The Highlight of This Week: Our Apartment did NOT Go Up In Flames

That is about the only good thing that happened this week. Let us define "good week" and "bad week" in hypothetical terms.
Good week: Kids aren't sick, everyone is on a schedule and sleeps through the night. I pass my driving test.
Bad week: Kids are sick and home all week. No one sleeps through the night. I (flagrantly) fail my driving test.
Let's just say I had the second kind of week. I was able to complete a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. However, I worked on the jigsaw puzzle at the expense of caring for my sick children and cleaning my filthy apartment. I'll be accepting nominations for "Parent of the Year" starting now.

This is why I have been absent from the world of blogging lo these many days. My sense of humor took a diving leap off the mirpest sometime yesterday, and is now in a crumpled heap on the side of Sderot Chashmonaim. You can honk at it as you pass by. However, by today, I started to miss the blog. I have very fond feelings for it, as I have for you, my loyal readers. I've become sort of attached to blogging. [Digression: See, in my old life, I was always busy at night. I had to prepare SmartBoard lessons, grade book reports, at least for the students who handed them in, (Actual note from parent: "Please excuse 'Steve' from the book report. He was not able to finish the book in time."), or call parents at home, ("No, Mrs. A, your son coming an hour late every day, complete with a blank expression, but missing both his homework and a functional writing implement, is not really working for him .") Now, my nights are blessedly free (not counting sick children) so I actually have time to fill everyone in on our daily adventures. End of digression.]

Before we go any further, I would like to send a shout-out to Shira "Isenberg" who, in her own words, is "embarrassingly and ridiculously addicted to the blog." Shira, there is no reason to be embarrassed. We all need something to waste our time with; I'm glad that I am here to fill that need. Also, Shira has requested that when I come out with a best-seller (and I'm not sure here if she's referring to my tome on child-rearing or my book on aliyah; either way), she would like to be president of my fan club. I just checked, and it seems that position is available, so Shira is hereby awarded with that dubious honor.

Some random thoughts:

Shopping
Today I went shopping with the kiddies. At the stores here, you bag your own groceries. Even if the checkout lady is finished scanning your items, and there is no one behind you in line, she still does not get involved in the bagging process. This is fine. I respect their boundaries. And actually, I found that I kind of like bagging my own stuff because I can make sure the bags are not too heavy. I also like to organize my bags into categories so they're easier to unpack. I start off very organized and structured. Yogurts and milk. Cans. Meat and hot dogs. You get the idea. By the end, though, I'm feeling a lot of pressure. She's done scanning and I've paid. There are people in line behind me waiting for me to finish, because they don't start scanning until the bagging area is clear. Everyone is just watching me bag my items and waiting for me to finish. I start to lose my cool and just throw things in bags without any of my previous organizational techniques. So when I get home, there's always a Random Bag or two. For example: peanuts, toilet cleaner, vanilla. Or: butter, cucumbers, a single roll, and an extension cord. I always find it amusing to see what ends up in the "Random Bag."

Poofahs
Last year, when we came for our pilot trip, I remarked to Donny that we should be thankful that time is the same. Every other unit of measurement is different in Israel, but time is the same. Wouldn't it be annoying, if, for example, every hour was really forty three and a half poofahs? And when you asked someone, "How long does it take to get from Modi'in to Haifa?" and they would answer, "Oh, about 43 poofahs and 17 dinkles" and then you're sitting there frantically trying to do the math in your head, until you give up and buy a Poofah Converter which you keep on your person at all times. So this is something I am grateful for.

[Poofahs actually took on a life of their own. I offered them to my students last year as bribes. "25,000 poofahs to the first 10 people to sit on their seats!" And because they're kids and they love to beat each other at things, even if the thing is imaginary and meaningless , they would race each other to be one of the first ten. Some of the more, ahem, "organized" (and here I mean, "obsessive") students actually kept logs as to how many poofahs they had acquired. It has been suggested that I could also offer poofahs to all of my loyal readers as a reward for being so, well, loyal. So I am offering 23,500 poofahs to the first 10 people to post a comment. (Make sure to keep a running tab of how many you've collected.)]