Well, people, it happened - I blinked, and kaytanah ended. Don't worry, Kaytanah #2 starts on Sunday. Wish us luck!
In response to Israel's comment: So far, Yaakov has been managing to get most of it in the toilet. He likes to stand, like a big boy. For those of you who don't know, Israel's son, Ilan, was in the "We Are Almost Three, If You Please, and We Couldn't Care Less About The Toilet" Club. Yaakov was president; Ilan was secretary and treasurer (because his handwriting is so much neater.) However, one day, Yaakov showed up to the weekly meeting - in diapers, of course - and Ilan wasn't there! He left a note (again, the handwriting) saying, "Sorry, my young friend. I am a 'bo-gare.' [Hebrew for "big boy."] I no longer use diapers; I am King of the Bathroom." Just like that, he left the club! Now, Yaakov, of course, couldn't care less. (Hence the name of the club.) Every time we saw Ilan, I tried to impress on Yaakov how cool Ilan's underwear was, and what a big boy Ilan is now. Yaakov would just stare at me and continue zooming cars up my legs. (My legs are often recruited to play the part of the elevator.) I had wondered if Yaakov would still be president of the club at his bar mitzvah. However, now Yaakov is also King of the Bathroom, and the residents of Modi'in were happy and joyful.
Today, I was a lady who lunched. Or, at least, a lady who coffeed. My friend Rena, who also taught at SAR and made aliyah last summer, lives in Buchman, which is in Modi'in, but might as well be in Petra for all I've seen her. She mentioned on Facebook - gotta love that Facebook - that she was leaving on Sunday to go to America for 3 weeks. Then, we had a crazy thought. Why don't we try to meet for coffee????? Now, this did mean I had to get off the couch and out of my pajamas. (I am LOVING this working from home thing.) But it was worth it. We met and got drinks; unfortunately, the restaurant's ice machine was broken (?????), but we managed anyway. The only downside to our get-together was that the restaurant is in Modi'in Center, which has the most poorly designed parking lot ever. Compounding the problem, there is a sign somewhere which advertises, "If You Can't Drive, and Especially, If You Can't Park, Come to Modi'in Center! We Are the Place For YOU!" People actually park in the little narrow strip between the sidewalk and the parking spaces. You know, the strip of road meant for actual driving of vehicles. The best part is how when drivers park their car there, sometimes halfway on the sidewalk, their car tilting dangerously toward the road, people trying to squeeze by give the drivers dirty looks, or honk, or yell, or do all three. (Kind of like "If You're Pissed And You Know It.") And then, the person sitting in the car, which is blocking traffic and making everyone grumpy(er), gives all those people a dirty look right back! As if we had the nerve, the absolute gall, to try to drive on HIS parking spot!
One day, Donny and I were there, and a truck was unloading supplies, effectively blocking us in. The truck drivers were all there, but they just ignored us and kept on unloading. After all, we had parked in their unmarked unloading zone to begin with. Luckily, some very enterprising and enthusiastic Israelis helped us maneuver our car out of the spot, without causing any damage to our car (yay!), or to the truck (oh well). Helping someone ease out of a spot is actually considered high entertainment in this country. It's nice to know that for every #**&&3$%#$ (ask Ariella to explain) who blocks you in, there are at least two adrenaline-fueld mensches that help you get out.