Warning: do NOT be eating or drinking while watching this.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Spinach-Tuna-Noodle Caserole
This is sort of like a tuna florentine... Really easy to make. The original recipe has microwave directions. Since I don't own a microwave, I simply did it stove top and bake bake in the oven. Came out really nice too.
1 package (10 ounces) frozen chopped spinach
2 cups ricotta cheese (I simply used 5% cottage cheese)
1/4 cup mayo or salad dressing
1 egg
2 teaspoons dried chives
1 teaspoon dried basil, crushed (I used oregano)
1/2 teaspoon dill
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
4 ounces wide egg noodles or fusilli, cooked and drained
1 can (9 1/4 ounces tuna, drained and broken into chunks
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
Place opened spinach package in a shallow microwavable bowl. Cook uncovered on high for 4 to 6 minutes or until thawed, turning every 2 minutes. Let stand for 2 minutes. Drain well and squeeze out excess moisture. In a blender or food processor, combine spinach, ricotta, mayo, egg and seasonings. Cover and process until smooth.
In a 9x9x2 inch microwavable casserole dish, spread the cooked noodles. Top with tuna, then spread cheese mixture over tuna. Cover loosely; microwave in high for 8 to 11 minutes or until mixture is hot in the center. Sprinkle mozzarella over the top. Let stand , covered for 5 minutes or until cheese is melted. Makes 4 servings.
(I cooked the spinach in a pot on the stove with a little water and drained it. Mixed with cottage cheese, egg, seasonings and mayo. Layered as directed but added the cheese on top right away. Baked uncovered for 15 minutes at 350 degrees F)
Monday, August 17, 2009
The concept of 'generic brands'
In recent months our local supermarket has had an influx of their generic brand stocking the shelves.
Except not one item is actually priced less than the brand name and in some cases it's actually MORE expensive.
I imagine the real 'savings' is if you have their credit card, but that costs 140NIS/month. Doesn't seem like much of a savings to me.
I think the corporate board needs a lesson in the mechanics of 'generic brand'. I need a reason to buy your brand as opposed to the just as- or slightly more expensive name brand and in today's penny-pinching world, price is a big motivator to get me to drop your brand into my cart over the other guy's.
Mega has their own canned tuna in both water and oil. I bought a can to taste test and it's actually really good. Up there with the available Starkist. Starkist is priced... either 5.19 or 5.29... or maybe even 5.39. Mega brand is labeled 4.93. After deciding that we like it, I've started buying it.
Last week I noticed that it rang up at 5.29/can. It was labeled 4.93. Unfortunately I didn't notice this until I was already home and no, I never got around to taking the receipt back to complain.
However when I bought the Mega tuna again today, still labeled at 4.93/can and it rang up at 5.29, I DID say something. The cashier called over the manager and the manager had the nerve to say 'why is she complaining about 40 agurot?'.
I couldn't help myself. I told her that it wasn't an issue of 40 agurot. But 40 agurot times the 5 cans I'm buying now, and the 4 cans I bought last week.
They corrected the bill and I got the tuna for 4.93/can.
I wonder if I go back tomorrow if the cans will be labeled 5.29. If they are, I'll probably go back to buying Starkist.
Except not one item is actually priced less than the brand name and in some cases it's actually MORE expensive.
I imagine the real 'savings' is if you have their credit card, but that costs 140NIS/month. Doesn't seem like much of a savings to me.
I think the corporate board needs a lesson in the mechanics of 'generic brand'. I need a reason to buy your brand as opposed to the just as- or slightly more expensive name brand and in today's penny-pinching world, price is a big motivator to get me to drop your brand into my cart over the other guy's.
Mega has their own canned tuna in both water and oil. I bought a can to taste test and it's actually really good. Up there with the available Starkist. Starkist is priced... either 5.19 or 5.29... or maybe even 5.39. Mega brand is labeled 4.93. After deciding that we like it, I've started buying it.
Last week I noticed that it rang up at 5.29/can. It was labeled 4.93. Unfortunately I didn't notice this until I was already home and no, I never got around to taking the receipt back to complain.
However when I bought the Mega tuna again today, still labeled at 4.93/can and it rang up at 5.29, I DID say something. The cashier called over the manager and the manager had the nerve to say 'why is she complaining about 40 agurot?'.
I couldn't help myself. I told her that it wasn't an issue of 40 agurot. But 40 agurot times the 5 cans I'm buying now, and the 4 cans I bought last week.
They corrected the bill and I got the tuna for 4.93/can.
I wonder if I go back tomorrow if the cans will be labeled 5.29. If they are, I'll probably go back to buying Starkist.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Cinnamon Buns
Basic Sweet Dough
1/2 cup sugar
2 packages dry yeast
1 1/2 yeapoon salt
6 1/2 - 7 cups flour
1 1/4 cups apple juice
1 cup margarine
3 eggs, room temperature
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
In a large mixer bowl, combine sugar, yeast, salt and 2 cups flour. In a 1 quart saucepan, heat apple juice and margarine until warm. (Margarine doesn't have to melt).
Gradually add warm liquid to dry ingredients beating with mixer at low speed. Increase speed to medium and beat 2 minutes. Add eggs and vanilla and 2 1/2 cups of flour. Beat 2 more minutes. By hand stir in enough additional flour to make a stiff dough, about 2 cups.
Turn dough onto a lightly floured board and knead 8 to 10 minutes until smooth and elastic, adding more flour if necessary.
Place dough in a well oiled bowl and turn to oil the top. Cover and let rise in a warm place for about 1 hour until doubled in size. Punch down, turn onto floured board, cover with bowl and allow to rest 15 minutes for easier shaping.
Filling
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup raisins
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 cup margarine, melted or oil
Glaze
1 cup confectioner's sugar
4 teaspoons water
Combine brown sugar, walnuts, raisins and cinnamon in a small bowl.
Roll out dough into an 18 x 12 inch rectangle. Brush with melted margarine and sprinkle with sugar mixture. Starting with 18 inch side, roll dough jelly roll fashion, pinch seam to close. With seam side down cut roll crosswise into 18 1 inch wide pieces.
Place on a baking sheet, cover and let rise for about 40 minutes, until double in size.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and bake for 20 minutes.
Glaze: While the buns are baking whisk together sugar and water to make glaze. Brush tops with glaze after they've cooled for about 10 minutes.
Way to be supportive, Mom
Is there a rolling eyes emoticon I can use here?
I'm a non-believing Jew but my son wants a barmitzvah
Annabel Wright and her husband are atheists. The idea of raising their children within her lapsed Jewish faith had never occurred to them. So what to do when their 12-year-old son searched his soul and suddenly got religion?
When my son Marcus was born, the last thing on my mind as a Jewish mother was circumcision. I am a non-practising Jew and my husband, Jonathan, is lapsed Church of England, and we both felt that, as our son grew up, he would want to "match" his daddy. Indeed, my husband and I are confirmed atheists, and although I have been known to make a deal with God on turbulent flights, my promise is invariably broken after touchdown.
The Torah, the sacred book of Jewish laws, states resolutely that God commands all Jewish males to be circumcised. Without this procedure a boy is not considered a Jew and will be shunned. But I am firmly against the idea, viewing it as a form of genital mutilation. How could I have known that this would present a potential problem some years later …
There we were, 12 years down the road, mooching around a north London synagogue. It was only the second time my son had set foot in one – friends had invited us to the annual Hanukah (Festival of Lights) bazaar. Although I didn't feel quite like a gefilte fish out of water, I didn't feel especially at home either. I sensed a lack of belonging to a tight-knit group.
I left Marcus to his own devices and went to find his two younger sisters. When I next saw him he was fingering a variety of kippas (Jewish skull caps) with rather more interest than I'd have liked. As he balanced one on the back of his head I stifled a laugh and playfully remarked, "Suits you."
"Don't laugh," he replied, a grave expression clouding his face. "I'm not trying these on for a joke. I want to buy one. In fact, I've been thinking lately and I want to be, well, more Jewish."
"You are Jewish, because I am," I reminded him, hoping that would be the end of it but instinctively knowing that it wouldn't. In the Jewish faith, children take their racial and religious identity from the mother, a fact over which my husband and I have had the odd tussle.
"I know that I'm Jewish because of you," replied Marcus, "but I'd like to do it properly – you know, the festivals, the food, maybe even a barmitzvah …"
I almost choked on my salmon bagel. A barmitzvah! Did he have any idea how many years ahead you had to book the Crystal Suite at the Dorchester? Where had this sudden interest in Judaism come from? Not from me, and certainly not from his dad.
I had "married out" and hadn't given the whole Jewish thing much thought thereafter. I never imagined I would have a fair-haired, blue-eyed son wanting to embrace Judaism – or any religion for that matter. How naive of me to assume my children would unquestioningly follow my atheist lead.
But I respect my son's integrity; he has an emotional intelligence beyond his years. His announcement demanded further exploration. My husband and I would have to take him seriously.
As the daughter of German Jewish refugees, I have spent a lifetime pulling away from my roots. The message I absorbed from my parents was that being Jewish was dangerous, even life-threatening. When I started secondary school, about the same age that my mother was when she found herself the victim of antisemitism, she warned me to assimilate and to avoid getting into a "ghetto" with the Jewish girls. I was further perplexed by my mother's ambivalent relationship with Judaism. She insisted on attending synagogue on holidays, but for the rest of the year we played at being as British and non-Jewish as could be.
My father wanted nothing to do with the religion. I was always embarrassed at relatives' weddings when he had to wear a disposable paper kippa, customarily on offer to the non-Jews. He didn't deny his roots (he was barmitzvahed as a boy), but he didn't go out of his way to advertise his racial heritage either. When I finally married, at the geriatric age of 32 (in Jewish spinster years that's about 55), my parents were delighted at my choice of partner: a non-Jewish lawyer. Operation Assimilation complete. Here was a man who could hide me under the floorboards should the Nazis return.
And luckily, here was a man who, despite his antipathy towards organised religion, was happy to let Marcus satisfy his curiosity about his mother's heritage – though he made it clear he wouldn't be coming along for the ride.
In the weeks that followed, Marcus asked if I could find a synagogue that might consider taking him on with a view to studying for his barmitzvah. I knew this would be a tall order. There was no way he could cram the necessary knowledge in one year. And would a synagogue take him at all? A friend had warned me that hers probably wouldn't, given Marcus's uncircumcised status. I was incensed that what was in his pants was more important than what was in his heart. But I also felt that it would be wrong to deny my son the chance to explore his roots.
We sat Marcus down for some soul-searching. "I like the idea of belonging to something special," he told us. "I feel proud to be Jewish. It feels unique. And there are so few of us left it seems a shame not to do something about it. I want to do this because it's about the religion and believing in God."
And so began my quest to find a synagogue liberal enough to take us on. An easier proposition than I'd feared – we live in north London, after all – and I found one in Golders Green. Progressive, liberal and welcoming to mixed-faith couples, although my husband was taken aback by the £750 annual fee. "That's more than a year's subscription to Sky Sports," he half-joked, threatening to offer Marcus an ultimatum: Sky or synagogue?
Marcus and I met the rabbi, and I delicately raised the issue of his physical predicament. I was relieved by the response. "It's true that some synagogues, particularly the more orthodox, would see this as a bar to entry, but not us. You're Jewish, so your son is Jewish," he said.
His advice was that Marcus and I join their family classes to give both of us an idea of what would be ahead. We all agreed that it was too ambitious to aim for a ceremony at 13. "It's a misconception that you have to have one then," explained the rabbi. "Although 13 is usual, you can study for it at any age. Men who were boys in the war and missed out have been known to have barmitzvahs in their 70s."
In the early weeks, I managed to affect a spray-on enthusiasm. But as time wore on, I realised that if Marcus was to follow the faith, I just couldn't do it with him. The subject matter (dissecting parts of the Old Testament, examining the meaning of Jewish festivals) was just too dry, too archaic, despite the rabbi's valiant attempts to make it relevant to life today.
At the end of the first term, I told Marcus that he would have to go it alone. He could join the Sunday classes, where no parental input is required. He was upset by this but realised that he couldn't expect me to embrace a religion that held no appeal. We hugged each other and cried.
But some weeks later, Marcus said that he just couldn't do it on his own. "It's just too unrealistic, Mum. How can I celebrate the festivals and follow all the other stuff without you and Dad and the girls? I guess it's time to quit."
That was 18 months ago and Marcus is now 13, the traditional age for barmitzvah. We are watching some of his friends go through the process and my husband and I have a lingering feeling that we may have denied him something important. A sense of belonging and a supportive community to fall back on, beyond home and school, are no bad things in the world we live in. But what are we saying? Organised religion is a club that we simply don't want to join.
Yet I am a Jew, and fiercely protective of my race. My grandparents survived the Nazi concentration camps and my parents avoided a similar fate by a whisker. Just don't ask me to get involved in the religious shenanigans. My husband, meanwhile, is relieved that Marcus has moved away from the religion. Would Christianity have been more acceptable I asked him. "At least the services are in English and the music is great. But ultimately no, because I don't believe in any of it."
Marcus himself is sanguine about the experience. "Now that some of my mates are going through barmitzvah I can see what's involved and I don't think it would have been right for me. Anyway, I can always go back to it when I'm older," he says. And he can. The velvet kippa is in the top drawer of his bedside table, awaiting the day.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media Limited 2009
I'm a non-believing Jew but my son wants a barmitzvah
Annabel Wright and her husband are atheists. The idea of raising their children within her lapsed Jewish faith had never occurred to them. So what to do when their 12-year-old son searched his soul and suddenly got religion?
When my son Marcus was born, the last thing on my mind as a Jewish mother was circumcision. I am a non-practising Jew and my husband, Jonathan, is lapsed Church of England, and we both felt that, as our son grew up, he would want to "match" his daddy. Indeed, my husband and I are confirmed atheists, and although I have been known to make a deal with God on turbulent flights, my promise is invariably broken after touchdown.
The Torah, the sacred book of Jewish laws, states resolutely that God commands all Jewish males to be circumcised. Without this procedure a boy is not considered a Jew and will be shunned. But I am firmly against the idea, viewing it as a form of genital mutilation. How could I have known that this would present a potential problem some years later …
There we were, 12 years down the road, mooching around a north London synagogue. It was only the second time my son had set foot in one – friends had invited us to the annual Hanukah (Festival of Lights) bazaar. Although I didn't feel quite like a gefilte fish out of water, I didn't feel especially at home either. I sensed a lack of belonging to a tight-knit group.
I left Marcus to his own devices and went to find his two younger sisters. When I next saw him he was fingering a variety of kippas (Jewish skull caps) with rather more interest than I'd have liked. As he balanced one on the back of his head I stifled a laugh and playfully remarked, "Suits you."
"Don't laugh," he replied, a grave expression clouding his face. "I'm not trying these on for a joke. I want to buy one. In fact, I've been thinking lately and I want to be, well, more Jewish."
"You are Jewish, because I am," I reminded him, hoping that would be the end of it but instinctively knowing that it wouldn't. In the Jewish faith, children take their racial and religious identity from the mother, a fact over which my husband and I have had the odd tussle.
"I know that I'm Jewish because of you," replied Marcus, "but I'd like to do it properly – you know, the festivals, the food, maybe even a barmitzvah …"
I almost choked on my salmon bagel. A barmitzvah! Did he have any idea how many years ahead you had to book the Crystal Suite at the Dorchester? Where had this sudden interest in Judaism come from? Not from me, and certainly not from his dad.
I had "married out" and hadn't given the whole Jewish thing much thought thereafter. I never imagined I would have a fair-haired, blue-eyed son wanting to embrace Judaism – or any religion for that matter. How naive of me to assume my children would unquestioningly follow my atheist lead.
But I respect my son's integrity; he has an emotional intelligence beyond his years. His announcement demanded further exploration. My husband and I would have to take him seriously.
As the daughter of German Jewish refugees, I have spent a lifetime pulling away from my roots. The message I absorbed from my parents was that being Jewish was dangerous, even life-threatening. When I started secondary school, about the same age that my mother was when she found herself the victim of antisemitism, she warned me to assimilate and to avoid getting into a "ghetto" with the Jewish girls. I was further perplexed by my mother's ambivalent relationship with Judaism. She insisted on attending synagogue on holidays, but for the rest of the year we played at being as British and non-Jewish as could be.
My father wanted nothing to do with the religion. I was always embarrassed at relatives' weddings when he had to wear a disposable paper kippa, customarily on offer to the non-Jews. He didn't deny his roots (he was barmitzvahed as a boy), but he didn't go out of his way to advertise his racial heritage either. When I finally married, at the geriatric age of 32 (in Jewish spinster years that's about 55), my parents were delighted at my choice of partner: a non-Jewish lawyer. Operation Assimilation complete. Here was a man who could hide me under the floorboards should the Nazis return.
And luckily, here was a man who, despite his antipathy towards organised religion, was happy to let Marcus satisfy his curiosity about his mother's heritage – though he made it clear he wouldn't be coming along for the ride.
In the weeks that followed, Marcus asked if I could find a synagogue that might consider taking him on with a view to studying for his barmitzvah. I knew this would be a tall order. There was no way he could cram the necessary knowledge in one year. And would a synagogue take him at all? A friend had warned me that hers probably wouldn't, given Marcus's uncircumcised status. I was incensed that what was in his pants was more important than what was in his heart. But I also felt that it would be wrong to deny my son the chance to explore his roots.
We sat Marcus down for some soul-searching. "I like the idea of belonging to something special," he told us. "I feel proud to be Jewish. It feels unique. And there are so few of us left it seems a shame not to do something about it. I want to do this because it's about the religion and believing in God."
And so began my quest to find a synagogue liberal enough to take us on. An easier proposition than I'd feared – we live in north London, after all – and I found one in Golders Green. Progressive, liberal and welcoming to mixed-faith couples, although my husband was taken aback by the £750 annual fee. "That's more than a year's subscription to Sky Sports," he half-joked, threatening to offer Marcus an ultimatum: Sky or synagogue?
Marcus and I met the rabbi, and I delicately raised the issue of his physical predicament. I was relieved by the response. "It's true that some synagogues, particularly the more orthodox, would see this as a bar to entry, but not us. You're Jewish, so your son is Jewish," he said.
His advice was that Marcus and I join their family classes to give both of us an idea of what would be ahead. We all agreed that it was too ambitious to aim for a ceremony at 13. "It's a misconception that you have to have one then," explained the rabbi. "Although 13 is usual, you can study for it at any age. Men who were boys in the war and missed out have been known to have barmitzvahs in their 70s."
In the early weeks, I managed to affect a spray-on enthusiasm. But as time wore on, I realised that if Marcus was to follow the faith, I just couldn't do it with him. The subject matter (dissecting parts of the Old Testament, examining the meaning of Jewish festivals) was just too dry, too archaic, despite the rabbi's valiant attempts to make it relevant to life today.
At the end of the first term, I told Marcus that he would have to go it alone. He could join the Sunday classes, where no parental input is required. He was upset by this but realised that he couldn't expect me to embrace a religion that held no appeal. We hugged each other and cried.
But some weeks later, Marcus said that he just couldn't do it on his own. "It's just too unrealistic, Mum. How can I celebrate the festivals and follow all the other stuff without you and Dad and the girls? I guess it's time to quit."
That was 18 months ago and Marcus is now 13, the traditional age for barmitzvah. We are watching some of his friends go through the process and my husband and I have a lingering feeling that we may have denied him something important. A sense of belonging and a supportive community to fall back on, beyond home and school, are no bad things in the world we live in. But what are we saying? Organised religion is a club that we simply don't want to join.
Yet I am a Jew, and fiercely protective of my race. My grandparents survived the Nazi concentration camps and my parents avoided a similar fate by a whisker. Just don't ask me to get involved in the religious shenanigans. My husband, meanwhile, is relieved that Marcus has moved away from the religion. Would Christianity have been more acceptable I asked him. "At least the services are in English and the music is great. But ultimately no, because I don't believe in any of it."
Marcus himself is sanguine about the experience. "Now that some of my mates are going through barmitzvah I can see what's involved and I don't think it would have been right for me. Anyway, I can always go back to it when I'm older," he says. And he can. The velvet kippa is in the top drawer of his bedside table, awaiting the day.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media Limited 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Props to my SIL!
Development by Design is having a trial run in Barnes & Noble! Very exciting for us! If you know anyone near any of these stores, please send them to stock up on any kid gifts they will need for the next year! If we do well, we expand to all B&N Stores!
West Patterson, NJ
Paramus NJ
Alphretta,GA
Mishwaka, IN
Framingham, MA
Cary, NC
Madison, WI 53717
Rockville, MD 20852
(plus 4 more we haven't located yet.)
Getting the word out
From Rav Yehonatan Chipman, grandfather of the child in need:
Appeal for Blood Donations
July 29 2009. My infant grandson must undergo a major life-saving medical procedure—bone-marrow transplant—in the coming days, and there is urgent need for blood donations, from which short-lived white blood cells will be extracted. Healthy donors with types A+, A-, O+ and O- are asked to report in person at the Blood Bank at Beilinson Hospital in Petah Tikvah: Sun-Thurs: 8 am – 7pm; Fri: 8 am – 1 pm. The initial visit is to give a blood sample for screening and testing; those found suitable will be asked to return one evening for an injection to stimulate production of white blood cells, and will return the following morning. Important: please tell the nurse on duty that the blood is for Erez Chipman.
For further information, please call the Blood Bank at Beilinson, 03-937-7023; Sivan, the contact person on behalf of the family, 054-467-6144; Ika, Erez’s father, 054-536-6101. Unfortunately, for technical-administrative reasons all samples and blood donations must be made at Beilinson; my apologies to all my Jerusalem friends for the inconvenience, and my deepest thanks in advance to all those who make the effort to contribute.
Please forward this message to anyone you know who can help.
Appeal for Blood Donations
July 29 2009. My infant grandson must undergo a major life-saving medical procedure—bone-marrow transplant—in the coming days, and there is urgent need for blood donations, from which short-lived white blood cells will be extracted. Healthy donors with types A+, A-, O+ and O- are asked to report in person at the Blood Bank at Beilinson Hospital in Petah Tikvah: Sun-Thurs: 8 am – 7pm; Fri: 8 am – 1 pm. The initial visit is to give a blood sample for screening and testing; those found suitable will be asked to return one evening for an injection to stimulate production of white blood cells, and will return the following morning. Important: please tell the nurse on duty that the blood is for Erez Chipman.
For further information, please call the Blood Bank at Beilinson, 03-937-7023; Sivan, the contact person on behalf of the family, 054-467-6144; Ika, Erez’s father, 054-536-6101. Unfortunately, for technical-administrative reasons all samples and blood donations must be made at Beilinson; my apologies to all my Jerusalem friends for the inconvenience, and my deepest thanks in advance to all those who make the effort to contribute.
Please forward this message to anyone you know who can help.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
5 + 1 shouldn't = pay for 6
On today's shopping list was laundry detergent. I don't have any particular brand I use, I generally buy whatever is on sale and has the most benign scent.
On the shelves today at Mega were two 6 kilo bags of detergent from Colon. One was labeled 6 kilo and priced at 58.99NIS.
The other bag was labeled 5 kilo +1 free and was priced... yeah, 58.99NIS.
No one was at the manager's desk so I asked one of the cashiers why they're the same price if one is advertised as being a kilo 'less'. She mumbled something about it being the company that charges that price and I should take it up with them.
So is the principle of the matter and a refund of about 10NIS worth the hassle I know will come by dialing the toll free number printed on the bag of laundry detergent (right above the line 'Kosher for Pesach and all year')?
And... if anyone (in Israel) happens to be at a different supermarket like Rami Levy or Shufersol, etc. and you happen to notices the Colon laundry detergent, let me know if they're selling the 5+1 free kilo at the 6 kilo price...
On the shelves today at Mega were two 6 kilo bags of detergent from Colon. One was labeled 6 kilo and priced at 58.99NIS.
The other bag was labeled 5 kilo +1 free and was priced... yeah, 58.99NIS.
No one was at the manager's desk so I asked one of the cashiers why they're the same price if one is advertised as being a kilo 'less'. She mumbled something about it being the company that charges that price and I should take it up with them.
So is the principle of the matter and a refund of about 10NIS worth the hassle I know will come by dialing the toll free number printed on the bag of laundry detergent (right above the line 'Kosher for Pesach and all year')?
And... if anyone (in Israel) happens to be at a different supermarket like Rami Levy or Shufersol, etc. and you happen to notices the Colon laundry detergent, let me know if they're selling the 5+1 free kilo at the 6 kilo price...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
With Netzarim at one end of town...
What CAN he be thinking?
Ah, Mayor Ron, this stroke of 'genius' may cost you the election when your term is up...
Ah, Mayor Ron, this stroke of 'genius' may cost you the election when your term is up...
Sunday, July 12, 2009
What will this year bring?
Last year we were supposed to go to the US on July 15th for almost 6 weeks of a summer vacation.
A month before we were due to fly, I got a call from the landlord, telling us they wanted us out by the middle of August and they didn't want to renew our lease. Well, technically we didn't HAVE a lease, but they didn't want to rent to us.
Needless to say, we were all upset. The landlords refused to rent to us until November, even though we were willing to pay the higher price they were asking (we soon found out they were under pressure from certain Yishuv members to get us out of the Yishuv for reasons still unknown to us).
We had to cancel our vacation and instead of simply packing for a trip abroad, I now had to pack up an entire house. And find a place to live.
We were all devastated about the canceled trip and I grew depressed. And I knew that as July 15th arrived, my depression would worsen. So would my stress levels.
While all this was going on, my husband and I decided that after our move, we would get back on the fertility treatment wagon and go through the process of trying for another child. See, I suffer from PCOS and our son was the result of a year of fertility treatments. Of getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to head in to Jerusalem twice a week for uncomfortable ultrasounds of my uterus and ovaries and blood tests to check hormone levels. Of injecting myself with hormones until I was black and blue. Of having to arrange to be in Jerusalem overnight for the IUI because you only have an hour window of opportunity from the ah.. 'collection' to when the sperm needs to be at the clinic for cleaning. And the dreaded 2 week wait until you can take a pregnancy blood test. The only silver lining was that at 9 months postpartum, despite nursing full time, I had gotten my period on my own for the first time in 5 years (sorry if this is TMI). And I'd been fairly regular, although I had no way of knowing if I was ovulating.
So with the move and canceling a much needed vacation and weaning a child who had no interest in weaning (breast feeding can affect a woman's fertility) and the logistics of treatments with a toddler, I was severely stressed and depressed. And I knew that when July 15th came around, at some point in the day, I'd find myself in the shower, crying.
On the evening of July 13th, I mentioned to my husband that I 'was late', but since my cycles were always erratic, I wasn't particularly worried or excited. He said he'd go to the pharmacy the next day and get a home pregnancy test. I smiled and nodded and decided to humor him. See, one way many of us cope with infertility is at some point we accept the fact that if we want to have children, we need the extra help of medical professionals. The idea of getting pregnant 'on our own' stops entering our minds because the hope and then disappointment is often too much to bear.
It is recommended to use 'first morning pee' for these tests so I figured July 15th would be the day I find out that once again, I'm simply late.
At 3 a.m. The 14 month old woke to nurse and afterwards, since I needed the bathroom, I took the test. If I had known it would be positive, I would have waited and I would at least have gotten 3 or so more hours of sleep. I refused to believe the plus sign. I couldn't wrap my head around the plus sign. In a daze, I woke my husband up (sort of) and told him I took the test and it was positive. He mumbled something about being good news and rolled over and went back to bed. At first I wasn't sure if he'd heard me. I simply got back into bed and tried to sleep and tried to process the news and failed miserably at both.
Needless to say, I canceled the appointment with the fertility specialist and made an appointment with the OB.
And at some point on July 15th, I found myself in the shower crying. In shocked happiness.
Here we are to this summer. In addition to a yummy toddler, I'm nursing a delicious almost 4 month old. Once again we've had to cancel our summer plans to go to the US because the landlord's family is miserable where they are and they're moving back. So after a few minutes of panic, I went online and after a harried 2 weeks search, we signed a TWO YEAR lease on a pretty little row house duplex. For less than what we're paying now. Ironically, this year we're moving on July 15th.
I wonder what August 4th will bring this year... You can be sure I'll be playing the lotto that day.
A month before we were due to fly, I got a call from the landlord, telling us they wanted us out by the middle of August and they didn't want to renew our lease. Well, technically we didn't HAVE a lease, but they didn't want to rent to us.
Needless to say, we were all upset. The landlords refused to rent to us until November, even though we were willing to pay the higher price they were asking (we soon found out they were under pressure from certain Yishuv members to get us out of the Yishuv for reasons still unknown to us).
We had to cancel our vacation and instead of simply packing for a trip abroad, I now had to pack up an entire house. And find a place to live.
We were all devastated about the canceled trip and I grew depressed. And I knew that as July 15th arrived, my depression would worsen. So would my stress levels.
While all this was going on, my husband and I decided that after our move, we would get back on the fertility treatment wagon and go through the process of trying for another child. See, I suffer from PCOS and our son was the result of a year of fertility treatments. Of getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to head in to Jerusalem twice a week for uncomfortable ultrasounds of my uterus and ovaries and blood tests to check hormone levels. Of injecting myself with hormones until I was black and blue. Of having to arrange to be in Jerusalem overnight for the IUI because you only have an hour window of opportunity from the ah.. 'collection' to when the sperm needs to be at the clinic for cleaning. And the dreaded 2 week wait until you can take a pregnancy blood test. The only silver lining was that at 9 months postpartum, despite nursing full time, I had gotten my period on my own for the first time in 5 years (sorry if this is TMI). And I'd been fairly regular, although I had no way of knowing if I was ovulating.
So with the move and canceling a much needed vacation and weaning a child who had no interest in weaning (breast feeding can affect a woman's fertility) and the logistics of treatments with a toddler, I was severely stressed and depressed. And I knew that when July 15th came around, at some point in the day, I'd find myself in the shower, crying.
On the evening of July 13th, I mentioned to my husband that I 'was late', but since my cycles were always erratic, I wasn't particularly worried or excited. He said he'd go to the pharmacy the next day and get a home pregnancy test. I smiled and nodded and decided to humor him. See, one way many of us cope with infertility is at some point we accept the fact that if we want to have children, we need the extra help of medical professionals. The idea of getting pregnant 'on our own' stops entering our minds because the hope and then disappointment is often too much to bear.
It is recommended to use 'first morning pee' for these tests so I figured July 15th would be the day I find out that once again, I'm simply late.
At 3 a.m. The 14 month old woke to nurse and afterwards, since I needed the bathroom, I took the test. If I had known it would be positive, I would have waited and I would at least have gotten 3 or so more hours of sleep. I refused to believe the plus sign. I couldn't wrap my head around the plus sign. In a daze, I woke my husband up (sort of) and told him I took the test and it was positive. He mumbled something about being good news and rolled over and went back to bed. At first I wasn't sure if he'd heard me. I simply got back into bed and tried to sleep and tried to process the news and failed miserably at both.
Needless to say, I canceled the appointment with the fertility specialist and made an appointment with the OB.
And at some point on July 15th, I found myself in the shower crying. In shocked happiness.
Here we are to this summer. In addition to a yummy toddler, I'm nursing a delicious almost 4 month old. Once again we've had to cancel our summer plans to go to the US because the landlord's family is miserable where they are and they're moving back. So after a few minutes of panic, I went online and after a harried 2 weeks search, we signed a TWO YEAR lease on a pretty little row house duplex. For less than what we're paying now. Ironically, this year we're moving on July 15th.
I wonder what August 4th will bring this year... You can be sure I'll be playing the lotto that day.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Anniversaries of sorts
Today marks the 12th anniversary of my Aliyah. Some days I can't believe it's been only 12 years and other days I can't believe it's only been 12 years. Next week will be my 7th move since making Aliyah (including the move to Israel itself).
Here's to hoping the next 12 years will be less mobile, maybe even we'll have the ability to (finally) buy a house.
And June 19th was my 10 year divorce-ary...
Here's to hoping the next 12 years will be less mobile, maybe even we'll have the ability to (finally) buy a house.
And June 19th was my 10 year divorce-ary...
Clips from the Cantor's concert
I ended up going and had a better time than I thought.
Here is Barchi Nafshi:
And here is Chad Gadyah, performed by Cantors Alberto Mizrahi and Jackie Mendelson:
They had about 70 cantors from the US and Canada come and while most of the songs were in Hebrew, there were a couple that were a mix of Hebrew and English and one song each in Russian, Yiddish (although this was a medley of songs), Ladino and Spanish.
In addition, the Cantor's Assembly gave composer/conductor Charles Fox an award and he conducted the philharmonic in a new composition of his music from the movie Victory at Entebee.
Here is Barchi Nafshi:
And here is Chad Gadyah, performed by Cantors Alberto Mizrahi and Jackie Mendelson:
They had about 70 cantors from the US and Canada come and while most of the songs were in Hebrew, there were a couple that were a mix of Hebrew and English and one song each in Russian, Yiddish (although this was a medley of songs), Ladino and Spanish.
In addition, the Cantor's Assembly gave composer/conductor Charles Fox an award and he conducted the philharmonic in a new composition of his music from the movie Victory at Entebee.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Chazzanoot Concert tomorrow!
Tuesday, July 7th in Park haNachal in Ariel at 8 p.m., there will be a free performance by 70 Chazzanim (and possibly Chazzaniot, so you've been forewarned) from North America.
All are welcome to attend.
All are welcome to attend.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Unattached
Here's a compilation of clips from a documentary called Unattached, about the upper West Side Jewish community.
I'd be interested in seeing the whole thing because just from seeing the clips, I have NO idea what the director, JJ Adler's aim was.
The singles come across as vapid and spoiled (I have a feeling poor Joe is going to have to move if he ever wants to really get married) and the Shadchanim come across as simply blaming the modern world for this breakdown and being archaic in their seemingly single-mindedness in that marriage is the beat-all and end all for any 'proper' Jewish boy and girl (and yes, I realize that is IS their job, but it still comes across as being.. fanatical).
I'd be interested in seeing the whole thing because just from seeing the clips, I have NO idea what the director, JJ Adler's aim was.
The singles come across as vapid and spoiled (I have a feeling poor Joe is going to have to move if he ever wants to really get married) and the Shadchanim come across as simply blaming the modern world for this breakdown and being archaic in their seemingly single-mindedness in that marriage is the beat-all and end all for any 'proper' Jewish boy and girl (and yes, I realize that is IS their job, but it still comes across as being.. fanatical).
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Palestinians want to build settlements
The bolded part is my own... for WTF?????????????????????????????????? I mean it's one thing to accept money and support from Christian organizations whose motives are because they believe the only way to bring about the Second Coming is by having all the Jews in Israel... It's quite another thing to have HAMAS building my house.
Palestinians want to build settlements
Jun. 25, 2009
Khaled Abu Toameh , THE JERUSALEM POST
(Original article here: http://tinyurl.com/m6v326)
The last thing that Abu Mohammed al-Najjar wants is for Israel to succumb to US and European pressure and halt construction in the West Bank settlements.
As far as the 58-year-old laborer is concerned, freezing the construction would be a disaster not only for him and his family, but for thousands of other Palestinians working in various settlements in the West Bank.
Of course, this does not mean that they support Israel's policy of construction in the settlements. But for them, it's simply a matter of being able to support their families.
"I don't care what the leaders say and do," al-Najjar told The Jerusalem Post at one of the new construction sites in Ma'aleh Adumim. "I need to feed my seven children, and that's all I care about for now."
The phenomenon of Palestinians building new homes for Jewish settlers is not new. In fact, Palestinian laborers have been working in the construction business from the first day the settlements began in the West Bank.
Today, Palestinian Authority officials estimate, more than 12,000 Palestinians are employed by both Jewish and Arab contractors building new homes in the settlements.
In some cases, Palestinians have found jobs in settlements that are located near their villages and towns.
Jamal Abu Sharikheh, 27, of the village of Bet Ur al-Tahta, has been working as a construction laborer in Givat Ze'ev for the past three years.
Asked if he had any problem building homes in the settlements at a time when the international community was demanding that Israel freeze the construction work, the father of four also said he was trying to support his family "in a dignified manner."
He and most of the laborers interviewed by the Post over the past week said they had never come under pressure from fellow Palestinians to stay away from work in the settlements.
"If they want us to leave our work, they should offer us an alternative," Abu Sharikheh said. "We don't come to work in the settlements for ideological reasons or because we support the settlement movement. We come here because our Palestinian and Arab governments haven't done anything to provide us with better jobs."
Back in Ma'aleh Adumim, most of the Palestinian laborers said they had no problem revealing their identities.
"We're not doing anything wrong," explained Ibrahim Abu Tair, a 42-year-old father of eight from the village of Um Tuba, southwest of Jerusalem. "We're not collaborators and we're not terrorists. We just want to work."
He said that during the first intifada, which began at the end of 1987, some Palestinian groups tried to stop Palestinians from heading to work in the settlements.
"In the beginning there were threats and physical assaults on some workers," he noted. "But the leaders of the intifada later realized that depriving the laborers of their livelihood would have a boomerang effect on the Palestinians. That's why they allowed the workers to go to the settlements."
Even today the PA does not object to Palestinians working in settlements, although its representatives say they would like to see the Palestinians work elsewhere.
"We can't tell the workers to stay at home without providing them with solutions," admitted a Palestinian official in Ramallah. "We're talking about thousands of families in the West Bank that rely on this work as their sole source of income."
Some of the laborers said that boycotting work in the settlements would be ineffective and pointless because their employers would have no difficulty replacing them with Chinese or other foreign workers.
"Look how many foreign workers there are inside Israel today," complained Jawdat Uwaisat, 44, of the village of Sawahreh in the Bethlehem area. "There are about 150,000 workers from different countries who have taken our places of work inside Israel. They are even bringing workers from Thailand and Turkey."
He said that he and his colleagues working for Israelis earn almost three times what they would receive doing the same work for Palestinian construction companies.
"The Palestinian employers pay us NIS 100 to NIS 150 a day," Uwaisat said. "The Israeli companies, by contrast, pay NIS 350 to NIS 450 a day. That's why many of us prefer to work for Israeli companies, even if the construction is in the settlements."
He added that even Palestinians known as supporters of Hamas and Islamic Jihad are employed as construction workers in settlements.
"I know some people from Hamas who work as construction laborers in Ariel," he said. "When people want to feed their children, they don't think twice."
While most of the laborers told the Post that they were opposed to the settlements, they nevertheless stressed that they would continue to show up for work every day.
"If you see how big some of these settlements are, you will understand why the talk about a two-state solution is kalam fadi [nonsense]," commented Iyad Mansour, 55, of the Kalandia refugee camp, who has been working in Ma'aleh Adumim for the past three years.
"These settlements are growing every day at a very fast pace," he said. "One day you see empty land, the next day you see new buildings. They are really fast in planning and building. But who knows? Maybe these settlements will one day become homes for Palestinian refugees."
Palestinians want to build settlements
Jun. 25, 2009
Khaled Abu Toameh , THE JERUSALEM POST
(Original article here: http://tinyurl.com/m6v326)
The last thing that Abu Mohammed al-Najjar wants is for Israel to succumb to US and European pressure and halt construction in the West Bank settlements.
As far as the 58-year-old laborer is concerned, freezing the construction would be a disaster not only for him and his family, but for thousands of other Palestinians working in various settlements in the West Bank.
Of course, this does not mean that they support Israel's policy of construction in the settlements. But for them, it's simply a matter of being able to support their families.
"I don't care what the leaders say and do," al-Najjar told The Jerusalem Post at one of the new construction sites in Ma'aleh Adumim. "I need to feed my seven children, and that's all I care about for now."
The phenomenon of Palestinians building new homes for Jewish settlers is not new. In fact, Palestinian laborers have been working in the construction business from the first day the settlements began in the West Bank.
Today, Palestinian Authority officials estimate, more than 12,000 Palestinians are employed by both Jewish and Arab contractors building new homes in the settlements.
In some cases, Palestinians have found jobs in settlements that are located near their villages and towns.
Jamal Abu Sharikheh, 27, of the village of Bet Ur al-Tahta, has been working as a construction laborer in Givat Ze'ev for the past three years.
Asked if he had any problem building homes in the settlements at a time when the international community was demanding that Israel freeze the construction work, the father of four also said he was trying to support his family "in a dignified manner."
He and most of the laborers interviewed by the Post over the past week said they had never come under pressure from fellow Palestinians to stay away from work in the settlements.
"If they want us to leave our work, they should offer us an alternative," Abu Sharikheh said. "We don't come to work in the settlements for ideological reasons or because we support the settlement movement. We come here because our Palestinian and Arab governments haven't done anything to provide us with better jobs."
Back in Ma'aleh Adumim, most of the Palestinian laborers said they had no problem revealing their identities.
"We're not doing anything wrong," explained Ibrahim Abu Tair, a 42-year-old father of eight from the village of Um Tuba, southwest of Jerusalem. "We're not collaborators and we're not terrorists. We just want to work."
He said that during the first intifada, which began at the end of 1987, some Palestinian groups tried to stop Palestinians from heading to work in the settlements.
"In the beginning there were threats and physical assaults on some workers," he noted. "But the leaders of the intifada later realized that depriving the laborers of their livelihood would have a boomerang effect on the Palestinians. That's why they allowed the workers to go to the settlements."
Even today the PA does not object to Palestinians working in settlements, although its representatives say they would like to see the Palestinians work elsewhere.
"We can't tell the workers to stay at home without providing them with solutions," admitted a Palestinian official in Ramallah. "We're talking about thousands of families in the West Bank that rely on this work as their sole source of income."
Some of the laborers said that boycotting work in the settlements would be ineffective and pointless because their employers would have no difficulty replacing them with Chinese or other foreign workers.
"Look how many foreign workers there are inside Israel today," complained Jawdat Uwaisat, 44, of the village of Sawahreh in the Bethlehem area. "There are about 150,000 workers from different countries who have taken our places of work inside Israel. They are even bringing workers from Thailand and Turkey."
He said that he and his colleagues working for Israelis earn almost three times what they would receive doing the same work for Palestinian construction companies.
"The Palestinian employers pay us NIS 100 to NIS 150 a day," Uwaisat said. "The Israeli companies, by contrast, pay NIS 350 to NIS 450 a day. That's why many of us prefer to work for Israeli companies, even if the construction is in the settlements."
He added that even Palestinians known as supporters of Hamas and Islamic Jihad are employed as construction workers in settlements.
"I know some people from Hamas who work as construction laborers in Ariel," he said. "When people want to feed their children, they don't think twice."
While most of the laborers told the Post that they were opposed to the settlements, they nevertheless stressed that they would continue to show up for work every day.
"If you see how big some of these settlements are, you will understand why the talk about a two-state solution is kalam fadi [nonsense]," commented Iyad Mansour, 55, of the Kalandia refugee camp, who has been working in Ma'aleh Adumim for the past three years.
"These settlements are growing every day at a very fast pace," he said. "One day you see empty land, the next day you see new buildings. They are really fast in planning and building. But who knows? Maybe these settlements will one day become homes for Palestinian refugees."
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