Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Founded by John & Matt (way to go, John), if nothing else, visit for the pictures. There are lots of them and the samples are yummy. But bear in mind a smattering of adult content.
A Mideast Piece Road Map for Peace
Mideast Piece aims to unite people around the world through shared adoration of that most sacred and bronzed of species, the Middle Eastern man. Whether Muslim, Jewish, Christian or Druze, these desert men are more valuable than any Saudi oil well.
As greater appreciation for the Middle Eastern male develops, we are confident the international community will intervene to preserve and protect this endangered species from destroying itself (and, on occasion, others). There are too many unattractive, pale people on Earth for the world not to make the entire Middle East a natural reserve of hot men, complete with admission fee, monorail, and – of course – petting zoos.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Tel Aviv: Riding w/Contra Bass
Wait. Your tattoo is a different color. I want mine to look just like yours.
Mom, I can't. Your skin is darker so it won't come out the same. And your skin is too hard for me to draw on. It's because you're getting old...five-year-old Raphael
Saturday, January 27, 2007
My son was Abba Shabbat yesterday. En route to school he asked:
Mom, how come there aren't two Abba Shabbat's?
Uh..well..I stammered..Because Israel hasn't gotten that far in terms of sexuality and traditional roles? Because this isn't San Francisco? Because...???
I then proceeded to explain that although he isn't seeing two Abba Shabbats at school, it's an okay part of everyday life. And illustrated via example - our gay friend Dean.**
He is Abba Shabbat with another Abba Shabbat?
Yes, dear. He doesn't have an Eema Shabbat. (Unless they're role playing and feeling frisky and ...well I don't need to go there with a five-year-old)
And the ensuing conversation was about girls, boys, boys who like boys, girls who like girls, (Blur, anyone?) kissing, being chased by girls who kiss...*sigh*. And so it begins.
Friday, January 26, 2007
For now, though, I'm pleading the 5th. To clarify: I love my lifestyle and the choice I made despite its challenges. Apropo challenge, I'm paraphrasing the following portion of an e-mail message received from a family friend - a single mom raising two kids. It resonated deeply.
I still don't have cable tv. I had to put our house up for sale and the only reason we had Christmas in 2005 was because a nice lady at work bought my boys toys. She was our angel that year.
I had to ask my dad for money, once again, so that I could keep my house by paying off the loan for my 1997 Dodge with over 150,000 miles on it. It's the same car I still drive.
My credit is shot and I've had my electricity shut off. Our air conditioner quit last summer and we sweat it out; It's still not fixed. My parents bought the boys shoes, coats and many dinners. I picked up a second job.
You have no idea what it's like to be a single mother with two kids and two jobs.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Because the longings for "another place" can stream on ad nauseam.
Instead I decided to tweak it all and view things from a different angle:
I Am Fortunate and Privileged; Here are some of the Beautiful Places in which I Have Lived:
Cincinnati, Ohio San Francisco, California The Negev Desert, Israel
Monday, January 22, 2007
My parents aren't religious but they keep a Kosher home. The other day, I got a card from my mother.
The Kosher butcher is going to close soon. Not enough business. Also Bilker's (a kosher mini-market) is closing. The owners are in their 80's and can't sell so they're shutting down. They've been in business at least 50 years.
It's a bit sad and scary to see the changes. We'll have to make periodic visits to the butcher in Columbus, I guess. I never thought I would see this.
There were four Kosher butchers here when we moved to Cincinnati and the JCC (Jewish Community Center) in Roselawn was only 3 years old at the time. Roselawn was "The Place to Be". Now, there's a killing in Roselawn nearly every week and the business district looks like a ghost town.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
This should prove verrrrry interesting.
And now for an entirely different matter...
Can someone PLEASE explain to me how an editor feels okay e-mailing: Sorry but I was wrong; Accounting didn't issue checks this month. I don't know when they will.
Oh that's cool. Yeah I know I did the research and made deadline and came back with the edits you needed. And I know you guaranteed payment by a certain date. But "payment optional" is groovy...I don't mind. My son doesn't need SHOES OR A WINTER COAT OR AN EDUCATION!
Better yet. How's about finding your article printed - with your byline - on a commercial site you never authorized. Like, they totally ripped it off without permission.
*sight* It's the weekend. I'll try and relax.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Now to preface this entry, let's put the "children" into context. Auschwitz-Birkenau was liberated by Soviet troops in 1945. That was 62 years ago. So if a person was, say, twenty at the time he/she is now past 80.
So any child of a Holocaust survivor is no longer a child either.
After working on this story, I'm asking myself why it never occured to me that children growing up in households of camp survivors would be adversely (extremely) affected regardless of whether the parent was silent or spoke of the trauma. I am personalizing because relatives - with whom I shared childhood - never (that I knew of) talked of or displayed effects of unusual goings-on in their house.
But as one woman I met - whose mother began telling her about the camps and ghettos when she was FOUR YEARS OLD - shared:
These were people who were traumatized, torn down and treated like animals. De-humanized. Then they had children without working through what they had been through. But how could they have? There was no therapy in those days and even if there was, nobody would've been trained to deal with the scope of their trauma. Of course we were affected. How could we not have been?
The same woman, later on:
When I was a teenager, up in my friend's attic we came across old pictures of her parents. One was of her father's bar-mitzvah. It was a formal, black tie affair. All of a sudden I started doing the math and realized that while her parents were eating cake and dancing to Benny Goodman, mine were starving with their heads shaved.
Something to think about. Holocaust Remembrance Day is next Saturday the 27th.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Today I was reminded of the rental market's sickening edge by my friend Jellyfish.
Jelly IM'd: I have to get out of my apartment. The landlady wants to raise the rent.
By how much? I mean unless it's drastic, take into account that rents have increased across the board and the value of the dollar has dropped so it might be wiser to stay put.
Right. If it's drastic. Okay.
So how much does she want?
She's going from $750 to $1500.
No. I don't.
That, dear readers, is the most outrageous landlord audacity I've heard to date. Top that, if you can!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
These truths I know...
1) If you decide to use the WC while talking on the telephone, the other person will hear what you're up to
2) A kid can smell and decipher what you've eaten regardless of attempts at concealment.
"Mommy you ate chocolate! I want some!"
"Did you eat Trix cereal?"
No. I had a banana.
"No you didn't. You had Trix. I can tell. I want Trix too"
Monday, January 15, 2007
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
Wait...Are you Jewish?
Yeah. I don't look it, I know. I was adopted. But I had to go to Catholic school for discipline. I was a PROBLEM CHILD. We had to wear uniforms and everything.
Whoa. How was that? Did it work?
I dunno. I used to sit there during mass and look around at the ornateness of the church - the colors and the stained glass and the flowing robes and the altar boys - and think: "My God, this was designed by a gay person. The church is gay."
In general it was okay but Andrew Schwartz - he was the only other Jew at school - and I got into serious trouble when we decided not to stand up for mass one day. It wasn't because of the Jewish thing. We were too stoned to stand up.
We got sent to the head priest's office and my mom was called in. Big scene. The priest said that regardless of our religion, while in Catholic school we would stand during mass.
The next time after that, we stood. AND we even took communion. But it wasn't because we were being obedient. We were stoned again and we had the munchies.
True confessions of a Tel Aviv yoga teacher
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
You are getting the picture.
Well I have a confession.
When people send those clips around I don't forward them. Unless they're super funny and not too violent. Which is rarely.
Because despite risking showing aging signs, I don't think it's funny to watch a boy jump in front of a moving train and jump out of the way at the last minute. I also don't think it's funny to see someone on a bicycle slam full speed into the back of a truck because he wasn't watching where he was going. And the daredevils who attempt and fail at jumps off rooftops, down stairwells or over cars...well yes we all know the intelligence quotient probably wasn't outrageous in those cases but regardless I'm still not laughing at an idiot's folly.
Au contraire. I cry when I see those clips. They upset me that much. Because I don't understand the people hurting themselves and I don't understand the people behind the cameras who continue filming someone writhing in pain. It's all beyond me.
This was my share of the day because I got a bunch of those type clips yesterday. I cried. And deleted.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Thursday, January 04, 2007
But that means I'm soooooooo busy, right?
Uh, or that it's raining a lot thereby dampening my motivation, yeah?
Or that I'm lazy, huh?