Dec. 4th, 2015 03:54 am
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one time back when my parents were first living together/married, my mother woke up in the middle of the night to see my dad reading a book. this was WEIRD, ok, my father never ever ever reads books. and so she was like “wtf, are you reading a book?” and he was like “not really. it’s an airline schedule.” and it was. It was an airline schedule that he had stolen from the Lufthansa check-in counter at the airport when nobody was looking. he’d just snuck back there and taken it. and then used it for bedtime reading. and that’s just about the most quintessential story of my dad I have ever heard. strange & impulsive petty crime + airline schedules being his idea of entertaining reading material.
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1/2 cup sugar
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/3 cup butter
1 egg
2-3 Tbs milk
1/2 tsp grated orange peel
1 can poppy seed mixture

grease a baking sheet and dust with flour

to mix: sugar, flour, baking powder, salt
soften butter. to cut in, small pieces, mix in with hands or fork
add egg, and milk
mix until the dough is like a ball (until you can make it into balls)
take half and roll it out to 1/8th of an inch
dust rim of glass with flour and cut circles
add spoonful of poppy seed mixture to center, pinch corners
20 minutes at 350 degrees (but watch it)
after 15 minutes, check bottom to make sure is not too brown-- they'll keep hardening once they're out of the oven and cooling

Oct. 1st, 2013 04:55 am
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sometimes it really bothers me how difficult it is for me to speak colloquial english without invoking Christian doctrine. I say "jeez" or even "cheese o' pete's" all the time. The second one, by the way, is my mother's usage that I picked up from her. My Jewish mother, who was born and raised in Israel, who probably didn't even know any Christians until she came to America as an adult. If I'm being sarcastic I'll often start sentences with "Gee." I talk about Hell all the time, and I use it as an expletive. If I don't want to swear, I use the word heck. I use the word heck all the time. And when I write out "OH MY GOD" on tumblr, I feel profoundly uncomfortable writing either "G-d" or "God." Because I don't want to write out "God," it feels disrespectful and— and— I was taught, as part of my religious education, truncated as it was, that one shouldn't do that, and I took it to heart. But if I write "G-d" I'm feel like I'm taking away the focus of what I'm saying, shifting it from "WOW A THING" to "LOOK AT ME, I'M A RELIGIOUS JEW." And I'm... conscious of the fact that I talk about my Jewishness a lot. I worry that I talk about it too much. That I can't get through a conversation without having brought it up at least once. I feel like I talk about it like I think it makes me special, like I'm too in people's faces about it. But I feel uncomfortable writing out God, and I also feel pressured to do so anyway, because that's the language that people around me speak. I want to speak like the people around me. I find my stream-of-consciousness wanting to use phrases like "jesus fuck" and "sweet bowling christ what is going on" and I have to stop and go back and delete them, because I'm a Jew and I don't like doing that. I compromise it a lot. Just. sometimes it bothers me, is all.
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She said to me, "you know, today, they say, wherever there is money, Jews are. Wherever there is power, Jews are... under. That's what some would say."

It took me a minute to parse. (My mother's turns of phrase are my favorite.)

She also said that she was surprised Shylock hadn't chosen to die rather than renounce his faith. "If this story had been written by Jews," she said, "that's what would have happened."
"I don't know about that," I said. "I think a lot of the stories Jews have written haven't been nearly as enamoured of martyrdom as a lot of the Christian ones."
"The story of Chana and her children," she said. "All her sons who chose to die."
"But I'm thinking of the ones set when they were living when and where you'd get killed for practicing Judaism. They practiced in secret, they didn't just say 'okay, then kill us.' I think a pretty core tenet is that you do whatever you have to, to survive."
"Maybe that," she agreed.

There are plenty of stories on either side of the issue, I think. But I've always considered any law may be broken to save a life to be one of the most important tenets of my own faith, at least. (Though, at least the way the story was told to me, one also has to respect the heck out of the Jews of Metzada, extremists though they were, for dying rather than allowing their enemies one scrap of victory.)

My dad was watching with us too-- he was the one who'd expressed an interest in watching in the first place-- but he left before it was over. "Not something that interests me," he said, and I know getting my dad to watch Shakespeare is always a tough sell, but I also think the anti-semitism got to him too much for him to even look for the complications of the characters and plot. Which my mother found fascinating, actually; and I'm super-impressed with how good she's gotten at following Shakespearean language.

She also asked me if I thought people watching this movie would think badly of Jews because Shylock was so nasty.
"I hope not," I said.
"Because, you know, the merchant is so handsome and nice, and trying to help his friend, and they are so in love, and he wants only good, and he is just caught between."
"Well, you also have to contrast it with his behavior towards Shylock."
"Yes. Why would he do that?"
I thought about that for a minute. I don't really have a good answer. "He practices usury," I said slowly. "The Christians think that's wrong."
"But then they come to borrow money from them."
"Yeah."
"And what, they think they should just lend it from goodness? Would they do that?"
"Antonio does."
"Hm," she said.
"But Antonio has other sources of income."
"Yes."

She liked Portia. She said she had an intelligent face. I agree.

She took the braid out of my hair, because I had a headache.
"But I wanted a braid," I said. "Like a dwarf."
"You are not a dorf."
"A dwarf."
"You are not a dorf."
"I am a dwarf."
"No you're not."
And then she made me a pot of tea, because my mother is awesome.

I am a dwarf, though. I have the bodily proportions of a dwarf (seriously my legs are only a third of my height) and sideburns like a lady dwarf (ha ha I bet my sister is sad she had hers lasered off now) and I am Jewish like a dwarf and I speak Hebrew like a dwarf and I am POSSESSIVE AS ALL HELL like a dwarf. Also I could totally dig living underground, heck yes, small enclosed spaces and not relying on the sun for my circadian rhythms sign me the heck up.

I'm trying to get back into livejournaling, okay, or at least posting more public entries that are about what happens in my life rather than just using this as a personal archive.

So in light of that, LET ME TELL YOU about the awful twelve-hour trip up here, okay, I don't even know what was going on with the weather but first I fishtailed and panicked and was okay and then I spun off the road and ended up facing backwards on the shoulder until some nice person stopped and let me back in and then that happened a second time and then traffic inched along at under five mph all around Indianapolis and then I fishtailed my way in between giant trucks in and out of an unplowed rest stop where I'd numbed my hands scraping the ice off my windshield wipers and then, exactly halfway between my apartment and my parents' house, my tire exploded and sent me careening off the road down a ditch to end in a gently spinning stop in a meadow.

and I was very very very very very lucky that it happened right there, because I was fine and nothing was hurt but it also meant I had to spend hours hanging out in very very small-town Indiana

which was fine really, the mechanics were all very nice and friendly, and did not judge me at all for not knowing squat about cars, but it also meant I bought a ham sandwich at the gas station in an attempt to conceal my Jewishness because sorry but small-town Indiana makes me paranoid

then I got back in my car and realized that sitting in my front seat holding my LotR trilogy was a bag that was covered in sparkles and a menorah and the words "HAPPY HANUKKAH" so yeah

and when I was telling my mother about the nice people who had all stopped to make sure I was okay after the accident she said to me "it was a good thing none of them were Cookus"
and because I know my mother I said "yeah, why do you think I had the ham sandwich"
and she laughed
and my dad was like "...what?"
and she said "you know, Kooks"
and he was like "...what?"
and I was like "The KKK, Aba"
and he cracked up and walked away muttering "Kooks!" under his breath
and then my mother was like "it's funny because your keys!"
and then I laughed too, because my keychain is dripping with Jewish things
there's a Magen David and a fish that says katan alecha and a yad with the tfilat haderech on the back
So eating that ham sandwich was in vain
which is a little annoying, because it was terrible and made me feel sick.

"It's a little sad that you had to think of it, though," she said to me later.
Which of course it is.

Er

so have a post that is all about me being Jewish

that's it

that's the post

sorry

Usually I can go for longer without talking about it, I swear!

Anyway.

I am thinking of doing a Thorin fanmix. It will have:

1.) Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons
2.) Fire on the Mountain - Rob Thomas
3.) Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis - Ralph Vaugh Williams (MAJESTY, ok, shut up)
4.) Horses - Due South Original Soundtrack
5.) Yerushalayim Shel Zahav - Naomi Shemer

and that's all I have thought of so far. Though it's not like I've tried very hard. I will eventually.

My car is still in the shop until sometimes tomorrow at least. which is annoying, because I wanted to go donate blood and buy the Chronicles at the bookstore and go see The Hobbit again, and I can't really do any of that without a car. My mother is not going to be willing to drive me to the movie theater to see The Hobbit again.

But it's been so long since I've seen it don't judge me

Goodbye.
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So I have a few hours to kill before Tashlich (that's where you're supposed to symbolically empty your pockets of lint and debris to symbolise the renewal and fresh start that is the new year-- clearing away the detritus of the previous one-- which in my family has always translated as, uh, taking bread down to the river and feeding the ducks, because we are the best Jews) and I thought to myself "I will watch THC's Henry V! Because I have been wanting to watch it again for ages, and if I'm going to show it to Eema then I should have seen it recently myself so that I can translate properly and also won't be too distracted by watching myself to make sure Eema's getting everything and we don't have any more misunderstandings like the one about Fluellen and his, uh, position in Harry's army. Also I need to get some of my thoughts straight on York.

And oh, I understand why they cut the Southampton plot, but duuuuuuude I am so sad that we do not get the chance to see what Hiddleston would do with that scene. You guys. You guys. "Oh, let us yet be merciful!" Scroop! Exeter! Bedford! Hal being betrayed and being hurt and being harsh! Our Hal being kiiiiiiiing omg omg omg I want to give him all the hugs.

But anyway, so I opened the file and started to watch, being like "Yay! Henry V!" And then I remembered that it started with his funeral and I closed the window and was like "...nevermind I am not sure if I can handle that right now."

Maybe.

Goodbye.

blargh.

Feb. 27th, 2012 02:50 am
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Eru, I should just not be allowed to talk when I'm on Vyvanse. Like, and this goes a million times for when something bad happens.

The hard part is that Vyvanse makes me want to talk, need to talk, and Vyvanse and bad things make me desperately need to talk, over nine thousand.

And then I regret it later.

Goodbye.
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See, whenever something reminds Aba of Arthuriana, he belts out "CAMELOOOOT!"

You know. Like you do. If you're my Aba.

And I always thought he was singing Arthur's song badly, but I just found out right now that I've been totally wrong all this time-- he's singing Lancelot's song correctly, and probably specifically based off the 1960 version with Richard Burton and Julie Andrews.

We discovered old videotapes of me as a tiny tiny child, in which I am-- well, I am correct, and I'm still a little impressed with tiny tiny me's knowledge of horse facts, but I am the most annoyingly condescending little brat you could ever imagine. And, uh, it sucks to realise that I haven't apparently grown out of that yet.

Goodbye.
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So last week the Germans were here, and my parents sat down with them to watch an old family video of my sister Mical's high school German project that she did with her friend Marie Aguchi, who had a younger sister (Marilyn) a few years younger than me. The assignment was to make a commercial, and they decided to do one for a remote-controlled younger sister-- who cooks, does your homework, vaccuums the carpet, plays a musical instrument, and-- in my case-- declaims Shakespearean soliloquies at the touch of a button. The final scene is the demonstration of a pause button, which was demonstrated by having me suddenly chase Marilyn onscreen while yelling wildly and waving a club (the video revealed it to actually be one of Aba's squash racquets) and then, when Mical pressed the appropriate button on the remote control, having us freeze in place (it took Marilyn a few extra seconds to stop giggling, though).

(I recited To Be or Not To Be, as well as Friends, Romans, Countrymen. I was dramatic. I was a gigantic ham. It is glorious. I'm like a tiny Kenneth Branagh without any of the, you know, actual skill.)

But the Germans sat and watched and said "Oh haha, how funny! They are selling their little sisters."

At which point my mother suddenly remembered that oh, yeah, it wasn't a commercial for a remote-controlled little sister, or even for a remote control that would work on your little sister, it was an ad to try and get rid of these sisters that they had on hand. She had forgotten.

NO ONE TOLD ME THAT. I don't think I would have participated with quite such enthusiasm if I had known.

(Ach, who am I kidding? A chance to ham it up for the camera? With Shakespeare? I AM SO THERE.)

Also on the tape is their production of As You Like It, where I do a fantastically dramatic job as Adam (no seriously, fantastically melodramatic). I still remembered those lines that I learned for that role, even though I hadn't gone near As You Like It until a few years ago. This production is the reason why I could never see Oliver as evil and completely expected the brothers to reconcile. Because they were my sisters. But the best part is this: someone off-camera introduces the scene-- "Here we are in Orlando's orchard." And then you hear my piercing voice go "HUH? IT'S OLIVER'S ORCHARD!"

Tiny!Leora took Shakespeare seriously, you guys.

Also ponies. I introduce all of our My Little Ponies and model horses. On the one hand, I am totally impressed with the way I actually speak quite knowledgeably about actual horse facts. On the other hand, dear god I called the model horse of Sham-- the Godolphin Arabian as portrayed in Marguerite Henry's King of the Wind-- Shantih. After a mare in a really terrible book that I read too young to understand anyway.

Anyway. I need to go to sleep.

Goodbye.

Jul. 5th, 2011 12:14 am
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That was, hands down, THE best fireworks display I have ever seen.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SPARKLY BOOMS.
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You know, I am fairly convinced that Stan Rogers' favorite line of Barrett's Privateers is "she was broad and fat and loose in stays." Every recorded performance I have heard of him, he sounds as if he is just having such fun singing that line. It's like when I get to the part of the Magellan song that goes AY YAI YAI YAI, or my CD of Gesher Trio singing "HE HAS AN AUUUUUNT." I have gone over my translation with my mother: whatever narrative I have been making up, she is kind of right in that that song makes no sense whatsoever. It's kind of like they had ideas for a bunch of different songs and then threw them together because they couldn't think of second verses for any of them.

Still, I like it.

Goodbye.
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Kol ze yavo machar im lo hayom
Ze nachon: ma od ba tso'orayim?
Kol ze yavo machar im lo hayom
Ve im lo machar, az misparayim...

BOOM TRACH

Aug. 9th, 2009 08:02 pm
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(MAH KARA?)

How about these thunderstorms, huh? That's one a day for the past three days and it's *still* not getting any less humid. Oh, God, when I stepped outside my building today and was just whacked in the face with that wall of humid HEAT, it was only by a supreme effort of will that I didn't just turn right around, go back inside, crank up my air conditioning, and hide out in my flat until the sun went away.

Last night Aba showed up at work and practically threw me out the door to the Great Lakes Folk Festival, which I appreciated very much, and spend the evening dancing madly about to klezmer music. Eema danced too, much more expertly than I, and also Senor Chimo, who was my Spanish teacher in pre-kindergarden/kindergarden. It was full of cameraderie and fun, and also clumsy dancing with a very cute Indian guy. Approximated the walz with a girl from Grand Ledge. Did something that vaguely resembled the dance from the second-grade musical about Betsy Ross with a group of kids my age, two tiny girls, and their mother. There was a spot of follow-the-leader with Senor Chimo, who is a professional dance instructor. And, of course, everybody danced the hora. Hurrah for the hora, which was actually very very chaotic. And then I keeled over dead, because an out-of-shape violinist am I. I did, however, get the number of the band, because hey guys wouldn't a klezmer band be a fun thing at my wedding? I bet we can even get them to play a polka for the Moravitz folk.

Today I practiced, guys. I DESERVE PRAISE. Not really. But I feel like I do. Mostly, though, I just feel like my wrists hurt. And also like I practiced for three hours & didn't make any progress. Graaaarrrr, Prokofiev/Strauss/Borodin/Tchaikovsky/Borodin/R-K/Beethoven/Barber August 30th GUNNA DIEEEEEEE *wails*

There is a fiddler and an accordion player jamming in the Marriott lobby. I am struggling against running out and joining them, because not only is it presumptuous and rude, I don't know how to improvise and would only make a fool of myself.

Still, I have the door propped open so I can listen. It's lovely.

ETA: So I said "screw it" and went and joined them. It ended up being about a dozen musicians performing in various groups & stuff at the festival, from all over the country/world- fiddlers, guitarists, percussionists, one organ player, one accordion player, and, uh, me, sitting around playing folk music- polkas, jigs, walzes, tangos, reels, and I led one klezmer song- Shalom Aleichem, pretty much the only one I know. I also ruined Czardas, but hey what's new.

I am very glad I went. That was awesome.

*is all warm&fuzzy inside now*

Goodbye.

deathcow

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?

Dinner:
-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

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

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are amazing.

Goodbye.
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Who would have thought? All you have to do is replace Horatio Hornblower's penis with a six-legged telepathic cat, and he becomes awesome. I certainly never saw that coming.

Also I apparently showed a boy God's work, or miracles, or something. That was what he was exclaiming in utter disbelief to his friend, anyway. So, bow before me, all, for I am She Who Talks to Squirrels.

Leora: Philip Glass, my mother. Eema, Philip Glass.
Eema: Are you sure your record doesn't just have a crack in it somewhere?

Bob Christiansen: This is 90.5 WKAR fm East Lansing, npr and classical music...
Eema: Hey Leora, your boyfriend's on the radio.

Beau: So, this is like an out of body experience. Imagine that you're in a fog. Or at a party, only nobody can see you or hear you. Like, you're not participating, but you're there. And disembodied. And misty, and mysterious.
Wind Player: So... do you want it louder or softer...?

A fuzzy-haired violinist walks into a bar the Music Practice Building, and hears someone practicing the Shostakovich. "Ah! It is Anton!" Thinks the fuzzy violinist. "We must be playing the Shostakovich today!" Then the fuzzy violinist remembered that some people actually practice, and not just on the very day that you have to play for an audience. But that is surely nonsense, and to prove it, we played the Shostakovich today.

Anton: *plays apassionatosisisisisimo*
Anton's Bow: WHEEEEEE!
Violin Sections: *totally lost, because they're all watching the bow fly across the room*
Anton's Bow: *BOOM TRACH CLATTER, somewhere behind the firsts*
Verdehr: You're supposed to catch it, guys.

Leora: *refresh*
*refresh*
*refresh*
*refresh*
*refresh*
All Twelve Members of the R&G Fandom: ...

Worf: GROAW RAWOO ROROOARW GRRRRR RRROA ROEOAW RRAA CHIRRR KRII ROWWWWW?

Clock: 11:00 PM
Phone: RING RING RING RING
Eema: Let's pretend we don't hear it.
Leora: Hear what?
Eema: The phone.
Leora: What phone?
Eema: The phone that's ringing.
Leora: I don't hear anything.
Eema: The phone is ringing. But I'm pretending I don't hear it.
Leora: Hear what?
Eema: The phone.
Leora: Eema. Eema. Hear what?
Eema: Ohhh! Hahahaha!
Leora: Yes. Let's go home.

Leora: *strides awesomely out the front door in a gray, light T-shirt, long jeans, black boots, and her Israeli Army Coat*
Eema: Oh, no, Leora, you look so nice in your clothes, why are you wearing that coat?
Leora: Because the coat is AWESOME. *strides to the car*
Eema: It doesn't match. Go put on your blue sweater.
Leora: No! You're just jealous you don't have one like it!
Eema: I'd have to find someone to wear it to war before it looked like that. Honestly, are there bullet holes in it?
Leora: I don't think so. But Eli has a coat from Chicago that does.
Eema: Eli has a coat like that?
Leora: Well, the one from Chicago is different. But yes. He has one like this too.
Eema: Ahhhhh! It all makes sense now. It's because you want to be coatfriends with Eeeeliiiii.
Leora: ...if you start singing that we are in a tree I will jump out of this moving car right now.

Girl on phone: HI I'D LIKE TO MAKE A RESERVATION.
Leora: Okay. Do you by any chance have access to the internet?
Girl: YEAH.
Leora: Well, you can make reservations online, actually.
Girl: WELL I'M NOT BY A COMPUTER RIGHT NOW. CAN'T I JUST MAKE ONE OVER THE PHONE?
Leora: *gives up on being able to save some time* Yes. *takes information, goes to billing* Do you need an e-mail confirmation?
Girl: SURE WHY NOT.
Leora: *grits teeth, because that takes ten times as long* Of course. etc etc etc And your billing address?
Girl: CHAPEL HILL, NORTH CAROLINA.
Leora: And your e-mail?
Girl: XXXXXXXXXXXX@UNC.EDU.
Leora: You're all set, thank you. *hangs up* *stares in dismay at the pile of reservations to process*
Eema: Did she make you take it over the phone?
Leora: Yes.
Eema: Did she want confirmation?
Leora: Yes.
Eema: Was she a little old lady without a computer?
Leora: She's a UNC student.
Eema: Eize idiotit.
Leora: Yes.
Eema: And a mefageret.
Leora: YES.
Eema: Steal her money.
Leora: Nah, I'll just send Sara to take out her Laurel!rage on her.

I like the Women's Lounge in the Union. Paul says it's sexist and is against it on principle, and I have to admit he's probably right, but I still like it. It feels like a place where you can let your guard down, and the atmosphere is friendly and relaxed but hushed and private. Girls take nooks and tables and sofas, and they read and study and work and nap. There's always a surpising number of couches occupied by napping girls, and I'm often among them. I sat on the windowmost of the horseshoe of sofas in the near corner, and across from me there was an Asian girl asleep. Her rainboots were sitting in a neat pair, and they looked like the rainboots we all had as kids, right down to the umbrellas printed on them. She had her plaid jacket draped over herself as a blanket, and she slept in her stocking feet. I drank my hot chocolate and read my book for about half an hour, and at some point I thought to myself that me sitting there thinking how adorable she looked was probably what the Women's Lounge was built to avoid. Oops.

Curious Book Shop's Shakespeare section seems to have vanished. They do have, however, a section of Nautical Fiction, which meant that I spent a long period of time standing on a stool. (I actually went there to see if they had a cheap copy of His Majesty's Dragon, but the only one they have is Empire of Ivory.) Also Roger Lancellyn Green wrote about Arthur, and for two dollars I'm likely to buy it, because I don't actually know the original Arthurian legends.

I've been trying to think of ways to introduce Mr. Midshipman Hornblower, and one of the ones I came up with went something like this: And you won't even meet Bush until the next book, which is too bad, because he's lovely, and if Hornblower weren't so damn introverted and repressed and depressed and if they weren't both such silly britons, there would simply be lots of buggery, and none of this nonsense about Maria, or Barbara for that matter.

I was also really bitter that Honor's Pavel is evil, but then she steals his former XO who is a Paul, so I suppose I'll forgive her.

The USS Defiant remains my favorite ship of all time though.

Eema's going to kill me if I don't go try on sixteen pairs of stupidpants RIGHT NOW, so rar.

Goodbye.
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And let you all know I'm alive, even though I've not much to say. I've been working at Michigan Flyer, which is more fun than it seemed, at least for now. It's awesome in here late at night when it's just me and Eema and Aba and Eema starts to go crazy from being in here all day and then she starts dancing, and then she and I laugh so hard we can't stand up so we're just laughing and holding each other up and Aba's just like "you guys are WEIRD." Entertaining things happen, like our window-washer actually being a National Champion Window-Washer. Also people speaking Hebrew. And someone saying that they had talked on the phone with "a young lady with a French accent." It makes me laugh how many countries people think Eema is from. Particularly India. Gotta love those retroflex D's that don't happen in Hebrew.

Asians! There are Asians in Michigan! I hardly saw any in Israel. Also, Michigan birdcalls. w00t. On the other hand, East Lansing is a Big and Lonely City, where I don't know everyone walking down the street. Also there are cars.

Found out that that trolley actually *runs.* It goes to "Old Town," so I propose we ride it, and hit Old Town, and have a big old party. PARTY. Yay, seriously, we need to be getting together more. It is annoying to this point that my work schedule is entirely irregular, because I am working for my parents.

Worf has been spayed, and will get her stitches taken out on Wednesday morning. She also got microchipped, which is a funny concept. Basically, if she gets lost, an animal shelter or veterinarian can scan her and see that she is mine. And give her back to me. She and Tessie are still in separate parts of the house.

I saw Over The Hedge. I must say I expected it to be terrible, and it was hilarious and far far funnier than it had any right to be. Captain Kirk's voice coming from an opossum pretty much made the movie for me, but then there was the SQUIRREL and the skunk/cat thing everything else. And then there were boomerangs.

I kind of want mochi right now. Perhaps I will walk down there and get some, and by "walk" I mean "bus." I have to practice today. I have to practice forever. I am going to die, and it is so hard to get started because I know that it is pretty much impossible. Arglbrrmshnff.

Mleh. Nothing to say. Want to find a good stretch of time, and then I will re-read all of Harry Potter and then read DH, because until I do I'm pretty much banned from the internet for fear of spoilers. I'm putting it off, in a way, because I don't want it to be over...

Goodbye.

Dessert

Sep. 20th, 2003 09:28 pm
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So I was eating poppy seed cake, and I'd eaten all the dough and was now eating poppy seeds mixed with honey from my fingers.
ABA: This is how you eat poppy seeds, in a blob, right from your hands?
ME: Eeema!
EEMA: Odedy, say nice things.
ABA: Nice things, nice things. *Picks up an empty garbage bag and puts it over Eema's head* Now where is the twisty-tie?
ME: *keels over laughing*

Dude, I love my family.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
So math took me about two and a half hours to do. Honestly! The whole entire review we had to do, and it stank. Math books deliberately put two of each problem, because they know that teachers are going to pick odds or evens to do. But what that really does is make everything really redundant when a teacher assigns *everything.* Now I'm supposed to be writing that stupid letter to my fifth graders. But I'm an idiot, so every day I forgot to write down how many pages they've read. I just divided the number of pages by four and picked the closest chapter to that page number. If I give anything away, too bad, the book's pretty darn predictable anyway. I'm in a very uncreative mood. I think they'll just be getting a very simple, formulaic thing. Yeah, it's not nice of me, but right now I'm not feeling very nice. I am feeling tired and bogged down and stuff. I haven't touched my violin for a week, and my lesson's tomorrow. I'm auditioning for the school play tomorrow, too, and I haven't looked at the audition packet yet. Plus I don't know where it is, even. It's not that I care so much about getting a part, because I know I won't so why worry, but I did want to represent myself well. I told Mrs. Styka I'd audition, too, so just skipping it's not an option. I might not even have time, though, because I have to practice tomorrow enough to make up for a week. Basically, that's two people I've let down right there, not to mention myself. I'm really tired, I've barely slept the past three nights, in school I can't even make my eyes focus. Tomorrow is also my father's birthday. We had his party today, though, since tomorrow he'll be at the open house all evening. We gave him a new wallet and a package of underpants, because it's not his birthday if he doesn't get at least one package of underpants or socks. Tamar wrapped them in colorful dinosaur paper and I tied about twenty curling ribbons of various colors onto it, all spread out, so they covered the whole present. We ate dinner together with a white tablecloth, fish and artichokes, and for dessert Eema made a poppy seed cake. I also learned how to make borsht. I will never, ever eat borsht. EVER. That part of my day was nice. The rest has all been working and snatching a few naps, but they don't help at all. It's only, what, three weeks into the year? and already I'm feeling terribly overwhelmed. Homework, homework, homework. I have no life.
I'm sorry, I just really had to complain my stupid brains out before my head exploded. *cries*

Goodbye.

Mnar

Aug. 15th, 2003 02:16 pm
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
I don't really like it when the Cleaners are here. It makes me feel like I'm a guest in my own house, or something. I'm just in the way and I'd really prefer not to sit and be lazy whlie they work around me, and I always worry that they're watching over my shoulder. So I just sit and type meaningless things to make it look like I'm working, and yes, I actually do have some sort of business to be here.
"Goodness gracious, you tying fast enough over there?" One of them says, and I sort of laugh. I type fast and a lot when I have absolutely nothing at all to say. Like right now! Wheee! I spent a very productive five minutes or so looking things up in the dictionary. For no good reason at all. So there's a sort of random beaded thing on the desk, and it doesn't look like it's supposed to and keeps falling apart anyway. And now I'm reminded of Aba and Eema making up Hebrew puns about sweeping, and then all of a sudden Aba goes "Ani oseh VACUUM!" And it was really funny. My hands and wrists are hurting already. This is worrying. I should stop but I don't want to. Hopefully Eema will just get here soon and I can go practice and actually make my hands hurt for a good reason. I really like this doll I bought the other day. Perhaps I can make that dress for myself. It'd take me forever, and I'll probably never get around to it anyway, but it sure would be cool. Like all the other artistic projects I always imagine myself doing and never ever do. The treble clef on my hand still hasn't faded. If I ever get a tatoo, (which I doubt) it's going to be a treble clef. I once had a rat painted on my forehead. That was cool. Then a man in Scottish garb playing bagpipes walked by and I went and followed him, along with most of the kids there. Then he stopped playing and I went swimming. I dreamt that I was flying on a broomstick like a witch, albeit ineptly. I was just learning to fly, and I kept on crash-landing. According to Babel Fish, "La Mancha" means "the spot," which amuses me. Is that true, does anybody know? Is he really "Sir Quixote of the Spot?" Haha. ...and I'm being watched by the vacuum. At least it's not being a terribly rebellious and disobedient vacuum today. I remain the authority figure among household appliances, shut up. Anybody want some round pieces of bread that taste faintly of sugar...? I saw Tavan and Evan yesterday. Yeah. Whatever.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
Sesame Street quotes:
The Count: The number of the day is 13! And here to celebrate are thirteen dancing vegetables!
Zoe: And after his nap, the rock wants you to give him a bath. *Elmo runs away screaming*
Big Bird: But was it a BWAWWK bawk bawk bwawk, or a bwawwk bawk bawk BWAWK? It's important, you know.
Elmo: CIRCUS DETECTIVE MUSIC!
Banjo player: Turkeys in the tree!
*little six-year-olds do gymnastics that would break Leora's neck*

So, it's my parents' anniversary today, and they both forgot. Then Eema was reminded by two e-mails that she received, one from each of her brothers. The one from Alush was very nice, congratulating them on twenty-seven years of marriage. The one from Itzchak: "WHAT? You're married? When did that happen? And by the way- who's ‘Alush?'"

It amused me.

A quote from Eema: "You see what happens when you get up early? You see things! You see statues, and not-really-statues, and people with gas, and that guy over there putting coffee on top of his car, and it's going to fall on him- oh, no, it didn't. I wish it had. Wouldn't that have been funny? Serves him right for having coffee before I've had any."

So!

My day yesterday was quite good. I went to the Great Lakes Folk Festival, listened to fiddlers, met up with Melody and her friends, and went camping. *pause* Okay. SO first of all we wandered in and they were talking about different kinds of fiddling- Klesmer, Irish, Cape Breton, and Cajun. And it was very cool. Then Melody walked in, and I walked over to her and her friends, and said hi, and Mark Kroos asked me how my face was doing. It's still swollen and bruised, by the way. She's been at Aria music camp thing. We went to find food, but had no money, so we got water from Woody's Oasis. Then someone had money so we bought a big thing of Hummous and Pita and ate it all. Then we went to Cold Stone ice cream, and Vivek waited about twenty minutes in line while Melody and I talked and the ice cream people sang. And people rollerbladed outside, and it looked like fun. Then we went to the Celtic thing, getting lost numerous times along the way, or at least losing people. We listened to the cool fiddly music and Mark Kroos and some random guy and some other random woman and I all danced like maniacs because we are. Then we looked at art booths, and Melody bought a pretty necklace after going to the ATM machine in 7 Eleven. And I got a Mehndi treble clef on the back of my right hand, and I put sugary lemon juice on it, and it seems to have done nothing but make my hand sticky, but whatever. Then we went home and packed, went to the gas station and bought marshmallows and hot dogs and drove to Sleepy Hollow State Park. Fire was lovely, the hot dogs and potatoes and marshmallows were awesome, the frogs wouldn't shut up, my dad got eaten alive by ants, and the tent collapsed on my mother. (Aba said that that was his favorite part) And Aba burned his hand and walked into an acacia tree and... yeah. But it really was a lot of fun. And on the way home there was a box by the side of the road that looked like a dead woman, and it reminded me of "Hey, look! There's a dead woman in the car behind us!" And Eema and I tried to spot all the statues in Lansing, but we kept thinking that the statues were real people and that people were statues. And people fished off a bridge.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
I'm just sitting here, with a sore throat/stuffy nose, listening to Sarasate, vaguely bored and quite happy about it. I suppose that in a little while I should go and practice for a bit- see if I can without pain. One of these days I will buy a Nathan-esque frisbee and learn to throw/catch it, if only because I wouldn't trust Nathan with my frisbee. I honestly didn't MEAN to step on his toes, (why wasn't he wearing shoes anyway?) I apologized for that at least three times, but he shouldn't have bent the frisbee. *pause* He'll hate me forever anyway, won't he? Oh well. Eema refers to him as "Nathan Kof" or "ha'mefager." I think the first one's pretty funny. Does he read my livejournal? *shrugs* Well, kof = monkey and I'm not translating the second one because it's my mother being not nice again. She had another quote that was really funny- I've forgotten what it was, but I'll ask her. We're going to see Seabiscuit today. Horses rule. *coughs violently* I hate being sick! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!
Aaaargh.
Bubble baths are always fun though.

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