Taking Care of Blizzness

(That's Blog Business)

First, two new blogs added to my blogroll:
Apartmentality, by my friend Shira. She knows about color and materials and, you know, design-y stuff. And she's an interior designer! Here in Israel! She has taste! Call her!

Also, an aliyah blog by Loyal Reader Eliana, Oys and Joys. Clever name, no? (I'm talking about the blog name, to clarify. Eliana is a great name also. Though I don't know that I would describe it as "clever." But maybe. Eliana herself is very clever. Okay! Let's move on, shall we?) You can become her Loyal Reader too! Except I've trademarked "Loyal Reader." (No, I haven't). So you'd have to be a "Devoted Follower" or something. And don't worry about jealou-blogosy, like you'd be cheating on this blog if you went ahead and read that one. Loyal Readers (or Devoted Followers) have room in their hearts for everyone's aliyah traumas! Anyway, our blogs are really good friends and even go out together for coffee and wonder why the cups are so freakin' small.

In other business:
In this crazy big-yet-so-small world, we recently had the opportunity to meet two Loyal Readers, who were previously unbeknownst to us. They made their way to us through the blog, and we got to meet them! In person! The best part was that when you talk face to face, you don't to type in random strings of letters and numbers before each exchange.
Anyway, one Loyal Reader-turned-friend is none other than the aforementioned Eliana. We had started emailing before they made aliyah and we recently got to meet the entire Oy family! And we liked them!

The other is Craig; a mutual friend of ours suggested ABA as good reading for those considering aliyah. And then - this is the crazy part, so I hope you are sitting - he said this very blog helped inspire him to make aliyah!

Naturally, the first question we asked him, once we stopped choking on our food, was, "Are you sure you're reading the right blog?" He assured us that he was, and even pointed to the specific post that served as the inspiration: the one about my stolen purse. (Or maybe it was this one.) In his words(ish), "If you can survive a stolen purse with humor, then you can probably survive anything aliyah throws at you. So let's go!"

So. There you go. In addition to constantly helping us all become the best parents we can be, ABA also helped bring one whole family to Israel! Nefesh B'Nefesh, I'm waiting for your phone call.

Friday Confessions: Now Updated with the Thing that I Forgot!

1. Sometimes I sweep up small toys and throw them out because I lack the energy to call the toy's owner over and make him/her pick it up.

2. I can't get rid of our landline because when I can't find my cell phone, I use the landline to call it.

3. When Donny is away on business, though mostly we miss him, there are also things we (read: I) look forward to: Making only one dinner, using his bed as my dumping grounds and having the toilet seat remain down.

4. Speaking of beds, a confession: I don't make mine. I firmly believe in the old saying, "Why maketh your bed in the morning, when you shall just lieth in it at night?" I have made some strides in this area in that I try not to become frustrated with Ariella when she makes hers. (I mean, it cuts into precious morning minutes! But I do not say, "Omigod, Ariella, stop making your bed!" See? Strides.)

5. The thing I was thinking of last night that was so funny and now for the life of me can't remember goes here.

5. When banks, etc. call on our American line, I get a secret thrill out of saying, "No, I'm not interested in your credit card because I live abroad." It sounds so ... cosmopolitan and exotic. Like I live a glamorous life of sipping lattes, examining fine works of art and leisurely strolling down boulevards instead of removing decaying apples from backpacks and being ignored by my children. Although, the latte part is the same. So there's that.

If you have a Friday Confession to share, please feel free.

In Which I Disrobe

Don't worry, it's for a good cause. Well, not for a "good cause," exactly. It's not like I disrobed for charity. (Is that a thing?) More like, I had a good reason for it. Okay, not like a really solid, can't-argue-with-that reason, it was more like ... well, you'll see what it was like.

Should I just get on with it already?

At the beginning of this story, I was robed. I had gotten dressed all by myself. (And--poofahs for me--I did not have to be cajoled or threatened. No one had to hold my skirt while I stepped in or make sure my shirt was on the right way or find my shoes. Although I will admit that I am not past the occasional missing-shoes freak out. "Where are my shoes?" I might run around screaming in the morning. "Has anyone seen my shoes????")

But this morning I was very independent. I walked out of my room, fully clothed. Nadav saw me while he was sucking the toothpaste off his toothbrush brushing his teeth. He looked alarmed. "Toh-reed (take it off)!" he demanded. I thought he was mad that I was wearing long sleeves today. The back-and-forth weather has been difficult for those change-resistant among us. Today, for example, was supposed to be cooler than previous days, so I had put Nadav in a long-sleeve shirt; he insisted I replace it with a short-sleeve one, because he's switched to short, and that's that. He expressed these thoughts eloquently by tugging on the end of the sleeve and grunting, "Hnnnnh!"

However, it was not my choice of clothes that upset him. It was that I got dressed without him present. You see, Nadav and I are like two girls in junior high. We go everywhere together, including the bathroom. (Don't worry, Nadav always shuts the bathroom door behind him; you know, to give us some privacy.) So he's used to coming along with me while I get dressed in the morning. I usually say to him: "Nadav, Mommy's going to get dressed, want to come?" (Do not think I say this because I am lonely. It is Mommy-speak for "If I leave you alone for two seconds, unattended, you will either cry, find the paint or break a glass. So let's go!")

Nadav is unaware of my ulterior motives. To him, "getting dressed" is just another one of our "together" activities. When he saw that I had the audacity to put on clothes without him, he felt shocked and betrayed. He grabbed my hand and dragged me to my room. He waited patiently. I took off the shirt and put it back on. Ahhhh ... I was rewarded with a big smile. The world was right again. In fact, you probably felt it, around 7:30 this morning, Israel time: A feeling of the world just clicking back into place. We proceeded with our day.

Tomorrow: Nadav finds things in the bathroom drawers. Discussions ensue.

Warning: Old Age Ahead!

Actual thing that happened to me yesterday:

Sat down to write an email to Yaakov's teacher. Mid-composition, remembered that I don't actually need to write this email (because I was going to see her later in the day and could just ask her in person). Got up. Ate Snickers. Returned to computer. Thought, "Hmmm. Why did I never write that email?" Halfway through email, remembered:
1. I am going to see her later in the day and can just ask her in person.
2. I already had this conversation with myself.

Also: I've been turning off the oven mid-cookies. The timer dings, I take out a batch, turn off the oven, and slide in a new batch. When I return 10 minutes later, I am surprised that the cookies are taking soooo long to bake. I concoct a bizarre theory regarding oven temps and cookie batter. I turn the timer on for another few minutes. Only when the timer dings again, and the oven is practically cold to the touch, do I realize what I've done.

And this happened to me twice. Within two weeks. The second time it happened, you could reasonably have expected that when I encountered the strangely uncooked cookies, I would have remembered that a similar phenomenon happened recently, and that phenomenon was due to my twitbrain deciding it was time to turn off the oven. However, if you expected that, then I am disappointed in you. Don't you know me better than that already??

So the mind is not what it used to be, is what I'm saying.

At least I remember both my kids' names.