Call me in November

Fact: I am 49 years old.

Fact: Today, for the second day in a row, it was 38 degrees Celcius outside -- with 90 odd percent humidity and virtually no wind.

Fact: I am no longer capable of standing still and not sweating profusely.

Fact: I am too old for this hell.

Observation: If I could find a way to avoid the outdoors, I would stay inside 100% of the time until November.

Fact: I am not joking.

Reality check: My husband doesn't understand my problem and is planning a big hike for a week from now.

Wishful thinking: I am trying to figure out how to catch a communicable disease before next week's hike from hell.

Unfortunate realization: the wishful thinking isn't going that well.

Even more unfortunate realization: a plane ticket to the South Pole would solve my problem .... but might create a new problem.

Bottom line: Wake me up when November comes (apologies to Green Day)

I don't know who is scarier

I really don't know what to make of this situation. A Jewish woman meets a man on the street in Jerusalem and some how ends up having consensual sex with him in a nearby building. (That happens all the time. Well, maybe it does, but not to me.) After they are finished and redressed, she finds out that he isn't a Jew as he originally told her but is, in fact, an Arab. She freaks out and has him charged with rape. www.jpost.com/Israel/Article.aspx?id=182113

But hold on. That's not all. The courts agreed with her that he raped her.

I have several questions, but first and foremost in my mind is: WHAT KIND OF DRUGS ARE THESE PEOPLE TAKING?

In a general sense, I am not the world's biggest fan of Middle Eastern Arabs, but I am not stupid enough to believe that every last Arab is to blame for every problem in the Middle East. Now obviously this guy isn't the nicest guy around but that is not the point. This babe is just as bad. Actually, she is worse because there are enough problems in this part of the world without some slimy slut raising the bar.

What kind of decent person meets a guy on the street and has sex with him "in a nearby building"? Let me answer that. They are called prostitutes. And while I have no problem with them servicing a need in society, by doing what they do, they have denied themselves the right to complain about guys who lie about their identities.

You think this guy was the first guy ever to lie about who he was to get laid? Maybe, if you are only referring to the last five minutes. In my younger years I heard all sorts of stories from creepy guys: they had a Porsche parked around the corner, their father was someone important, they had a yacht in the Toronto harbour, they had just invented the Walkman (well, it was years ago), but I surely didn't run to the nearest building to consumate a relationship with them.

As if there aren't enough problems between Jews and Arabs in this part of the world. How nice of the "ho" to bring this into the political sphere.

And what's with the courts? How can any self-respecting legal professional find the guy guilty -- unless they found the woman equally guilty? According to the court, the "ho" wouldn't have cooperated if the man really wasnt' Jewish.

Oh, so if he was Jewish then it would have been perfectly acceptable to screw a guy you met on the street. Whatever happened to getting to know each other and meeting the other person's friends and family. I find that to be a good way to figure out someone's religious beliefs and personality traits. True, it takes a little longer, but I find it to be a much more reliable method than a quick sizing up outside a building.

Or what about JDate? Faster. More efficient. Less time required before running off for sex.

I'm sure there are lots of options. And right now I am ashamed to be associated with a court system who got caught up in the trees and never saw the forest -- or the building.

Sometimes good stuff just falls into your lap

Someone sent this to me in an email today. It shows two people who attended the recent rally at Ground Zero in New York City (just in case you don't know what Ground Zero is) opposing the construction of a large mosque there. Seems obvious enough to me why that is a really bad idea but apparently it isn't so obvious to the powers to be (I don't expect anything more from Obama but I definitely expect more from Mayor Bloomberg.)

According to the email, no major media covered this protest by approximately 10,000 Americans which means that bloggers have to get out there and do the job that should have been done by the big guys. So be it. I'm doing my little part.

My empty nest syndrome

Spoiler alert: this article is going to upset people who still have children at home for the entire summer, so if you can't hack it, exit this site immediately. It's not my fault you forgot to plan for your own sanity.


On a pleasant sunny Monday morning last week, we put our children in the van -- along with a three week supply of clothes and other necessities -- and ceremoniously dropped them off at a rendesvous point with all sorts of their friends. Minutes later, a big cushy bus pulled up and all the kids got on it, followed my several neurotic parents (not me, but yes, my husband). Those of us who sanely stood on the shady sidewalk waved to our contained children.

And we waved some more. And some more. And some more.

Finally, 45 minutes later, the neurotic parents were off the bus and the damn bus finally pulled away. Swiss-precision timing never made it to Israel. Forty-five minutes late is considered ON-TIME.

Within seconds of that bus moving on to the street, the entire gaggle of parents burst into cheers. I am not going to name anyone because it could prompt a lawsuit or two. I cheered particularly loud because all of my three children were on that bus and that bus was headed north for three weeks.

When I told people over the course of the next few days that all my kids were in camp, I was met with the dewey-eyed look of barely hidden envy. And I must admit, I was feeling pretty darn superior. Forget money. Forget weight. Forget brains. Forget the size of your house. Forget style. If you want to feel the glare of envy from everyone you meet, all you have to do is stick your kids on a bus that doesn't return for three weeks.

For the first few days I was so busy putting our lives back in order after the craziness of our landscaping-from-hell project and my son's bar mitzvah that I really didn't have the time to miss the kids. I was so glad that they weren't underfoot while I was preoccupied.

However, some where around Friday, I started to notice a few things that made me stop and reconsider:

1) my dog is depressed because no one has roughed her up in five days. No one has played "go catch" with her and no one has lain on the floor speaking in tongues to her for days. Her life is so empty.

2) my house is so clean that I barely recognize the place. The sinks are empty. The counters are food and crumb free. There are three items in the dirty-laundry basket. The kids bedrooms are exactly how they normally look for five minutes after the cleaning lady leaves. I am a little concerned about what my cleaning lady is going to do next week.

3) no one has told me I am ruining their lives for five days. Therefore, I am feeling like I haven't had a very productive week. Ruining someone's life takes careful, precision-thinking and weeks of planning. Of course, my kids think I do it as a hobby, but at least for now, my hobby is on hold.

4) my phone never rings. Normally I would consider that a blessing since I have developed phone issues over my adult life but right now I am starting to miss being interrupted by a barrage of stupid kid calls that come in three-minute intervals during most of the hours that my kids are home.

5) I only spent 300 nis in the grocery store as opposed to my usual 1200-1300 nis. I didn't recognize my grocery cart when I pulled up at the cashier's station. I don't think my cashier recognized it either. There was barely any food in the cart. After replentishing my cleaning supplies and disposable dishes, all that was there were some tubs of yogurt and cottage cheese, vegetables, fruit, one tub of expensive ice cream and water. What a sad little cart that was.

While these five considerations never arose until after the kids were gone, I just have one thing to add: I AM ENJOYING THESE THREE WEEKS WITH WILD ABANDON. I'll even explain why in a few weeks when the fun is over and I have had time to reflect on my slice of heaven.