Al business class seats are more comfortable than our beach lounges (a post on the sub-culture of commuters another time), it turned out to be a day that exceeded all expectations. A true getaway!

And guess what?

http://www.answers.com/Q/How_is_coca_cola_transported

swirling thoughts #229 Am Yisrael Chai

dear boys,

like every single Jew i pray for your immediate and safe return.

but even when that prayer is answered (please Gd!), you will have missed out, because of your captivity, on simply experiencing the world through your senses these last many days. i wish to share that sensory experience with you so that it’s not as if you missed it all. because for us, you are here, breathing the same air. why shouldn’t you see, smell, feel, taste and hear all that’s been going on outside............

i see.

i see glimpses of the heavenly sparks that reside in the souls of my friends and neighbors – as we greet each other with a knowing look and take leave of each other, somewhat strengthened from the shared emotion, eyes filled with prayer and hope.

i see chayalim.

chayalim from the tzafon. chayalim from the darom. chayalim from the merkaz. chayalim with optimistic smiles and, maybe because of their young age, a tender demeanor that i recognize from my own children.

i see degel yisrael.

i see our roads and our tachanot decorated with our proud flag. many, many flags. speaking of tachanot, every local bus stop/trempiada is adorned with hand painted murals proclaiming “Am Yisrael Chai”.  

i see you.

pictures of you and your full hebrew names. i see you on facebook. i see you in the newspaper. i see you at ma’arat hamachpela. i see you at the kotel. i see you outside rami levy and i see you at the matnas.  all over israel there are photos, beautiful photos capturing your happiest smiles, and a degel yisrael with your faces imposed on it has been created to let the world know there is no separating the jewish people from three of its boys. or maybe it was created as a welcome home banner. in any case, you’ll see that for yourself, soon enough, please Gd.

i smell the smell of bar-b-q.

last night soldiers camped out in the local branches of b’nei akiva and ezra, welcomed by everyone. people just wanting to strengthen this team of brothers that is searching the judean hills day and night for you, their brothers. and also we get strength from them.

i feel the warm embrace of am yisrael and jews abroad.
while physically i feel real embraces -  from my smallest to biggest child (not wanting to miss an opportunity to hold them close) and from each friend i see as we busy ourselves with activities we pray will prove meaningful in bringing about your return. activities including communal prayer. supplying the pina chama. raising the overall level of chesed in our lives to, please Gd, effect a change in this harsh decree.

i taste tears.

this will probably continue even after you return but i welcome those tears – tears reminiscing how we longed for your return. you were torn from your mothers’ arms but we are all mothers. you are, each of you, a precious pikadon on this earth from haKadosh Baruch Hu. our purpose is one with your mothers who were initially charged with guarding and raising you.  bringing you back is the only thing. for each one of us.

and i hear.

of all the senses, hearing is the one most fraught with the sort of incongruous emotions we are experiencing all at once. i hear my children playing while i recite tehillim through tears. i hear soldiers greeting each other and greeting local residents and it has the feeling of the first day of summer camp – the excitement and the uncertainty. later i hear sirens. sometimes total silence. we go to sleep and wake up to the relentless dull hum of drones scouring the hilltops and the wadis for signs of you. there are noises of life as usual – construction equipment chipping away at bedrock, ice-cream truck jingles signaling the start and finish of school, cars beeping, and smachot – graduations, weddings, britot, bar mitzvahs – each containing tefilot for your immediate and safe return.

the smachot feel surreal. but they continue as a testament, please Gd, to your return to the cycle of life – graduations, weddings, britot, bar mitzvahs.  and to all the sensory experiences they entail.

sincerely,

lisa m.

chayalim – soldiers

tzafon – north

darom – south

mercaz – central israel

degel yisrael – the israeli flag

tachanot – bus stops/hitchhiking posts

trempiada – hitchhiking post

Am Yisrael Chai – the nation of israel lives

ma’arat hamachpela – cave of the patriarchs

kotel – western wall

rami levy – a supermarket franchise in israel

matnass – local community center

b’nei akiva & ezra – youth group movements

pina chama – a volunteer run cafe for soldiers to stop in for home-baked goodies, coffee or slushie 

chesed – acts of kindess

pikadon – something on loan

haKadosh Baruch Hu - Hashem

tehillim - psalms

smachot – happy celebrations

britot – circumcision celebrations

tefilot - prayers

Swirling Thoughts #227 - an Israeli in London

[random weather tidbit:
Every weather change in Israel seems to be preceded by a sandstorm. Even with closed windows, Israeli homes gather dust at an amazing pace.]

After spending four years analyzing Israel through American (but really Brooklyn) eyes, I had the opportunity to visit London. For four brief days I couldn’t help but analyze the capital of her majesty’s royal kingdom through my now mostly Israeli but still Brooklyn eyes.

Everyone told us the department stores were a sight to behold - everything so mesudar (orderly) and CLEAN. I didn't really get what they meant. Weren't our department stores in New York and in Israel orderly and clean? Were my standards so low so as to not realize? And then we visited our first London department store, Marks & Spencer and I had my answer: Apparently and definitively yes.

Next we decided to ride the subway. But it's called the tube. There are lots of posters and signs in the station. Including this one, fundraising for bees.

Instinctively, we looked for rats on the tracks while we waited for our train. (This seemingly bizarre behavior is a known habit/pastime of all subway-traveling New Yorkers).  Not only were there none (NOT ONE RAT!), but in fact, you could eat off those tube tracks. There was not a drop of garbage on the tracks. But there were also no garbage cans. Which means Londoners CARRY THEIR GARBAGE WITH THEM UNTIL THEY FIND A CAN. I believe not littering is the modern understanding of Admiral Nelson’s 1805 signal to the British people: "England expects that every man will do his duty."

 

The juxtaposition of proper decorum (the people were extremely polite!) with pride in a history of sophisticated torture devices and beheadings left me with the not so subtle message that littering in the tube station carries a serious consequence.

And so I carried my garbage with me. Sort of. Not being a native Londoner, and perhaps not properly fearing the reprisal of doing such, at one point I started looking around for a place to set some garbage down. At that very moment, what I can only describe as a fairy angel in a uniform swooped down in front of me holding an open garbage bag. I kid you not.

We did all the touristy stuff. Including a bus tour with a cockney accented guide whose English we barely understood save for the part about how a certain show was so funny she "nearly wet herself." Apparently this is something Brits say. The highlight of our trip was Barbara doing barefoot back-flips across the lawn at Hampton Court. 

 

Grass is a really big deal for Israelis. Myself included:

Our trip concluded with the joyous realization that Heathrow Airport is littered with Cadbury vending machines. It was those very vending machines that welcomed me back to Heathrow exactly one month later on a connecting flight from New York. This time, extremely harried as I raced from terminal to terminal in order to catch a connection that would bring me into Tel Aviv just hours before Shabbat, I inadvertently left my laptop in a grey tub at security. I was on the road to Bet Shemesh before I realized it.

And so began Operation Get My Computer Back from London. With the polite and expeditious TSA workers in Heathrow, I actually believed filing a claim with the on-line lost and found system would yield results. Every day I called. Every day I was politely put on hold while someone "went to check" in the warehouse. "I'll go check" must be code for "it's tea time."

After about a week of playing polite Londoner I reverted to aggressive New Yorker/Israeli, explaining to a Brit named Bob that I would wait on the phone for as long as it takes while they check the warehouse.  I joked about how my husband is also named Bob to keep things light as he checked through the inventory. Finally he found a Sony laptop. "Does it have any identifying features?"

"Can you turn it on?"

"It is out of power."

"Hmmm." I thought for a good minute while British Bob waited. What could possibly distinguish my black-ish grey-ish Sony laptop from any other? As I noticed the approaching sandstorm from the living room window I quickly had my answer.

"The computer is very dusty. The screen, the keys, the whole thing."

"Yes! Then this is clearly your computer."

Eureka. I knew no self-respecting Brit would expect for a computer to be so dirty!

From there we had it set aside for a friend to pick up. My friend lives in Israel but travels to London for work. And he is British. When he got back to Israel he called to tell me he had my computer. But he wasn't quite sure it was actually mine. "Lisa - I have a computer here but..." he hesitated, sounding embarrassed, "well...it's just SO. VERY. DIRTY!"

Swirling Thoughts #228 - the mail keeps coming

Every few weeks I collect it.

This system hasn't improved much over the past five years - even if I do try to decipher the important looking stuff and even if my kids actually sit and read the magazines/circulars that arrive in Hebrew.  For some reason, I'm just never in a rush to collect a pile of making-me-feel-stupid.

As luck would have it, the last mail pickup contained an ominous looking letter from the government. I've been expecting an ominous letter from the police for about a year regarding a ticket I think I protested. (I think I protested it because even though I sent it in, and even called to follow up and was told not to do anything until I am contacted, I'm pretty sure once they do contact me it will be to put me in jail for failure to pay the fine or properly protest the ticket). So I naturally assumed the ominous government letter was my police letter. I decoded words like PAY and CANCELLED and LICENSE. There were deadlines - dates that had, of course, long passed while said scary letter sat in the mailbox. Also, the letter was addressed only to me. I showed it to Bob. 

"That looks scary."

"I know! I think it's from the police. I think they want to put me in jail. Can you read it?"

"You go to ulpan! What does it say?"

"I don't know. It doesn't look good."

"Let's remember to ask one of our Israeli friends."

"Good idea."

A few days later Bob was sitting with some of his Israeli friends drinking Turkish coffee and teasing me about my never ending ulpan experience. Suddenly I remembered the letter and brought it out for elucidation. The friends took turns looking it over.

As they read, they muttered words like licensing bureau, drivers license, registration, penalty and payment. After about 5 minutes of intense study - maybe these letters are not so easy for Hebrew speakers to understand either! Could it be?? - they agreed that the letter was telling me my inspection and emissions test was overdue (by a good three months) and that I need to take care of it asap.  Me.

"Inspection and emissions test?"

"Oh...." Bob seemed to go into a deep fog. "There was something..... I think I saw it in the mail the last time....."

Needing a quick answer, I started drilling his friends.

"Is this about me?"

"No, it's about the car."

"Is my license expired?"

"I don't think so."

"Do i need to go to the licensing bureau?"

"No - to the post office!"

"Of course. Am i going to jail?"

"No!"

Okay, not so bad. By the end of the week Bob had found the original notice and taken the car to the garage to see if we could do the test even though our tail light was broken. He was told we need to replace the tail light. 1300 nis. This is not the garage ripping us off. This is the price for a Chevy tail light in Israel (~$375). Bob asked the garage if we could just tape it with duct tape. They told him he could try but that he would most likely fail the inspection. Not definitely. But most likely.

Later that day I asked him, "What made you think you could tape a tail light with duct tape and pass the inspection? That's so third world! Where do you think we live?"

"I don't know," he answered, "but I feel like I saw it somewhere."

Three weeks later (and one $70 tail light smuggled back in a suitcase from America), we are the proud bearers of a new inspection sticker, the whole episode nearly forgotten. And then today I went to the hardware store to buy some duct tape for Asher's Purim costume. And what do you know. This is the picture on the box of duct tape:

Did I say three weeks later? Ugh. Time to get the mail

.

Swirling Thoughts #226 - airing my dirty laundry. no, seriously.

Chapter 36 in “HOW TO BE ISRAELI” – Know Your Sirens

Several months ago when rockets were shooting out of Gaza in every direction, including ours, we experienced, for the first time, a Tzeva Adom Alert. An up and down wailing siren that we instinctively heeded by scurrying into our safe room until we heard the two thuds of two rockets falling. Yes, we are told the rockets are fired in pairs.

When I say we, I mean me and my kids. I can’t speak for all of Efrat. Though I’m told this is the first time a rocket has made it all the way from Gaza, I’m not sure there’s never been a Tzeva Adom Alert here before. Surely there have been drills. That siren certainly does sound familiar….

And so, while we scurried to our safe room, my friend’s 9 year old son, who was out for pizza with his 4 year old brother when the siren sounded (why that is totally normal, in another blog post), did what he remembered doing every other time he heard the siren. He stood very still and looked down at the floor. Until a neighbor spotted him and pulled the brothers to safety.

Twice in the last 2 weeks, all across Israel, the siren was sounded again. The same siren but this time a steady wail for a long moment of silent contemplation. The entire country came to a halt (motorists stopping and exiting their cars!) to honor the memories of the six million on Yom Hashoah and fallen soldiers/victims of terror on Yom Hazikaron. Except for some of my kids who dropped everything and made a bee-line for the safe room.

Not to be confused with Chapter 35 in “HOW TO BE ISRAELI” – Know Your Seasons

Don’t even think about ordering Sachlab in the summer. You will be rebuffed with a shocked, “Sahlab?!? But it’s SUMMER!”  Even if it is just a few weeks after Passover and really, technically, only spring.

As for Pop-Ices – frozen sugar water in a plastic tube – don’t bother looking for them in the winter. You just won’t find them.  

But for 4 short months in the winter  (only!) you will find the delicacy known as Krembo.

Ask for sandal foot panty hose in the winter and expect the clerk to demand to know why on earth you would need such a thing now. And no matter how good your explanation, she still won’t have them. I’ve said it before. It’s a small country. There’s probably just not room for summer inventory to be stocked through the winter. And vice versa.

Which follows Chapter 34 in “HOW TO BE ISRAELI” – How Not to Give Away How Israeli You've Become in the First Ten Seconds – a chapter for my children when they visit America

In America, hot dogs are generally made of meat. While the vegetarian hot dog may exist, it is not the norm. So don’t be shocked if you ask for hot dogs and pizza in the same meal and someone reminds you of the laws of kashrut (no meat and milk).

When you find yourself a boyfriend (or a seat, for that matter), you don’t ‘catch’ him (or it).

Hey, what about that Cohen boy. Is he available? Nope, he’s caught!

Saving on something in America implies a financial benefit. You can save and guard things but not on them.

Shmulik! Save on this spot for our picnic!

Rosie, guard on the baby while I run into the store.

You can partner up with someone but ‘togetherness’ implies a loving relationship, not a sharing agreement regarding stickers, candy, or make-up. Or markers.

Me and Rosie are together in markers.

In America, exercise is not “sport.”.

Nor is gym class “sport.”

And exercise clothes are not “sport clothes.”

What’s your favorite class, Becky? Sport!

Oh I see you are wearing your sport clothes. Did you do sport today?

Really, it gives me joy to know that my children are speaking English from translated Hebrew. As opposed to their mother....

Ulpan does not guarantee literacy…

My friend asked me what I’ll do next year when Sarah goes to gan. I mention going back to ulpan. Bob rolls his eyes and suggests I go work in the makolet where I can get paid to practice speaking Hebrew. It’s true – in four years my Hebrew really has advanced. Maybe I’ve outgrown ulpan? My friend suggests, at a minimum, I start listening to talk radio. Eureka! Free ulpan in my car!

Later that day, I try it out. Radio announcers are screaming at a guest. I gather that he is an important part of the Maccabi Tel Aviv Basketball organization – maybe an owner or manager or coach – and also that there is a scandal of some sort. Just then I pick up Barbara’s “sport” teacher who is tremping to parent-teacher night at school (why this is totally normal, in another blog post). I explain to her that this is how I learn Hebrew, motioning to the radio. I accept her “kol ha kavod” as if I’ve been doing this for four years. I ask her if I understand correctly – the screaming is about a money scandal? She listens for a few seconds and confirms it is but goes on to say that these conversations are beyond even her comprehension. And she is an Israeli SPORT teacher! I’ve surely found a high level free ulpan in my car!

Incidentally…

Talk radio topics this week included Defense Secretary Hagel’s visit to Israel, resolution of the El Al strike, and a very animated discussion on what constitutes a salad. The Hagel stuff was easy to understand because they broadcasted him in English. Regarding El Al I’m pretty sure the announcer said he didn’t understand one word of what happened but that the strike is resolved.  As for the salad discussion, I was laughing out loud at what I think they were saying. Stuff like – do tomatoes and onions alone make a salad? NO! A salad has to be four ingredients MINIMUM. Can a salad have big chunks of vegetables? NO! A salad has to be chopped very small! Maybe the language of salad is easy. Or maybe my Hebrew is advancing to a whole new level. A level at which I can understand Israeli talk radio announcers and laugh at their jokes!

Or maybe the joke is on me

As I pulled up in front of the makolet I realized both my babies were sleeping in the back seat. For an instant I longed for the curbside delivery service I’d left behind in New York. But then my salvation came. A good friend pulled up right in front of me, saw my situation and offered to pick up the three things I was planning to buy.

Tacos, Tortillas, and Oxygen.

Tacos and Tortillas I know. But what’s Oxygen?

The laundry detergent.

You mean in the turquoise bottle?

Yes! The turquoise!

I don’t think that is detergent.

What do you mean? I’ve been washing our clothes with it for four years.

You read the bottle?

I saw a picture of clean laundry on the bottle.

Do you remember in America there was a product called Clorox 2 – something you add to your laundry to brighten your clothes?

Um, yes.

Yeah, the Oxygen is like the Clorox 2.

So you are telling me that for four years I have been brightening but not washing my clothes? *sniffing my sleeve*

It seems that way.

OMG!

Well you certainly look clean. And bright.

Okay, can you please buy me Tacos and Tortillas and PROPER LAUNDRY DETERGENT!

And she did.

And tomorrow (for the first time in four years!) I will really wash my family’s clothes. And I will buy a newspaper.

Swirling Thoughts #225 – happy new month!

 You know it’s Rosh Hodesh when….

Your children wake up and run from room to room scrambling to find the white school uniform shirt (which they haven’t looked for since last month).

You pass the local park and spy 30 loosely supervised nine year olds roasting hot dogs over an open fire at about 9:30am.

Your gan-aged daughter comes home with her lunchbox untouched and reminds you that the Morah gave them lunch “hagigi” (holiday lunch) consisting of pizza and vafflim. It took me about two years before I realized vafflim are not waffles...

 

Your 7^th grader explains, with urgency, the need to bring a bag of Doritos and 30 plates to school because, ‘You know, Mom, we are doing Master Chef today. Likvod (to honor) Rosh Hodesh!’

The significance of Rosh Hodesh (literally, the head of the month) as a cultural phenomenon in Israel surely stems from its religious importance. So important that if you forget the special prayer that pertains to Rosh Hodesh on that day, you need to repeat a good portion of the entire prayer service. But why is the start of a new month so religiously important? I asked my friend David Zeit who explained it like this:

Rosh Hodesh determines our entire calendar (a lunar calendar) - as such it determines when holidays and other significant events will take place. Additionally, the first misva given to us as a Nation, was the misva of Qiddush HaHodesh (the sanctification of the new month)

"This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months" Exodus 12:2

(referring to the month of Nissan). Because this misva was given to us upon our redemption from Egypt, the misva was performed by the Elders of the Sanhedrin in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

Thank you David!

And in case you forget it’s Rosh Hodesh (imagine forgetting Thanksgiving Day in America?), every clerk, tremper, and neighbor you see will wish you a....

Hodesh Tov!!!!!!!!!!