What is it in a person that enables them to make ultimate, or at least huge sacrifices in the name of some cause, or religion, or the greater good? I am thinking of really big things like giving up an unsuitable true love to become king (the opposite of whatshisface who abdicated), or give up a cherished dream to become a farmer and pastor in Goshen, or become a cloistered nun who never sees the world again? Or the guy who leaps onto a hand grenade sputtering on the floor in the middle of a crowded room?

I thought about writing a long post about Christmas. But no such luck for you guys; laziness won out. You will have to be content with a short random post about work and wait longer to hear about the interesting things we did in Georgia.

I have come up with a mind game to fill up free thought time as I ring up orders on my register. After taking each order I have to ask the customer to give me their first name so they can be paged when their order is ready. So I think about names. The number of different names I get is surprisingly low and most are very common. Sometimes I get Kates and Katies, sometimes there are several Eric's or Ryans, sometimes people spell their names for you, and often I have to get people to repeat to make sure it was really Joan and not Jane. One older lady named Polly and I have a happy little connection going on because I told her I loved her name and thought I might name one of my own children that someday. Today I got two women with guys names- Danny was one, can't remember the other.
Anyway, my mental game is very simple: everything I type in a name I think of a person I know with that name. Surprisingly, there are few times when I can't do that! Paul, Diane, Joan, Ryan, Mary, Terry, Katie, Margaret, Bob, Tom, Connie, and on and on.... I feel so rich! How many people have such a wide circle of friends, family, acquaintances, and distant far-off cousins? Today I suddenly realized that I didn't have to stop with thinking warm, fuzzy thoughts about them- I could pray for them! I can pray for the "Jan" standing in front of me, and I can pray for the Jan I know who lives next door to me. Cool!


change of subject


Speaking of distant far-off cousins, we just found one! My father's father was the youngest of three sons- his brothers were ten and twenty years older than he. They were not devoted Christians, and in fact the oldest, George is usually described as "George, the horrible man,..." He was an alchoholic and not a really pleasant person. But he did have one advantage over the others: every member of Grandpa's family tends to drop dead of heart-attacks before their time. George beat that particular gene by pickling his insides with liquor. One of Daddy's sisters actually asked her doctor what she could do to keep her heart healthy and he suggested following in the footsteps of good 'ole uncle George (and I kid you not). So if any of you find beer bottles stashed in the back of fridge, please remember why they are there. :-)

ANYWAY... getting back to the point... Due to religious and other differences, Grandpa didn't keep in close contact with his brothers, and didn't talk about them much to his children. For years now my aunts have been poking about in the dark corners of the internet, looking for cousins. This Christmas we found one!!! His name is William (my last name) and he is the son of the infamous George! That makes him Daddy's first cousin and my first cousin once removed! As soon as I found out I was so excited! I didn't realize I would feel so interested but it is different now that there is actually a flesh and blood relative. What if he looks like us? Does he sound like us? Walk like us? Is he a Christian? Does he have children? Etc. We do know that he was actually looking for us as well. We haven't e-mailed back yet, but are planning too- and maybe meet him sometime! Again, cool.

Okay, I want to read my book for awhile before bed. Goodnight.

Christmas

Just a quickie- Christmas break has been lovely! Mostly it has consisted of frequent naps at all times of day, frequent doses Christmas shopping, and a lovely chance to interact with my sisters! There is truly nothing like just doing whatever with three sisters (except maybe doing whatever with four sisters). We get each other's humor and can talk about anything and a blue moon.

(If it makes you feel any better Craig, since I was one of the guilty parties whining about your excessive break, I DID recognize the fact that it wouldn't be much of a break working at the bank for five and a half weeks.)

Last night we drove north of Atlanta to rendezvous with the Swedish girls coming to spend Christmas with us. We had a lovely time laughing and talking, looking at pictures, comparing Christmas traditions, and getting to know each other. Of course I already knew Emma from Israel, so we had plenty to talk about. Fun to have two more girls around for Christmas!

and a Merry Christmas to you all. Mom needs me to get off now so she can use the phone. :-)

The phone rang this morning while I was still in bed at 10 am. I listened to Grandma answer it, "Hello, this is Mrs. Anderson, how may I help you? ... Lisa?" I was out of bed like a shot!

Yes! I got to talk to Lisa in Jerusalem! She is doing well, is happy but still suffering from jet lag compounded by the tail end of a cold. Mostly she has been recovering at the apartment, and hasn't been out anywhere much yet.

SO GOOD to hear from her! The connection was horrid, but that was okay. I miss her so much and I wish I was there SO MUCH but it is just so good to have her there.

I got of the phone and howled. As I said to Grandma, Everything is good and right and just as it should be, but I reserve the right to cry anyway. :-)

Now I am going to go ride my fat brown pony named Llewie, and if he bucks me off I shall be very mad indeed.

Happy Sabbath to you all! It is truly a lovely one.

the right word?

I was in the kitchen at work the other day, washing dishes and listening to a couple coworkers talking. One of them had just gotten a new shirt with the company logo on it. When he ordered it there were no pictures to show color choices. He chose lime green. The shirt was truly astonishing and the other guy was teasing him about it. At the end of the conversation the owner of the shirt declared,

"This shirt is ravaging!" Good thing I had my back to him so he couldn't see me laughing. I am really not sure if he meant what he said, or he really meant ravishing. Either way he certainly charmed me! :-)

Scattershot

1. So sorry for the crabby post last night. I am really glad Lisa is going, and I'll be fine. :-) She is in the air right now (8:00 pm of the 30th) and won't land until 2 pm on their local time. She has been sick with a cold recently but it has proved to be a blessing. She felt too sick to worry!

2. Today's story #1
Equine Mayhem, or a story of mud, manure, and vicious animals.

If we were to compare each person's experiences between the hours of five and six this morning and judge them for the highest level of excitement I bet you all that I would win. Hands down. To begin with, probably most of you were still sleeping at that hour. :-) These days I'm up around five to take care of my horses and this morning was no different.

It all started when the culottes I normally wear were still in the laundry. I threw on one of my long Israel skirts and ran out the door.

I like being up so early in the morning, except that you can't see anything. I hate it especially after watching movies like The Fugitive or the Borne movies. Good thing Daddy taught me how to use my big Maglite flashlight as a weapon! I dare all Treadstone operatives or one-armed men to stand up to that!

The horses had decided not to come in from the pasture, which meant I had to go out to get them. In the dark. At least it's all wide open in the pasture- that way nobody can hide behinde trees and sneak up behind me.

I loaded my jacket pockets with carrots, grabbed a halter and lead and trudged out, flashlight in hand. Right where the pasture meets the barn area there is a mud hole. There must be 20 or 30 yards of it with no choice but to slog through. I slogged through and found the horses near the back end of the pasture.

Then the fun began. Mix muddy, wet weather, pitch blackness, four overly active horses, one nervous girl and several carrots and what do you have? Well...

All of them crowded around me- eager for carrots. As I passed them out one of the wretched animals bit me in a fit of ill-temper. I returned the favor with a hard wack to the head with just as much ill-temper. Then I put the halter on the pony and decided to ride him back. He is fairly short, so I can usually jump and slither onto him pretty quick. Only just as I performed the first half of this manuver and was drapped over his back the other horses took off. Naturally the pony took off too. And naturally he didn't want me to go along. So he bucked me off. Thankfully I wasn't too far off the ground to begin with and managed to keep my hand on the lead rope.

I decided to walk back.

Back through the mudhole we went. Slog, slog, slog... slop, slop slop. Now my skirt was six inches deep in mud, and suddenly my shoe came off. But with four jumpy horses in tow I was in no position to do anything about it. After I got the horses into the barn I shed my other shoe and headed back for the first in my stocking feet. In fact, though I did find it, I didn't bother to put them back on. Want to know one benefit of darkness? One can't see what one is stepping in, in one's stocking feet. :-) Now isn't that an edifying thought?

So, while you were all sleeping soundly in your warm beds (except Andrea of course) I was being bitten, bucked off, and generally attacked by mud and manure. Anybody want to trade jobs?

3. Story of the day #2
Nasty Lady at Work
I am loving this customer service thing. I love starting to recognize the regular customers- I even know a couple names, and will soon be able to match them with the items they always get. I enjoy bustling about doing a myriad little things, being cheerful with people, fixing hot chocolate on wet mornings, and endlessly ringing things up on the register. I might even eventually be able to decifer all the weird abbreviations on my register screen and have to stop whining for help from the nearest coworker. I am so happy!

But then, in the middle of my blissful existence steps the Nasty Lady. I've had some negative or slightly snobby input over the last few days, but thankfully no truly horrid 'scenes'. But today She came in. I rang up her order, and took her gift card to scan. Only it didn't scan. Run get the manager. Manager says O, just enter the number on the back. Said number is ninteen digits long. I enter it incorrectly two times before getting it the third. Then the customer looked at her receipt and informed me that I had given her the wrong coffee, merely pennies more in price. That was my fault, I admit, but now I was well and truly rattled. She compounded the problem by informing me in a nasty voice that she had told what she wanted four times. She wanted the different corrected. Guess what- can't do that after I ring up the order! Thankfully the manger was standing at my elbow.

Manager to Nasty Lady- Do you want me to give you back the extra eleven cents?

Yes she did (most emphatically) And look! Now my buzzer is going off and my soup is ICE COLD!

Manager- do you want the eleven cents in cash or back on your card.

YES I want it on my card! (DUH!)

Manager- do I still have your card? Nope, its in her wallet. She digs it out and continues talking about FREEZING soup. Meanwhile I had reliquished my position to the manager and stood in the corner, rattled to the core. The lady stormed off without her card to fetch her freezing soup and the manager procceded to re-type the ninteen digit code so she could add the eleven cents back on. Meanwhile she cussed the lady out under her breath, something I am sad to admit soothed my nerves more than it should have.

Sigh. The wonders of customer service. I suppose I'll learn to deal with them with more aplomb and less nerves, but you know what I really want? I want to learn to deal with them with more love. Maybe that lady had had a horrible morning or was depressed. Maybe her cat just died. Maybe she doesn't know if she's going to heaven or not. OR... maybe all excuses fail and it is just sheer carnal bad temper? Can I learn to love them even then? It is so easy to cuss people out under your breath or in your heart, but how do you get Christ's perspective on that individual soul- eternal, infinitely precious, loved by God?

Anyway, I am going to stop writing now. Tata.

Left Behind

Okay Guys, so if you hadn't already heard, Lisa is leaving on a jet plane tomorrow.
And you probably all noted the fact that I will not be on that flight.
So all along I have been pretty sure of my decision to stay on this side of the puddle. I mean, it wasn't all my decision anyway, but however it happened, here I am in the good ole US of A and happy to be here. I want to go back to Israel sometime, but I want to go when I'll enjoy it again. Right now if I went I would probably end up in multiple pieces and held together with a straight jacket.

Fine. So let Lisa fly away tomorrow. She's only one of my dearest and closest friends. She is only going to the spot in the world that I most love. She's only going for her third trip without me.

Houston, we have a problem.

As some great sage would say; "I HATE MY LIFE."

So you can all write nice goodbye notes to Lisa on her blog or e-mail. You can write me notes of condolence-kind of like the kind you would write to somebody who unexpectedly had to go in for open-heart surgery because half of it was ripped out and flown overseas.

Okay, okay. I am being a tad bit dramatic. But its been a long day full of new and interesting mistakes at work and very sore feet. I am tired and I really, really am dreading tomorrow.

I guess now I will have a chance to look at one of our Israel trips from everybody else's perspective. Sigh.

Praises Be!

Guess what Guys, I'm employed! At long last I have go me a job. Now you can all come visit me at the local friendly eating establishment where I work. Umm, not going to post the name here.

God was so good in working out what seems to be the perfect work situation for me. I am really looking forward to working with lots of people I don't know. I have met a few of them already and was favorably impressed. The hours are perfect- I am working part time but can do as many hours as I want. The weekly schedule is flexible, so if I need to take Grandma to an appointment I can notify them and switch days or something. They have plenty of college and high school students to work evenings and weekends, so I need never feel pressure to work on the Sabbath, or any other time I don't want to.

I am also starting work at slightly higher pay than normal because, get this, the manager was impressed with my volunteer experience. Hallelujah for Dining Hall Coordinating! :-)

I am so thankful and happy!

I start work on Monday morning around eight... hey!I might be in the running for earliest riser awards! I have to get up in time to take care of the horses for an hour, read my Bible, get ready for the day, and be at work at 8. What fun!
Anyway, come in sometime and I'll sell you yummy food. :-)

One More

Here is one more for you to guess... I think it should be fairly easy.

Hey, hey, it finally worked!

(I am not asking you to identifly the person, just the place)

NOT a New Photo

Okay, you were all right- the last photo was of the British Cemetery.

Here is Photo #2
Well, its taking forever to upload, so I'll talk while I'm waiting.

The local library has my been my home away from home these days. Every evening I take my laptop down to make use of their Wireless connection. I am working on a project (and hope to finish tonight) for my ESL certification. It involves hours of checking out ESL websites, sifting out the chaff, checking each one out, evaluating, categorizing, and labeling them. The end result should be a short listing of some of the best ESL websites. Not that I know much about it since I've taught a grand total of four hours in my entire existance.

Hmmm. something seems to have gone wrong with the uploading of that photo. Let me try again.

Taking forever again. Oh well, I can talk more...
Last week sometime I aquired a pair of boots at a consignment store. I had been eyeing them forever, trying to make up a good excuse to buy them. Mom came up from Georgia and we went thrift store shopping. I showed them to her, I recited my 'reasons' for needing them, she agreed, and now they are mine. I'll wear them down for the weekend get together so you can all see them. I call them my combat boots. :-)

Blast! WHY won't that silly picture upload? One more try.

Okay, so the reason I told you about the boots was because they led to an amusing situation in town today.
Background: Mom and Dad informed me recently that the clearest memories they have of my extreme youth had to do with my bumping into things and telling long boring stories liberally sprinkled with 'UMMMs' and 'ands'.

So as a result of thise early and uncorrected fault I still bump into everything. I can't go through a doorframe without hitting my watch on it, I sometimes trip on perfectly smooth surfaces or over my own feet, and I have cracked the back of my head on the ground because I was walking fast and flatfooted on ice.

I also pick up scuffs on the toes of my black combat boots for no apparent reason. These I actually have a hard time accounting for. Am I walking to close to the baseboards? Do I randomnly misplace my feet enough to kick white doors as I open them? Anyway, they don't come off. I can't come up with a preventative measure (stopping ingrained and unconscious habits of clutzy behavior is a major undertaking), so I need a good scuff remover.

I went to the Dexter shoe store in town to find one. A fairly normal individual told me they didn't have anything, but he thought lighter fluid should do the trick. Then his less than normal co-worker showed up. His voice was pitched rather high and had the most nasal sound I have ever heard! It was classic and I could hardly keep from laughing.

He agreed about the ligher fluid, grabbed a bottle of it and a paper towel and came around from behind the counter dumping some onto the towel as he went. He then procceded to kneel on the floor in front of me and spend a couple minutes scrubbing a white scuff off my shoe! He also continued to sing the praises of lighter fluid in his wonderful voice.

"Once I had paint on my car upholstery. Lighter fluid took it right out!" I mummur polite interest as he continues to scrub my shoe.

What an odd position to be in! What do you do? You can't really bend down to help, kick him to make him stop, or ignore him! His co-worker didn't seem to have anything better to do than hover around, peering at my shoe. That made three of us.

When he got done, I said thank you and walked out the door, barely containing my laughter until I got outside. But hey, the scuff mark is gone!

And the picture didn't upload. So all you get is a long, wandery story about essentially nothing. :-)

I am back, after eating possibly the weirdest dinner ever. We had meat loaf, baked sweet potates with honey and cinnamon and fried parsnips. Yummy.
Okay, here is the first photo.

laziness.

Okay, I know I haven't posted in forever, and I'm not sure when I'll feel industrious enough to post something real. So meanwhile I am going to put up pictures from Israel and anybody who feels like it can guess the location. If I find a really, really difficult one, I might even offer a reward for the person who identifies it correctly (provided I remember its location myself). But right now I am being called to dinner, so I'll upload the first one later.
TTFN

Soon

As I was leaving Walmart yesterday I was stopped in my tracks by one of those big movie advertisements at door. It informed all passersby that The Kingdom of Heaven would be available on October 11! I laughed right out loud, and went on my way encouraged and uplifted. After all, it will be any day now, and hopefully sooner than October 11.


I love you all.

Truly Spectacular

Yesterday I went with Ruth on a bike ride. We rode all the way down to the chapel on Stone Pond. On the way back we were walking up one particularly long hill (being fatigued) when I decided to take off my sweatshirt. I draped it over the handlebars. At the top of the hill we got back on our bikes and headed down the other side. I remembered my sweatshirt as we were starting to speed up, and reached forward to wrap it around the handlebars. I was thinking what a hazard it was, and started praying. Practically the same moment I felt the front wheel slow down and I was sailing over the handlebars.

My life did not flash before my eyes, I am sad to report, but more excitement was on the way. Ruth, who was behind me, had no time to react or swerve- straight toward me she came, and straight over my back she rode. From my position on the ground I watched her go over her handle bars several yards in front of me. All was silent, save for the groans of the dying, when Ruth hollered from the ground, "Katie, are you dead???"
"No!" I yelled back, but I must admit I didn't feel truly lively either. Ruth jumped up and ran back to where I was still face down in the dirt, asking me another difficult question, "Is anything broken?" I was still trying to figure out which end was up.

She whipped out her cell phone and started calling numbers. Nobody was home at her house. Nobody answered at Fairwood (she asked me for that number and somehow I actually came out with it, after a lengthy pause). Then she called the kitchen of the Main House. Unbeknownst to us, the kitchen phone ringer didn't work. Mr. Murray happened to be walking by at that moment, glanced at the phone, and noticed that the little light was flashing. So he picked it up and said hello! Who else in the world would have noticed that light and decided to pick up the phone? Danny was right in the kitchen talking, and made it out to his car in record time, I am sure. Mr. Murray found my Dad and said, "Bob, Katie had an accident, down there!" and he pointed down the road. Daddy sprinted for the van, grabbed Megan in passing, and howled out of Fairwood somewhat over the 10 mi. an hour speed limit. He set Megan to watching the side roads for bodies. :-)

Meanwhile Ruth and I had figured out that I wasn't broken in anyway, and even though I felt her tires go over my back, it was intact. I worked up my courage to move from my comfy spot in the middle of the road wile Ruth moved the bikes. Then we sat on the bank together, laughing with slightly hysterical overtones. Thus Danny found us and shortly afterwards, Daddy and Megan. They picked us up, loaded the bikes into the vehicles and home we went.

Pretty exciting, eh? I went right to the Hansens for a through, but gentle checkup from Mr. H. My knee was twisted and swollen, but nothing seemed to be seriously wrong, my right arm is all scratches from the middle knuckles down to the elbow, and there are a couple patches of what Daddy called hamburger. A day later I am sore all over and hobble around Fairwood like an old lady. That is, I hobble when I go out. Most of the day was spent either sleeping soundly in my bed or napping on the couch. Ruth was less scraped up than I, but is also quite sore.

BUT... I must say, I am so grateful that God protected us from worse injuries! Neither of us hit our heads, neither of us broke a bone, Ruth didn't land on top of me, which would have been far more damaging (to me anyway), and thankfully she had remembered to bring her cell phone. Mr. Murray was certainly working with God right then, and thankfully both Danny and my Dad were easily found. Lastly, I think there might have been an angel protecting me when Ruth rode over my back- I didn't even have tire marks on the back of my shirt!

So there you have my exciting saga of the week! And may it never be repeated.

PS- (complete change of subject) Today there was a bull moose on the front lawn. I saw him. Several people saw him, in fact. Davie chased him down the road. Thankfully the moose wasn't feeling aggressive. Somehow I don't think Davie would have been the winner in a face-to-face confrontation.

more about horses

Hi guys, I really haven't forgotten about posting. Just been doing other things.

I spent a lovely weekend with Drewy and Mel, mostly feeding off of Drewy's excitement and joy. Like Lisa said in a comment on Drewy's blog: "We don't chase carrots, We eat them!" Hearing all about Drewy's teaching job, the culmination of years of desire and study, gave me a new shot of hope. God just fulfilled a dream for one of my closest friends, and he has good things planned for every single one of us. Isn't that a nice thought?

I still am semi-jobless. But that is putting the situation negatively! I am semi-jobed? semi-employed? :-)

Anyway, I am enjoying my horses every morning. Their names are Llewie (short for Llewellyn), a fat, happy, greedy pony, Comet, a retired jumper, Big Boy, a retired racehorse (he raced thrice, and finished dead last every time), and Tiger, a working show horse.

Really all I do for them is feed and water them, muck the stable, and sweep the barn corridor. Doesn't sound that hard, does it? Well, it isn't. Except when Tiger tries to bite my chin.

The horses stay out to pasture except when I come to feed them. I open the gate for them and they each walk directly to their own stall to eat their grain. They are all great going into their stalls- after all, food awaits them! Its going back out that presents problems. Tiger is a bit skiddish, and though she has come out safely so far, I am worried she's going to make a break for freedom one of these days (or kick me for the fun of it). Big Boy comes out of his stall and tries to wander in to each of his neighbors' stall in turn. With no halter on him, I am reduced to tugging at his mane in a futile manner. He isn't impressed.

Then there is Llewie. Llewie's stall door doesn't close because he kicked it in sometime or other. He always gets done eating first, then spends the rest of the time wandering about the barn and getting in the way of whatever I am doing.

My morning conversations with him run something like this: "Hi Llewie, want some water? Wait until I set the bucket down!... Hey, Llewie, get your face out of Tiger's stall, you aren't being very nice to her!... Llewie, NO! I said get your face out of there! SMACK! (that's me whacking him)... Llewie, no, you can't come into the tackroom with me. BONK! (that's me closing the door against his head)... Llewie, move over, I need to get the hay..."

Thankfully Llewie is what is called a 'bomb-proof' horse. That means that you could probably light a bomb between his hind legs and he wouldn't kick. For that reason I really don't mind having him around- I can shove him around to my heart's content and never worry about him sneaking up behind me and biting me out of pure spite. Nice horse.

Okay, that's enough for now. I don't want to bore you all to death or anything.

Horses

Believe it or not, my friends, this is the first time I have attempted to enter the work force of the 'real world'. I am not finding the process enjoyable or amusing. I am flumoxed (sp?) by resumes, floored by cover letters, disgusted with internet application forms, and beset with bad handwriting problems when the application forms are written. BUT in the middle of my frustration a bright spot gleams- I did get one job already! All right, its only 5 hours a week, but hey, they will probably be some of the happiest hours of my week (especially if I do get some wretched office job)!

The job I did get is the feeding of four horses right down the road from where I live. For those of you who didn't know before, I love horses. I also love getting up early in the morning. I also needed exercise. This job nicely combines all three. Not only that, I'm getting paid for it! Just remind me of this in the dead of winter when I have to get up at 5:30 in sub-zero conditions to see to their welfare. :-)

Even then I think the benefits will outweigh the weather. What better way to spend my morning than trudging through the cold to a warm barn that smells of horses, sweet hay, grain? Or to find four beautiful horses eagerly waiting for me and be able to pet them, sing to them, talk to them, and push them around to my heart's content?

work application

Just went through a very harrowing experience this evening. I filled out an application via the Internet. Who ever designed that application form ought to be shot! There was absolutely no wiggle room for unique information. In fact, every piece of info had its own little box allowing only a certain number of charcters. The name of my school in Israel was too long for its box and I had to think of a creative way to write it down. Then they wanted to know the city and state of my last employer- well number one, it was a volunteer position but there certainly wasn't room to add that. Number two, he lived overseas! That also meant I couldn't use him for a reference because his foreign phone number had the wrong number of digits.

After creatively filling out that section of the application I was then asked to respond to 37 pages of personality-evaluating statements like this: " Do people do annoying things?" Here were the possible responses: strongly agree, agree, disagree, strongly disagree. Or how is this one: "Do your family members like the things you are doing?" Good night! What things? or this: "Are lots of people mean to you?" What is that supposed to prove to them? or this: "Do lots of people argue with you?" You better believe it, baby!

I went through the whole 37 pages with either Lisa or Rachel on the phone (thank goodness for Verizon to Verizon!) to help me. I was supposed to answer them all impulsively, and I am sure that didn't include phone conferencing with sisters! Oh well.

The last problem arrived after I had completed the personality grilling. To answer it I actually called two different people and still had to look online:

"Have you, your spouse, or your parents received AFCD recently?"

there was no translation, and my choices were yes and no. Daddy had no idea what it was. If you don't know what it was, how can you have it? Right? Is it a disease, a traffic violation ticket of some sort? A tattoo received on leaving the Federal Pen.? A lottery prize? An relative of Ebola virus?

Any guesses?

Anyway, I am finally done the exhausting process, my application is in the mail (or the airwaves), and I hope they like me because I need the job soon. :-)

This should interest those of you who are familiar- This is our graduation ceremony at Nazareth Village. Lisa and I are getting our ESL certificates from Sandy. That's Mr. Pfann in the background.

Finally!

I have been trying for some time to get pictures to upload, and finally it works! This is a picture of a picture- one tha Megan drew and gave me for my birthday last month. It's nobody in particular, I mean, nobody we know. It might have been a magazine picture or something. Talented, isn't she?

Hmmm. Actually its not a very good photo. It is behind a glass frame, and the angle is odd. You will have to come see the original some time. :-)

Another book

Here is a recent treasure from my local library:
Wenny Has Wings by Janet Lee Carey

Warning: tearjerker, little boy crude humor
Length: maybe an hour or two? I mean, that's about how long it would take you to read it. It is a simple format and simply written.
Subject: children dealing with the death of a loved one
Story line: an 11 year old boy loses his sister in a car accident. He spends the next several months writing letters to her as he deals with her absence and his parents pain.

Well written, funny, sad, and joyful. Heaven is real and Wenny is really there, but sometimes he wishes she was still down on earth, especially when he can't find his toys (which she had hidden) or when he got in trouble for something she did.

Three Books

I love to read!! Recently I have been too overtired to read anything remotely brainy, so I have been living on a diet of Agatha Christie, Mary Stewart, D.E. Stevenson, and Tintin. But I decided to stiffen up my reading muscles a bit with some wholegrain reading. This aim was helped immensely by a couple trips to different libraries- I have absolutely stacks of books and no time to read them! But it seems to be bearing fruit- I felt a returning zest for reading.

So of course I have to talk about what I am reading! Right? Well, anyway I am going to, in hopes that it inspires, blesses, or cheers up others.

Here are the first three, two old friends and one unknown.

The House of Sixty Fathers by Meindert DeJong
North to Freedom by Ann Holm
The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman

The House of Sixty Fathers is something you find in the children's section of the library, but its a chapter book, not a picture book. DeJong was originally from the Netherlands (hence the rather odd name), but he lives in the US now, and writes in English.
This book is about a small boy living in China under the Japanese occupation...

Blast, maybe this is why I never started writing book reviews. I am horrible at it! If you call me up on the phone, or wait until you see me, I could give you earnest and heartfelt reasons why you would like it, or at least why you should read it. But I can't on paper. Especially when the length of my nails is interfering with my typing.

So anyway, its about a boy named Tien Pao and his pet pig Glory-of-the-Republic, and it is sweet and funny, and a bit happy/sad if you are tired, and it doesn't take too many brains to read, but is still good despite the simple English. So read it.

On to the next:
North to Freedom
Also a children's chapter book, translated from some Northern language. This is a step or two up from The House of Sixty Fathers. Actually its a personal favorite. I think I've read it at least three times.

It's about a boy named David who grew up in a prison camp situation and is suddenly freed from it when he is nearly twelve. The story followes his flight, and encounter with things he has only heard about (music and bright colors, babies, oranges) and people's response to his oddities. I do usually cry at the end of this book, but that isn't saying much. I cry all the time, at the drop of a hat, and for a wide variety of reasons. :-)

Lastly:
The World is Flat
Thomas Friedman just wrote this one. His other books are From Beirut to Jerusalem, The Lexus and the Olive Tree, and Longitude and Attitude. Most definitely a liberal, a journalist for the New York Times. I have only read From Beirut to Jerusalem, which book confused me, but actually made the brain cells stretch with a bit of healthy exercise. He certainly knows how to write, even if he is mixed up.

I would love anybody's input on this last book, and Thomas Friedman himself.

There, now I can get off, and go read my book.
By the way, anybody notice that the link to my comments is split up by the dateline? It happened when I made the date appear in Hebrew and I'm not sure how to fix it and still keep the Hebrew.

My editor has just checked this post over for "gross errors" and has pronounced it "a little incoherent, but good." I think that would make an excellent byline for this blog, and maybe my life as well. Maybe I'll write my autobiography and title it: A Little Incoherent, But Good, the life and times of Kathryn the Great.
Good night one and all! Don't stay up too much later, you all need your beauty sleep! (this is getting more disjointed and odd by the moment. must leave now).

No mushiness please

So I was going to post a couple pictures just because I felt like it, but my connection speed is extra slow and it doesn't want to upload them. Maybe later.

Just finished watching Star Wars Episode V with my brothers. I think their favorite part was probably when the little fighter jets harpooned the legs of those huge four-legged walking tank things, wound cable all the way around them, and made them fall down. For that matter they like any scene involving high speed, loud noise, and impressive explosives.

We have been working our way through the older episodes- a first for all three boys- and I'm not sure who is enjoying the experience more, me or them. So much fun to see their response to things I've seen several times, and vicariously see it for the first time. David especially gets all worked up about it. "Is there a monster down that tunnel? Are we going to see it?" "Did he really cut off his hand?!"

I don't think they bought into the whole emotional side of the movie at all. This is my favorite line from my brothers: Right at the beginning of the movie Hans Solo tells the commander of the rebel base that he needs to leave because Jabba the Hut will kill him if he doesn't pay him his money. He is saying goodbye to Leah like this:
HS (too close to Leah for my brothers' comfort): "So this is it."
L (in a cold manner): "Yes it is."
This irritates Hans, so he says sarcastically: "Don't get all mushy on me, Highness."
Daniel breaks in at this point with heartfelt agreement:
"That's right. That's my kind of guy!"

Yummy beyond all reason

The decor of our house these last few weeks has run chiefly to packing boxes, cheap plastic cups, dirty laundry, rafts of old newspapers and packing tape. Wait, I take that back. We never could seem to find the packing tape when we needed it.

Today was the official moving day, though we have been 'moving right along' for ages, it seems. Today we rented a truck and loaded all the huge things like pianos and couches and boxes of books and Megan's trees. It was hot all day, and the boxes were heavy, and things were confused and messy. But nobody broke a nail or dropped anything on their toe and the rain held off until we almost completely unloaded.

I went with the first trip over to the new house- just our van full of breakable stuff. The AC in the house seemed to have temporarily ceased for our benefit. The thermometer said it was 90 degrees inside and 88 outside (in the shade). So we sweated and grunted and moved furniture around and drank tea and apple juice and water and laughed at each other. We even had time to do some heavy-duty lying about before the rest of the Adams' Twelve plus one arrived with the moving truck. All together that would be- nine Adamses, three Murrays, and one Pass.

Kimberly and I spent some beastly hot sessions in the attic stowing nice warm things like winter coats and sleeping bags and area rugs. If it was 88 outside and 90, the attic must have been a 'cool' 100.

Thankfully, some relief came in the form of ominous dark clouds and rumblings among them. It started raining just as we finished up and headed back for the parsonage for dinner. But wait! Dinner deserves a whole blog of its own, or at least a new paragraph and maybe a title....


SOUTERN HOSPITALITY

Yes, my dear Northern folks, it does exist and boy howdy, am I ever glad!
Mrs. Turner, Blake's mother, got a bee in her bonnet a week or so ago, that we needed someone to cook for us on moving day and that she was the one to do it. She is past the age of cooking huge platters of fried chicken and mashed potatoes for 15 people, so she offered us (in detailed typed letter) the choice of pizza,
Chik-Fil-A, KFC, or some such fast food place. What a sweetheart! We chose pizza from Papa John's.

Like a general, she marshalled facts and supplies for the troops; she questioned us closely about date, time, place, toppings, etc. Most people would have been content to call the pizza place an hour or two ahead of time and tell them our address. Not she! Around 11 a.m. she called me from Papa John's to confirm topping choices, and well before the appointed hour (6 pm) she arrived on the doorstep with everything else besides the pizzas, which were to be delivered, and the kitchen sink. We were utterly overwhelmed. Here is the list:

Seven Papa John's pizzas,
two platters:
one veggie ( tomatoes, celery, summer squash, cucumbers, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and dip),
and one fruit (watermelon, cantelope, stawberries, honeydew melon, oranges, pinapple, and red and green grapes)
three gallons of tea (2 sweetened and 1 unsweetened),
two gallons of lemonade,
four liters of Coke,
and two bags of ice in a cooler.
Paper plates and plasticware, napkins, paper towels, paper table cloths, plastic cups,
two trash bags (with twisties to close them),
toothpicks,
and two small, cheerful flower arrangements,
oh yes, and 24 ice cream bars.

toothpicks, my friends!
and flowers!!!
why didn't she peel the grapes, I'd like to know?!!?

Thus the legendary Southern hospitality lives on... and we will certainly be living on the leftovers for days!

Or as Daniel so aptly said- "This is yummy beyond all reason!"

a job well done.

Am sitting in the kitchen on a stool, eating a purple ice-pop and contemplating the disaster around me. Megan is toweling her hair and giggling. It's after 11 pm and I have just completed my very first perm- on Megan's trusting head. :-)

There are curlers and curler papers and spray bottle and bottles of weird stuff that melts your hair if you leave in too long. The place stinks. I really don't know what possesed her to say I could do it! You should have seen the looks on Mrs. Murray's and Mom's faces when the walked in to see my curler job. It did look kind of odd. Besides there were too few of the curlers and they were too big and very much the wrong shape. So much for reading the instructions before we started.

But lest you think poor Megan is doomed to months of hideousness: the perm was one of those week-long things. That means if its horrid, she will only have to live with it for a week. One week of looking horrible. Shouldn't be too bad.

"Home, James."

How lovely to have an airline system to deliver you almost directly into the arms of your family from all the way across the world! Not that I have anything to compare it with- such as months of steamer travel, or cramped quarters on the yacht Coronet- but still, I am grateful.

We got home on the 4th of July, spent a week at Fairwood at the Family Convention (which is a lovely way to transition between cultures), and then traveled down to Georgia, taking Andrea, Melissa, and Kimberly with us. Thankfully we had two vehicles because with extra people (and minus Rachel) we had an even dozen. The boys were banished to the car for the entire two days, and the girls spent the majority of their travel time sleeping.

The past week has been very interesting- a mixture of homecoming, socializing, shopping, getting over jet-lag, a yard-sale in our front yard, a contiually messy house, and the wonderful relaxed feeling of a semi vacation!

One afternoon we watched the Incredibles only to be interrupted by a thunderstorm. At the first crack of thunder we evacuated the living room in two seconds flat- in favor of a grandstand view from the front porch. Pretty quickly it was irresistable- "OOh look at that puddle! Wouldn't that be great to jump in?!" Forgetting the fact that half of us are in our mid-twenties and completly mature adults, we were all out in the front lawn completely soaked and completely happy. We ran around shrieking, splashed each other in the puddle, and collected good Georgia mud on our persons by sliding in a specially wet and slidy-looking spot on the lawn. Melissa wins the most impressive sliding technique award as well as the prize for the ugliest grass burns on her knees.

After that we all showered and got into warm dry clothes and finished our movies. Isn't the cozy feeling of warmth after a complete soaking one of the most delicious in the world?

Going from the brown and white color scheme of Jerusalem to the jungle-like green of Georgia is an incredible contrast. I don't get tired of looking at trees or seeing the rain come down... and imagining the time when Jerusalem will be as verdant.

Okay, the library loudspeaker informs me that the computer will automatically shut down in ten minutes. Better get off.

That's all folks... til next time.

It's 1:24 in the morning (my time), and the packing is done, the suitcases lined up by the door, goodbyes have been said, and I really should go try to take a nap until the sherut comes around 3:15. This has been the Day that never ends. And I am not helping things out by reading blogs and looking up the meaning of the name Liam (it's an Irish short form of William). This is the last time I'll post from Jerusalem, but of course not the last time I will post about Jerusalem! (Beware, folks!)

We have been running around like the proverbial headless chickens- grocery shopping, present shopping, finishing up work time, visiting neighbors, running to the office, cleaning, packing,... anyway that's all done now. And as Mom pointed out- we are standing with God to see his purposes done in this land (even if we don't have time to think about it). It has been hard to savor the last few moments because it all seems so mundane. I've done this before, I left before and came back. I really have had no sense of loss at leaving, no pangs of homesicknessbeforeIleave, no tears. Know why? BECAUSE I am coming back!!!! (No plans yet)

This is my home (Kate's Jerusalem), I love it, I get frustrated with it, I want desperately to leave, to be anywhere but here, but I know deep down inside that I'll come back. Of course I will- its a given. Even if I have to wait until the Millenium to return (which I doubt).

Okay, the combo of a heat and sleep-deficit induced headache, computer screen lighting, and the very heady smell of jasmine floating in the open window all compel me to stop writing NOW and go to bed! Or at least sweep the bedroom floor. It's very dirty. Good night.

I shall see all you lovely people in a little bit.

PS- Derrick I hope you bring your bike to Fairwood sometime during the week so I can admire it.
Lindsay- we will probably stay longer than two days. I'll try to get in touch with you about getting together.
Andrea and Fritha.... well, anyway, you know.
I am not going to bed!!! I think my fingers are stuck to the keyboard.

Good things

Well Friends, I am headed home in a couple days. My suitcases are mostly packed, my work mostly done, and I am so ready to be there. The past few weeks have been super busy. Our apartment turned into a guesthouse about 6 weeks ago. Since then part of our work time has been spent running it- cooking, cleaning, and staying up past midnight talking to them.
Okay, that last one was our choice! It has been fun, but staying up until 12:30 or 1:00 every night for a week does something unpleasant to my nervous system. As departure date got closer and closer, and my list of things that ABSOLUTELY MUST be done seemed to get longer, my nerves got more and more frayed. Last night I decided I would just not go to bed at all.

I thought that for all of 10 seconds before I remembered that it was Friday, which meant that next came Friday night, which was the Sabbath, and even if I wanted to stay up all night working I couldn't.

Praise the Lord for the Sabbath!

Two other things have come unexpectedly to temporarily removed Lisa and I from the pressure cooker of our last week.

Thursday afternoon our neighbors casually mentioned that the circus was in town. That was interesting, and I have never been to one, but now is hardly the time. Well later that afternoon I was informed that people were going and they were paying for our tickets if we wanted to go. Well that was hard to resist!

So off we went, and for two and a half hours reality and age were suspended. We laughed at the clowns, thought the horses were beautiful, gasped as the trapeze artist slipped and nearly fell, screeched when the jump-ropers jumped three-high (all in Scottish kilts), were astounded by the ventriloquist, ate popcorn, ate cotton candy, and were perfectly comfortable in our hard wooden seats.

Of course some things are different here- the barker barked in Hebrew (is that what he is called?), the people sitting next to us were Arabs, and religious Jews were scattered throughout the audience. The circus itself was Italian, but all the performers looked like they were Romany or Eastern Bloc.

Hey, for any of you who have seen "Wild Hearts Can't be Broken" remember the redheaded guy who was always trying to invent things, and finally built a metal ball-shaped cage in which to ride his motorcycle?
Well, they had one at this circus! They started with one person in it and worked up to three! That really was scary to watch.

Anyway, the circus was just what the doctor ordered, though personally I would never have thought of it! God does have a sense of humor.

The other suspension of worry came last night after sundown. We ate dinner with the neighbors, sat around talking and laughing with them, and then decided to watch Lemony Snickett's 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'.

This was one of those movies I had heard of but hadn't paid attention too. When it came down to watching it I vaguely thought I wasn't going to like it, or that the humor would be really crass, or that it would be stupid. But it wasn't! I loved it. It was clever and amusing and somebody must have had a lot of fun filming it. It was beautiful in a storybook sort of way.

So that long rambling is to say that I am so thankful to God for forcing us to relax and enjoy life instead of spending our last few days stressing out. Amen. Have a good Sabbath rest all of you, and I'll see you soon!

Lisa in our kitchen
Jerusalem from St. Andrews
my weekly shuk trip

What is the problem?

There seems to be a rash of animal encounters in our little circle these days- I wonder what the connection is, or the spiritual significance. Any suggestions?

This morning I woke up earlier than I wanted to after late night #4 (at least). I woke up because somebody was thumping around out in the living room and I couldn't figure out why. I lay in my bed listening in a passive and fuzzy irritation. The noise settled into a rhythmic set of thumps and then stopped. I got up and opened the door.

Coming down the hall toward me was Yum-yum, Warrior Princess, dragging a limp and very dead pigeon. I must have been really fuzzy-brained because she was several feet away and dragging an bird as big as herself, but she still managed to get into our room before I thought about closing the door. She dragged it under Lisa's bed for safekeeping.

I turned around and said something highly intelligent to poor Lisa, still mostly asleep. "Umm, Yum-yum just dragged a dead pigeon under your bed." That woke her up.

I started to wake up a bit more myself as I get dressed.
Why is Yum-yum in our apartment?
Did she kill it inside the house?
Is this some sort of sick practical joke on the part of my dear next-door neighbor?
I am going to personally KILL that beast myself!
I HATE FERRETS.


By the time I had gathered myself together Yum-yum had dragged her prey even farther under the bed, leaving a trail of blood. I gingerly pulled it out with one hand, holding it by the wing, grabbed Yum-yum with the other and headed for the door.

I must have been an interesting sight on my neighbor's doorstep- bleary-eyed and in a nasty mood, with a dead pigeon in one hand and a ferret in the other. When Mrs. Pfann opened the door there was that second of shocked silence before she could think of something to say.

Mr. Pfann had come over earlier to get something from the office, and Yum-yum had followed him. But she had certainly not had a pigeon then. Where does one come up with a live pigeon in a house completely closed up for the night?

Well, we disposed of the thing and I went home. Avcouple hours later when people really started waking up the crime investigation began. Mr. Pfann was of course vastly amused and proud of his pet. He and Steve (not a Pfann. This one is a guest of the Pfanns and a forensic scientist) walked up and down the hall looking for blood spots, feathers, open windows, or anything that might shed light on the mystery. Finally the story was pieced together:

We were gone all day yesterday, but an upstairs window must have been open enough to let a pigeon in. They do live in the eaves of the house. It came down the stairs (evidenced by droppings) and took refuge underneath a wicker bookcase in the living room. It stayed there all night (lots of droppings). In comes Yum-yum this morning and the poor bird had not a chance. The thumping noise I had heard was Yum-yum finishing it off underneath the bookcase (lots of blood).

At this point I felt yucky and sat down. Braver souls and tougher stomachs took over to clean up the crime scene with bleach and plastic gloves.

But bloodlust has taken hold. Mr. Pfann and Steve (forensic guy) were discussing the possibily of arranging the next killing so that Steve could film it. Maybe leave the window open on purpose?

Over my dead body.
Or at least not before I leave.

photo caption

Weeeeeeee!! Yay for blogspot's new picture-thingy! Now people like me can post pictures in seconds rather than hours! Okay- here's the caption:
Lisa, Sarah, and I on the north wall of the Old City. I think it is west of Damascus Gate, but I'm not sure how much. Sarah was one of the guests staying at our house.

the last word in names

Okay, today I was looking up Gaelic names and stumbled on a partial answer to something that has always intrigued me- the origin of last names. Last names all have meanings I am told, and many of them are obvious.
Baker,
Tailor,
Adams,
Anderson
are all easy and rather boring. Some are less obvious and thus much more interesting: Pass (ask Brad),
and Pfann are two good examples.
Pfann actually means 'pan' in German. 'Back then' Jewish people in Germany bought names to fit into the culture. If you were rich you got nice names like Goldberg and Sliverbaum. If you were poor, well, you got stuck with Pfann.
But some last names defy explaination.
Shufflebottom.
Demme.
Levarko.
Buttling (thanks Craig, that was extremely funny).
Gilchrist.
That's were a little internet research comes in handy!

You know the those names that have 'gil'in them? Gilchrist, and Gillian are the two that I am familiar with, but I found a number of similar ones-
Gillanders,
Gillbride,
Gillies.
'Gil' means 'servant' or 'follower'.
Thus Gilchrist means 'servant of Christ',
Gillian or Gillean means 'follower of St. John',
Gillanders means 'servant of St. Andrew',
Gillbride means follower of St. Brigid (whoever she was),
and Gillies means 'servant of Jesus'.
(These are actually all newer version of old Gaelic names with completely unintelligable spellings.)
Isn't that cool?

I also discovered that Macbeth come from the earlier spelling Machbeatha and means 'son of life'. Nice.

The Joy of Mindy

No, pink isn't really 'me', but I was getting tired of black.

So this morning I was looking up the word for joy on e-sword and I discovered an interesting thing: most of the Hebrew words related to joy derive from actions. That means that the root words for things like joy, rejoice, exult, and be glad all come from these action words- 'to be bright', 'to shine', 'to spring', 'to leap', 'shouting', and 'to go in a circle'. I love that last one! It means 'to dance in a circle'. (evidence that they danced the hora back then?)

This all reminded me of an argument that Mindy and I had in Bible School. I was anticipating something exciting and happy in my life but she was't sure that I was really as excited as I said I was. After all, I wasn't acting excited. If you were truly excited and happy you would squeal and jump around and smile all the time, right? I rolled my eyes in disgust and firmly told her that you could be just as deeply excited and happy inside and not show it on the outside.
She was not convinced.
Of course I was right, right?
Nobody won the argument, of course.

But somehow when I think of Mindy in heaven, all those active words come to mind to describe her unspeakable joy- Mindy shines with joy, she bounces through heaven for joy with shouts of praise, with joyful laughter Mindy dances before her King...
Few people in my life have given me a greater example of what it meant to be joyful in life and I can only imagine her joy now.

I can't argue with her now and I don't want to; I just hope and trust that God will give me the kind of joy that causes me to sing, to dance, to shout uninhibited praise to my King.

the new me

Hehe! This is funny! So, should I leave it pink?

To Susie-Mum

Susie-Mum you'd be so proud of me! I got one suitcase out of storage yesterday and filled it halfway up. And I still have 17 days to go. I get more like you every day! Though I doubt I'll ever be as beautiful.

For everybody else reading this, just so you know, I have to most wonderful Mother in the world. She is short and has beautiful black hair and a lovely smile. She has done an incredible job at raising 8 children as well as being a pastor's wife for 14 years.

She has faith that moves mountains, and believes that God can provide all our needs just like He said.

She is flexible.

She is willing to uproot her life every few years to go wherever the Spirit and her husband lead.

She can pack a whole house with more strategy than a general, and muster the troops with more effective motivation than Robert E. Lee.

She can cram everything pertaining to the life and godliness of ten people into the back of our van and make it look like a work of art.

She can laugh.
She does laugh often.
She can cook a mean potato soup and her bread is out of this world.

She has Kingdom vision and is willing to follow it.
Even if it means moving her whole tribe overseas for six months and maintaining them in a new culture, language, and environment- with aplomb.

She plays the piano very well. I would much rather listen to her play than whatever-his-name-is (Andrea what IS his name?).

Do you know how much laundry 10 people generate?
There are actually days of the week when the laundry room is empty and silent.

She loves candles on Friday night, joyful music when life is hard, good books, sleepovers, and the joy when a loved one responds to God.

Her dreams are huge: "The World for King Jesus it Surely Shall Be!"

She is superwoman.

I am going to start an international collection of incredible name meanings.
Here are the few I have to begin with:

Kyungnam (Korean)- "A joyous happening in the South"
Keanu (Hawaiian)- "A cool breeze over the mountain"
Yoon Hoo (Korean)- "A deep faith in God"
Betzelel (Hebrew)- "In the shade of God"

Joel 2:28 and following

Dear Friends who pray,
Today is Shavuot (Feast of Weeks, 'May Feast', Pentecost). Many of the Jewish people have stayed up all night studying the Law, and this morning walked down to the Western Wall to pray. They are celebrating the giving of the Law. I love the juxtaposition of their celebration with ours: the giving of the law and the coming of the one who causes us to keep the law. It is the anniversary of condemnation (we wouldn't be sinners if there wasn't a law to keep) and then the anniversary of God coming into us to HELP us keep it. What a joyful thought! Wonderful Comforter inside us.
So please pray for them. I am thinking Joel-2:28-and-following sort of thoughts today.

We are going to visit the people who brought our hard drive over, and then we may go to a picnic with Messianic friends. But sometime in there we have to make dinner...timing should be interesting.

[If you were wondering why we are celebrating the feast now, remember that the Jewish calendar is a lunar one. They correct the calendar every so often by throwing in a whole extra month. As Lisa said, this is like letting your car drift way to far, and then wildly over-correcting.]

Too much grossness for one day

The light was out, the window open to let in the night breezes, and peace had settled over the house. Then I heard a buzz and a small thwacking sound as some lowlife from the dark came through the open window. Lisa kindly turned on the light so I could see what it was- I'd rather escort it back out than have it bumping into things (and me) all night. I thought it might be a moth. I like moths.
It wasn't a moth. It was the biggest, shiniest, more horrendous cockroach I had ever seen. His antennae were longer than his rust-red body which was over two inches long (I am guessing- I didn't feel like measuring him at the time), when he moved it was with the quickness of lightning, and he was on the suitcase at the foot of my bed.
I shrieked. Every primeval female instinct revolted against his very existence. I hated him instantly. So did Lisa apparently; she also screamed.

After that we all sort of stood around testing each others defenses. I think he probably had the upper hand psychologically, and he was certainly faster than we- but then, he didn't have God on his side. Besides, we were fighting for Our Very Lives. It was him or us. "They really are part of the curse, aren't they?" says Lisa in a respectful voice. "Of course, that's why I said they were from hell!" (we won't mention the name of the person who said that)

Really now, can you imagine saying, "Oh well, we can co-exist peacefully. We'll go to sleep and let him wave his antennae in peace." The only good cockroach is a dead cockroach in my opinion.

So anyway, after we had stood around sizing each other up, we started discussing possibilities. We could scoop him up in some container and throw him out the window (the second story window and may he fall hard). We could squish him. With what? Well, there is Lisa's sneaker. Okay, but who is going to do the squishing? I was all for him being permanently dead, but really one of the most psycologically horrible things about big bugs is the sound they make when you squish them. Its all you, Lisa.

Meantime he decided to make a move- he darted forward under the handle of the suitcase. We shrieked again. How fast and horrible he was!

At this point I was standing on my bed and Lisa was crouched on her's contemplating retrieving her sneaker. It was too close to the suitcase for comfort. But brave Lisa picked it up, tested its weight, and with various howls and shrieks of disgust started to swing at him. But sadly, you can't swing with your eyes closed- and just looking at him was too much. She stopped mid-swing and retreated to find a bigger shoe. That would be mine. This time she really swung! and missed! and there he was waving at us from inside Lisa's backpack on the floor! We screamed again, and Lisa swung again. He disappeared. I put my shoes on and stood on my bed waiting for him to appear again. He didn't, so we carefully picked up the things on the floor one by one, moved the bed a bit. He wasn't around. Definitely not good. If we don't find him, I say to Lisa, I am moving out.

I kicked at a stack of papers on the floor, and suddenly he was there, as big as an elephant and twice as ugly!

But sadly (for him), though he may be able to manipulate our emotions, he can't really change the fact that he is really only two inches long and I have huge feet. I can scream and stomp at the same time.

Wads of toilet paper make a nice shroud, my shoes rest in a place of honor not unlike King David's sword, and peace and darkness descend once more.

But not before I close the window.

Extereeeeeemly happy girls!

Praise the Lord, the hard drive is in the computer (thanks to a friend who volunteered to put it in and reformat the computer), and we are now online in the compfort of our own little house!

Also- home in less than a month!

Also- taught my last English class last night!

(is this sufficiently short, Derrick?)

a Sunday in the life of me

Dear Friends,
I am still around, though picture me plastered to the front of a fast-moving train with my hair streaming back in the wind... life moves a bit too fast at times.
Yesterday is a good example.

In the morning I went to a lecture at the Albright Institute in east Jerusalem. That meant leaving the house at 8:45. Because I hadn't gone to bed exactly early the night before this wasn't that long after rising time. Caught the bus down to route one near the Mea She'rim entrance (for those of you who remember), but went down a side road on the Arab side. Found the the Institute after asking a very English- looking lady with a lovely accent.

Got there early and sat through another lecture (only half hour) before the one I was intereted in came up. It was all about old photos of Israel from around the turn of the century. When it was done around 11:15 I crossed back over to the Jewish side of the highway, stopped at a second-hand book store and bought three books. Then I ate lunch- soda and some horrible pastry that seemed to be three quarters grease and one quarter cheese with a bit of pastry to stick it together. People over here don't seem to eat in public much, so I got odd looks as I sat on a low wall by the side so the road, swinging my legs and muching away. But now I am impervious to odd looks and only smile happily back at them.

On to the shuk for groceries! Due to a fit of vanity I hadn't brought my backpack along- who wants to show up at an institute of higher learning for a highbrow lecture carrying something so plebian? As a resut I have to lug tomatoes, apricots, plums, raisins, cucumbers, walnuts, cheese, and carrots down to the bus stop by hand. My fingers get funny ridges in them and are an odd color.

Home again! 1:30ish? can't remember. Eat something, gather myself together, and call the Nesher sherut system- I have to go down to Tel Aviv this evening to get our laptop hard drive from someone coming from the States. The Sherut guy says he'll pick me up at 3:30. I spend the time reading out loud to Lisa while she cooks and generally being slothful.

3:25 I am sitting outside our house on a low wall, reading my book while I wait. The Sherut comes and we proceed on a torturous path around areas of Jerusalem that I have never seen before picking up othe people headed for the airport. At one house we sit for five minutes while the driver periodically calls the tardy passengers on his cell phone and honks his horn at regular intervals.

On our way again and we passed a normal width suburbian road with a row of large eucalyptus trees growing right out of the middle of the pavement. The scenery passes to the accompanying melody of my neighbor's very loud gum.

At the airport I find a spot to watch incoming traffic. I have never seen the people who are bringing my hard drive, they have never seen me. We e-mailed each other vague identifying characteristics. I know when they flight comes in, but I don't know from where, what the number is, or what the name of their tour group is. I think they sent my that info, but I left it at home. I call home, but Lisa has already left for her Hebrew exam.

An after arriving at the airport two people matching description come out with a huge group that must be their tour. Sure enough! We greet each other, she passes over the hard drive, and we arrange a meeting for next week in Jerusalem, all in two minutes.

They head out for Samaria and I leave by another entrance to find a sherut to Jerusalem. It is almost full- the only options are two seats in the very back- one next to a secular lady, but she has her bag on it. The other is next to a religious young man of about 20. I decide on half of each seat so as not to disturb the bag of one or the religious sensibilities of the other. But the driver wants to wait for one more person to complete his bus load. At this point I should have been praying for a skinny passenger because the four seats in the back were made for four of my younger siblings, not four adults. I didn't pray, and we were blessed with one huge European man. I saw him coming down the aisle and a moral crisis was met and passed in a second- do I make him climb over me and sqeeze into the seat next to the religious young man, or do I move over so he can stretch his legs out in the aisle? I move over. What followed I found highly amusing, but it might have just been defense mechanism on my part; I don't think anybody else was amused. This was the proverbial rock and a hard place. I sat with my shoulders hunched forward the whole way, except when I leaned forward with my elbows on the seat back in front of me to relieve the pressure.

There we sat, or existed, the young religious fellow on one side listening to a tape on headphones and occationally glancing at me- probably because I was grinning like an idiot (it was that or cry)- and the big guy on the other side hunched up in miserable silence. But God was good- the first passenger off the bus was the secular lady on the other side of the big guy. She climbed out and the rest of us practically burst out sideways, with a sigh of relief.

I got dropped off near the Old City- it is the evening before Jerusalem day I wanted to see the festivities while I waited for Lisa to get out of her Hebrew class. I bought a candy bar and some nuts for dinner (cough, cough) and sat on Ben Yehuda reading a book and people-watching and feeling lonely. But friends of mine passed by- Daniel and Michelle Ramsey- and invited me to dinner with them. They were just coming from church, but it took some discussion to convince me that it was actually Sunday. I tend to loose track of days especially since the system over here is a bit different than at home. Sunday is the first day of the week, and a work day. We go to church on Saturdays.

Swarma (Middle Eastern food) is certainly more filling than a Snickers, though probably not a lot more healthy. Other friends passed by and stopped to chat as we ate, and I ceased to feel lonely.

Caught a bus to the Old City around 9:00, found Lisa on her way to the Western Wall. We stayed there only a little while- apparently the real festivities begin tomorrow. We did watch a folk sing-a-long in the sunken section of the Cardo near Hurva Square. The words were all on a big screen, but Lisa couldn't read them (blind as a bat). So I read what I could out loud to her, and even recognized one song from Ulpan.

Left around 10:00, walked back to the New City to catch a bus, and home by 11:15 or so.

There you have it.
Today I have Hebrew class, Tuesday and Wednesday I teach classes, Thursday is my last Hebrew class and exam.... I might slow down a bit after that. Lisa never seems to be rushed, but she has close to the same load as I do- but her exam is over and her teaching doesn't come til next week.

This and That

Okay, here I am again. The computer is still not fixed- the hard drive crashed, and we have a new one on order from Compaq. (By the way, some guy over here who fixes computers mentioned that most people who own Compaqs have problems with them) The hard drive was mailed to my parents house, and they will mail it to us. Then we, mere babes in the wood when it comes to computers, will have to install it and get the thing up and running again.

Right now I am using the school's office computer, and really need to be getting ready to teach my first class. Lisa did her first one last night and did just fine!



Okay, I have interesting stories to tell, but I really must go get ready for class. If I have time after I may write more.

COMPUTERS ARE EVIL

They really are.
Feel free to pray for ours, if you believe that prayers for evil, inanimate objects count. Ours crashed over a week ago, and still we have not got it up and running. I am now on my neighbor's computer. We NEED that computer for study and communication! And guess what- the tech support for international incidents (that's us) only has an e-mail address! How retarded is that?

Postscript

Yesterday I was out on our balcony fairly early in the morning. I was startled to discover raw oatmeal and raisins scattered about. This was very odd. I asked Lisa about it, but she also found it rather odd. I couldn't imagine any of our neighbors were into the habit of flinging the stuff around. Maybe there was some Passover rite involving a meal offering? Okay, I am being sacrilegious. Maybe the pigeons dropped it. Where do pigeons get raw oatmeal and raisins?

A mystery indeed.

Later that morning I went over to the neighbors to ask a question about work I was doing for them. I casually mentioned the enigmatic oatmeal and got an interesting response: Mrs. looked only surprised, but Mr. and Mike suddenly looked mischievous and rather guilty. Aha! We have culprits! The two of them had been so pleased with Yum-Yum's hunting prowess, that they decided they should start trying to attract pigeons (these are the people who spent all last summer in wholesale warfare against the pigeons) just so Yum-Yum could kill more of them! So they scattered oatmeal all over their balconies, and then threw some over the dividing wall between their balcony and ours... all the more places for Yum-Yum to stalk pigeons.
Alas, it only attracted ants.

Weasels Among Us or See the Conquering Hero Come

Her name is Yum-Yum, and she is actually a ferret. Our next-door neighbors (most of my friends know who they are) recently acquired her as an alternative to a cat (allergies) or a dog (size). She doesn't make anybody sneeze, is very small, and can be very quiet.

My only previous experience with ferrets was at Melissa's house. Andrea, Melissa and I were watching ummmm, that movie that I can't remember the name of.... the book was called The Hot Zone... Outbreak! Remember? And Melissa's dad came in part-way through, when we were huddled up on the couch in sheer terror, and threw the beast on us! Needless to say, I haven't thought kindly of ferrets since then.

Yum-Yum comes to visit us sometimes. It is barely a step from her doorway to ours, but it took quite some time before she felt really safe going even that short distance from the safety of her apartment. She wears a tiny collar with a bell on it to keep unsuspecting people from stepping on her. She scuttles around the outer edges of each room, sure that nobody can see her. She likes the space between the counter and the stove - small, secret, dark, and safe from hawks. Her favorite foods are cucumbers and raw eggs. Once she is sure that she is safe in a new environment, she likes exploring. She loves to push things over, especially if they make a loud noise. Sometimes I think the bell is unnecessary - just follow the sound of falling china. She routinely tips over the trash cans, the toilet brush holder, everything on Lisa's bedside table, and has even managed to get up on the kitchen table to finish off the sugar bowl.

One of her other favorite occupations is chewing on people's feet. I never thought of myself as one of those females who stand on chairs to avoid mice, but I must confess that more than one occasion has found me standing on the couch, my bed, or some other convenient high spot to avoid her. Something about her size, skritchy claws, rodent-like aspect, and cold little nose reacts unfavorably with my nerves. Even kicking at her doesn't work (not violently, for any animal rights activists or sensitive souls who are reading this. In fact, if you fit one of those categories, probably it would be good to stop reading at the end of this paragraph). She seems to have no concept of size, and will attack back immediately. I like animals very well in their place, but attached to my foot is not it.

Today Yum-Yum displayed another side of her character, very much to glee of all the male members of her family. She killed a pigeon. Pigeons land on the railing of the porch, make messes, and are a general nuisance. Apparently, one was actually on the floor of the porch, a mistake he will never make again. Yum-Yum suddenly roused herself in war-like might and leaped upon him, hanging on to his wing. Thankfully, the gory details of the ensuing battle and victory were not repeated to me. Sorry, Derrick. She would have loved to have carried her trophy home like a bloodthirsty warrior returning from the battlefield, displayed it before her admiring family and then hidden it in the springs of the couch. She was thwarted in this, and got a bath instead. Poor Yum-Yum.

She was over to visit us after the big event (clean and in her right mind). Thankfully battle instincts were lying dormant again - she felt no need to kill my feet. Instead she went off to push over the trash can....

So Thanks

I taught my class and did just fine. I should never worry about things and then write a post about them long after my bedtime.

I talked for 40 minutes all about the Atlanta airport and how to navigate it in English. I even found myself dealing unexpectedly with class discipline (an aspect of teaching I assumed I wouldn't have to deal with in a classroom of sedate ladies). One of my 'students' became intrigued with the various usages of the word 'terminal', and how I had explained it. She kept making bright comments about people being terminally ill in the airport terminal, and wondering where you began your flight, if the terminal was the end of it. Pretty soon she had dragged Sandy (my instructor) into it, and my classroom dissolved into laughter. Twenty minutes into my new 'career' as an English teacher, and I had already lost control of the situation!

It was actually a very relaxed way to begin teaching- a dry run where you could stop and discuss methods, spelling, pronunciation, and definitions with the others. At the end everybody critiqued me, but since it was all women nothing particularly harsh was said.

We also scheduled our student teaching for the next two months. Soon I will be standing in front of real students, and I had really must find a better way of defining the word 'terminal.'

butterflies

Tomorrow I am teaching my first English class. And I am not finished preparing it. It's now 10:40 pm and I already have butterflies.
It is going to be a looooong night.
And get this- it isn't even to real students! This is just the dry run in front of my teacher, Lisa, and one other teacher-in-training! You'd think I could handle that!
Sigh.
Feel free to pray for me.

I answered a public telephone the other day. In America and in English it might have be sort of amusing, but in Israel and in Hebrew I felt like I had conquered worlds! :-)

We were on Ben Yehuda Street, minding our own business on a bench by the public phones when one of them started ringing. It didn't stop. I mentioned it to Lisa and we looked at the phone with mild curiosity. It still didn't stop so I suggested I might answer it. Ha! It kept on ringing. I asked Lisa how to say 'public' in Hebrew, got up and picked it up.
"Shalom."
"Shalom."
"This is a public telephone."
"Really?"
"Yes, on Ben Yehuda."
"Where?"
"On Ben Yehuda Street."
"In Jerusalem?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Okay, bye."
"Bye"

There. Thrilling adventure wasn't it? At least I kept him from calling Ben Yehuda Street for the next week, thinking it was his cousin's, or the lawyer's office, or whatever, and never getting an answer. Katie the superhero saves the day!

Help?

Does someone have easy and clear instructions for adding website links to my blogspot?

The Italians were first!

Today during hafsakah (break) of Hebrew class I joined the Romance language circle to provide a change from the English-speaking circle I usually move in. The Romance Language circle consists of a young mother from Italy, a Seminary student from Italy, a seminary student from Poland, a man from Puerto Rico, and sometimes a young pacifist from Germany. Of course, as soon as I joined them, it became an English circle just for my benefit. I was discussing classical guitar, large families, and priests and pastors with the seminary student. He wanted to know if my dad wore a... ah, hmmm... (he points to his clerical collar and I supply the word). Suddenly the conversation moved into Italian as he discussed the exact meaning of the word 'collar' with the young mother. I could follow the gestures of her explanation to a certain extent, and suddenly I heard a word I recognized from high school French- colla (neck). I asked her about it and then we started discussing languages. She spoke Italian, and English, the Puerto Rican spoke Spanish and English, and the Polish seminarian spoke Polish, Italian, English, and I think possibly Russian.

Thus a mystery was solved! These people come from vastly different sections of the world and yet they converse? What is the common language? There isn't one: The Italians speak Italian, the Puerto Rican answers in Spanish and if I had mastered French I would have fit right in.

So, if one can learn one language from each family just think how many people you could communicate with! So after I finish my first Semitic language (Hebrew), and another Germanic language (Yiddish), I think I'll take up French again so that I have at least one Romance language. Then all I would need would be an African language and something from the Far East....

We talked a bit more about the language similarities between French and Italian and the Italian mother said, "They got it all from us. We were there first!" Take that, France! :-)

Jerusalem Corner # 2

So, I was crossing the road about 50 yards from a street corner. I had looked carefully before stepping out and there was not a car in sight. I was halfway across when suddenly a car came around the corner, saw me, and... sped up! I tell you, I DO NOT understand these people! What in the world was going through his mind? I mean, when any American comes around a corner and sees a pedestrian, what does he do INSTINCTIVELY? He steps on the brake! Right? Of course right. That "slow down' gene must be really recessive in the Mediterranean gene pool. Maybe nonexistent.

Or maybe he just assumed that I had enough native intelligence to get out of the way in time. After all, it is his road, not mine- I belong on the sidewalk, and the sooner I get there, the better all 'round.

Same thing happened again tonight, only it was a motorcycle in the dark, and I actually had to run for the sidewalk. I'm afraid I bellowed unkind things about the Israeli race in general to relieve my irritation. But I was instantly repentant when I saw there was a security guard a few yards away. I hope the window of his little hut was closed, or that he didn't speak English. I am sorry Mr. Israeli! I really am glad to be in your country, I love you all, and I think you are lovely! (Just please don't run down visitors; it isn't very good PR!)

my favorite tree 

Honesty in Hebrew

How things do complicate themselves in a second language! Today I had to run a small errand of honesty- I bought some groceries the other day including two small yogurts. All very good. A day or so later Lisa informed that I had paid for only one of the yogurts. I am afraid that my first response was "What possessed you to sit down and translate the silly receipt?!"
I know, I know, not exactly a Christ-like response. Anticipating a conversation in Hebrew isn't very far removed from anticipating a battle- you plan verbal tactics, think up every eventuality, run scenarios through in your mind, and get butterflies as you walk onto the battle field.
A receipt in English can be cryptic, a receipt in Hebrew is, well, let's just say that one cannot just casually glance it, say, "Yep, that's the one," and away you go. So we temporarily mislaid the thing, and what with one thing and another, it was just today that I actually got the correct receipt in my pocketbook, gathered my mental reserve, and headed for the grocery store.
Practically speaking, people who work at grocery stores usually don't have much in the way of a second language. I mean, if they did, why would they be a checkout clerk? But not so in Israel! The majority of grocery store checkouts seem to be manned by middle-aged Russian ladies with ginger-colored hair and two languages- Russian and Hebrew. Which is nice, but does me no good.
I went to the customer service desk first and asked the lady at the counter (which was about chin level) if she spoke English. She shook her head no with a sad little half-smile.
This is what the following conversation in Hebrew sounded like: "I am here before, and I write... no, I buy two yogurts (I pull out the receipt as a prop), but here there is only one (point to the receipt). I want to give you more money."
"Okay," she says, "You want to give more money? Go over there." She gestures to the checkout line. Blast.
I went the long way round, picked up a few things I needed, as well as one yogurt for the clerk to scan.
"Hi, do you speak English?"
"No."
"Okay, (in Hebrew) I have two yogurts, but here (point to the receipt) is only one. I want to give you more money."
"I don't understand, here there are three chocolates.." She says, looking at the wrong item on the receipt.
"No, there, one yogurt." I say, leaning over and trying to locate the word 'yogurt' in Hebrew, upside down. "I have two, but here is only one," I say again.
"You have two?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Well, that wasn't so hard after all!
The deed is done, the battle won, the yogurt scanned and set aside (I don't want any more right now, thank you), money paid, and off I go. But first, I double-check my new receipt...

In Passing

On my way home from class on the bus I pass a delicious corner of suburban Jerusalem- two shops side by side for two of the most beautiful things in the world: women's hats and flowers. In Jerusalem these are also the necessities of life- women must cover their heads when they marry, and tradition says that husbands should bring their wives flowers every Friday before the Sabbath. Some cultures have all the luck...

This one is for you Meredith...

What Meredith, are you studying Hebrew? You shouldn't encourage me... Hebrew is the biggest thing in my life right now, and its hard not to talk about it.

Here's the other mistake I made in class, which I didn't realize until I thought about it later. But first, a bit of grammatical background:

In English we make a plural by adding an 's': immigrants, books
When we add an adjective it looks like this: new immigrant, big book.
If you add an adjective to the phrase the noun gets an 's', but the adjective doesn't: new immigrants, big books.
One more thing: in English the adjective comes before the noun.

In Hebrew the plural is made by adding a suffix (usually a 'ot' sound or an 'im'sound: oleh-olim, sefer-sefarim.
When you add an adjective to the singular form, it comes after the noun, and it looks like this- oleh hadash, sefer gadol.
But when you add an adjective to the plural form, the adjective gets a plural ending as well!: Olim hadashim, sefarim gadolim (if we did the same in English it would look like this: news immigrants, bigs books).

Okay, got that? :-)

So in class we were writing down lists of things about ourselves (our favorite book, our dream, our birthday, our favorite sport, our philosophy of life, etc.)Then we had to pass them in to the teacher, who read some of them out loud while we guessed who had written them.

Under 'philosophy of life' I wrote "God is good" (or at least I thought I did). Of course, there is a lot more to my philosophy of life, but one can hardly write it in a sentence, and at my level of Hebrew!

The Hebrew word for God that I used (there are many) was Elohim. NOTICE that it has that 'im' sound at the end, making it sound like a plural! (think- Three In One)

The word 'elohim' is also used to mean 'gods', the same as we use 'God' and 'gods'. So if I am going to say 'God is good' in Hebrew I say 'Elohim Tov.' That is a simple noun and adjective- and even though 'Elohim' is plural, I should use a singular adjective (Tov) because God is One!

Only... I didn't. I wrote "Elohim Tovim" So, it comes down to a simple difference of endings, but a very big difference in philosophy. Do I think that:

"God is God" (Elohim Tov)
or that
"the gods are good"? (elohim tovim)

Oh the joy of languages! and oh the pitfalls!

Dati

Today in class we had a involved discussion about family relationships. That doesn't mean such deep topics as two-parent families vs. one-parent families and their effects on society...We are yet babes in the language. We learned how to say sister, sisters, father, fathers, brother, brothers, uncle, uncles, married, single, oldest, youngest, only child, and other such words. Then the teacher went around the room stressing people out by asking them simple questions like this, "Rami, do you have brothers or sisters?" "How many sisters do you have? How many brothers?" This is always an interesting moment in class- I take delicious pleasure in having seven siblings in a room full of two-sibling families. "Katie, how many brothers and sisters do you have?" "I have three brothers and four sisters." "Really! How many is that total?" "Eighty." Okay, okay, I don't really, but eight an eighty are almighty close in sound and syllable when you are nervous and speaking in another language. At least I provided entertainment for the rest of the class.

I was also provided with the opportunity I had been looking for recently. I couple classes ago I realized that my teacher labored under the impression that I was Jewish. It was a completely understandable impression, but I didn't want her to continue under it for long.

A week or so ago we were having a discussion about the Jewish holiday of Purim (celebration of the story of Esther). She went around asking the Jews in the room what they had done for the holiday celebrations. The usual activities are highly suspect in my book- getting very drunk and having loud parties. Not that I am against loud parties in general, but well, you know. Anyway, she asked me if I had danced during Purim. I suppose I could have come up with some smart response, or something goody-goody, or used the opportunity to say I wasn't Jewish, but none of these seemed right, so I just slunk down in my seat and said that no, I hadn't danced during Purim. Sigh.

So today, after our class discussion about families, we had to talk to our neighbor one-on-one some more. The teacher came to me and asked me if my family was religious. I quickly said that I wasn't Jewish, but Christian. She was surprised, but persisted, "Okay, but are you religious Christians? Because in modern times only religious families have such big families."
The word in Hebrew is dati, and is fraught with meaning. Dati applies in varying forms to the Ultra-Orthodox in Mea Shearim, to the American religious Jews, and to any Jew who takes his religion seriously. It is also a bad word to all the secular Jews who have been treated badly by dati Jews. "Religious" doesn't even really fit me in English! But how do I explain all this to my Hebrew teacher when I can't even remember how to say my numbers? "Well,..." I say slowly, "I guess so." and leave it at that. Again, sigh. Someday, in my dreams at least, I will be able to say that in Hebrew...

And by the way, I was beaten for the title of Biggest Family by one-the priest from Poland is one of nine children.

This is one of my favorite poems. The Hound of Heaven is also a favorite, but its a bit long to post here. And yes, I will probably post more personal things, but not right now- today I am off to explore St. Peter in Galicantu and don't have time to compose clever blogs.

Batter my heart, three-personed God; for, you
As yet but knock, breath, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I like an usurped town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue,
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy,
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthral me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
John Donne

Of Boosh and Backs

So, today I went to my Hebrew class again and sat in the front row (only because I was late) between a Jordainian Jew and a Polish priest. The Jew is probably 20 and quite a joker and the priest is very quite and polite. So on one side I have a boy chewing gum in my ear, throwing things across the room in into the trash can, doodling on the desks, and making jokes which I can't help laughing at, and on the other side I have a young man asking me serious questions in a polite voice and a very foreign accent. "How do you say back in Hebrew?" "What? Back?" I say in confusion- the exercise we are currently sweating over is all about big and small cakes and old ladies carrying small bags while big men carry big bags. Very exciting, but nothing to do with backs. The priest is chagrined but tries again- "Back, you know...." and he points to the illustration of the big men with big... backs!" Oh now I get it! "Bag!" Cheerfully he repeats the word after me in a forced American accent and we laugh.

Speaking of pronunciation- did you know that our President's last name isn't really Bush? It is Booosh (say that "u" as if you were oooohing over something). Very interesting.

I was going to run a spellcheck on this, but it seems to be having difficuties. Sorry. :-)