Cars and poop, the kaspomat, lunch, and The Turnip That Wasn't

Two random thoughts for discussion:

1. Israelis seem to have large families and small cars. Discuss

2. The Hebrew language has appropriated many English words for its own use. For example, "technology," "internet," "email," "integration," - even "babysitter" is an accepted Hebrew word. I heartily applaud this movement. I am hopeful for a time, soon in our days, when all Hebrew is just English words with a rolling "r." However, there is one appropriation which both fascinates and disgusts me. "Hu oseh cocky" is what the ganenet said one day when I picked Yaakov up from gan. Why, oh why, have the Israelis taken the most vulgar English word possible to describe that particular bodily function? Were the other words all busy at the time, and THAT one (which I will not repeat unless necessary) was the only one home to answer the door? [sigh] I suppose I should be glad they didn't choose other, even more inappropriate words, which I will not write here because this is a G-rated blog. (Approved for all audiences who have a sense of humor and too much time on their hands.)

In case you were wondering, my bank card works! Ariella and I took a trip to the mall after lunch, because it's been a while since I burned through some cash. I needed to photocopy my license because we are attempting to complete Step 12,338,002.6/18 of the license process. We are planning to go to the Misrad HaRishui tomorrow, for the great privilege of giving them money, so that they will....take more money from us. Now that I think about it, there should be a Misrad solely dedicated to collecting fees. Once a month, all Israelis would have to go to the Misrad SheLo Oseh Klum, and pay some random amount. And every month it would change! And no two people would ever pay the same amount! Oh wait a minute...we have that. It's called taxes. Ok, back to the story. Anyway, when one goes to the Misrad, one needs an active foreign license as well as a copy of said license. That's right. Apparently the Misrad can't be bothered with making copies. Why should they spend their hard-earned money making copies for you, I say? The chutzpah! How did we get onto this? Oh yes, the bank card. So at the mall I made a copy of my license at Office Depot. (Or, in Ivrit, "Office Depot.") It was really funny because I figured you had to insert money before you made copies, like in America. But no! You just make your copies and tell them at the counter how many you made. It is a very trusting system. We also bought another Hebrew-English dictionary, so Donny and I won't fight over our only copy anymore. And then, because it's Israel, Ariella and I stopped in the bakery on the way out to get some treats. I looooove treats. We went to Bank Discount, to the "kaspomat" (ATM machine)used my secret code, and voila! Money came out! I hope it was mine! Wait, I hope it was someone else's! It was very exciting.

Lunch: For 7 years, minus summers, I was very spoiled by SAR lunches. Every day, there was soup, fresh bread, a salad bar, and a hot lunch - ravioli, chicken, mac'n cheese, meatballs, etc. And I ate. A lot. I love lunch. Meanwhile, Donny is munching on a bowl of cherry tomatoes (if he's lucky), or just the bowl (if he's not.) Then, we'd have dinner together at night, and I'd eat again. A lot. I love dinner. Donny was always envious of my lunch situation. As well he should be. It rocked. Now, though, how the lunch tables have turned. Donny gets free lunch every day at Microsoft. Roast beef. Shnitzel. Cheeps!!! And I am eating...yogurt. Without sugar. (Israel, what is up with that??) It is very sad. Hence the excitement today at the mall when there was an opportunity for TREATS! Solid food! Oh glory be! So I am very sad about my lunch matzav.

Turnips...or are they?

I attempted to make chicken soup this week. Right now, as I type, it is cooling on the stovetop, and I am praying that it turns out ok. I went to the supermarket on Monday with my list in hand, but I was unable to find all the necessary ingredients. Something happens to me when I enter a supermarket. I stand there, slack-jawed, my list drooping from my hand and drool running down the side of my face. I am very overwhelmed by supermarkets. (In Hebrew: supermarket.) I knew what I was looking for, but I could not find all the ingredients. I also lack what some might call "patience" when it comes to shopping. So I did spend a few minutes trying to locate celery, turnips, and parsnips, but I gave up after a while. Plus I had Ariella with me, "helping." If you know what I mean. (And I mean, "Not really.") I found carrots (those are easy - they look the same in America), and what looked like dill and parsley. I was unable to find celery, but who really likes celery anyway? All those strings, and it tastes like feet (different feet from the cheese feet.) I was also unable to find parsnips, but I did find what looked like very dark turnips. I was excited by the find, so I bought 2. I was hoping that the lack of parsnips and celery would not be noticeable. As the song says, "All You Need is a Whole Chicken, Sauteed Onions and Garlic, Lots of Carrots and a Turnip if You Can Find It." (The Bubbe'lehs, circa 1963.) Today, whilst peeling the "turnip" I discovered it was much too dark to be a turnip and was actually a....can anyone guess? I'll give you a hint: It was not a turnip. The soup is emitting a bit of a strange odor and I'm a little afraid of tasting it because I kind of don't want to know if it's ruined. So I'm waiting until Donny gets home. I will keep you posted.