HAPPY BIRTHDAY

So today, an old friend has grown even older. Of course, all my friends are old, so that doesn't make him any different. But this is a very special friend: Someone I've never met, someone I've only spoken to a handful of times, someone whom I've only seen his photo once and it was last century (which means that I, of course, forgot about it). This is someone whom I met online (yes, I have a lot of those friends), yet I feel like we've known each other for decades.

Here's to an old and very dear friend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, "mtrain." YY

I Love The Beatles

Like many others of my generation (yes, I'm a 60's child) I love the Beatles. Love singing out loud to their songs on the radio, and love the words to their songs. So obviously I went and bought the new Paul McCartney CD. I wasn't disappointed. Definitely a classic for those of you who enjoy listening to the Beatles. I particularly loved the last track which has no lyrics, but has a great catchy tune (I wish I could find a link to it somewhere).

As everyone knows The Beatles have been famous worldwide, and this has not precluded Israel. Maybe some of you wonder whether we still call them "Beatles" in Israel. Well, no. They're called "Khipooshiyot" in Hebrew. One band member would be referred to as "khipooshit" (a beatle).

When you grow up listening to Israeli radio you need to be quite attentive to catch on to the name of the bands or you may grow up feeling quite confused about pop culture. For the longest time I've been wondering who on earth would have called their band "Tarakh." It made absolutely no sense. I think it was two decades later that I realised this was the literal translation to the popular band - Soft Cell (Ta = cell in Hebrew; Rakh = soft in Hebrew).

Then there was "mo'adon tarbut" which again made no sense in Hebrew, because these two words combined together are meaningless. The mystery was resolved when I saw the music video with Boy George wearing a shirt that actually said "mo'adon tarbut" in Hebrew. Yes, mo'adon tarbut is indeed Culture Club (mo'adon = club in Hebrew; tarbut = culture).

So those of you who wonder why Israelis are so ignorant about pop culture - it's because we have to remember twice as much names than the average English speaker does (the English and the Hebrew names of all popular bands), PLUS our own Israeli popular culture.

And just as I was thankful that Madonna's name has no translation, I find out that she does indeed have a Hebrew name - Ester !

Terms of Endearment

My husband and I don't do much terms of endearment. He calls me "hey you" and I call him "hey you." We're original that way. I think I've heard my husband pronounce my name less than a handful of times in our 17 years of knowing each other, and even then it was a fluke because he was talking to someone else.

We're not into the "honey", "sweetheart", "monster", or "godzila." (The term of endearment I use for my best friend). It just seems fake to us, I guess. "No need for terms of endearment when you already know how I feel about you." I think we've used "honey" before in a mocking manner more than anything and mostly in public. Not to make fun of others as much as show off our loving relationship so others would get a better understanding. But between us, we have no need for it.

Most of my life I've been underweight, bordering the sickly thin. At 5'3" and 92lb soaking wet, I was considered pettite by retailers (or "kids section" in some stores). My husband got used to living with someone who's always complaining she can't gain weight. When all his friends at work would complain about how much their wives gained weight since they got married, my husband would come back home complaining to me that he never has anything in common with his friends and he's the only one standing there feeling odd when he has to explain to his friends, "My wife would have loved to get your wife's extra pounds."

Then a couple of years ago I hit old age and my metabolism slowed down enough for me to gain 40 pounds in a year. Unlike most women who typically go up one size at a time and shop for clothes for each size, I went from a size 2 to a size 8, 10 and finally 12. Needless to say, charity gained a whole lot of unused clothes from me due to this rapid growth, and my closet is missing the sizes 4 and 6.

My weight has since come down a bit to a normal and healthy 125lb, and I've had to adjust to this huge weight by...complaining that I've gained so much. Finally my husband found a term of endearment for me - FAT COW! So with a size 10 jeans, my husband calls me "fat cow" every time I check myself out in the mirror. He does it with a smile, so I know he's enjoying this new marriage deal of being married to a normal wife (however you want to define normal).

Then came last Friday. Something I ate threw my health into a spin and in less than a week I've lost 9 pounds. Now I'm down to an ideal weight that I've been trying to get to for the past year and had to give up eventually. This morning when I realised how much I've lost and my new weight, I was all happy and told my husband about it. He looked at me with this smile in his eyes that is typically followed by "fat cow" and says "anorexic cow!"

Simon Wiesenthal - Rest in Peace

Some people seek a purpose to their life all their lives. And some people get thrown into it without them looking for it. Simon Wiesenthal had no choice. He was a holocaust survivor who could not forget nor forgive. Coming from a family of Holocaust survivors I am familiar with the anguish he felt daily. But Simon Wiesenthal had something more in him - an urge to find justice. An urge to get his revenge. And he did this by bringing to justice over a thousand Nazi criminals.

I'm not going to detail his history as you can all read this online.

This post is not going to be long. Because I only wanted to say a few words:

Mr. Wiesenthal - THANK YOU!!!

Thank you for dedicating your life for what we all wanted to do but didn't. Thank you for dedicating your life to show us what true altruism and justice means. Thank you for being the light of conscience for this world. We will greatly miss you. But your legacy will live on forever.

Thank you and rest in peace, my hero. You truly deserve it!

Research in Israel

I enjoy reading the google news and today saw an interesting headline that of course grabbed my attention given my recent bad news: "Transplant of frozen sheep ovaries raises hopes of fertility."

So Israeli researchers have done it again! I am so relieved now knowing that I can have a frozen sheep ovary to resolve all my problems (isn't that what you all understand from this headline?). I'm just wondering what will they call the outcome of such sheep-human pregnancy? Humeep? Shuman? Sheeman? Alright, that sounds a bit too kinky!

Not to worry, that's not really what the research says. Here's where you can learn what these crazy Israelis actually concluded: http://news.scotsman.com/uk.cfm?id=1939152005

This reminds me of my time back in the service in the Israeli Navy. I was part of the Naval Research Facility and was involved in the process for asking funding for research. Well come to find out the pig, much like the sheep, has a very similar lung composition as the human, and therefore is an ideal candidate for any research dealing with diving pigs. I suppose that's why the slogan is "when pigs fly" rather than "when pigs dive."

Keep in mind, this is in Israel, where pigs are considered unkosher. Come to find out purchasing pigs for research is a mighty feat and for obvious reasons the request for funding research in pigs was denied.

Thank God for sheep!

Movies

I am not a fanatic of movies. I see a movie once in two-three months. I've gone through years without seeing a movie in the theatre. Nor do I watch them at home. I'm just not into it, just like I'm not into sports. The only movies I would go out of my way to watch are comedy, and fantasy. Star Wars is the only exception in the Science Fiction range of movies. The other science fiction movies are just a variation on a theme which all started with Star Wars.

Needless to say that with my lack of enthusiasm for going out to movies, it's extremely unique for me to go see a movie in the middle of the week.

But after visiting my relatives in D.C. on Monday and listening to them rave about March of the Penguins, my husband invited me to see it last night.

I absolutely loved it!!! Well worth going to see on the big screen and not waiting for the DVD. Yes, I know, I know, it's a documentary about birds, but still we're talking a truly amazing story of survival in very harsh weather.

I could talk here about the movie forever and it wouldn't spoil it for anyone, because this is the type of movie you have to SEE to appreciate.

So mid-week movie night is kind of interesting I found out. We were completely alone in the theatre until the movie started, when another couple entered the theatre. The only times I go see movies is when the place is absolutely packed, so this was a unique experience. As the movie started the situation reminded me a lot of Mystery Science Theatre 3K. We made side commentary about the entire movie and had a blast doing it! This is the type of movie that just BEGS for side commentary because it's just a bunch of birds standing around or waddling along.

Going to the movies with my husband gives me enough laughs to last a week. There was one part where he had me laughing so hard I think I missed a full minute of the movie because I was holding my belly and wiping tears from my eyes.

So Penguins as everyone knows, waddle. They walk on their feet, and when they're tired they fall flat on their stomach and just slide over the ice. When they reach a difficult cliff to negotiate they do it on their stomachs with the help of their wings, or whatever is left of the wings they must have had thousands of years ago.

Mid way through the movie, as my husband makes comments about these Penguins, he turns quiet for a while. Then this group of a dozen Penguins are shown waddling along, when the one up front drops on his stomach. Everyone stops and makes their Penguinish grunts. He got up on his feet, looked back and grunted. My husband whispers, "Watch the ice!....Thanks."

I think my husband needs to do a voice over this movie.

When we got out of the movie, I convinced my husband to "Walk this way." We got home and announced to our dog that we're trading him in for a Penguin. Dog was highly anxious. I can see why. He wouldn't know the first thing about taking care of an egg. (In the Penguin world, the male takes care of the egg).

Go see it, you won't regret it. Maybe you won't find it as funny, but I'm sure you'll find it educational.

I just searched the internet for Penguin sounds, when I came across a site that actually has the Penguin sneeze! You'd think that these Penguins ought to be used to -80 degrees weather.

The other head

As everyone has noticed (or at least those who stuck around to check my blog in spite of me not posting), I've been taking irregular hiatus from this blog.

It's not that I had nothing to write about, but rather - I had too much to write about.

During this time, my husband has been through surgery. Yes, I can now talk about it, with his permission. Anyone recall my post about the X-ray of the shaft? Yes, the relative is my husband. The x-ray was just a precursor for surgery. And no, we're not talking vasectomy. Though I did have to make sure my husband did not accidently check the wrong box on his medical questionnaire.

Anyway, as my husband was in pre-op waiting to be taken in, I kept him company and tried to pass the three long hours with some enjoyable chitchat. But then a brilliant idea crossed my mind, I jumped off my chair and said, "I'll be right back!" My husband, who knows me fairly well, asked me, "Where are you going???" With an evil smile I answered, "Going to get a sharpie!" (Keep in mind, my husband knows me well!) And he says, "No, you cannot write on it 'This way up'!" I innocently replied that I was just going to write on his forehead, "Not this head!"

Surgery went well and successful. Ten days with a catheter I believe, were more painful for me to watch than for him to endure. But we're past it, and he managed to go through it with the regular manly complaints. Those are the times when I don't need to ask why is it that women can go through nine months pregnancy and labor and men can't tolerate the simple cold.

Apparently, the stress of living with him caused me enough sympathy to go through pregnancy symptoms. The pregnancy symptoms somehow coincided with my OBGYN calling with the results of that notorious blood test claiming I'm closer to menopause (WTF!!!) than I am to having kids.

So obviously I never had a chance to digest her bad news, while my body was fully anticipating a child any minute now. Eventually, after ten days of consulting with other women on why I could be late, I decided to call my OBGYN. She scheduled me for a blood test that afternoon. I took the opportunity to beg the phlebotomist to perform the other blood tests I never got done the month before due to the incompetency of her fellow phlebotomists.

The following day I no longer needed to hear the results of the blood test.

I spent the weekend digesting the news that I will most likely never be pregnant. My way of digesting bad news - bury myself in work. So I worked on Saturday. Had a blast, photos will follow.
Spent several hours checking the internet about adoption. When I got to the post from a mother who was happy she finally got her desired child after 15 years of waiting, I decided I don't need any more depressing news than I can handle.

Anyway, if any of you guys out there know a small 2 or 3 year old boy - cute, happy, artistic genius, and already circumcised and all - we have a dog.


Spent this morning at the USCIS offices to extend my Green Card (which is really pink). I was so scared to talk or joke around. I think the people that work there get whipped every morning with a dozen lashes or at least poked with a hot stick if they smile. Such serious people.

I was instructed to sit down and look at the camera. Well, being a rather obedient person that I am, I sat, looked at the camera and gave my best smile - when the immigration officer said, "Don't show your teeth! New regulations." Oooookay, lady, I already got my jaywalking ticket, I'd hate to get ticketed for smiling at a U.S. federal agency, dog forbid.

My Pear

Here's a tribute to a true winner - Andre Agassi!

You're a year younger than me, but you're considered an old man in this sport of Tennis. Yet you won matches against tykes in their 20's. You showed 'em that turning 35 doesn't mean you're any less capable of kicking their ass.

While you may not have walked off the court with the desired title, and only came in second best, you're always a winner to me, My Pear. *

"In defeat, Agassi comes across as the Winner," I couldn't have said it better.


Oh, and thank you for being a role model for men who lose their hair. Shave it off and look even sexier. Be a man! Way to go, Andre!

* Agass means pear in Hebrew. Agassi means "my pear." Just different pronounciation.

The road less taken

This is story about that same road I crossed where I got a jaywalking ticket. This is a road downtown. The city where I come from is up on a mountain kissing the mediterrenean. I'm an uptown girl, with all that it means. Snob, sheltered, etc.

The city is divided into three - uptown, midtown and downtown. Midtown is half way through the mountain and is where the retail shops are and movies. At night you will find all the people coming out of movies, on their way to the cars to head back home (uptown). Downtown was a mystery for me for many years of my life. My dad would often go downtown on Friday mornings for some business. I later learned that this is where all the banks are located. There are also shops downtown but not the type of shops you find in midtown.

Midtown shops would sell - clothes, perfumes, kitchen ware, toys, shoes, school supplies.
Downtown shops would sell - car parts, video cassettes, music cassettes, photography equipment, audio equipment, etc.

So basically midtown caters to women shopping and downtown caters to men shopping.

That's as much as I knew by the age of 19. I also knew, or thought I knew, that downtown is ghost town after 5pm. There's no business open after that time and no reason to be there.

Well, during the late 80's and early 90's I volunteered at the USO. This is where I'd welcome American sailors who came to our port and give them directions of where to go. (Did I mention I led a sheltered life?)

So I knew how to explain things by looking at a map and saying, "OK, this is a good bar. This is a great bar. Be careful from this one, too much trouble. Police station right at the corner of this one." etc. But I didn't really go to all these places. Well actually, to be honest, I did go to a lot of them - but they were all uptown - in my own territory where I knew everyone and everyone knew me.

Let me stress one more time, I led a sheltered life. I had no boyfriends by that age and spent my high school years at home doing homework.

Well one late night (my volunteer work required staying 'til 10pm at the office), my friends from the office invited me to take a ride with them. Three girls, five years older than me, from uptown as well, but not as sheltered as I was. So me being rather adventerous I said, "sure, where are we going?" They said, "You'll see. Just get in the Jeep."

At this point they're all laughing and are definitely up to something, but I trusted them because we had been working together for several months. I got into the Jeep, which was our boss's Jeep, when they asked the driver "You sure you know how to drive this thing down hill? Because the breaks don't work." Some panic alarms went in my head and I decided to voice them out loud, "What do you mean down the hill? Where are you taking me???" My questions were responded with more laughs, but no real answers.

Well, the Jeep did fine and sure enough the surroundings looked familiar. "Isn't this the place where I got a ticket for jaywalking???" But I don't dare voice this out loud for fear of being ridiculed by three girls older than me. Then they stopped the Jeep, mid street. I look around in some minor amazement as I realise the shops are closed, but now there are tables in front and the place is quite bustling for a dead district.

Now starts the quiz: "Do you know where we're at?" And I am damn proud to show I'm not completely naiive and stupid and say, "Yes, we're downtown!" They all nod in approval and continue with the quiz, "You know what these people are doing here?" I look over and say, "Seems like they're eating at the restuarants." A few giggles later, they ask me with a curious tone, "You see those women, standing nearby, do you know what they are doing?" Well now I get quite annoyed at these stupid questions and answer out loud, "YES! They're working here, as waitresses at these restaurants!!!" Now, all three girls burst out laughing and cannot contain themselves anymore. I got really annoyed and asked them what the fuck was so funny?!

They break the news for me, "No, you don't understand. These women - yes, they indeed work here. They're working at the oldest profession in the world."

Moments of silence follows. The girls are quietly measuring my reaction, slightly worried at this point that this may have been too much information and I'm in shock.

I finally managed to process the thoughts in my head and ask the question, "You mean to tell me that 'zona' [the Hebrew biblical word for the woman engaging in the oldest profession] is NOT a term from the bible that is long gone? This profession is STILL going on thousands of years later right here in my city???"

I think the laughter I caused will never be forgotten by these three girls. While they sort of suspected I was naiive and sheltered, they had no idea it was to this extent!

I was in shock for a week later. I kept asking my friends questions about these 'zonot' [plural for hookers], because I honestly had no idea that this profession was alive and kicking in Israel let alone in my city. They had explained to me that they were being shipped from Tel Aviv because our city couldn't stand the demand when the American sailors came to town. This shocked me even further, because in my mind all Americans were angels!

With time they taught me almost everything I really needed to know to carry on with my sheltered life. They also told me to be careful from those "working women" and not engage in any confrontation with them. We had rules in our office that prohibited any "working women" within a certain radius.

One evening I was asked to go look for my boss, but since no one else from the volunteers could escort me I had asked one of the Shore Patrol officers to join me in the search. Within a 100 yards of the USO office, as I was walking, I heard this woman's voice shouting out loud to the pleasure of other sailors, "Hey look! There's the USO hooker walking up the street." Looking at her I recognized a well-known hooker whom I've seen many times before at the bars. The Shore Patrol officer with me asked me if I was okay. I laughed and told him, "I'd be the first hooker to go down in history as a 19 year old virgin!" But of course I wouldn't let this be the end of it. I did an about-turn back to the office. Picked up the phone and called the police.

You mess with me, you go to jail, Lady!

I may be naiive, but I'm not stupid.

Now before some of you get on my case - let me clarify - I have nothing against hookers nor their profession. I'm really glad they're doing such a blessed job for those ultra-orthodox men who need some outlet from their miserable lives.

I just despise liars.

Shishi

You will all have to agree with me - TODA LA'EL HAYOM YOM SHISHI!!!

I honestly cannot wait for this long weekend to start. Relax at home. Make up for lack of sleep. And figure out what I want to do when I grow up.

This definitely goes up in my calendar as one of the most challenging weeks of 2005 for me. But it's over, toda la'el.