The other night, I had my first girls' night out with two Israeli friends. The first pub we entered was cozy but too quiet for our taste. Didn't we deserve some action, some loud, funky music to make up for our new reality as stay-at-home moms with a student always on the run? After a few awkward moments, we decided to leave.
Back at the car, a Mazda MPV, I grabbed the outside door frame for hold while flinging myself onto the comfortable arm chair in the back. Then the driver's door smashed close and I heard myself shouting: "Open the door, open the door, my hand, my hand!" Seconds passed in which I could feel rubber sealing under my left middle finger and the completely closed metal door above it, squeezing the flesh at the top joint.
Finally, after a moment of slowly understanding the situation, my friend jerked open the door and jumped out of the car. I stared at my finger, hardly feeling any pain, stammering "It's not your fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gripped the frame, how stupid, how stupid!"
The door had cut deep into my finger, but luckily, we had parked close to a supermarket. My other friend was already running towards it, asking for ice and locating bandages. In the glaring neon light of the store, I stood shivering, on the brink of tears, assuring everybody I was alright, it only hurt a bit, it could have been worse. With a bandage and a plastic bag full of ice pressed on the wound, we returned to the car, all of us shaky and agreeing that after this, we definitely deserved a good pint of beer. Or two.
And so we moved on and I had one of the best beers I ever tasted. And another one thereafter. And by the time we went home, the ice had melted, the bleeding stopped, the pain subsided, and we decided we needed another girls' night out rather sooner than later.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Home
That's it. We have a home. After three months of co-sleeping, Yair moved smoothly back into his own bed, without so much as the blink of an eye. All boxes are unpacked, books and clutter returned to their familiar places, pictures found their spot on the walls. Friends enter the apartment, stop at the door, and remark enthusiastically that this is probably the nicest place in the Village. Am I proud? I am just happy to have my home back. After all, it was the right decision to ship everything over. It was worth the waiting (and the money).
Between Tuesday and Friday, I hardly allowed myself any rest. Shai went about his usual study business, Yair was ordered to keep himself busy with all the new old toys in his room, and I opened and unpacked box after box after box. And believe me, there were many. Well over a hundred. But when I am motivated and determined, I can be very effective. See for yourself (OK, I admit, Shai helped a bit with the pictures):
Between Tuesday and Friday, I hardly allowed myself any rest. Shai went about his usual study business, Yair was ordered to keep himself busy with all the new old toys in his room, and I opened and unpacked box after box after box. And believe me, there were many. Well over a hundred. But when I am motivated and determined, I can be very effective. See for yourself (OK, I admit, Shai helped a bit with the pictures):
Thursday, September 20, 2007
YES!
Tuesday is the big day. Early in the morning, the container with our belongings will hit the road to Albany. I will be busy the rest of the week sifting the chaos. I can hardly wait! Ever since the good news arrived this afternoon I am suffering from exhileration attacks, much to the distress of my student, who is sitting at the kitchen table desperately trying to focus on a take-home exam.
Yesterday though, the world looked much different. In an attempt to be a good wife, I took one of these extremely sharp IKEA knives (no, not what you are thinking!) to cut my beloved a big chunk of water melon. The stupid knife went straight into my left thumb instead, thoroughly. Luckily, stiches weren't needed. After some stuporous attempts, we managed to stop the bleeding and apply a bandage. In the morning, Yair listened to the story, examined my thumb closely, and concluded: "Like Johannes!" Well, not quite...
Yair's English is slowly, slowly emerging (while he is still blowing my mind with his astounding improvement in German ever since we visited my family in early August), I believe, at least as a possibility. Yesterday after lunch, he suddenly exclaimed: "Standop, standop!" "Standop? Who says that?" "Elaine!" (his nursery school teacher) "And do you know what that means?" Fiercely shaking his head. "It means stand up." Later that day, at bedtime: "Hey, do you still remember what 'stand up' means?" Yair, swollen with pride: "Stand up!"
Well, well. I admit telling this story in English does not really help the plot, but you get the idea.
In the meantime, we are preparing ourselves for Yom Kippur. The apartment is spick and span, the fridge full (for the stopping meal, of course!), the time for cooking set aside. An easy fast to everyone, and Gmar Chatima Tova!
Yesterday though, the world looked much different. In an attempt to be a good wife, I took one of these extremely sharp IKEA knives (no, not what you are thinking!) to cut my beloved a big chunk of water melon. The stupid knife went straight into my left thumb instead, thoroughly. Luckily, stiches weren't needed. After some stuporous attempts, we managed to stop the bleeding and apply a bandage. In the morning, Yair listened to the story, examined my thumb closely, and concluded: "Like Johannes!" Well, not quite...
Yair's English is slowly, slowly emerging (while he is still blowing my mind with his astounding improvement in German ever since we visited my family in early August), I believe, at least as a possibility. Yesterday after lunch, he suddenly exclaimed: "Standop, standop!" "Standop? Who says that?" "Elaine!" (his nursery school teacher) "And do you know what that means?" Fiercely shaking his head. "It means stand up." Later that day, at bedtime: "Hey, do you still remember what 'stand up' means?" Yair, swollen with pride: "Stand up!"
Well, well. I admit telling this story in English does not really help the plot, but you get the idea.
In the meantime, we are preparing ourselves for Yom Kippur. The apartment is spick and span, the fridge full (for the stopping meal, of course!), the time for cooking set aside. An easy fast to everyone, and Gmar Chatima Tova!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
On the edge
No, our belongings haven't arrived. Yes, I. am. getting. extreeeeemely. impatient. I keep phantasizing about spending a cosy evening on the sofa by the window... The good news is that the ship entered Los Angeles harbor sometime last week, around September 5th. Ever since, the freight seems to be detained by customs. Somehow, though, we are hoping to have our things by the end of next week... Is that foolish?
I know I keep repeating myself, but once our apartment turns into a home and the computer is set up, I will resume my (more or less) daily posts. Until then, I continue climbing the walls in despair (just kidding -- it's not that bad).
Oh, and to all who did not (I apologize -- we probably did not have your email address!) receive our wishes for Rosh HaShana: A sweet and happy New Year!
I know I keep repeating myself, but once our apartment turns into a home and the computer is set up, I will resume my (more or less) daily posts. Until then, I continue climbing the walls in despair (just kidding -- it's not that bad).
Oh, and to all who did not (I apologize -- we probably did not have your email address!) receive our wishes for Rosh HaShana: A sweet and happy New Year!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
First snapshots of a new life
Quickly, before the busy student awakes, a few snapshots of our new life. The truth is, though, that we have not taken too many pictures yet. Somehow, we keep forgetting our photo camera.
Today we took BART, the local subway system, to get into The City, that is San Francisco. My first time, after I have been here for more than two weeks. Finally, while climbing the stairs from the underground into the glistening sunlight, I got all excited. All of a sudden I felt the journey had begun, the big vacation, the great adventure. From what I have seen, and it isn't very much so far, San Francisco is a friendly city. Beautiful and full of life. We walked over to the Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39, strolled through Little Italy and China Town, and spent a good deal of time (I, that is) rummaging at City Lights Books, San Francisco's most traditional bookstore. Before leaving the store, one of the books in a case at the very end of the bottom floor caught my attention: Eats, Shoots & Leaves. And for the sake of good old times and because it really interests me, I bought this entertaining book about English punctuation. Now there is one person out there whom I will always remember and think of a lot while reading this book. You know who you are.
When we got back home in the late afternoon, the neighborhood party in our courtyard was in full swing. A great way to get to know the faces and meet new people.
Well, the student woke up. Here are the pictures. I have no idea when next I will be able to write because, unsurprisingly, our container's arrival was delayed once more. From September 1st to September 4th, and last, according to a phone call Shai received yesterday, to the end of next week. I was hoping somehow we would have our belongings by Rosh HaShana, counting on our big dining table and the six chairs for a decent celebration of the Jewish New Year. But alas!, it is still written in the stars.
Today we took BART, the local subway system, to get into The City, that is San Francisco. My first time, after I have been here for more than two weeks. Finally, while climbing the stairs from the underground into the glistening sunlight, I got all excited. All of a sudden I felt the journey had begun, the big vacation, the great adventure. From what I have seen, and it isn't very much so far, San Francisco is a friendly city. Beautiful and full of life. We walked over to the Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39, strolled through Little Italy and China Town, and spent a good deal of time (I, that is) rummaging at City Lights Books, San Francisco's most traditional bookstore. Before leaving the store, one of the books in a case at the very end of the bottom floor caught my attention: Eats, Shoots & Leaves. And for the sake of good old times and because it really interests me, I bought this entertaining book about English punctuation. Now there is one person out there whom I will always remember and think of a lot while reading this book. You know who you are.
When we got back home in the late afternoon, the neighborhood party in our courtyard was in full swing. A great way to get to know the faces and meet new people.
Well, the student woke up. Here are the pictures. I have no idea when next I will be able to write because, unsurprisingly, our container's arrival was delayed once more. From September 1st to September 4th, and last, according to a phone call Shai received yesterday, to the end of next week. I was hoping somehow we would have our belongings by Rosh HaShana, counting on our big dining table and the six chairs for a decent celebration of the Jewish New Year. But alas!, it is still written in the stars.
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