Shake, Rattle and Roll

As if this little corner of the world doesn't suffer from enough man-made excitements today we were at nature's mercy.

The week started with and increase in temperate which caused an increase in my irritability (I mean really, too hot for jeans in mid-November - Who wouldn't find their temper more than a little strained?)

Last night with a crack or thunder and a flash of lightening the heavens opened, soaking my laundry before I could rush out and haul it in off the line.

The storm has rolled around the skies all day (as my laundry rolls around inside the dryer) thought there was a slight respite when my daughter and I made our way out of the house to her ballet lesson. As we waited at the bus stop, the storm rumbled back into position overhead turning the road and the drainage ditches into a raging torrent. I was trying to reassure my daughter that we weren't in mortal danger when the man keeping us company under the bus shelter informed me that on a beach only a few miles from us a fisherman had been stuck by lightening and killed.

Although I have felt the earthquakes on previous occasions, it was probably due to the storm that I didn't feel anything this morning.

My daughter was running around outside at break so she also didn't feel it but her friends did and the teachers called them together to explained what was happening.

The epicentre was in the Dead Sea. But they weren't large quakes.

However, we are on the Syrian African rift and the news tonight was full of scare stories of what will happen when the 'Big One' hits.

Pen and Paper

I love my computer. Anyone who knows me will tell you this. But I have a confession to make.

I tend to do most of my writing while waiting, at bus stops and while my children are at after-school activities. I do not have a laptop so I write using pen and paper.
The main problem, in addition to occasional losing these precious pieces of paper, is that I then have to copy up all my notes on to the computer.

This November I signed up for NaNoWriMo. Faced with the prospect of writing at least 1,667 words per day I decided that I couldn't afford to waste time copying out notes. It would be more efficient writing straight on the computer.

To be honest I have tried before and the result has been banal prose at best, total writers' block at worst. I thought I could work through it, get used to the glare of the screen, be inspired by electrons.

Unfortunately it has not worked. The problem is not the banal prose. One of the mantras of NaNoWriMo is just write even if what you are writing is crap. During November you put down 50,000 words and then spend December, or the next year, editing to reshape them into something elegant and beautiful.

My problem is that, however self satisfied or recursive it may sound, I am inspired by my own writing.

Or rather, to be more accurate, my own characters. Long before I ever commit my characters to paper they are running round inside my head, acting out scenes from their lives. They keep me amused when I can't sleep or during a boring car journey.

As appalling as my handwriting is, the physical act of writing is automatic and requires little concentration, especially when I let standards of spelling and legibility fall by the wayside. My mind can trailing off in a day dream following round my characters as they develop inside my imagination.

Typing however requires slightly more concentration and although I can edit electronically with alacrity and pizazz my brain is to occupied with the physicality of typing to be creative.

Today I finally gave into this reality and sat on the sofa with pen and paper. It took me less than a couple of hours to write the required 1,667 words and then another hour to type them on my computer. Even better I am satisfied with what I have written and eager to continue.

Now I just have to discover how to ward off writers' cramp as I try to catch up with my word count.

Toad in the Hole

For the English speaker in Israel there is much humour to be obtained from the appalling English so frequently encountered on signs and labels.

Finding the 'vegetal' sausages on special offer at the local supermarket inspired me to prepare
the very British and , normally, very non-kosher dish of Toad in the Hole.

Shabbat Music

Israel, just like everywhere else on the planet, has a version of Pop Idol. We call it A Star is Born.

Although, obviously, only one person wins each season the top three tend to become successful.

Harel Skaat didn't actually win in his season of A Star is Born however he has become extremely popular and in my opinion is the best romantic ballad singer in Israel at this time.

This is my favourite of his songs.

Of course, video clips are all very well but for me a ballad singer is truly measured by the effect his song has in a more intimate setting - just him and the microphone, and several million adoring fans!

So for those of us interested in a live version here is the link

Knitting - Baby Blanket

I knitted this for a friend's baby a little while ago and was pleased with my efforts.

Hopefully it will the first of many post about my completed knitting projects though at present my pile of UFOs (UnFinished Objects) is growing larger by the second!

Argh!

I looked in the mirror as I was brushing my hair today and I noticed not just one but several grey hairs!!!!

I suppose I should have been prepared - My mother has been going grey ever since I can remember and my husband even has a few grey hairs in our wedding photos, he was 23.

I suppose I will have to start behaving like a grown up now?
Maybe not!

Sabra Prickles

Maybe it is about time I explained the name of my blog.

A Sabra is an Israeli born Israeli.
I was born an Israeli thanks to Dad, but because I was born in England, thanks to Mum, I am not a Sabra. However, my husband and my children are Sabras.

Sabra is also Hebrew for prickly pear. It is said that like the fruit Israelis are tough and prickly on the outside, soft and sweet on the inside.
This generally holds true. The problem is how to get through that tough prickly outside.

I have been struggling with this problem since 1988.
After long, painful experience I am now able to peel the actual fruit almost to perfection, so that the recipient suffers no stray prickles in their tongue or throat.

The metaphorical Sabra is still a challenge. I manage to avoid most prickles either by careful handling or, in truly desperate situations, by just avoiding the Sabra all together.
Occasionally I still get stuck by a prickle which it normally more hair-pullingly irritating than painful, but most of the time I get to taste the sweet, soft centre.

Pita Party

Today my children were invited to a friend's party.

We started getting ready at 4pm, late afternoon but the sun was still shining. It was relatively cool outside but I was still concerned that I might be too warm in my long -sleeved shirt. I always forget just how cold it gets in winter once the sun disappears.

By the time we took the bus and started walking along the road to the party's location the sun was setting and it began to get cold.

The place we were heading for is called Taboon BeLul, which literally means Oven in a Chicken Coop.

The northern area of Naharia is still quite agricultural and most of the properties are still small holdings or small farms.

This particular farmer had turned his chicken shed into a location for holding children's parties. The large space was equipped with a kitchen and a play area decorated with rugs and colourful wall hangings. With sofas and chairs against the walls for waiting parents and tired children.

About 50 children turned up for the party and they got a little out of hand but there were people paid to take care of that. I sat on a sofa in the corner, gently sipping some wine and chatting with friends. However, we were sitting by the door and every time someone walked through the cold blasted in so soon we were wandering the room, edging closer to the warmth of the oven.

The main attraction of the 'lul' is the taboon which is a domed oven containing a flat metal plate over the open flame.

The children were all given balls of dough and rolling pins. They rolled out the dough into a vaguely circular shape. The 'pita' were then slapped on the hot plate where they cook quickly. On another table there was labane, za'atar or chocolate spread to put on the homemade pita.

Strange to think that when my father was growing up all his bread was cooked in a similar way.

The Sopranos meets .... well you'll see

[Hat tip to Jules on Facebook]

Where has the weekend gone?

I have lived in Israel nearly 20 years, more than half my life, but there is still something I can't get used to: the one-day weekend.

In Israel Saturday is the Sabbath and on Sunday we all return to work. It is true that most people work a short day on Friday but it is still depressing when your day of rest is sandwiched on both sides by work.

Both my husband and I have tried various ways to fix our working week so that it includes a full day off on Friday but it is a rare occurrence. Even though I work from home and have quite a lot of control over when I work, I always seem to need to meet with someone on Friday or rush to get something finished because suddenly the week is over and this is our last chance to find an hour of free time.

I did work part-time with a five-day week for a year but for most of that time I was pregnant with my son and so resting through any free time, and as I was normally home alone it didn't have the feel of a weekend.

Of course working on Sunday is a pain for international companies. They would never let you stay at home because you can always spend Sunday 'preparing' for the rest of the week. However, all business is put on hold becuase nobody in Europe or America is reading the faxes or answering the phones.

For us, personally, it means that that our favourite MotoGP races are Assen and Qatar because they take place on Saturday and Laguna Seca, which is so many time zones distant we can watch the race live late Sunday night.

The hardest struck victim is our social life. We are not completely secular so Friday evenings are reserved for synagogue and a meal with the family. If we do go out it is afterwards, at 11pm. That is fine when you are18 or even 25. But when the big four oh is looming close and you are weighed down by a heavy meal which was, naturally, accompanied by wine, and have been on your feet since 6am when you staggered off to work, going out on a Friday becomes a special event rather than a weekly routine.

Saturday is no better. You maybe well rested having lazed away the better part of the morning but you have to stay the sensible side of a wild time in consideration of the fact that you must be fit for work on Sunday morning.

However, there is a rather dim, wavering, but recurrent light bobbing on the horizon.

The religious sector, who have disproportionate clout in the Knesset, are fed up with everyone in the Jewish Homeland shopping on the Holy Sabbath. They have joined with the factions that support workers rights', in trying to convert Israel to a five-day working week.

There are many economic objections and some orthodox Jews demand that the second day of holiday be on Friday because it is just not Jewish to be like everybody else. As a result, the law has so far been rejected.

But I have hope that in the not-too-distant future the combination of economists on one side recognising the problem caused by the lack of a universally acceptable shopping day, and the religious elements on the other side trying to assert their power by protecting the Sabbath will ensure the rest of us can enjoy a two-day weekend.

Shabbat Music

This Shabbat my husband has spent most of the day watching car magazine programs so I have been left to prowl the internet in search of music. Luckily, there is plenty out there to provide for my listening pleasure.

My favourite rapper is the Israeli rapper Subliminal. Not only is he a great rapper but also a Zionist, anti-violence and proud to have served in the army. What more could a girl want?

The following is a popular in our house as it is based on our regimental song.

Here is the original from the 1970s

In addition, here is a link for those of you desiring a more intellectual analysis of the song, including the definitive answer as to the songstress in the original version.

The Quiche

Tonight we are having a pot-luck supper at our congregation to celebrate the birth of a grandchild to one of our members.

My contribution is a quiche.


Shabbat Shalom!

Paperwork - (not) music to my ears

One of the annoyances you most often hear people complaining about in Israel is the bureaucracy. I have been here long enough to become inured to a certain extent and there is no doubt that in the 19 years I have been here government offices, the major source of irritation and bureaucracy, have improved their customer service by about 1000%.

However, I still occasionally encounter some pencil pusher who believes that the world economy will collapse if every form is not filled out in triplicate and passed through at least a dozen hands before finally coming to rest.

At the end of last year they started a wonderful project here in Shlomi - an orchestra.

The moment she heard about it my daughter became extremely excited, pondering daily about which instrument they would chose for her and how difficult it would be to play.

I was also ecstatic because not only is the project subsidised, most of the lessons take place during afternoon school so there are no scheduling clashes with other activities.

I always sang in the choir and played, if rather badly, in orchestra and even though I never had the slightest chance of making the concert circuit, creating music gave me many hours of pleasure.

Darling, the husband, was a skilled trombone player in his youth and has happy memories of time spent with the orchestra.

Trombone didn't seem a likely instrument for my daughter and although I still have my own clarinet from my days of mangling 'Sloop John B' at band I was sure that my daughter was destined to be a flautist.

So all is perfect. Well not quite. Although the lessons are during school, the project is run by an outside entity through the local community centre. The payments are made at the community centre but unlike all other activities there, I was given the paperwork to take home.

A fortnight later, after the first lesson, the teacher demanded that all the children must bring a receipt to show payment. All other teachers working from the community centre ask for the printout of the names but for some reason the music teachers must have the actual receipt.

I made a copy to ensure I have the receipt in my records and then sent my daughter to school with the piece of paper tucked into her diary, hoping it will not get lost among the thousands of other bits of paper crowding her school bag.

Next, the teacher said the children must bring in the liability form I had signed for the rental of the musical instrument. I made a copy of that and sent the form to school with my daughter. In the evening my daughter returned still in possession of the aforesaid form. The music teacher didn't have a suitable instrument for her and would only accept the form in exchange for the instrument.

That miserable piece of paper visited school with my daughter once a week for a month until they finally gave her the flute. I think congratulations and full marks go to my daughter for organisation. If that form had been in my school satchel for so long it would probably have ended up as a calculations sheet for my math homework.

After all the fun time we had playing with the paper work the orchestra actually got down to business and I was cast in the role of 'Proud Mummy' in September when the orchestra, including my daughter on flute, played at the First Day ceremonies of both the local schools.

I was also pleased to hear that this year my son would also have a chance to join the orchestra. I had a feeling that the trumpet would suit him best.

Like a good little parent, I arranged for payment as soon as possible. A week or so later I get a call form the community centre:

'You need to come and pay for you daughter's music.'

'I've already paid.'

'You've paid for the lessons but at first they decided only new students would pay for the rental of the instrument now they have changed their minds.'

'Brilliant! I can't get there to pay before the next lesson. They had better not hassle my daughter about the payment.' When things are not done on time my daughter gets anxious, not the state of mind most conducive to producing beautiful music.

My son went to his first music lesson and again they demanded receipts and forms.

I copied the forms twice this time; once my daughter and once for my son, but my son is not quite as organised as his sister and managed to misplace the form. In addition, he was so concerned about the teacher's warning to bring the receipt and forms he didn't go to the lesson. When he got home and told me this, I flipped.

After I calmed down I paid a visit to my friends at the community centre who agreed that the orchestra is peculiar among all courses held there in that they insist the child brings the receipt and form to the lessons rather than keeping them on file at the community centre.

Moreover, it seems they are so into the bureaucracy they have their own secretary.

I obtained the secretary's number from the nice lady a reception.

Next day I had a little word the secretary.

'No, my son will not be arriving at the lesson with his receipt as it has been lost due to his having to haul it round school with thousands of other bits of paper. You will go the community centre reception, just like every other teacher, and with the help of the printout confirm that both my children have paid and then you will inform their teachers.'

She grudgingly agreed to do that, all the time emphasising the fact that she could only do so IF I had actually paid, in a tone that suggested she had the gravest doubts that I had.

Then she informed me that my son would still have to bring the liability form to the next lesson in order to be able to take the instrument home.

Well that was not going to happen either. Remember that bit about my son losing papers?

I suggested that like every other activity they open a file at reception where I could hand in the form to be stored safely until it could be retrieved later on by her or one of the teachers. She didn't like that idea but eventually conceded that the day before they had arranged to have a drawer at reception and I could leave the form there.

Unbelievably it's only taken them 7 months to figure put that having a place at reception, where the parents fill in forms and make payments, to store the paperwork is more sensible than having primary school children traipsing round school with important paperwork wrapped round their sandwiches or stuffed in a pencil case.

Podcasts - Israelisms

So what does a girl do when she first discovers podcasts?

Well in my case, I searched for all podcasts connected to Israel. There were about half a dozen at that time and I tried to listen to most of them but one of the first I started listening to and still listen to today is the Israelisms podcast.

Charley and Carol, with rare appearances from one of their daughters or a special guest, try to explain to the outside world just what life in Israeli is truly like.

Once a week they sit together to discuss whatever has cropped up in the news during the previous week interspersed with a sprinkling of personal and family news and the occasional anecdote highlighting the craziness that is life in Israel.

Carol careful explains the situation and then Charley puts forth his solution.

Sometimes they discuss the peace process however they also include other stories that rarely make the international new media but are just as important to Israelis, such as the newly formed Israeli baseball league and the teacher's' strike.

From time to time they agree, more often they don't but it is always fun to listen.

Whether you are a new immigrant, old immigrant, Israeli or not, or just someone interested in learning something more than a sound bite about this tiny Middle-Eastern that spends so much time in the news - this is the podcast for you.


edit: I nearly forgot something important - Carol is beautiful!

Daily Amusement

Today was hot yet again. So I spend another day trapped in the house, crouched over the computer screen, with hair as straight and as dry as straw as a result of washing my hair during the heat wave which is raging outside the closed windows.

As a stay-at-home Mum who works part time from home, I divide my time between the computer and housework.

I love cooking and don't mind laundry but cleaning and tidying is a punishment thought up by the devil and all chores can be boring when executed in silence.

As to my work: I am a bookkeeper. There are few things in life that give me more pleasure than reconciling accounts but due to years of experience and computer automation most of the work does not require the 100% participation of all my brain cells.

Television is no good as a distraction. I need my eyes for the computer screen while working and it would be a temptation too far for my self-discipline especially when competing with the dubious attractions of washing floors.

Radio could be an option except that endless pop music is not my thing and Israel talk radio does not appeal to me.

As always, my trusty computer came to the rescue. One day I was surfing the net searching, in vain, for the perfect RSS reader when I stumbled across podcasts.

After a short flirtation with ipodderx, iTunes became podcast friendly and I switched even though I have never owned a Mac or even an iPod.

Now I am subscribed to about 70 podcasts. Some have fallen by the wayside due to lack of time or lack of interest but there are still many gems that keep me company during the day.

If nobody objects (and even if they do - this is my blog after all :0) each week I will recommend a favourite.

Tomorrow I will return with my first recommendation.

Guy Fawkes and a heatwave

Once again, the weather hit the headlines.

Having had a reasonably unproductive day yesterday, I knuckled down to work early in the morning, even before the children left for school.

I crouched before the computer working on yet another financial report but despite being transfixed by the number crunching I soon noticed that it was unbearably warm. There was a horribly hot, dry wind wafting in through the windows - a heat wave.

The north facing rooms were nicely dark and cool but the sitting room was trying it's darned to resemble a kiln.
I closed the windows, as keeping the warm air out is the best remedy in this situation but decided against air conditioning as I was working in the other room.

I also rushed to launder a large load of jeans. The clothes on the line were already bone dry and such a hot wind is more efficient than any tumble dryer.

Heat waves are typical of the Israeli autumn but November the 5^th did seem a little late in the year. The news confirmed my suspicion that it was unusual. They have only recorded such high temperatures in November twice since the establishment of the state.

Oh for November 5^th in England. Guy Fawkes Night with bonfires and fireworks and weather so cold we had to wear a coat, scarf and hat! Here it is nearly midnight and I am too hot in long sleeves!

Sunday Bloody Sunday!

I can't believe that I woke up from snoozing in front of the TV and nearly missed today's deadline.

Must post now or today will be over!!

Shabbat Music

This is a little strange, as I normally don't post on Shabbat.

We aren't particularly religious in the Orthodox sense and although we use the car, surf the net and listen to the TV; our Saturdays are reserved for family activities.

We spend a lot of our day reading and resting so when we turn on the TV we aren't in the mood to be mesmerised by a feature length film.

Instead, we often tune in to Channel 24 the Israeli music channel that plays only Israeli music. Unlike MTV it actually shows music videos almost non-stop and on Saturday they have, at least in our opinion, an excellent play list.

In the spirit of Channel 24, I will make my Saturday post about Israeli music.

When I first arrived in Israel, in 1988, there was a song on the radio that entranced me. It was both beautiful and a little sad and I just couldn't hear it enough.

In fact I heard it rarely as living near Kiriyat Shmona the airwaves were jam-packed with transmissions from Syria and Lebanon and frequently the reception from both Galei Zahal (army radio) and Reshet Gimel was so appalling I would give up and listen to cassettes.

Even when I did hear the tune on the radio my Hebrew was so non-existent I couldn't catch the name of either the song or the artists. As luck would have it the song was never played whenever there was a Hebrew speaker within listening distance.

The other day I was clicking round YouTube, tracing a rich vein of Israeli music I had recently discovered, when I came across some unexpected treasure.

Enjoy!

Freaky Friday

I can't actually believe I have time to sit down and write this.

This week is my son's birthday and so I have invited all the family to Kabalat Shabbat.

The family includes my parents who celebrate Kabalat Shabbat every week with a meal which we share with them, either at our house or at theirs, a couple of times a month.

The family also include my in-laws. The ma and pa in-law who are extremely secular and rarely celebrate Shabbat or in fact any Jewish festival, and the bro-in-law plus roommate who rarely eat anything but rice and lentils unless someone else is cooking.

Despite the differences, all are appreciative of my cooking and extol the delights of the various dishes I provide. Which is enough of a boost to my ego to make it all worthwhile.

Also since the purchase of a decent oven these family meals have been relatively easy as I just have to plonk seasoned chicken on the oven tray, set the timer and voila!

For once I have kept to my plan of organisation and by last night I had the birthday cake prepared as well as the home baked challah. In addition, the cabbage salad and spiced carrots were waiting patiently at the bottom of the fridge.

I was left with only the chocolate mousse to prepare and a ton of potatoes to peel.

Due to the shmitta year vegetable prices are already ready rising so instead of spending hours hacking expensive cucumbers and tomatoes into the tiny pieces required for an Israel salad I opted for frozen broccoli.

The Mediterranean diet is all very well but a girl brought up on curly kale and brussel sprouts does yearn for the occasional green vegetable. Even the cabbage in Israel is white.

Friday looked to be a pleasant day. In addition to my relatively light workload the hubby announced he was taking the day off work.

Technically Israel has a 5-day working week from Sunday to Thursday. Nevertheless, everybody we know works half day on a Friday. If my husband takes the work's bus he gets home around 2pm which gives him time to eat lunch, take a nap and shower before we leave for synagogue at 5pm.

Having him at home all day is a luxury, he can pop into town for last minute shopping, lend a helping hand with the cleaning and generally keep me company as I prepare the house for Shabbat.

Unfortunately, he came home last night with high colour and dopey eyes. By this morning he was feeling infinitely grottier and almost had a temperature. He slept late but at one point got fed up with being in bed and went out to do a little shopping.

He returned so exhausted he crawled straight back into bed and didn't surface until 2:30pm when he wandered into the kitchen in search of food.

As much as I appreciate sandwiches, I didn't feel they were appropriate nourishment for a sick man so I removed him from the kitchen and prepared some noodles. The eating of which exhausted him and he is now dozing yet again , this time on the sofa.

Of course, crazy woman that I am, I didn't feel that even the additional work of tidying and cleaning the house unaided and taking care of a sick hubby was quite enough to keep me occupied so I decided to make meatballs with peas which has recently become a favourite, especially with the hubby.

Despite tempting the fates they must have been on my side. I managed to roll the meatballs without great chucks of mince sticking to my hands, I managed to fry them without creating an impromptu burnt sacrifice and I even managed to remove them from pan to plate without too many disintegrating all over the kitchen floor.

The same luck pervaded my other cooking and housecleaning endeavours so having determinedly resisted the temptations of the internet, a comfy bed and my knitting all morning I had a prepared meal and a clean house by 2pm.

Now I am going to wrap a present and take a nap before we assess just how my poor sick spouse is going to handle the rest of the evening.

NaNoOhNo!

Today is the first of November and I have signed myself up for a whole load of trouble!

The 'trouble' most connected with this blog is the fact that I have signed up for NaBloPoMo - National Blog Posting Month.

I have pledged that throughout the month of November - each day and every day - I will post something to my blog.

So far so good!

The second bit of trouble will be much more time consuming in that I, like another 90,000 aspiring writers around the world, have signed up for NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month.

I have pledged to do my darnedest to finish a 50,000 word novel by the end of November. Yikes!

I have a word count up here on my blog and if anybody reading this has also been foolhardy enough to sign up for one of these endeavours please feel free to contact me so I can add you to my friends lists.