Mar. 28th, 2011 01:51 pm
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So I was just rude to my grandmother, but honestly I have now been awake for about twenty-one hours and have been playing a live-action game of that riddle with the fox, the goose, and the grain pretty much since I woke up, and I do not want to be lectured about my eating/sleeping habits anymore okay. It was actually really nice to talk to Tamar, however briefly, and know that she understood. Because Safta is kind of like one of those experiences that you can never really understand unless you've been through it. She's not like this around strangers. People who only visit occasionally tend to go away thinking "what a sweet, if slightly eccentric, old woman." But once she gets to know people a bit better...

Paul is going to have his hands full in a few decades reassuring me that I am not turning into her. Unless I actually am, in which case he is going to have his hands full planning his escape, the poor dear.

When I said I would stay here for this week I was expecting to feel all guilty about being paid for, essentially, having a giant house with comfortable bedding all to myself with no responsibilities for a whole week, because I was informed that the purpose of my stay was simply to be here in case something went massively wrong, at which point my function would be to contact my doctor cousin/emergency services, depending on the nature of the medical emergency.

And it's not that I don't think this is still entirely worth it, because hello money for a job for which I did not need to apply or interview for or wake up and be at an office on time for, and also, she's family, but um. Yeah, I think the notion that I need to feel bad for being given something for nothing has gone out the window at this point.

Ohman the next time I go to the gym I am going to die. But I bought a cookbook, and this one has recipes with meat in it. Hurrah!

...but don't you dare tell my grandmother that, seriously, for the love of all that is holy. Just don't.



Sep. 30th, 2008 03:11 am
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so there's some movie, I think it's computer-animated, with this SCARY AS ALL HELL cow that eats people. Swallows them. anyone know what I'm talking about?

-sweet salad, with gorgonzola and strawberries, greens and sweet dressing
-sweet potatoes in brown sugar sauce
-challah with butter
-apples with honey
-tenderloin with onions shallots
-string beans with a sweet sauce, probably soy vay teriyaki, and sesame seeds
-apple pie with vanilla ice cream

-Alfonso from Germany
-Gregory and Donna
-Eema and Aba
-Safta, at least during dessert

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are amazing.

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So today I attended Landon's wedding. Was at Aryn's four weeks ago, exactly, which meant that I had my period at both, ugh. They were extremely different, because Aryn is more... earthy & hippyish and stuff, and married someone similar, and Landon is slightly less so, also marrying a Catholic. But I danced and had a good time at both. I danced with some guy in a blue shirt, too, that was cool. Have now tasted champagne. It is kind of gross. And carbonated. (Champagne experiment: Failed.)


Well, what I'm actually going to do is find her and make her write. AT SWORDPOINT, IF NECESSARY, DAMMIT.*

I tried to explain the Temeraire books to my mother, which is at best a doomed enterprise. My mother does not understand the appeal of dragons. My mother does not understand the appeal of British Naval Officers of the Napoleonic Era.

Things Leora has a major a bit of a thing for, in no particular order: )

eh. Sleep now. Talk about weddings and dragons and Worf in the morning.
* )
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Hey all, am fine, have not yet been bombed/had my throat slit by Arabs for talking to boys. Just letting you know. The government here is turning upside down but apparently that happens every day. I have met more cousins than I ever knew existed, have semi-adopted a kitten, not learned Hebrew, forgotten English, and am reading "The Little Prince" in Hebrew. I'm at, like, chapter five. And a chapter is about a page and a half. After, oh, two weeks. *hangs head*




ׁׁׁׁ000989ׂׂׂׂ76ֶֶֶֶ5ֵֵֵNHDFכמדנכ0000מגגדיכנ איןד ןד רןגןבוךםודץ WTF MATEץ

Ah ha haa... there we go. Er, sorry. *cough* Pavel, there is no need to attempt anything in Hebrew written above, it is me saying "this is ridiculous" in english.

Miki: So Roy, do you know what language Leora speaks?
Roy (a small cousin, about five years old): English.
Miki: So where do you think she was born?
Roy: Huh?
Miki: You were born in Israel. But she was not born in Israel.
Leora: *tear*
Miki: So where was she born?
Roy: She was born in English.
Leora: *snnnxxxx*
Roy: ?
Leora: Nothing.
Miki: A really big country, where they speak English.
Roy: England.
Leora: England? England's tiny!
Roy: America!

Take that, Argentinians. Five-year-old Israeli children know that AMERICA means the US. Not you. So there. Of course, they also think that America is called English, but darnit, America means the United States of!


Anyway. I have to go back to the kibbutz now. The rest of my evening will be spent cleaning my room until it satisfies my roommate Lynn. Must go.

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I dreamt that I was Hermione. And then I fell in love with Draco Malfoy. *shudders*

The rest of the dream was better. We were fighting ringwraiths with The Book of Three and it turned out that one of them was nice. It was cool. And I was watching a bunch of stags carrying billboards up and down alongside the highway, and I was a lion and Lynn said that I was mishtolelet, which is like... "romping around all crazy-like." And there were Jamaicans cleaning my house while I was wearing a helmet and someone with a Star Wars voice was talking about what a cool helmet it was. Then there was soap all over the front porch, so me and Eema and the Jamaican guys were all skidding around on in and singing "Zombie Jamboree." Malfoy was being all haughty and wouldn't join in. He was sitting on my swings, the ones that aren't there anymore. He also challenged Harry to a race of Malfoy riding Buckbeak vs. Harry on his broom. And talked about integrals and sets. And I think Phoebus from Hunchback of Notre Dame was there too... he may have given me the helmet. And there was lots of Tolkien. There was also a hairdresser who was quoting the bible. Wrongly, but it seemed right in the dream. Something about Elijah.

I have to go and practice, because I have orchestra today at 5:00. I don't really want to go. I want to have the house to myself again, so I can wear absurd costumes and talk to myself and sing and dance and play music real loud, stay up to all hours of the night and bake bread and clean up only when I feel like it. Sigh.

Erella and Amnon are here to visit. Last night we went out to Outback Steakhouse. I'd never been there before. It was pretty good- I liked the bread, it was brown and sweet and still hot, and the "bloomin' onion" was better than I expected. I had cream of broccoli soup (not bad at all) and Amnon's batata (sweet potato) which was achla (really good or cool or whatever). Erella brought us handmade scarves which are diaphanous and lovely, greens and blues and purples in this pretty ripply effect. I like them a lot. They also brought a CD of Israeli melodies arranged for flute and orchestra.

I was also inspired to write Little Mermaid fanfic.


This is the part where I look at myself and go, "I don't know you."

It's pretty much stopped raining, as far as I can tell. Maybe I'll bike to MSU. That'd be kind of fun. By kind of fun I mean not, but I do need the excercise, so... self-propelled speeder bikes it is. Or something. Eru, I'm pretty tired. My left eye has been hurting lately. Also my teeth, kind of.

I am extremely bitter at Meijers for rearranging everything. It seems to always be that way, doesn't it? As soon as I figure out the arrangement of something, and how everything in it works, it gets entirely changed. Annoys me to no end. I think Eema's here to make me go to MSU and practice. I really don't want to. I just want to stay in and be lazy. Rrrgh.

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I was glad, because Colonel Meizh Vermel is brave and cool. But nobody's as cool as Pellaeon. I was very bitter though, at Luke and Mara for killing Thrawn's clone, even if they did it to survive, because come on, even aside from the cool factor they're going to need him to fight whoever's coming from Unknown Space.

I also broke into Paul's room and stole his Star Wars anthologies. So far I've read Tales From the Empire and about half of Tales From Jabba's Palace. I must say that I felt bad for the rancor, and his keeper, even when I saw the movie for the first time in eighth grade, so good for whoever-it-was who made sure we knew that the rancor was cool, and shouldn't have had to die. I must say though I was mostly interested in Tales From the Empire, because I like the Empire, well maybe I don't like it but I find it more interesting. Thrawn was in it. Thrawn rocks.

I also think I am missing something where Corran Horn is concerned. He keeps showing up and every time he shows up he seems to have a completely different backstory. Who is this guy, anyway? Why can't he stay in on place/make up his mind who he is, what he does, and who's side he is on?

I'm annoyed with myself for reading the Star Wars comic books, because now I have that image of Talon Karrde in my head and I can't get it out. I hate when I do that. I really do.

I didn't like *all* the stories. Some were kind of stupid. But a lot of them were good and worth reading. Also Paul's mother wants me to be her housecleaner, but Eema says I should clean our own house first, and then if I do a good enough job maybe she'll see about letting me clean the Sherrill's house.

Gregory and Donna, my favorite American cousins, are moving to Okemos. Gregory got a job as Head Doctor of Michigan or whatever it is, so yay. Although when they came to visit today I was dressed in my Crazy Jedi Costume and had disinfectant smeared all over my face, so I kind of had to run away and yell at them hello, no my parents aren't here... bye... and I felt bad about that because it was really rude but then they left before I could change and go say hello properly.

And Mical's moving to Boulder, and wants to adopt this dog named Mustang (but she's going to change her name). Apparently in Colorado people worship their dogs, and the Humane Societies don't put them to sleep and everyone leaves their dogs at Doggie Day Care centers when they go to work. Huh.

I need to get back into blogging. I'll try to update more often, and stop talking about Star Wars, because who wants to hear about Star Wars?



Oct. 17th, 2005 04:11 pm
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So who doesn't want to go to chemistry? Leora doesn't want to go to Chemistry! Yay!

Coty says hello, all. I'm in the process of recording some of my CDs to my new laptop. I really miss the extensive music collection I had built up on my old computer, and wish that I knew a way to transfer the ones that aren't on CDs.

reading some Kenshin fanfics; read too much of one before its stupidity chased me away. Really, tense changes were never an error you encounter much. Most people don't have too much of a problem with that, because if you write the way you talk, hopefully you don't change tense like that. I'd never really noticed how incredibly jarring it can be. I also read a Saito fic in Spanish, which made me very happy. Apparently I have not forgotten as much of that language as I have feared.

Yesterday I tried to tell Melody "don't worry" in Spanish (no te preocupes), and what came to mind was the Japanese "shinpai na," or something to that effect. I'm sure it's incorrect Japanese, but still, weird. It's "al tidaagi" in Hebrew, or "al tiidog." (femenine and masculine. Although once again, I could be wrong. And then I would be humiliated, because I'm supposed to know Hebrew.)

Chemistry was nice today. It made me nostalgic for high school.

I miss high school.

That's how you know college sucks.

Anyway, the Germans arrive today. My parents have been making lots of changes around the house, which I don't really like, but I guess I'll survive. The kitchen table and green flower dishes are to become mine when I have a house of my own, so at least I know they're not gone forever.

In just a little more than an hour, I will see Eyal and Katie again! Hooray, hooray!

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So now I'm with my dad's sister and her family, including Oren. Who remembers Oren? "Hi, I'm your cousin, can I stay with you for a while before I go to South America" Oren? Yep. Anyway, it's so cool here. Kfar Giladi is beautiful and the house is full of artwork and I have internet and HOW NICE it is to eat food cooked for three or four people instead of one hundred. Lunch was the usual kibbutz fare, shnitzel and pasta salad and ordinary salad, but dinner was chicken (which was good, though chicken makes my jaws tired) and potata (ze achla- extremely yummy) and corn that we bought at the shuk (no good. Corn here tastes like soap) and Israeli salad (tomatoes and onions and all sorts of things chopped up fine- not a leaf in sight, like American salads. I actually ate tomatoes, and liked them for once. Tamari, be proud of me) and bread that Erella made from scratch (with nuts, that I still ate, and liked) spread with hummous that Erella made from scratch (also good stuff). After dinner I drank a cup of tea (rosehip tea. Are those things even edible? Whatever, it had honey in it and was good). I feel very much at home here already. The family is so welcoming. But I think the biggest contributing factor is that they let me do things for myself, and even help out a little. They let me carry my own suitcase, and for that alone I would have been grateful, but then I was even *expected* to help carry groceries and set the table and clear it afterwards and stuff. It was great. I felt like a part of the family.

I've been extremely clumsy lately. I'm always dropping things and hitting things with other things or simply falling over. It's starting to worry me. My mind keeps torturing me with scenarios in which it's like "it started out with small things, just an increasing clumsiness blah blah" and then I get all scared. But seriously, I've fallen down more in the past week than I have in the past few months. For no reason at all- I'll just collapse. I twisted my ankle badly during one fall. It's still hurting me. And I've spilled things and dropped things- this evening alone I knocked over a water glass, dropped the tea bag and spoon into the tea and splashed it, and dropped and broke a bowl at lunch. I felt bad but nobody seemed angry about it. Still, I'm getting worried.

I had an adventure today. You see, Aba planned out how I would get to Kfar Giladi, but I don't think he told them, or the counselors, or me, or if he did, we all forgot completely. So I talked to Lindsay yesterday and asked her how I should get there. "Well, you'll take our bus with the rest of us to the airport and they'll pick you up from there, right?" she said. Okay. So I called them and talked to Oren, who said, "Oh, well, you'll be taking a bus to Kfar Giladi, right?"
"I'm not sure I'll be allowed to," I replied. "Not by myself."
"What? Why not? What do they think you are, four years old?"
Now, I've never ridden any bus other than the CATA buses to the mall and back, and even then I manage to get myself into trouble by being a stupid n00b. Buses that go across the country- a FORIEGN country, in which I cannot read the writing, and am far from perfect at the language, are a whole other matter. I can handle taking a plane by myself. I know how planes work, and with planes everything is already arranged in advance anyway- it's simply a matter of following the signs to the gate and then following the signs to the luggage claim. I've done it millions of times. But even so, Eema and Aba went over the procedure for LaGuardia over and over and over, and I called them from my cell phone to check in and make sure I was on the right track every turn I took, even though I was with three other people. Buses? My family doesn't ride buses. Even with them along, it would have been new and exciting. I don't know how buses work. I don't know what you're supposed to do for a bus. Riding the CATA buses by myself still makes me a little nervous, even though now I know to pull the yellow rope before we get to my stop. And that was on a route that I had studied and studied. No, I didn't know how to ride a bus. The *smart* thing to do would be to tell Oren all of that, and ask that he come pick me up. I could just explain that... that I was four years old. To the guy who had come to New York to look for work, found his way to us, and then hiked all over South America, by himself. To explain to a country full of independent, responsible youth that I was a spoiled, sheltered American.
"I'll look into it."

When I talked to Sara Polon that night, I was fairly confident that she would refuse, and I would have a good excuse to tell Oren. "Yes, I'm sorry," I would say, "but they're legally responsible for us and all that, I know it's stupid, but people in America are so sue-happy that they take every precaution. I know, it's really stupid, but I guess you're going to have to come and pick me up." I made a mental note to work on sounding disappointed.
"Oh," said Sara. "Well, I'm not really happy about it, but I guess that the trip is officially over as soon as we get to the airport and hand out the tickets, so I don't see why not. You're eighteen, right?"
"It's close enough." We didn't get back to the hostel until way after midnight that night, and my cell phone was out of batteries, so I couldn't even call my parents and ask them for help.

I said my goodbyes through a light haze of panic, counting down minutes until seven o'clock when I decided it would be late enough to call and not wake people up. We were already on our way to the airport when the time came. Erella answered the phone.
"Good morning?"
"Hi... this is Leora speaking."
"Ah, Liora! Oren tried to call you last night."
"Yes, we were out." I swallowed. "So... I'll be allowed to take the bus."
"Fine, fine. You'll want to go to Kiriat Shmona."
"Hang on." I leaned across the aisle. "Jocelyn, do you have a pen?"
"Thanks. Okay. Sorry. What Shmona?"
"Kiriat Shmona. Take bus number 842 or 845, they'll be on the seventh floor." I scribbled frantically on the back of my left hand. "So call us when you're about fifteen minutes from the stop, and we'll send Oren to come and get you, okey Liora?"
"Oh- okay."
"Okey, great! See you soon, bye bye."
"Um-" Too late. I gazed at the tiny amount of almost meaningless information on my hand. 842 845 7th floor Kiriat Shmona. Wait, seventh floor? No way a bus station had seven floors. Buses can't go up or down seven floors. She must have meant second floor. Darned accents. I crossed out "7th," wrote "2nd," and gave the pen back. As we pulled into the parking lot, Benny snarled out "WELCOME!!!!" over the intercom. Everyone jumped. The sleeping kids startled awake with wild eyes.
"What in Eru's name is *wrong* with this guy?" I groaned.
"I hate that man," said Deborah. "I really really hate him."

When we got off the bus at Ben Gurion Airport in Jerusalem, I sought Inon and showed him my hand.
"Oh, there's no need for all of that. You can get a bus from here to Kiriat Shmona. Go with Avner- he's going home on the bus too. There he is."
"Wait, I have to get my suitcase." I fought my way through the crowd to the belly of the bus. I slung my North Face backpack on, my BBYO backpack over that, hung my shoe bag on my suitcase, and tied my sleeping bag to that. It was a clumsy arrangement, and I had to keep stopping to make adjustments, but I could carry everything. "Okay, I'm ready."
"Trek One! Go inside and get your passports!" Called Lindsay.
"Well, almost ready." I trotted alongside Avner, stopping to throw my sleeping bag back on top of my suitcase.
"You have to hurry," he said. "I can't wait for you. I can be inside only for a minute with my gun." I glanced again at the huge rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Right." My suitcase rattled over the threshold. I replaced the sleeping bag on top. "Sara? I need to go." She opened a brown envelope.
"Sure. You're a dual citizen, right?" She began pulling out passports and checking the pictures inside. I could see Avner waiting impatiently a little ways away from the group. Finally she found them both.
"Deborah," I called. "Goodbye!"
"You're leaving now?"
"Yeah. I'll visit you in Toronto, okay?" I didn't dare look at Avner as I took the time to hug her. Finally I turned and ran after him. The soldier was gone.

"It's no problem. The bus is two floors down, right?" We checked the sign. "One floor down. Gai, telech ita. Tase sivuv. Gai will go with you, okey?" He gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. "Bye, darling. Enjoy visiting your cousins."
"Thank you so much." I threw my sleeping bag on top again and followed Gai. He waited for me as I maneuvered my luggage onto the escalator, then we walked quickly around the almost empty floor. We paced back and forth in front of a line of tables for a few minutes until Gai noticed a sign pointing outside. Rattle rattle rattle. Replace sleeping bag. The two of us looked at the empty parking garage.
"Slicha," said Gai to a woman standing in the middle of the hall. "Efo ha otobus le Kiriat Shmona?"
"Kiriat Shmona?" She looked down at us. "Ein. Tzarich lakachat rakevet." All right, this was just not fair. Nobody had said anything about trains. I looked helplessly at Gai.
"You want me to go and ask my father?"
"Okay." I replaced my sleeping bag again as he went and brought Inon. He spoke to the woman for a minute, then turned to me.
"No big deal, you take the train to Tel Aviv and then the bus from there to Kiriat Shmona, from the Central Bus Station there. Come on." I followed them back up the escalator and we started walking to the train station. "Now, the train will not take you to the bus station. It will take you to the Central Train Station. You'll have to go from there to the bus station." This was getting a bit much for me to handle. Wandering around Tel Aviv? Alone? "When you get out of the train station, you'll be in a big square. Go right, walk across the whole parking lot, maybe five minutes, you'll get to the bus station. There are three bus stations. You want the Central Bus Station. Tel Aviv Merkaz."
"Tel Aviv Merkaz," I repeated to myself. "Merkaz."
"Yes. There are six... eh... terminals there. The fourth one will take you to Kiriat Shmona. It's the last stop. You have money?"
"Good. It will cost maybe fifty shekels. Hineh." We had stopped in front of a large machine with lots of Hebrew writing on the screen. "Here, you need a train ticket. Gai, tikne la echad."
"Adult... Tel Aviv... Tel Aviv Merkaz... oh, is that all? Look. Only twelve shekels. Ze mamash zol." I agreed, it was cheap- about two fifty. I let go of my suitcase. It fell over. I propped it up against my leg, dropped my BBYO bag, set my North Face bag on the ground, propped my suitcase back up, took out a twenty shekel bill, bought the ticket, and set all my luggage back up. I repeated the directions back to Inon as we walked through the station. I stuck my ticket in the slot and walked in, calling goodbye. Gai and Inon left.

I was alone. The intercom was speaking in Hebrew, using terms I didn't understand. I looked around. There was nowhere to go except for down. I called the elevator and walked in, adjusted my sleeping bag, and stood there for a minute until I remembered that I had to press a button. This would have set off another round of panic had there not been only two buttons, one of them corresponding to the floor I was already on. I pressed the other one, labeled "T", and went down.

The train was standing at the station already. I picked a car and looked in. "Slicha?" I called. "Ha rakevet hazeh olechet le Tel Aviv Merkaz?"
"Ken, ken." I stepped across the foot-wide gap onto the narrow stairs, hauled my suitcase in after me, and wrestled it through the narrow door. To my surprise, Alon was sitting there, looking bored. I sent a prayer of thanks that I had picked the one car that had one of our soldiers on it, even if it was Alon. "Nu?" He said. "Get out of the doorway, you're blocking it."
"Slicha," I stammered, shoving myself into his booth. He looked at me. I explained the situation, and the instructions I had been given.
"That's wrong," he said casually. "You should stay on this train until you get to Haifa. Then you can take a bus from there. It's rush hour. Going to be a traffic jam in Tel Aviv."
"But Inon said Tel Aviv," I protested. I trusted Inon a lot more than Alon.
"You want to? Okay. You do what you want. It will take you forever."
"But my ticket only goes to Tel Aviv."
"Nobody will check."
"What? You're a tourist. Everyone can see that." I winced. "Even if they catch you they won't do anything bad."
"Fine, so you go to Tel Aviv. But you don't turn right. In fact, you don't want to go to Tel Aviv Merkaz. I get off at the same place, I'll show you. Then you go to the bus station and take your bus to Kiriat Shmona. It's on the sixth floor."
"I was told second."
"Okay, maybe I don't know." He returned his attention to his cell phone. I watched the countryside fly by outside my window, deciding that I really didn't like Alon.

"This is our stop. Come on, come on, why have you got so much stuff?" I ignored him as I wrestled the luggage out the door. A man helped me haul the suitcase across the gap. Alon jumped over after me. "Okay. You see that bridge there? Go left. Past that bridge. The bus station is on your left and it's huge, you can't miss it." He turned and vanished into the crowd. Alone again. I stuck my ticket into the slot and shoved past the turnstile, then tried to drag my suitcase after me. The turnstile stuck. It took several seconds of maneuvering as I pulled everything underneath it, while Israelis waiting in line glared at the stupid tourist. I replaced the sleeping bag, threw away my ticket, and set off walking.

I was past the bridge. Right or left, there was nothing there.

I hate you, Alon.

For some time I just stood there. I have mentioned before how much I dislike the city of Tel Aviv. It's hot, smelly, crowded, and ugly- basically everything I dislike about big cities. I was pretty scared. There was nobody to ask for help. My cell phone was packed away- I didn't even remember which bag it was in. I was surrounded by strangers, completely lost in a foriegn city.

I couldn't stand there forever. I started watching the soldiers. Finally I picked a small group of soldiers with bags and started following them. And yes indeed: they led me straight to the bus station! I did a little dance inside my head. Ha ha Alon, I got here in spite of your crappy directions. Take that, Independent and Responsible Israeli Youth!

I replaced the sleeping bag on top of my suitcase again and followed my soldiers into security. The lady looked at my suitcase and sent me to a different line. (Replace sleeping bag.)
"Please open ze bag," said the other security guard, a young African Iraeli man. I blinked at him, threw my backpacks onto the table, and started unzipping them. "You speak English, right?"
"I speak English and Hebrew," I told him in Hebrew.
"Please close ze bag," he said.
"No, no. Please open ze bag. Ech omrim 'tizgeri et ha tik?'"
"'Please close the bag', you were right."
"Ah, please close ze bag. I practice. Please close ze bag. 'Tik' ze 'bag?'"
"Ken, 'tik' ze 'bag.'"
"Tov, az achshav ha mizvada." He helped me hoist my suitcase on top of the table, then unzipped the top. All underclothes. He closed it again and opened the main compartment. "Nu? It's not your bag, no need for you to look," he told the line behind me. (In Hebrew. He was talking to Israelis, after all.)
"But can you hurry up?" A woman asked. "You're taking your own sweet time!"
"Nu, so go to the other line." She left, and he finished with mine. "Okay, so please close ze bag." I arranged everything again, but had a hard time getting it through the doorway. "Wait wait wait, I help you." He came over and carried my suitcase over the threshold. "You got it now?"
"Ken, todah rabba." I smiled at him. He blew me a kiss and then turned back to the line. I grinned to myself as I went on, charmed. And reset my sleeping bag.

Now I was at least in the right building, but there didn't seem to be any buses around. Everything seemed to be touristy stores or food stores. And I was plenty hungry, but a bus was more important. I followed signs that had little bus icons on them for what seemed like forever. Honestly, it's a BUS STATION, you'd think that the point would be to actually have some buses somewhere. But noooo. They just hate me.

Me: *waits five minutes for guy at ticket counter to notice me* Ani tzricha lalechet le Kiriat Shmona...
Guy: Tilchi le (word I don't know)
Me: Eh...
Guy: Shama! Shama! *points*
Me: But... oh... okay. Thanks. *wanders off, still clueless*

Me: *waits two minutes for lady at information counter to notice me* Efo ha otobus le Kiriat Shmona?
Lady: Eged. Ritzpa shiva.
Me: Okay. Todah.

And so I wandered off in the direction of "Egged Station," which is the best name ever. Too bad it isn't pronounced like it's spelled. Apparently it really is on the seventh floor.

I hate escalators. Insert much replacing of sleeping bags on top of suitcases.

Seventh floor, Egged, numerous terminals here. Soldiers to the rescue once again! I asked an officer in uniform which train was 842, and he kindly helped me find the platform. The bus pulled up a few minutes later, and the driver came through the door. I walked up expectantly.
"You want something?" He asked.
"Do we get on the bus now?"
"No. You see what it says up there? Quarter to ten! That's forty-five minutes from now!" He walked away.

I leaned my suitcase against the wall, set my BBYO backpack on top of it, held my North Face backpack in my lap, and sat down. For some time I watched water drip from the ceiling onto a puddle on the floor. I guess I must have looked rather forlorn, because a woman came up to me and asked "yalda, hakol beseder?" ("Girl, is everything all right?")
"Ken, ken, hakol beseder. Ani rak mechaka la otobus." I indicated the bus in front of me.

I took out Fellowship of the Ring then, and read a bit, so that no one else would think I was all lost and forlorn. At some point I found my cell phone and called Erella to tell her what time the train would be leaving the station. She figured that she'd send Oren to meet me in Kiriat Shmona at around twelve o'clock.

Nine forty-five. I threw my luggage underneath the bus- except for my North Face bag- and climbed on, keeping fifty shekels in my pocket for a ticket.
"Le'efo?" Asked the driver.
"Kiriat Shmona." I handed him the bill.
"Od shlosha shekalim." I opened my backpack. I didn't want to fiddle around for three ten-shekel coins, so I just handed him the hundred. He could give me thirty back. "Ein lach shlosha? Chamishim veh shalosh shekalim le Kiriat Shmonah."
"Oh!" I said, feeling stupid, and took out three one-shekel coins. He handed me a ticket and I sat down. I should have explained myself, maybe, said that I had heard shloshim instead of shlosha. Whatever.

The family sitting across the aisle from me had a bit of drama- a little girl of eight years old, a younger boy who looked about five, and a third little boy who looked about two. All very cute, with books that had names like "Eliezer ve ha Gezer" which means, by the way, "Eliezer and the Carrot." In which Eliezer grows a giant carrot and then needs help from all sorts of farm animals to uproot it. The three kids were very cute, especially the eight-year-old girl, who was dressed all in pink- but like all little kids confined to a small space for an extended period of time, they got bored and figety and didn't want to sit still. And there mother yelled at them in Hebrew. It's a very weird sensation, to hear a mother scolding her children in Hebrew, because I automatically assume that it's meant for me, since it's in Hebrew. Imagine hearing your mother's exact voice yelling at some other kid. You straighten your spine automatically, even though you know she's not yelling at you, because that voice in an angry tone is a signal for you to be scared. Weird sensation.

There was also a creepy American tourist who was a little *too* interested in the little girl. This is why I hate the fact that everyone can tell I'm an American tourist. This is why I make it a point to speak Hebrew whenever possible, just to set myself apart from people like this, who are idiots and come to foriegn countries and give us a bad name.

Despite wanting to look out the window, and being cold because the people in front of me had their fans pointed right at my face, I very quickly fell asleep. I woke up when the bus stopped for the driver to take a break about an hour later. The little girl went and bought popsicles for herself and her two little brothers, because they were grounded from leaving the bus since they had been little brats and the mother couldn't leave them alone.

When we started again, a group of soldiers got on. One of them sat next to me.
"Ahh, it takes too much space," he complained of the giant semi-automatic rifle that he carried, trying to find a way to sit comfortably with it so that it did not block the aisle.
"Oh," I said.

He fell asleep though, which is a shame, because I wanted to talk to him.

So for the next hour, I watched the window, which went up and up and got steadily greener, and I watched my soldier sleep, and I watched little Israeli children be antsy, and I listened to Hebrew storybooks read aloud, and I watched signs read "Qiryat Shemona - 26" and then "Qiryat Shemona - 14" and then "Qiryat Shemona - 4" and then "Qiryat Shemona".

I got my luggage from underneath the bus and went to the parking lot, but got lost and ended up in the bus terminals. I had a fun, fun time dragging my suitcase down two flights of stairs to the restrooms because I didn't want to leave them unattended, and had a fun, fun time digging through my suitcase to find pads, and then a fun, fun time dragging my suitcase UP two flights of stairs. And then I saw Oren. Well, I saw the back of his head, but he'd lived in our house; I can recognize him from the back.

So he brought me to Kfar Giladi.

It's so beautiful here.

(This was written August first. It just took me a while to finish. Beware, as soon as I get home I'm going to start writing the Livejournal Entry From Hell.)

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It's a rather intimidating task. I feel kind of bad for not helping Sarit clean the house, but I'm a guest and am therefore forbidden. I'm not dying of the heat, which is extremely surprising. I got seriously dehydrated at one point, but survived. (I wasn't really in that much danger.) My cousins are pretty cool. Yes, Sivan is "a little punk," as Aba said, but she's nice, and Omer is nice, and Snow is cute and Pierce hates me. And I got a sheep.

Whatever, my brain is fried. Time to go rest it.

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But here's the link:

Again, Oren is the shirtless one on the left, the one smiling. His sign reads "Pesach sameach" which means "Happy Passover." I just got another letter from him- he's been horseback riding. Cool, huh?

Here is the letter that came with the picture:




And the letter I just got:

HEY EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!
It`s oren reporting from argentina i`m now in a city named Calta in thwe north of argentina , i came heer cause i wanted to engoy a beat more frome the good life heer!!!!!!!!!!! last week i was in bolivia and i did horses raide for 2 day`s that was very beutefull but a litell hert`s u know.....
the landscap is in the Ma-aravonim very nice!!!i`ll be in arge`for one week +- then go back north to bolivia for 1 week and then to peru.

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Casablan probably looks just plain insane to most people, but then, it's old, plus it's foriegn. So it has excuses. Episode II? No. No excuse for that abomination. Oh, and Casablan is not Casablanca, a really old, cheesy romance set in Africa. No, it's an Israeli musical set in a poor neighborhood of Jaffa and starring Yehoram Gaon the singer. The dancing is laughable by a modern standard- it was made in the sixties or seventies, about the same time and style as Grease- but if you can set aside your sense of the ridiculous dances it's actually pretty cool. I love the music. Yehoram Gaon is a great singer, and most of the songs are just plain fun. It is also subtitled, which makes me so glad I can understand Hebrew, because they screw up every other line. A big part of this is that they try to make the songs rhyme in English, too, which is futile, but then when they don't seem to know what's going on with the spoken dialogue it's just doof. Even when they're halfway right, the charm and witticism of the lines is almost always lost completely. Sometimes I think that they're just trying to make it more appropriate, because "the policeman is at Esther's house and now he has an illigitimate son" is translated as "the law is slow and we don't know why." But then they translate "Jew from Eastern Europe" to "White-assed Frenchman." So there goes that theory. *sighs* And Yanush so creeps me out. Yes I know he's supposed to, but... argh! Why is only one character seeing through him? Creepy! Creepy creepy creepy!!! *runs in circles*
Some nice quotes off the top of my head:
"I'm shaking in my boots, Mr. Goulash." --Casablan
"We ought to break your heads!" *repeat after every single line for the rest of the scene* --Guy whose name I really ought to remember

Mietek: Are we a democracy or aren't we?
Mariuma: Of course we're a democracy! *turns to Moshiko and says softly* What's a democracy?
Moshiko: In a democracy, everybody does whatever he wants.
Mariuma: It's good, this democracy idea!
Mietek: *laughing* In a democracy, you vote. Okay, everybody who wants to move to the other project, raise your hand. *everybody raises their hands* I count 48.
"White-assed Frenchman": 48 for me.
Mietek: Okay, now everybody who wants to stay here and make renovations, raise your hand. *everybody raises their hands except for Yanush, Arieh, and the other goon, who really doesn't need a name*
Guy Who Wanted To Break Everybody's Head: You, put your hands up or I break them! *they do*
Mietek: 48.
"White-assed Frenchman": 48 for me too.
Mietek: Forty-eight say go, forty-eight say stay! What now?
Mariuma: That's a democracy!
*everybody sings about democracy. The lyrics are mainly "demo, demo, democratia." Mariuma shimmies. Ancient Yemenite guy goes crazy, dances like a madman, and falls over. Random girls do ballet and then all make Guy Who Wants To Break People's Heads shut up, because he's now singing about knives. Moshiko kisses Madame Butterfly on the cheek and Mariuma drags him away to dance with her. "White-assed Frenchman" sings about the perils of having a wife with more political savvy than you. Random little kids run around, then everyone runs around for the last "demo, demo, democratia" until a giant invisible bell goes GONG and Yanush wanders off to stalk Rachel some more.*

There are four different accents being spoken in my kitchen right now. I sat and listened, quite fascinated, to stories of the past, until I was banished from the kitchen to write about P&P. So I'm just listening to Kaveret and petting Tessie and trying to come up with a good idea.

P&P's a lot like a Silm in that the reader's imagination is what's really needed to like that book. You have to fill in all the gaps yourself- *Tessie leaps down* Oh, phooey. My pants are now gray. Good thing my shirt was already gray. It's my Paul!shirt, meaning it's plain-looking and solid-colored except for a stripe across the front.

I reprinted the pages of my M-S monologue that Ms. Huntley wrote on, so now I have a nice copy of it again. I will write the rest soon. But first I need to get cracking on the fic exchange. My options are:
a.) Aragorn's Adventures as a Ranger
b.) The Adventures of the El-Twins just before FotR
c.) Something Sam/Rosie, set at anytime
d.) Something Eowyn/Faramir, set at anytime

No easy options there. I'd have a really hard time doing justice to any of the characters there. Unless I do something humor. Oh wait. I'm not funny. *snaps fingers*

Any nice muse out there feel like giving me a hand here? Thalia? Melpomene? Calliope?
...what others are there? Oo! I would definitely appreciate it if Eiji would pay a visit. Mrrrrrowr. I mean, yes. *cough* Inspiration.

Er... should probably be asking for inspiration on this essay first, yes? Yes. *burns nice offering*

*Is too busy staring at pretty burny fire to ask for help*

...Darn. There goes that bright idea.

"..yesh shir she ani katavti la kelev sheli, poka..." *everybody cheers madly*

My parents and Paul and Liora tell interesting stories. Like... immoral French females on their kibbutz, or the Captain standing in front of them in the phone booth reporting to a superior officer that the Yom Kippur War had started, or the way Paul would walk around with his crazy hair and a bandanna and an apron (an apron?) or the way Paul and Liora met when they were assigned to milk cows together on the kibbutz, and they kept insisting that yeah, they worked together, but at the time they weren't a couple or anything, and Eema and Aba would just say things like "and the two of you would eat together every day..." and they would protest, and I just snicker inwardly and think of Caitlin going " mother 2.0" and just thinking how weird the coincidences were. And then I forgot my own name. *doof*

See, Micali called, and asked what was new, and I'm like "well, Mical and Paul are here." and she's like "the name is the same as yours! And you forget it! Hahaha!" And I was like "...yyyeah."

I'm trying to figure out where this wristy-dance came from, because I doubt I would have made it up, but I can't think of anywhere it might have.

I'm remembering dance at Interlochen, and the way you could open the door and look out to the lake, or if you were in the Penthouse, the squirrels like black ribbons unfurling in the breeze. Jeremy's CD is sitting in front of me to remind me of his music. Man. Nasta music rules. The CD is nowhere near as wonderful as just hearing him improvise and yell and stuff. Heyyyy, heya weya hey...

John's aunt. ODE. ODE, ODE, ODE. What is wrong with my brain? It's terrible, really it is.

Lodlo da, lodlo da, kela lodlo da, kela lodlo da, ela lodlo da...

Mara Jade is such a pretty name. *adds another scrunchie to her hair*

I'm cold. *mrrs*

Eema promised me the POTC DVD if I finished before twelve-thirty, though, which is cool. Unfortunately, that's in an hour and a half, and I have no idea what to write about.

I wish Tamari were here. She could help me come up with something, I know.

Argh. I'm getting a headache now. *takes all the scrunchies and clips out of her hair and lets it down* Alright hair, eat all you want now. *Strokes it carefully* Man. I need to wash it. Really I do. K'mo kash!

My lower back is in *pain* from moving the stupid heavy table. Why do we have a table so heavy? When I grow up, my furniture is going to be light.

I think I'm going to build myself a Snyder Tower in Alaska. That would be nice. I will leave one level empty, for dancing, and then I will never have this problem.

John told me that he dances when nobody can see him. Nice to know. So do I. But you all knew that, and probably nobody's ever surprised when they learn that of me, because it's something I would do. I occasionally dance when people are watching, but not the same way I do when nobody is. I try to look semi-not-stupid when people are there. If not? Heh, move the furniture and hide under the table, cat, Leora's on the dance floor and she's cartwheeling, imitating Dance Cuba, Eyal, America, Chelsea, Tevye, Caitlin, Happendance, and every other cool dance she's ever seen, whirling and twirling and throwing her arms in the air, skirts swishing, kicking and falling and rolling and fencing with imaginary opponents, ki'ing until the house shakes, singing at the top of her lungs in every octave and language she can manage. Sometimes I just run in frantic circles until I fall over. 'S good exercise.

Hey, Yo Ya!
Ani sho'el!
Hey, Yo Ya!
Atem onim!
Hey, Yo Ya!
Ha'im ze fair!
Hey, Yo Ya!
Atem lo yodim!

I love Kaveret. Their music is simply such, such fun. Yay.

I got another letter from Oren! He says happy Pesach, and also attached a picture of himself with a crocodile. I'll post it in a little bit. He's the one with the floppy hat, holding the sign, smiling at the camera- not the one petting the crocodile.

Oolai tasim li ksat sucar betoch hateh is starting now. Heh. I'm sure you all remember that song.

Apparently, "redundant" in England means "obsolete," not "repetitive." Interesting to know. Liora suggested that I take Paul in to BritLit for show-and-tell. Paul suggested that the word "BritLit" sounded like some sort of disease. *snerksnerksnerk*

And now Marchaimshlutzky (Marshlutzky for short) and his friend from Kaveret are making up nonsense and being generally crazy. It's fun.

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Here's the first:

Hay norkinim!!

now there is snow in israel to!!in jerusalem and maybe in may home to.
well as u know i am in rio-Brazil doing fun and sone i'll go up for the carnavl.Oded i steel dont know how to sent more then 1
photo for an e-mail,but i hope to lern sone.

keep in tuch u'r's Orentzo or if u want lorenso.......chawooooooo.

No, I don't understand the last line. And the second one:

oy everybody!!
I am in's rilly a grate city !!
all is mixet black&whait pepole,jungel& concrit,
rich&pore,old &new. i live in an ampartment with 1 more israely girl,we have saona sweeming pole
in a very safe place in rio.
So far we have been all over the city.we did some
shoping(me do shoping!!!)in the in the centeral marcket of rio,want to the big statu of
jejus that have beutifull viwe over rio and today we went to football mach(my team won).
tomorow we'll go to kopacabana the vwry famos
beach and then to see show of samba school.
in sunday i'll go up north to city named saovdor
for the start of carnaval celabrition.
thet's all for now ......chawooooo.....OreNtzO.

sory for not sending photo's, i stell didnt undestued how!

So... yeah. Oren's in Rio de Janero. Seems to be enjoying himself still. Wonder who this random Israeli girl is... she's kinda out of nowhere. Oh well.

*salutes him*

Mrrrr... I hate lit.

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We went out to the sea
The captain and the crew
(And I went with them too)
The waves roared
And the winds blew
That's how it is, when you're on the sea.

Anchors, clouds, and sand
There's nothing bigger
From loving everything tied up in the waves.

I climbed the mast to look afar
And see band of pirates approaching.
The captain shouts, and everyone cries,
"What do these pirates want?"


They fall upon us with ropes and knives.
"Enough, enough, pirates! We surrender!"
A change of fate; what's that over there?
A pirate fell into the sea!
...I feel a little bit better.


So I called to Mikoo, and to Miko the Cook
And the three of us stood there and made like a cannon
The pirates heard and fled (because they thought it was a cannon!)


Anchor, clouds and sand,
Nothing is bigger
From loving the life of a sailor
I'm crazy for the waves.

Yeah, um, in case you didn't catch that bit, the three of them all stand there and fart, the pirates think it's a cannon, and run away.

...Yay Israeli rock!

Yeah, that's one of the infantile ones. Actually there are some deep ones, like one of my favorites- about girl named Miriam whose soul is "touched by darkness," and she wanders the world to see what fate has in store for her and stuff... it's all symbolic and pretty. Anyway, the song is sung by someone she left behind, apparently, and he just asks her where she will go, where her face will appear next. But the song itself isn't angsty. Plus it's fun to dance to.

And then you hear the song about this guy (Baruch) who had this pair of boots that he had bought on sale... he takes good care of them, polishing them with spirits, feeding them soup when they are sick, and taking them to the movies twice a week. Then one day he wakes up and looks for them in the closet but they are GONE! Only the socks are left.

Because shoes you can buy quickly,
And we're not lacking in socks,
But boots and pants are always bought as a set
And they're nearly impossible to find now.

So he's all unhappy, and runs around asking people if they've seen his boots, but their replies are too vulgar to sing. He even goes to the Bureau of Missing Persons, but the person at the desk just chases him away. So, with "despair romping around all hyper-like in his head," he wanders off, and by a farm he finds some fresh tracks...

Following them, he hears whispering in the nearby bushes. Peering through, he is shocked to see his boots in the hands of another man! He does not know whether to laugh or to cry, and takes out his handkerchief. Then he goes after the man who took his boots, draws his revolver, and puts a bullet... where the sun does not shine. The guy apologizes profusely, gathers up the blanket, and runs away. Baruch goes home, but from then on and to this day, he keeps his boots sewed directly to his feet. To his bones, actually. And if you don't believe me, ask Baruch.

Oren always got compared to Baruch because of his devotion to his boots. Now I know what he was talking about.

Speaking of which, I got another letter from him. Who can decipher it? CIPHERING CLASSES... ONLY A PUBLIC SCHOOL! I like Sh3pa's version better: "Sheep of Democracy!"

Subject: pogiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

hwy norkinim!!
so pogei tales are on the stage(bama)!!grate music for nostalgic and new in the same time!! how are u?
tomorow i´m going to the iguazu fall´s and live boenus-aires,
frome the iguazu i´ll go on to brazil and the carnavl.
in boenus-aires the wether is crazy!!one day it´s hot like hellllll,
one day rain like monson!!!?¿¿?and one day very nice,rily wird.
so u got allot of snow going on,that´s good.

till the next e-mail chaow(yaalaa-bay in hebrow)oren!!

Heh. Good luck, dude. Hope you're enjoying yourself. *salutes*

Oh, Eru. What wouldn't I give to be hiking the mountains of Drom Amerika right now with you? No PUBLIC SCHOOL ship of democracy with its oh-so-valued freight, with the present *and* the past as its cargo. No cursed ACT test tomorrow. No stupid essays to write. No letters from colleges, driving home the message that someday soon I'm going to have to get along on my own- providing for myself, with expectations and stakes high, competition fierce, coming to terms with the fact that things like competence and intelligence and skills and stuff are perhaps not things whose presence in me are to be taken for granted. Eema says I need to find a job this summer. *sobs* It's a SUMMER. I haven't had a summer in years! I need this upcoming one!


*throws on Oren's orange sweatshirt and big zaruk brown winter coat, packs a backpack, and walks out the door*

How long you think it'll take to get to the wilds of Canada?

Mrrrrrrrrrrk. I hate- HATE- with a capital H- standardized tests! They are evil, I tell you, the ultimate evil!

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Subject: hay every body

now i'll u all what i did last month in chile +argentina.i'm writing
grope mail cause there no chans for me to wraith it more then 1
time. so i start in pocun claming on the viarica volcano that in
the end of it u slide on u'r but down. in the31.12 i went with 3
guy's in a car to south chile +argentina, patagonia generally.
we went thro a rode name "cartera australl" in chile with is a very
beautiful region with many snowy montens and water. my partners
did one of the grate's rafting in futalefu chile 'i didnt !!
after 4-5 days in chile we went to arge' heding to the fitz roy,
a grate monten and then to el e.calafate there is the
glasier in the size of israel or so+-,and all the time there are parts of it that brake.
from there we went buck to chile to the tores del pina with is
a big national park of chile,we wanted to travel there 5 day bat
the crazy wind broke our tent after one day so we had to go,
atlis we mange to see the attraction of the place with is 3 big
tower's of stone (tores=tower)and it was rally amassing.
then we heded buck to chile to return the car. it was 2 days
i did trek in chile -pocun of 3 days around the viarica volcano
with i claimed in the first day,it was a bit hard but i did it !!!
then i went to argentina!!!the good life!!!! to a town name
bariloche,i heva been ther 5 day eat much chocolate ice-cream...
and bloody meat, well not all bloody,they know how to live!!!!
(the Argentineans).now...i'm in buenos aires just got hear
yesterday and i need to start knowing it . that's it now,i hope to
send pictures in the next day's. u'r friend oren!!

I'll add a translation if anyone seriously has trouble comprehending that.

Hee! He's just wandering South American... living the good life... *snickers* So insane. Man. I wish he was here; he would have had fun playing in snow. Every time I see RotK and Theoden says "I am happy for you. He is an honorable man" I can hear Oren yelling about ha'Britim.

Today Eema told me about how it was when she and Aba first came to America (she was sick and they had to stay overnight in Amsterdam and stuff). She also said that the terrorism has only been in Israel for the last three years, which really shocked me. Somehow it seems like it's been going on as long as I can remember. Oh well. Off to do webassign, if I want to find out what happens to Spider-Man (not like I don't know, really. That movie takes the predictability cake). Watching it, I can see so easily how it was taken from comic books. Everything is still so divided into panels with that peculiar Spider-Man coloring technique, and you can just see the dialogue fitting into speech bubbles or first-person narrarration in the little box-things. E-yeah. With that in mind? I think I would like it as a movie better than the comic. A lot of things that a movie can get away with would seem really lame as a comic book where you're the one providing the voices and stuff in your head.

Mike and Paul? If you guys are around later on, I am seriously going to need some help with webassign. But don't go out of your way if it's inconvenient, please.

Also. March third- the Wednesday- that day and the day after and possibly even Friday- I'm going to need somebody to put me up. My parents are going on a cruise, and Micali isn't going to be able to get home until the weekend.

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Oren's gone. *sniffle* Bye, cousin. Good luck in Drom Amerika. Sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you.

I also got stabbed with icicles in my dreams by the fairies from A Midsummer Night's Dream, but it's all okay now, because there is SNOW.

Merry Christmas, all you Christians/Atheist-Children-Who-Get-Presents. Happy Seventh Day of Hanukkah, all you Jews. Is that just me? Inna counts as an Atheist-Child-Who-Gets-Presents.

We finally saw Lamb Chop's Hanukkah last night. That movie wins so much.

I got more presents! A practice mute and Josh Groban's In Concert CD and DVD. Niiice.

Yeah, that's my Christmas post. Enjoy it.



Dec. 24th, 2003 04:01 am
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Just saw it with Oren and Tamar. Eema and Micali watched part, but got tired quickly (being sick and all) and went to sleep. I've been ordered to do the same now that it's over.

Just... that movie rules this earth. I love Lord of the Rings. So much.

Plus I now have 30 assorted beading needles and a spool of beading thread. All I need are the beads!

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Lessee. Since I last updated, I have bought three things: a beading needle, a spool of beading thread, no beads, and a black arrow with green and white fletching. It's a cool arrow, but if I shoot it now I'll never find it again.

Aba bought a new TV. I'm really not sure I like it at all. It also seems to be trying to eat me. Am keeping bow and arrow handy. Aba can keep his slingshot; this is more my style. Although I could do with a broadsword/cutlass/etc.

Just saw PotC on it, and the extras. Yeah for blooper reels! Just lots of funny stuff. And some deleted scenes. For the record: COMMODORE NORRINGTON'S NAME IS JAMES. He also wins. He brings air freshener. He is a bit of an ice cream. I like him. Bwahaa. And Orlando describes Will as wearing a corset, which is a funny mental image.

Quote of the day:

Me: I'm not sure I like this TV one bit.
Oren: Add salt.

Also, Pirates is so much funnier with your Israeli cousin sitting next to you making fun of Brits the whole time.

Dude, I just love that movie.

And Mike has the FBI warning on his computer!

So that I do not forget: Tamari owes me a duel to the death.

And now a survey, because they are contagious. )

Surveys seem to all be depressingly similar. I should come up with a truly creative one.

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It's almost pathetic how much that very fact can happy me. But it DOES. And they're HOME. It's AWESOME.


So, I stayed up most of last night at a wild Matza Ball Soup Party with Eema and Oren. At nine o'clock sharp, we left for the church. (We were supposed to be there by nine. Oops. Oh well, nobody else was on time either.) Somehow, I managed to sniffle and sight-read my merry way through two services, amusing myself by thinking of the Life Of Brian, Paul and Mike correcting Latin just before the Romans did, certain characters' speech impediments and certain characters' names. AND THE CHOIR SANG THAT HORRID SONG THAT EVEN MR. DEWALD DIDN'T LIKE! And he likes some of the worst songs out there! Hates that song! Bye, bye, loo lee, loo lay, precious, we hates it FOREVER! I had to listen to it twice! I'd thought I was rid of it forever! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! paid. Got paid. Breathe, you got paid...

Yes. I got paid. Very generously. Was then reminded that, now that I had money, I could use it to pay for Europe. *Doonk.*

After the gig, I went knickknack shopping with Eema. That was fun, even though my pants were in no condition to stay up. Stupid pants. Bought one present, not sure if the recipient will like it though. Tried to buy pretty thing, was too expensive. Tried to buy really hilarious thing, but was also too expensive. Tried to buy cheap pretty thing, Eema wouldn't let me. She kept asserting that the intended recipient did not deserve a Christmas present from me. Am wondering just how much she knows, and just how much of what she knows is from her famous Eema/female intuition. But there were lots of really SHINY things that were incredibly expensive, which annoyed me. I mean COME ON. They're THIS and THIS and THIS and THAT. Wait, the THAT wasn't shiny. Oh well. Moving on. Then I got home.

Me: Micali! *hugs her*
Mical: Yay! How are you?
Me: Sick.
Mical: IIICH! *jumps backwards* Why did you hug me?

Yeah, feel the love. Feel it. Eat it. Bwaha.

Tamar rummaged through her suitcase while she was in the bathroom, and we laughed at a pair of REALLY BIG CLUNKY BOOTS. And discovered at least three sweaters belonging to Tamari. Hee.

Explanations to Oren of "perky..."
"ABBA" smiles...
"Sleigh Bells"
"Most wonderful time of the year"
"Carol of the Bells" techno? Deja vu.

*sniff, sniff*

My brain's been long since fried. Like a darned banana.

I'm going to go see Mamma Mia! tonight, hopefully that'll be good.

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
Josh Groban CD, from Paul
RotK CD, from Eyal
Seed pearl necklace, from Eema
Sixteenth porcelain doll, from Eema
Tickets to Macbeth at Stratford, from Eema and Aba
Gift certificate to Schulers, from Eema and Aba
Check for $25, from Barbara and Gerry
Pretty fuzzy sweatshirt, from Barbara and Gerry
Monstrous Regiment, from Eema
Phone calls from Tamar and Mical
Phone call from the Bartleys
Lovely card from Melody
And many happy birthday wishes.

Thanks everybody!

Now I'm off for ice cream! Bye, all.

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
So... we went to the Bartleys. Cast of Characters: Me, Eema, Aba, Mical, Tamar, Oren, Lynn, Tom, Aryn, Landon, Taiwanese dude, Indian lady, Japanese lady, Israeli couple.

- Frisbee, with Aba and Landon, in the dark, with a black frisbee.
- "Potata zeh achla!" = best Hebrew sentence
- Describing our Brilliant Traditional Indian Movie
- Winning at SET
- Coooozyyyyy (a la pooossuuuums)
- FOOD! Turkey, potatoes (both sweet and mashed), pumpkin pie, rolls, etc.
- "I didn't even know I had a dishwasher."
- "What do you think this button will do?"
- Aryn has a kitten
- Checkers (I so lose at that game)
- "Can I have some?" "Back up the truck!"
- "Itadakimasu!"

It was a good evening.

Long Survey. Click if you're really, really bored. )

The rest of this quiz was added later, on Sunday, November 30. )



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