...Read The Bloody Sign

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I have a really good sense of direction. Usually. Unlike my mom, who gets lost in the parking lot, I can find my way anywhere in the world. Yesterday, I took a break from Shiva cooking and went with my friend Sarit to Jerusalem in order to attend a  breastfeeding course. I'm working on my Doula certification and this was a requirement.  We set out for the Holy City, 7 am, bright and early. Plenty of time, the workshop was scheduled for 9:30.  It was a lovely drive and we  chatted away. Hucking a chinik to put it mildly. (About A.D.D and Ritalin, painful husbands, natural childbirths, A.D.D, how difficult it is to read road signs in Hungarian & Mikva's. Did I mention A.D.D?) 


So first things first, we missed the Route 6 South turnoff - no biggie. Turned around somewhere near Kochav Yair and made our way down the toll road towards Jerusalem. We stopped only a couple of times for diet coke and a wee, but after a while, we noticed that the landscape had changed was looking a tad arid. No hills to be seen anywhere. No trees. Thats odd. Hmmmmm. Where the heck were we, couldn't be far now I tell Sarit. And then  I saw the sign to bloody Arad. This was not good. The b.f. course was starting in 20 mins and we were 20 km before Be'er Sheva. I kid you not. Oh Shite.
The hontastashura is that after turning back, getting stuck in traffic and getting lost  in the center of the city we arrived approx 90 mins late. Luckily I am a breastfeeding guru.(We won't mention the age I actually weaned my kids, but let me tell you, I am a master). We got there just in time to learn about "baby led latch on", and what kind problems would promp a call in to the lactation consultant.


The feedback I have gotten from this little episode has been varied. My mom laughed so hard she chocked. Petero wanted to know how we could have possibly missed the humungous signs to Jerusalem. My dad was speechless for once. And my bro, bless him, pointed out that it takes only one hour to get to Jerusalem. So how come we only figured out we were lost by the time we were almost in Eilat?
Uhm. Ok, so we got a bit confused. In my defense, I was not driving the car, so I shouldn't take all the responsibility. Besides, this story is not in the same league as the time my brother had his car stolen. Two days later it was found, happily parked outside the bank, not a car thief in site.  So there bro. Put that in your smoke and pipe it.

You don't need a plastic plant...

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I spent the night with EBay. Again.

Really, even I have to admit that this one is getting a bit out of hand. But I can't stop. Last night I was bidding on cashmere anything (which is perfectly understandable right?) but the night before it was Artificial Replica Plants. I currently have no less than 5 in my "watching summary". Only the fact that the postage from Australia is a tad high, is stopping me from buying them outright.

And the interesting thing is, once I get onto a particular category, say Leopard Animal Print Scarves or "Punk rock funky arm warmers goth emo cyber gloves", I tend to obsess and buy uhm, more than one. Ok the last two purchases were for Dyl, as were the "Gothic Rave Black shiny HOLE Leggings Pants Punk J25". But does it really count if its not for me??? I am not the one who needs the 4 pairs of headphones(Sennheiser/$10). It's the kids, I mean, its my duty to buy them necessities. No?

The problem is with the husband. BPO is starting to get seriously upset ask questions. As soon as I close the deal and pay, he knows it instantly. Comes right into his mailbox as it is HIS Pay Pal account. Shite. I was pondering this dilemma at about 2 am and came up with an eureka moment. Wait for it... don't pay for them individually. Turns out that I can buy different items from many vendors and then pay for them all at once, at the end. One Pay Pal charge. Ok, so that is resolved.

I was lucky last night though, I was outbid on a black Pierre Cardin 100% cashmere sweater, Just in time. Who needs a short sleeved sweater here in Israel, and XL is not my size.
Oh, and just to explain: the fake plants will not be IN the house, that is just tacky. They are for filling in the dead spaces in the yard, that the cats have ruined. Makes perfect sense. So should I get them?

PS: If anyone knows what is a Cyber Glove is, please fill me in?

Next time you are on a reality show- DO NOT sing.

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So, the TV crew came and went. And seeing as this is a Note To Self I will say it again: next time do not sing! You are welcome to read hubby's blog for all the gory details, but at this point, I am just mortified at what embarrassing things they will actually show. I mean, what were we thinking for goodness sake.

They loved Dyl, she was really cool. Peter's black cupboard was riveting. They are going to have to put in subtitles, cause the Boychild only spoke English. Our neighbor Eddie was no help with the Trumpledores arm question and I didn't even know he lost one.

All in all, the whole thing was totally fascinating.It's amazing how many people and camera's and hidden directors, with microphones kept popping out of the place.

So, I am now obsessing wondering: how many people actually watch Arutz 10? None of us watches TV at all, so for sure WE wont see it. Or maybe no one will tune in for the whole month of November, think that's possible?

Please God, and I mean this, pleeeeease have them cut out the singing bits. In fact, why don't you have them scrap the whole show- cause I may not be able to go out in pubic ever again- Ugh. Thanks.

Don't let the TV lady in the house, no matter how cute she is.

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Apparently, we are going to be on Television! Maybe. And a reality show at that. Us, the Family of Black. S'trues God. Some day over the next week or possibly 2, there may be a knock on the door and a crew of TV like people, camera's et al, will descend upon us. Not sure how we got involved in all this (well it did have to do with a lovely young lady who knocked on our door a few weeks back) but there is apparently a cash prize and we are amazingly idiosyncratic perfect she said.  I cannot divulge the network or the show, but it should be interesting.

Now, I do see a few minor problems with this whole deal. 

1- The house will have to be tidy at all times. Serious stress. ugh.

2- I don't want to gross anyone out, so Dyl is going to have to clean the cat box everyday, righhttt, and her room, no easy feat.

3- Aunty Netta's big antique wardrobe, that is currently causing a "ferrible" in the extended family, can no longer stand by the front door until the issue is resolved.

4- We may actually have to all be home at the same time. Not an easy one for the Girl-Child, who by the way, is going to have to dress in her best Goth, just in case.

5. The Boy speaks almost no Hebrew, and what he does, is with a Russian accent at that. Go and know- I am fascinated to see how they will deal with it.

6. We may have to be nice to each other. No shouting. What a concept.

7. This is a biggie- what will we say if they ask us questions about the Ach Hagadol (Big Brother- Israeli version) or Hisardut (Survivor-Israeli version)? Hopefully the girl will have a clue, as the rest of us watch NO TV AT ALL.

8. And the most worrying problem of all is what will I feed the crew?

Will keep you posted.

I Can't Win

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I cannot help myself, I just have to reply to my husbands rant about me on his 80% Blog.

For the last 3 days, I have manically been sorting out the house. My Clutterholic confession in an earlier blog really shamed me to the core- so I decided to tidy up.

Our Tami 4 water machine arrived and needed some place on the counter-top, so I took it as a great opportunity to clean out the kitchen. I went through all 2 of the drawers, and tossed out some of the items I don't need (breathe..breathe...). I moved all the coffee/tea supplies to the closet above the Tami 4 and cleaned out at least another 5 cupboards. This is hard for me you know. Really.

Next day, I organized my office and I must say, it looks awesome. One of these days I will get to my +200 cookbooks, but I can't do everything.

So, yesterday, I bit the bullet and tackled the spare room. Now you should know, one cannot walk into that room. Period. It is the family garbage dump for the whole house. Blackpetero is constantly complaining about the mess, but just last week, HE dumped 4 (seriously) 4 garbage bags of blackdaughtero's shit in there, with nary a thought.

Poor blacknephewo, who has to sleep in that room when he visits from Tel Aviv, has had to gingerly climb over piles of stuff just to get to the bed. So it was time. I went through every piece of paper/school work that the kids have dumped in there for the last 9 years. I put all of Blacksono's old game boy, nintendo, game cube, playstation and xbox games into a giant box and returned them to his room. The consoles have not yet turned up, but am keeping an eye out. I consolidated about 8 drawers of unused beading supplies into one box, and hid the 60 balls of wool that I am currently not using. (its almost Winter so I will need to make a few scarves, right?). I returned the 4 bags of blackdaughtero's stuff to her room. Basically, I threw out 2 leaf and lawn sized garbage bags full of stuff, collected a box for charity, and 20 years of magazines are waiting for someone to deal with. (I just cannot- if I even look at them, I will keep them all).

By the end of the day, the room was lovely. The floor was entirely visible and all that was left was a box of art supplies, that I have yet to figure out where to put, a HUGE box of the husbands books and a collection of old eyeglasses.

Then I read BPO's blog this morning as well as his comments on MY last blog. I am dammed if I do and dammed if I don't. Who wears out of fashion glasses, even if there are 12 pairs? Seriously guys, I can't win.

I will NOT be an addict in my next life.

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Ok, I have to come clean. I am an addict. And I don't say that lightly. It seems that I have an "unhealthy obsession" to everything, well almost everything.  I used to think it was just Chocolate, but turns out I am overly enthusiastic about way more than high quality bittersweet chocolate that melts in the mouth. I can put back a few dozen chocolate covered caramel pecans in one sitting without batting an eyelid. Lindt chocolates make me weak at the knees, and thank God, my favorite chocolate is currently unavailable in this country- (Cadbury's with mint crispy bits inside. hmmmm.)

So- I'm Jo and I am a...

Shopaholic- Especially if things are on sale, that's for me. (Except MAC cosmetics,which never goe on sale, so I just have to avert mine eyes when walking passed.)  It doesn't actually matter what is on sale, as long as it IS (On Sale). Those red stickers at Target are my downfall. Luckily, I could never afford expensive designer shit so I have to make do. Lately, I spend my time on Amazon and E-bay, and hope that Blackpetero does not notice what goes on with the PayPal.

Clutterholic/- I just cannot keep things organized and I have a really hard time throwing things out. I have papers from 10 years ago and every single drawing my kids ever made.

I also forget where I put things and its almost impossible to find anything in the mess. I once lost the cordless phone and someone found it in the freezer next to the dark chocolate premium Ice- cream bars. hmmmm.


Nicotine Addict- this is a big one. And pretty much caused me to be an alcoholic, as I convinced myself that I could not have a ciggie with out a drink. How's that for logic, after 15 yrs of being Nicotine Free. 


Computer Addict- Seems I have a problem with all things media related. Apparently this is a huge problem, and there are whole websites and organizations to deal with compulsive computer use. According to hubby, I have already filled about 1 terabyte of hard disk space with Pure Blood, QAF, Dexter, Top Chef .......Wait, this is way  too incriminating, so will stop right there. My Facebook and email are checked on average every 5 minutes, and if I am away from my computer for more than an hour or so, I start to hyperventilate.

I drink at least 8 cups of Caffeinated beverages per day, and have just discovered Diet Coke. Really, I used to hate that stuff, until I gave up Alcohol, now I cannot get enough.
My daughter told me yesterday, that she thinks I am a Workaholic, but I totally disagree. I am A.D.D, so when I focus on something, I superfocus. Oh and BPO complains that I play way too much Online Scrabble with Alon. So,what of it?  I have a few more minor addictions that I cannot reveal, as I do not want to corrupt the youth, so will leave it at that. Wait, do Shoes and Bags deserve their own category? And what about Wool? Bet there is no 12 step program for that one. Last time I was in Houston, I bought approx 60 balls of different colored wool/yarn from Michaels, it was on sale, and oh so pretty. Hubby was not happy as it filled the extra suitcase I had to go out and buy.

And besides- I don't even KNIT.

Need I say more? 

ps: My son doesn't notice much of anything, he is too busy playing video games- the apple does not fall far...

pss: I would like to thank my Higher Power for not introducing me to Crack cause that would really suck.

A Wedding & A Cinnamon Bun

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. . . Next time- find out beforehand that Sagi's wedding reception is being held in the middle of a field.
 

My feet are dead. Again. Sagi and Meital's wedding was really cool, nice weather for a change, awesome music and great food. But it would have been nice to have some advance knowledge of the venue.I mean, just cause its on a kibbutz does not mean you have to dress like a kibbutznik (no disrespect intended). In typical Israeli fashion, the fashion was widely varied. I was dressed to the T, in a little black dress & high heeled sandals, hubby looked pretty good in his staple black.  Yuval wore shorts and Crocs. I kid you not. Half the people wore jeans and the other half could have been on the catwalk. Only in this country. There are no rules. And no one ever ever wears ties.

As I stumbled over a million small rocks, twisted my ankle and watched my designer heels sink into the mud, I wondered if Crocs were possibly the answer. No one would even notice.
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. . . Next time- READ THE RECIPE- Goddammit.

I catered a Bris on Sunday Morning, Erev Yom Kippur. To those not in the know, everything here in Israel shuts down completely. There are NO cars on the roads, except emergency veHicles and bicycles. ALL the shops and supermarkets shut tight. No money exchanges hands on this solemn day. Now it's a tradition in our family that every year, P. makes Olivia's Melchika (sort of cinnamon/chocolate buns) to break the fast. Blackpetero made sure to tell me a million times that he needed flour, eggs, butter and chocolate chips. Of course I got him what he needed.

Back to the catering, which went without a hitch,food was delicious and the gig was lucrative for a change. I decided to cut costs by baking my own bread, giabetta's and a seriously sinful flour-less chocolate ganache cake. It was unbelievably good. But I had not realized that it used 10 eggs, 600 g of butter and a few kilos of good quality chocolate chips. It was just too late. By time it came to make the melchika, it somehow turned out,  that we were out of eggs, butter and good quality bittersweet chocolate. Jeez how the heck did that happen? The shops were all closed and Hubby was not a happy camper. He bitched and sulked for quite a while until I borrowed some eggs from the neighbors and found some dodgy butter at the back of the fridge.  I know, I know- I really do need to plan things a bit better. But the cake was awesome.

 

The main street of Ra'anana on Yom Kippur.

. . . be VERY specific about how short you want your haircut.

A typical day at the hairdresser.

The hair is getting a bit unmanageable, a few split ends here and there, so it's off to Avi for a trim. Maybe a few layers here and there, I tell him. A tad shorter would be good. Nothing drastic, you know.

"Smoch alai" (trust me) say's he. How long have we been together? 10 years? Right. Go for it.

Now you need to know, that I have serious self esteem issues concerning my ears (hate them). Seriously, with a passion. When I was 5, my mom decided it would be a good idea  for me to have a cute little bob for my first day of primary school. Blissfully unaware, I dressed in my little school uniform and started big school. It was a nightmare. Who knew? I had monstrosities instead of ears. I never forgave my mom for that haircut. She swears it was the fashion at the time, and I looked beautiful- tell that to those evil, cruel, horribly noxious brats on the playground.

Back to Avi. 

Heart sinks at the first cut. Oh crap. I know that this is a serious mistake. A breach of trust. The hair is now just above my shoulders, but mostly on the floor, for Godsake. Let me out of here, I'm gonna sue.

This past week has been traumatic but I am getting used to it. Apparently, I look 10 years younger. And except for Asaf, the gardener/fighter pilot, most people seem to like it. I can still sort of hide my ears, and I have to admit that its much easier to deal with. The big question is what's next? A Buzzcut is NOT a good look for me. 
A woman's relationship with her hairdresser is a very special one. Jeez Avi, I feel cheated and let down. We are going to have to do a lot of work to heal these wounds. How about some therapy?

Shivta

Archeology Saturday at Shivta. 
(Note misery on daughters face. She had only 2 hours sleep the night before.DMS)

. . . Don't Listen to Husband

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 1- Don't listen to Husband, when he says "You don't need sunscreen" while traipsing around Nabatean Ruins, in the middle of the Negev Desert.

2- Don't listen to Husband when he assures you the pasta salad in the boot won't go off, while exploring Nabatean Ruins for 3 hours in the middle of the desert.

Note to Self: Don't take pasta salad along with you to the desert. The chances of it going off are pretty high. Even if said Nabatean Ruins are pretty cool and the salad is awesome (home made pasta, sun dried tomatoes, kalamata olives, capers and parmesan cheese- may be served hot).

Saturday morning @ 5:30 am. It's Archeology Saturday.
Blackpetero has decided that today's destination is the  Nabatean city of Shivta. He insisted It was decided that the whole family, including the nephew, would go "archeologing" today (it's usually just him and the boy). We had been were invited to our friends Dasi and Shaul for lunch (near Shivta)- hence the taking of the above mentioned pasta salad along with us in the first place.
Our friends live on a kibbutz in the South, a stones throw away from Gaza. Literally. After finally arriving at the gates of the kibbutz (a mere 5 minutes from the Rafiah Border Crossing) it appeared that our hosts were still sleeping and we could not get though the gates.

Understandably, after exploring the wonderful and extremely educational ruins of Ancient Shivta for the past few hours we were all a tad, uhm tired. The kids wanted to go home. The moaning and groaning in the car was intense. The big question now was should we stay or should we go.

A snippet of the conversation:

Son-(waking up after the long drive from Shivta): "I've got a sinking feeling that we are not heading home."

Husband- (slightly irked by the delay at gate): "NO we are not".

Son: "I have suddenly gone blind, I'm really sick, I may have rectal bleeding and loss of height. These are symptoms we really should NOT ignore."

Sunburned Jo-(ignoring son): "I need to pee- BPO go straight, there may be a gas station along this road".

Husband: "Are you mad- There is less than nothing in that direction, Jo- just Gaza.

Daughter: "Oh  good, lets go shopping"

Nephew: "Ya, good idea- really cheap munitions in Gaza!"

Son: "But- who ignores sudden blindness?"

etc. etc.etc.

Turns out I did not have to worry- the pasta salad was ok, though I did not eat any of it.
For an educated account of Shivta and our day out see Husbands blog: http://blackpetero.blogspot.com/2009/09/shivta.html

. . . Do Not Cater In Heels

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My feet are buggered.

I catered a party last night for 100 people. Granted I only had to do all the appetizers, the salad, the pasta, crudites and desert. (On the original menu was just a variety of bruschetta and salad.) But next time, must remember to get paid for ALL the items.

You may not know this, but I am notorious for NOT making money on my catering. Really. Since my ex partner opened his microbrewery, Jem's Beer Factory, It's all gone downhill. On a sled.

I have never been good with money. (Jem used to take care of the ordering/shopping). But me? I suck at this. I once catered a picnic luncheon and ended up making about $13.(It was the wine that they didn't order- but it was so appropriate at the time!!!). I'm just terrible about estimating the amount of food to prep, and always have to add extra items- one more cake, one more salad, uh wine, etc. (And I use only the best ingredients) But I am a damn good cook.

So last night, my helper bailed on me at the last minute and I had to do the whole lot on my own. Not good. I managed it, somehow, and the food was great. But who in their right mind wears heels in the bloody kitchen? Truth is that I had brought flats, but forgot about them in all the excitement and balagan. Also, I had intended to just do my apps, and then leave. But me being me, had to stay the whole evening. Oh and not get paid for that either.

I am just a woosssss. So I made copious notes on how much to buy next time and what to charge (good move) but I will probably forget I made them and do exactly the same thing all over again. And so it goes. ugh.