Well, it's official - we are now settlers in Yesha! It was with sadness that I left Ramat Beit Shemesh to the hillside of Kochav Yaakov, but I think that we'll be happy here. We've found kindred spirits here and it seems as if our hashgafa - outlook - pretty much matches the other people who live here. We've been spending waaaaay too much money on making this tiny house work for us, like buying lots of cabinets and closets and a HUGE keter shed, just so we can get everything to fit. A word of advice when you make aliyah -- get rid of as much stuff as you can BEFORE you get here; it will make your life so much easier.

Tomorrow I'm taking the day off to spend with my friend, Caren, who's here in Israel for her son's wedding. It's her first trip here, even though both of her sons have spent a lot of time living and learning here. I'll show her around Yerushalayim tomorrow and then maybe pick up the car from David and bring her here to Kochav Yaakov to see our house (and Emma, of course), then we'll go pick David up and go out to dinner. It's nice to live close enough now to be able to do that. Plus, it's UNBELIEVABLY WONDERFUL to have a car!! Yesterday I drove David to work and then drove back to RBS to clean the old apartment a little and do a bunch of errands. What a difference to be a car owner rather than a bus rider. I won't mind riding the bus at all tomorrow, just knowing that we own a car - I'm not ready to actually drive in Yerushalayim yet.

So we've been here a week. It's not as hot here as RBS, Baruch Hashem, and the nights actually get down in the 50's. We're on the eastern face of the hill so when the sun starts going down, and even before, it cools off really fast. We'll see how I do in August without air conditioning... Right now we've got fans in all the rooms, and there's a great cross breeze. It's so nice to be in a house again, with a yard and a driveway and everything. There's a French family who live upstairs who are pretty quiet. We've rigged a gate of sorts to keep Emma in the yard, but we need a better system. Right now it's just a board that we have to keep moving out of the way when we go in and out.

Today when David came home from work, he said that the Palestinians were fighting amongst themselves again. I thought he meant down in Gaza, but then he asked, "Hear that?" It never occurred to me that he meant they were fighting nearby, as in Ramallah. I could definitely hear lots of gunfire. I probably shouldn't be telling this because now you're thinking we're nuts for being here. So first of all let me say that the army has a great presence in these hills, and there's good security around the yishuv. And yet, our safety is really in Hashem's hands - mine AND yours. It doesn't matter if you're living 3 miles from Ramallah or in New York City or in Timbuctoo. Our thinking is that we want our move to Israel to mean something. There are over 1200 families on this yishuv, counting Kochav Yaakov and Telzion, and none of us would be here if we didn't believe that Hashem gave us this land and that it's our responsibility to live here and take care of it. And not only are we proud to be doing so, but so very grateful that we have the opportunity!

Bummer, dude and dudettes! Big time bummer! For the first time in the 10 months, 2 weeks and 4 days since we've made the Holy Land our home, I have met disappointment. It only lasted about 10 seconds before I acknowledged the fact that in the scheme of things, it was so low on the totem pole of meaning as to be, well, meaningless.

It seems that the word "Slurpee" in the land of Israel, like so, so many other things, is relative. Whereas in chutz l'aretz (outside of the land), it's that wonderful thirst-quenching brew with exactly (if one happens to be lucky) the right concoction of coke and ice blended together. Here, I found out today by making my way by bus to the Takana Merkazit (after trudging through Emek Refaim in the heat to buy freshly-ground coffee for my hubby), the term "Slurpee" means the same fruit flavored slushy that every other store and kiosk sells.

Heaven forbid, I don't want to discourage anyone from making aliyah, but I think it's important that one should be aware of this sad truth ahead of time. As I said, it's totally meaningless in the scheme of things. It was just that hopeful expectation that got squashed in the space of a second... May this be now and forever the worst disappointment I'll experience here!

We just finished our first Shavuot in Israel -- I counted the Omer every single day since the second night of Pesach for the first time! I wish I could say that my middos improved and that I learned Pirke Avot (Ethics of Our Fathers) during that time, but I'm working on baby steps. Itty bitty baby steps.



I actually finished reading today one of the most awesome books I've ever read: Holy Woman by Sarah Yocheved Rigler. She's an incredible writer who wrote about an incredible woman, Chaya Sarah Kramer. Chaya Sarah and her husband, R. Yaakov Moshe, lived their lives with the only thought of what they could do for others. They gave and gave and gave, while they themselves had nothing materially -- and everything spiritually. It was such an inspiring book! It made me ashamed of all my pettiness and selfishness and made me realize how very much I need to improve my speech and actions. I espouse ideals I don't bother living by; I hurt people without meaning to and don't learn from my mistakes; I sometimes don't take responsibility for the things I do wrong or haphazardly -- the book really puts a mirror in the reader's face and makes you think.



So last week we had our interview at Kochav Yaakov. You have to be accepted into the yishuv. While we didn't really feel that there would be a problem, we were still on pins and needles until we called on Sunday and were told we'd been accepted. Yay! In case it wasn't clear in my last posting, we're renting the bottom half of a house which includes the yard. Tomorrow I'm taking the bus into Yerushalayim, and David and I are meeting with Yeron, the landlord, to sign the lease. Then the work begins. I called two different moving companies and hopefully they'll get back to me tomorrow. Then I have to find boxes and start packing. Funny, seems like we just unpacked! I am so not looking forward to the packing. Even though our lease where we live now doesn't end until the middle of July, our lease in KY begins June first. I'm hoping if we can get moved by the middle of June, somebody else can take over our lease in Ramat Beit Shemesh and maybe we can get a month's rent back (we had to give our landlord a year's worth of post-dated checks last year).



There are so many people trying to find housing in Ramat Beit Shemesh -- they say about 40% of the 10 planeloads of new olim Nefesh B'Nefesh is bringing this summer are moving here. There's a lot of new housing going up, but it won't be ready for at least a year or two. There are desperate pleas on the RBS email lists for people who need a place to rent or buy. Our landlord won't have any trouble leasing our apartment, even if he raises the rent.



David's been having a lot of pain in his left knee the past few weeks, and hasn't had a chance to see a doctor. He used crutches last night and today to take some of the pressure off -- good thing we brought some with us. Tomorrow night we're supposed to go to a vort in Har Nof (Jerusalem) for our friends' daughter, but David won't be able to go. I'd like to go, but it means staying in Jerusalem all day and evening, and we're moving in 2 weeks! Plus I'd have to take a bus to another bus to get back home tomorrow night. My mind right now is asking, "What would Chaya Sarah do?" and the answer, of course, is - she would go to be b'simcha for her friends. Sigh.

Busy, busy, busy. I'm working a WHOLE lot more hours for TAB Services now; I've already typed 10 or 12 transcripts this month. And they're getting longer. I have two due on Wednesday - one is 33 pages and the other is 47. They're already typed and at the editor. She'll make needed changes and send them back to me, then I'll make the changes and send them in. It takes a lot of discipline to sit and type for hours at a time -- discipline I don't have! If the quality of the audio is good, I can get a good rhythm going, but some of the audios I've had lately are really bad. It's up to the court reporter to make sure the microphones are positioned correctly. However, sometimes you just can't hear either the attorney or the witness. Sometimes someone is shuffling papers, a lot of times they speak while the other one is still speaking, and many times also they just plain mumble. Plus, depending on the deposition, you have to be familiar with either medical terms (if it's a worker's compensation case or an insured person who had a car accident) or legal terms (if it's a criminal case). It seems like an awful lot of time to put in for only 80 cents a page. Of course, the advantages are working from home. And the disadvantage is -- you're working from home. You know, the place that's way too close to the refrigerator when you're just sitting for a lot of hours each day. Need I say more?

Let's see. Oh, the really big news. We're moving! As much as I want to stay here in beautiful Ramat Beit Shemesh, we seem destined to be part of the "settler movement." Lest that sounds scary and ill-advised to you, I'll just say this: it's probably not so wise if you're thinking totally rationally, but if you believe that this land was given to us (the Jews) by Hashem, and if you believe that all's fair in love and war (meaning even if you don't believe we have the G-d given right to the land, we at least won it fair and square -- every other country in the world has the right to keep lands they win in wars), then the land belongs to us and is legitimately a part of Israel.

Kochav Yaakov is a nice-sized yishuv just 6 miles north of Jerusalem. After a lot of deliberation and ALMOST jumping into buying something we really couldn't afford (but really, really wanted because of our deeply-felt American convictions that we totally deserved and were entitled to have a big house that we could fill with all kinds of things we don't really need because we still haven't learned to control our need for gashmius - material possessions), we found the only piece of rental property currently available in the entire yishuv. And it's perfect for us! A young couple own the house. It's a 3-bedroom on a nice-sized lot with a huge fenced yard on all sides. They built a 2nd story on top to rent out; many people do that to help with the mortgage payments. The family who live on top don't get to use the yard at all; they go up a flight of stairs to their front door from the street. I'm not sure they even have a back door. The couple who own it are living in Kibbutz Chofetz Chaim for the next four and a half years while she goes to nursing school. They may not even move back to Kochav Yaakov, so we can probably stay there a long time.

The street is very close to the mikolet, small grocery store. And David called me tonight from the class he's taking at the Nefesh B'Nefesh office to say that a woman who lives right across the street from our new home is in the class with him. She and her husband are a little older than we are; their daughter and son-in-law made aliyah this past December from Baltimore - and we had met their daughter in Baltimore on our Farewell Tour just before we made aliyah! Small world. In fact, we taught her daughter how to play mah jongg -- and both mother and daughter play! Two thirds of a mahj group already! If that don't beat all.

Before I sat down to write I had so much to say. But now I can't think of anything else. Perhaps because it's 11:15 PM, my allergies are driving me crazy, and I've been working like mad all day. I think it's time to say goodnight.

It's just past midnight, motzi Shabbat, and there are at least ten fires visible from our mirpeset. No, it's not terrorists - it's Lag B'Omer and the whole country is partying!

People, mostly kids, have been dragging whatever wood they could find to open sites all over Ramat Beit Shemesh (and all over Israel) since Pesach ended. Wooden teepees were everywhere. After Shabbat, people started arriving by cars, by bicycles, by skateboards and by foot, and lighting up. We had to finally close the windows and turn on the air; I haven't stopped coughing for the past hour. We just happen to live on the edge of the city, so there's lots of room across the street from us to build the fires. But Emma and I walked one street over earlier to the empty lot where 2 shuls will be building their new buildings soon, and that fire was HUGE! There was a cotton candy stand and a popcorn stand on the street, men were dancing, the music was blaring. Here, near our building, lots of people brought guitars, and further down the street a whole lot of yeshiva boys were dancing around their fire. People are set up for picnics; they brought tables and are roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Quite a scene. If only I could stop coughing!

It was on Lag B'Omer that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai revealed the Zohar, so we celebrate this "light" of Torah 17 days before Shavuous. Also, in the time of Rabbi Akiva, his students (12,000 pairs of study partners) died because they didn't accord proper respect to their friends. It was on Lag B'Omer that they stopped dying. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is quoted as saying that it is better to burn in a furnace than to embarrass a friend in public, so the light of the fires reminds us to treat others with respect.

David has to be up at 5 to go to work tomorrow; it's still pretty noisy outside...

So, let's get you caught up on the news here in our neck of the woods. David and I had decided to buy a house in Kochav Yaakov until we actually sat down and looked at our finances. It didn't take much for us to realize that we just don't have enough money to buy anything. We could do it but it would take every penny we have, and I don't want to be without some sort of cushion. Plus we'd buy the duplex and wouldn't even have any money to fix it the way we'd want it.

So we're waiting to hear about a house for rent in Kochav Yaakov instead. It's the only thing for rent there, so if that falls through, we're going to have to look into renting something expensive in Har Nof or Ramot (in Jerusalem) where we wouldn't need a car.

(It's 12:30 in the morning and someone is outside in a van with a microphone and speakers and being extremely loud and obnoxious. It's stopped on the street and cars are honking at it to move. Don't they care that some people have to be up early to go to work tomorrow? Oh, wait - this is Israel. Silly me.)

Earlier this week I did something really, really fun. I went to a Jewish Women's Writing Seminar at a hotel in Jerusalem. It was a whole day affair, and the speakers were writers and editors for Mishpacha and Binah magazines, and other well known authors, like Sarah Shapiro and Yaffa Ganz. Just before lunch (very fancy) they drew names for raffle prizes and I won the book "Holy Woman" by Sara Yocheved Rigler. I love her writing! The book was even inscribed, although obviously not to me personally since she didn't know who would win it. It's an incredible book; I read a lot of it over Shabbos. I highly recommend it!

If only I had time to write more, especially now that I've got all these pointers from the seminar. But I've been pretty busy with my new job of typing legal transcripts. At first they were only giving me small jobs and only one at a time. But I have 5 due this week! And the audio quality on two of them is terrible. I keep listening to the same sentence over and over, but the voice "wobbles" or is drowned out by papers moving or other people talking or the speaker not speaking clearly. I can tell this is not going to be as easy as I thought. I think my boss is going to complain about this particular court reporter in Florida who doesn't do such a good job of recording the proceedings.

So, I believe I told you about Lucky, the abandoned dog who's been hanging around for about a month now. Oh, I forgot to tell you - I named him Lucky. I've been feeding him twice a day and taking water to him every time I take Emma out for a walk. The poor thing has burrs stuck all over him and he's so filthy. I posted an email on the RBS list to see if someone would adopt him, and even though two families came to check him out, no one's willing to take him. David said we could take him to the vet and check him out, and if he's okay, we can bring him in and clean him up and then maybe someone would be more willing to consider taking him. But of course, my neighbor, Shaina, was going to drive us to the vet Friday morning and Lucky was nowhere to be found. He showed up at 3:30 in the afternoon and the vet closed at 2. I told David I was going to bring him in anyway, dirty and all, but we couldn't coax him into our apartment building. I had bought him a collar and he was really excited when I put it on, but he was too scared to come inside with us. I've tried several times since yesterday and he gets so close - but then just lies down right outside and won't budge. I don't know how we'll ever get him in a car. Poor thing. I'm almost ready to give up on him, but I don't want to do that. I guess we'll just keep trying to win his trust. I hope he found a good place to sleep tonight; usually he's in the empty lot across the street from us, but there's an awful lot of smoke and people there right now.

It's 1 a.m. I'd better get to bed. I still have to count the Omer - it's the first time I've made it this far! I'm so proud of myself!

I bet you think I've forgotten all about this blog, don't you? Well, okay - you may be right. Or partially. I've been THINKING about writing in here, quite a bit actually, but I never seem to think about it when it's easy to sit down and do it. So here I am, finally.

Let's see. What's happened this past month? Life kind of caught up with me here in the Holy Land. Getting ready for Pesach and then Pesach - our first as Israeli citizens! Kind of wierd only having one seder; with all the preparation beforehand, it was almost anti-climatic. But the three of us (Emma included) went to stay with our friends in Kochav Yaakov for Yom Tov and we had a wonderful time. Their 7 year old, Hudi, stayed up for the whole seder (we ended about 2:30 in the morning) and contributed quite a bit to the discussions. I was very impressed. The last time we stayed there for Pesach (three years ago), we made the decision to make aliyah. And now we're looking seriously at moving to Kochav Yaakov.

Tomorrow I'm going with a friend of mine (well, I'm actually going with her; she has a car) to look at some houses there. There's nothing to rent so we might have to buy something. I'm so sad to be leaving Ramat Beit Shemesh but it's just too hard for David. We had found a great 5 bedroom apartment with a huge yard here in RBS close to the shopping area with reasonable rent, but David just doesn't want the commute. Kochav Yaakov is about 20 minutes away from where he works by bus as opposed to over an hour from here. The majority of people who live on the the yishuv are French, but there are about 45-50 Anglo families there now. We shall see how tomorrow goes.

If you looked out your window in the middle of the afternoon and everything looked kind of grey and fuzzy, you'd probably just shrug and think, "Hmm. It's a little foggy out." Right? But what if the fog got thicker and thicker until you couldn't see across the street? And it was really warm out and the wind was blowing? Maybe you would you think, "Hmm. A storm must be coming." But what if your eyes started to burn and your nose would start running and the furniture you just dusted suddenly was covered with dust again and when you walked across the floor you could hear grit squishing under your shoes? Well, if you lived where I live, you'd think, "Hmm. Sand storm! Close the windows and the shutters and turn on the ac!" 'Cause that's what I did today in the worst sand storm we've had since we moved here. I REALLY hate running the air conditioning in April, but, combined with my terrible allergies which haven't been bad in years until this spring, this sand storm is a doozy. It's just after 9 PM and David just came in from walking Emma. He said it's still 26 degrees out (that's Celcius - about 80 degrees Farhenheit) and the wind is really blowing. I'd better brush the sand off Emma.

I'm so worried about a dog we've befriended. He's the most beautiful, gentle, blonde furry dog with golden eyes like Anton (our dog in the states we had to put to sleep). Someone told me that they saw someone drive by and shove him out the door on our corner some weeks back. Wht is wrong with people?! He followed Emma and I on our walk about a week ago, and I saw he had no collar and his hair was all matted, so we stayed away from him. But yesterday he saw us and came into the park in front of our apartment building and I cautiously let Emma off her leash (because if I hadn't she would have pulled my arm off...). She ran in maniacal circles around him for about 15 minutes, and he just laid down and watched her. When she finally got up the courage to go sniff him, he just rolled over so she could check him out. He's about 5 times her size, but he was so gentle with her! When I finally brought Emma in, I went back outside with a bowl of water and he drank it all without stopping. My heart really went out to him, but we just can't take another dog; especially now that we're moving.

This morning I took Emma out early because I had to catch an early bus into Yerushalayim for a doctor's appointment, and the dog showed up again. This time he just wanted me to pet him. After I brought Emma in I went back out with water and dog food, but he was gone. I hope he found some shelter today from all this sand in the air. David saw him this morning and agreed he looked like Anton. If we end up getting a house with a yard, we may have to think about taking him with us ... but I'm afraid in two months' time he'll be hardened by living outside. And I don't know how he'd do with someone (me) giving him a bath. I just have to stop worrying about him.

My baby turned 25 yesterday. Am I really old enough to have sons in their twenties - now mid to late twenties?! How did all this time pass? And the real question is - where was I when it was happening?

So I'm working now, from home. At last count I've typed up seven transcripts - for a grand total of about $150. Whew - the money's really rolling in now! All they've sent me so far are short court proceedings, like anywhere from 7 minutes to 27 minutes. One was actually close to two hours. I'm kind of glad, though. If I have to start packing everything up again, I'm going to need some time. But just finding us a place to live is going to take time also. And if we have to buy, it means navigating the Israeli system when we don't know the language so it's going to cost to get a good attorney. Which means I should be working more. But then I don't have time to do the legwork. Kind of makes me feel like I'm on a teeter-totter.

My mahj group is really upset we're leaving. What kind of a rotten scum am I to break up two perfectly good mah jongg groups? All I can say is - there's better be 3 eager mah jongg players wherever we move to...

After my doctor visit this morning, I took the #2 bus to the kotel. For some reason, I've only been there 3 or 4 times since we moved here. When I saw it, it was almost startling. I pulled a chair as close as I could (considering there were a whole lot of other ladies davening there) and before I started reading my tehillim and saying all my personal prayers for my family and friends, I just sat there and looked up at this Wall. Every once in awhile I have these moments of, "Hey, I live here! I can hop on a bus and walk through the security and sit down right in front of this Wall where so many of my ancestors over the last however many thousand years (I should know how many, right?) stood and communed with Hakodesh Boruch Hu." After 9 months of living here, I, sadly, don't have so many moments of that sudden Awe any more. But today it just hit me square in the face.

The next war with Lebanon is going to be happening soon. It kind of scares me to be moving in the middle of the summer when everything will most likely be happening. But life has to go on, without worrying about the "what if's." I just told that to a friend recently, so I guess I have to practice what I preach.

I could go on and on and on (as you may know), but I think I'll stop here. By the way -- oh wait. I'm really going to stop now. That's it.

Hi, All! I should be cleaning for Pesach, but I'm giving myself some time off for good/awful/awful good behavior. You decide.

Our friends, Ellen and Kalman, made a wedding for their daughter, Ali, this past week. The wedding was last Thursday in Yerushalayim, on the worst day (weather-wise) we've had since we moved here. All day the thunder was crashing, the wind the gusting, rain poured periodically - and to top it off - we had hail! It was hitting the windows so hard I couldn't believe it! Emma was a little puzzled when, during a lull in the weather, I took her outside and we were walking on little balls of ice. In Yerushalyim it was actually snowing.

But we made it to the wedding hall; another couple we'd met in ulpan, Karen and Al, gave me a ride and David went straight from work. Poor Ellen! Murphy's law was definitely at work that night. They'd left a bag at home here in Ramat Beit Shemesh with Ellen's sheitel (wig), shoes, jewelry, and Igor's (the choson/groom) new kippah. Thank G-d she had a friend there who normally doesn't cover her hair who gave her a beautiful black hat that exactly matched her dress, and one of the kallah's (bride's) friends had an extra pair of shoes that fit perfectly. The wedding hall Ali and Igor had booked (before Ellen had a chance to see it) had two rooms; the big, beautiful nice one - and Ali and Igor's. It was a tiny, dilapidated room with no heat, torn-up floors, white cloths shabbily hung on the walls to cover up holes, and a very meager staff. But Ali was radiant, and everyone's enthusiasm made up for the surroundings.

Last night we made sheva brachot for them (one of the seven meals they have each day for a week after the wedding with at least 10 men who make 7 blessings for the choson and kallah). I had decided to make meatballs and rice, because it would be easy and not so expensive for so many people. HAH!!!

I actually don't think I've ever made meatballs before. There was an extremely easy recipe in my old Betty Crocker cookbook for sweet 'n sour meatballs using cranberry sauce, ketchup, brown sugar and lemon juice. How easy is that?

So, before Shabbos I made the sauce. It wasn't exactly the flavor I was hoping for, but, oh well. After Shabbos I took out all the ground turkey I had defrosted, added the last of my bread crumbs (see, I'm doing a little for Pesach already!), some eggs, onions, whatever. Then I formed about 90 nice-sized meatballs. But then I worried, as always, that maybe it wouldn't be enough for 20 people. Am I a Yiddishe mama or what? So I had to take out a package of ground beef and defrost it in the microwave. I had already used all my bread crumbs so I added some matza meal.

Okay, so now I have about 105 meatballs, more or less. The recipe says to throw it in the sauce which has been simmering on the stove. All the meatballs were in one large bowl, getting all squished together unbeknownst to myself as I was making the extra batch, and just as I was dumping it into the sauce, David came into the kitchen and said, "You should really fry those in a pan first to keep them from falling apart."

He couldn't have said that about 10 seconds earlier?

Now comes the fun part of the evening.

All of the meatballs were, of course, falling apart in the sauce and I started digging them out with my large slotted spoon until all 105 of them were in about 6 plates, all soaked and dripping with sauce. I got out a frying pan, put in some oil, put on some latex gloves and started re-forming the balls one by one, at the same time trying to wipe off as much sauce as possible before putting them in the frying pan. I wasn't sure if I should be laughing at the total ridiculousness of the situation or crying at the frustration of it. Here I was doing a mitzvah, and the simplest thing was taking hours of my time! The thought crossed my mind that there must be a Candid Camera somewhere in the kitchen getting all this on tape, but then I decided that the only audience I had was Hashem. I have to shake my head sometimes at His sense of humor. And then I realize that He's telling me I'm taking myself too seriously again and He's having a little fun with me. Okay.

So I take my time re-rolling those balls, wiping off the extra sauce, frying them a little until I'm sure they'll keep their shape before they go back into the pot of sweet 'n sour sauce, which is now a sauce dotted with tiny pieces of meat throughout. I scrub the frying pan between each batch, taking my time, laughing at myself.

Later (much later...), as the pot sat simmering on the stove and I was washing my way through an unbelievable pile of bowls, plates, cooking utensils, pots and pans, I realized I smelled something burning. Oh, yeah - it was. But I got to it in time, and David came in and poured everything into our super large soup pot. Then we just looked at each other, and I have to hand it to him; he did a super-human job of not bursting into laughter or making even the tiniest of comments which I'm sure were already formulating in his mind.

In the end, everything turned out fine. We only had about 15 people. One guy forgot about coming and worked late, but David started knocking on doors in our apartment building (only in Israel!), and a teen-age son of our Vaad Habayit (apartment manager) came down to join us. A couple of rabbis were here and they gave great divrei Torah, and after the benching all the men started dancing, which is no easy feat in our tiny apartment where the couches were already upended to make room for all the tables.

And, of course, after everyone left and we had cleaned up somewhat and David had gone to bed, all I could think was - When will it be my turn? Jared seems to be pretty settled in his (non-Jewish) home life, and Nathan isn't in any hurry to meet someone until he's able to earn enough money and have some kind of parnassah (living), and he's not at that point yet. I started to miss my friends back home and called Barb, one of my first friends I had made in St. Louis when I moved back there from Milwaukee in 1992 and who had been one of my mah jongg partners for 9 years. It was so nice to hear her voice! Then I tried calling Lynda, one of my other mahj partners, but she wasn't home and I left a message. I already talk periodically with Shifra, the fourth in our mahj group. Barb and Lynda don't have computers, so we're really out of touch. Hard to believe there are people without computers in this day and age.

Some people would consider my sitting here writing a waste of time on a beautiful, sunny Monday afternoon exactly two weeks before Pesach. (Actually, it's the first sunny day in over a week.) I have accomplished a few things today, however; I ordered meat for Pesach from the butcher in Yerushalayim, I ordered kosher-for Pesach dog food from our vet, I ordered matza that will be delivered a week from Thursday, and I called Avi at Nefesh about possible communities that we could move to that would be closer to where David works. Avi emailed me contact names of people in 4 different communities; Maale Adumim, Ramot, Nachalot and Efrat. We also spoke about Kochav Yaakov, and even moving to Beit Shemesh. So now we have to think about visiting each of those communities, maybe spending a Shabbos in Efrat and Maale Adumim. Nachalot is the only neighborhood actually in Yerushalayim, behind the shuk. I really didn't want "city" living, but that would certainly be in the center of things.

Okay, time to clean out some kitchen cabinets - I have an hour before my Israel mahj group shows up for our Monday afternoon game...

Do me a favor. I have an overwhelming desire to impart something breathtakingly beautiful to you. Please read this and then close your eyes. Sit back in your seat. Then try to picture it all in your mind. Let me see if I can do it justice.

Look at the picture above which we took from our mirpeset when we first moved here last summer of our front walk, the park, the hills in the background. This is the view we had earlier this evening:

It's 15 minutes before the end of Shabbos. David and I are sitting on our glider, Emma in my lap, on our smaller mirpeset, facing exactly what you see in the picture. It's dusk; the sun has set but it's not yet fully dark. There are no clouds in the sky, save for some wispy cotton here and there. Only one bright light glitters so far which I found out later this evening was Saturn, the brightest planet this time of year. It's about 70 degrees and a faint breeze is blowing. Even though we live at a major intersection (for these here parts), no car passes by. We hear crickets and possibly frogs. Above us, one floor up and diagonally across, a father and his son also sit on their mirpeset. It's obvious to us, even without knowledge of the language, that Abba is helping his young son with tomorrow's homework; asking him questions, discussing points with him. (We pick up a few words here and there - and are quite proud of ourselves.) Across the street, the hills are finally green; blossoms are everywhere (my eyes and nose have been quite cognizant of this the past few days - and scores of families were out there walking this beautiful Shabbos afternoon).

Abba leaves to go to shul for maariv and we are left in the darkness, a sky lit up now by multitudes of stars, the quiet, the crickets, the warm breeze, the hills, the glider slowly rocking, the immense gratitude - could Shamayim possibly be more kodesh (holy) than this?

Well, we've been here for Tisha B'Av, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Succos, Chanukah, and now Purim. I always thought Succos was my favorite holiday, but I have to say - Purim in Israel is AWESOME! I love it here!!

David woke me up early on Shabbos morning because it was Parshas Zachor and I had to be in shul to hear the few passuks (lines in the Torah reading) about stamping out Amalek. For those who don't know, Amalek is one of the very many Jew haters in course of our very long history. He lives on in Hitler and all those throughout history who have tried to wipe us out. Haman, the bad guy in the Purim story, was a descendant of Amalek. By the way, in my "reform" upbringing, no one ever told us in our Sunday School classes that all those stories we read about were real; that the people and the events that happened were part of our very real history and not just fairy tales to entertain us. Here in Israel, the history of all those "characters" are all around you, and when you live here you feel part of the each succeeding generation who lived through each part of our history. It's just so awesome.

So I went to shul and saw lots of friends I haven't seen in awhile because I actually haven't been there in awhile (even though the shul is less than a block away). I even went to a shiur right after services (which end by 10:15 AM every week - see why I rarely make it there?) for women. While there, I saw Rebecca who gives a shiur on Shabbos afternoons. I hadn't gone last week, and she told me what time to come. So I went to TWO shiurim in one day! Plus I went to shul! David was very happy with me. I love to hear Rebecca speak. Only 4 of us came, but she researches all of her topics so thoroughly and is so excited about every thing she teaches. This week was, of course, about Purim, and Esther and Mordechai's role in saving the Jews from annihilation. There are just layers upon layers of meaning in every single sentence of the Megillah (the story of Purim we're required to hear twice on Purim). As we were leaving, Rebecca told me about the party she has for women every Purim night - starting at 11 PM. I thought, why not?

David and I went to maariv (the evening service) and to hear the Megillah reading. Purim is the festival where everyone dresses up in costume. The whole idea is to show that we are not who we look like externally. That's putting it extremely simplistically, and there are many other explanations. David dressed as Bob the Builder (jeans, hard hat, tool belt), and I wore my blue afro. I tried to figure out how to make it stand straight up in a Marge Simpson hairdo, but it wasn't made to go in just one direction. The Megillah reading was fun. In St. Louis I always went to a later, women's only reading, but I wanted to go to the first reading possible so we could go to a party and get our shalach manot ready at home. As the Megilla is being read, everyone has to be extremely quiet, even the kids, and we have to hear every single word - except when Haman's name is mentioned. Then everyone waves their groggers or stamp their feet or yell "boo!" or make whatever loud noise they can to stamp out his hated name. The reading took about an hour and then we stood outside and talked with people for quite awhile. A friend of ours, Tzvi, had on a monster face which scared some kids, but others were trying to pull it off of him. He was trying to convince them that it was scarier underneath! Another guy, Shimon, who had brought his guitar and was wearing long blond curls, threw his arms around Tzvi and said in as high a voice as he could muster, "No, he's mine! Leave him alone!" Everybody was in a happy mood and playing around.

We went home and by the time I finished cleaning up from Shabbos and filling the shalach manot bags, it was already 11! David hadn't wanted to go to any of the shul parties (most of them were having one), but I headed over to Rebecca's. I had so much fun there! About 15 women showed up; some I knew and some I didn't. It was like being at a slumber party when I was a teenager. Rebecca is probably one of the most learned (in Torah) women I've ever met, but she made some kind of a hot punch with vodka (gin?) in it, and everyone had a cup or two, and we giggled and played and just let go of our everyday lives. We each told about the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to us (everything from bad blind dates to sheitels coming off in public), and then we put on some old rock music and danced. By the time they put on an old Beatles tape, we were singing "A Hrd Days' Night", "Help", and all the oldies at the top of our lungs and dancing like we used to in the old (read: secular) days. I barely had a voice left when I left at 1:30 in the morning! And I really missed a couple of you in St. Louis that I know would have had a blast at the party!

But I had to get up by 7 yesterday morning to get to shul for the second Megillah reading. It wasn't quite so crowded this time as most of the men had heard it already in shacharis (the morning service) and left. The guy who read it for us was phenomenal. He had a different voice for each time Esther or Ahashveros or Mordechai or Haman spoke, and even when he read about the horse that Haman had to lead Mordechai on, he had a special whinny voice for the horse. It was great! When I got home, we filled up our cart on wheels, mapped out our route, saddled up Emma (okay, we put her leash on) and headed out to deliver our shalach manot.

Who would ever have guessed it would be 80 degrees out?! We walked up the hill on Hayarden, cut through Sun Gardens, down to the end of Shimshon and back the other way to Dolev, and then ALL THE WAY AROUND Dolev and down Habesor to our apartment. It took about 2 hours and we were hot and pooped. But EVERYONE was out on the streets; the costumes showed so much creativity and everyone was friendly and talkative - you can't even imagine the sense of belonging, the sense of oneness. I so wish it could be like this between everyone in Eretz Yisrael every day. But we'll stay positive here. One young couple and their little toddler had Cat in the Hat costumes on and Thing #1 and Thing #2 imprinted on the front. After they passed us, we realized they had the same words imprinted on their backs - in Ivrit! There was a 10 foot high monster that Emma wasn't sure if she should bark at or run away from, and decorated cars with loudspeakers and music playing everywhere.

Our seuda (festive meal you're supposed to have) was waaayyy over on Lakish and we had to bring the soda and wine. Poor David had to pull the cart with 10 heavy bottles and 3 more packages we had to deliver. I tried to call a cab but none of the companies were answering the phone. So we finally showed up. It was supposed to be all adults, but apparently the host family had invited more people and there were 27 of us - and a lot of kids. They were afraid there wouldn't be enough food but there was plenty. No one was drinking, though. The men are supposed to drink enough not to be able to tell the difference between Mordechai (the good guy) and Haman (we already talked about him). The idea is "when the drink goes in, the truth comes out." There's all kind of kabbalistic stuff about the drinking; you'll have to ask your local rabbi. David never feels he can enjoy the holiday because he has to go to work the next day; I think he only had one glass of wine.

It was so tough walking home. My legs were sore and I was so exhausted from not much sleep the night before and all that walking we'd done. We were supposed to stop by another friend's house who had also invited us to their seuda, but we just went home. Everyone was setting off firecrackers and there were yeshiva boys and kids all over the streets. It was just so nice to be part of the whole thing.

Today is Shushan Purim. In a walled city, like Yerushalayim, Purim is celebrated today - the 15th of Adar (on the Jewish calendar) as oppposed to the 14th. A lot of people started celebrating yesterday and then went to Yerushalayim today to continue their celebration. I remember Nathan telling me about it when he was here in yeshiva. I've been more than happy to take it easy today! I've been cleaning, doing laundry, making dinner for David for when he comes home from work and before he goes to shul to learn, and taking Emma out now and then. Our friend Dov is coming by soon with his two kids. Emma will be very happy to see the kids. Dov is bringing me my headset and foot pedal so I can start working on my first legal transcript. I guess I'm ready! We really want to be able to make some extra money to be able to save up to buy an apartment in the next couple of years.

I had practically told David I'd move to Yerushalayim, but after the party at Rebecca's and celebrating Purim, I know that I really want to stay in Ramat Beit Shemesh! I really love it here so much. It was so nice to go to shul or sit in the shiur or go to the party - and actually recognize a lot of people! It just seems like we have a "place" here. But we still need to find a less expensive apartment, and with a yard.

Besides, listen to what I saw this morning: As I was walking Emma out in the park, Coco was out in her yard and started barking when she saw Emma, which of course made Emma run over to Coco's yard and start barking back. Shaina invited Emma to come play for an hour or so. When I went downstairs to get her later, I saw Shaina and her girls going out the front door of the building. I followed them out and when Shaina saw me, she pointed to to the corner where Hayarden and Hayarkon meet. On the hill were hundreds of sheep, literally just yards from the street! There were some Arab herders moving them across the hill further down on the hills by Hayarkon. It was so cool! I got Emma, then went home and got out my camera. We've heard them a lot recently and have seen them in the distance, but they've never been this close. A lot of people were looking out from their mirpesets. You don't find a lot of sheep in your back yard in St. Louis!

It's getting dark out; hopefully we're going to get some more rain. We need it.

Time to go; things to do.

Oh, wow - so cool! Albert just called us from St. Louis to wish us a good Purim. I was trying to describe what it was like here just before Shabbos, just before the chag. As soon as we hung up, there was a loud commotion outside, and David and I went to stand out on our big mirpeset. There was a looooonnnnggg parade of cars (and all manner of trucks and ambulances and bikes) driving by decorated with balloons and posters, and they were all honking and yelling stuff (in Ivrit) through loudspeakers! They went down to the corner, around the kikar and back up Nachar Hayarden. Everyone ran outside to see them. I can only imagine how wild and crazy it will be here after Shabbos and on Sunday!