Where Everybody Knows Your Name: The M&M Gottlieb File

6 Tamuz 5780.

It’s been a while since I wrote anything for the “Where Everybody Knows Your Name” segment of my blog. COVID-19 has scared us out of nearly all dining away from home, which means there was a little money in the budget for a couple of adventures.

Also, in these economically-devastating times, if you’re going to spend your money at all, why not spend it to try to support the local small businesses of your choice? The team of Miriam and Marc Gottlieb does such remarkably fine work, we love to do business with them. Miriam crafts beautiful, light-and-color mosaic masterpieces. 

We have needed small tables for food and beverage, because replacing computers due to spillage is far outside our family budget. And Miriam communicates zealously to be sure that the finished product suits your individual tastes. The Dearly Beloved chose a guitar motif. He was happily surprised at how perfect and full of joyful color was the resulting work. I chose a colorful naïve-art house that looks like a place from which music and poetry might spring. Miriam is available at her Facebook page Mosaics by Miriam not only to create something you will love, but to teach classes in the art of making your own beautiful mosaics.

With so much time at home, learning a new art, especially along with family members, can add a lot of joy to the coming summer days.

Since the lads were all converging on us with their families for a pre-Shabbat birthday barbecue bash for two of the little girls, and it would be the first time we were seeing all of them together since Chanukah, we decided to give Marc the “gift” of allowing him to provide our Shabbat feast. And an elegant feast it was!

We had the Boeuf Bourguignon and the Magret d’Oie Fumée (my personal favorite). The Dearly Beloved really loved the beef, remarking several times that the dish was tender and flavorful, and that the mushrooms were absolutely delicious. I felt like royalty dining on the simultaneously rich and delicate goose breast, a treat I taste maybe twice every half-century. I always worry that breast meat will end up being dry; but this need not have concerned me. This dish was sublime. I’m not eating white potatoes these days, but the Dearly Beloved remarked, “Ah. This is exactly the way I like my potatoes!”

Speaking of royalty – the Duet de Tartinades is a dance on your taste-buds you must try at least once before you drop off the twig. Short of John Keats level poetry, I’m not sure I can give over to you how lovely this little duet was. “I feel like I could get used to being a rich person with a personal chef,” I remarked to the Dearly Beloved.  You never tasted chicken liver as refined as the Pâté de foie de poulet, graced with a not-overwhelming enhancement of wine. The Rillettes d’oie is perhaps the fanciest spread I have ever tasted, consisting of an awe-inspiring blend of bits of goose leg in oil and seasonings. It is so rich that I will be having a smidgen of it with my lunch for at least a week, reaching around to see where I left my queen’s crown every few moments.

We chose the Salade Grillée to accompany the mains. While among the dishes, this is the one I could have made myself, it was prepared perfectly, with finely grilled vegetables on a variety of fresh lettuces. We’re not usually dressing fans, but this one was perfectly balanced, worth throwing care to the winds and risking the extra calories.

There was no room for dessert, so we saved the very rich and tasty Tarte au Chocolat for Seudat Shlishit. The low-sugar recipe kept the chocolate cream from being cloyingly sweet. Rather, it was very satisfying to whatever sweet-tooth we still possess after years of dialing back our sugar addiction.

Marc is a culinary artist. Just as any musician or writer or painter crafts their work, Marc delights in making of food a thing of beauty and a joy forever. And when it’s in celebration of his birthday and of that of his favorite chef, Anthony Bourdain (may he rest in peace), he spares no artistic effort.

All I can say is that Tony would be proud.

To get your (delicious) meat-fix in before the Nine Days, check out Marc’s weekly S’wichboard menu for sumptuous and generous sandwiches. Not only is the meat (and vegetarian fare) varied and delicious, but the prices are extremely reasonable, and he delivers to Jerusalem and Gush Etzion. There’s even the added attraction of a “buy 9, the 10^th is free” membership card. B’teyavon!

Photos either my own or used with permission.

Israel: Where We All Have Something to Give

6 Adar I 5779.

There I was, enjoying my very rich and busy retirement – publishing books, babysitting delightful grandchildren, playing “Mrs. Coach” to an adult American football team, participating in classes in Torah, Hebrew, painting, yoga and music – when Andy Armon’s letter appeared in the Neve Daniel chat list. She was seeking volunteers for a new program to help young ladies at the Orot Etzion Girls’ School to improve their English conversation skills.

I am very shy where public speaking is concerned. I have never been trained as a teacher. I am only a “boy mom,” meaning I’m learning about dealing with the personalities of girls fairly late in life, through my granddaughters. And I’m happily busy, meaning I’m not looking for more to do.

But I like Andy, and I respect her efforts at helping the community. And a little tzedakah b’guf seemed like a good idea – and it happened that Thursday mornings were free. I couldn’t talk myself out of it.

I am so glad I couldn’t. I’m having the time of my life!

The program doesn’t require the structure that scares people away from “teaching.” It’s more like mentoring. I volunteer for two sessions: I work with one 5^th grade girl who has very good English that just needs a bit of polishing; and I have a group of six 6^th grade girls who have very little English but lots of enthusiasm. My job is to get them to speak English with increasing confidence. No one is expecting me to make them fluent. I just have to help them to get rid of the fear of looking foolish, and to simply be willing to try.

Much like what I went through in ulpan. In fact, my Hebrew ulpan experience helps me to understand and to help these girls. I know exactly what they are feeling. They listen to my poor Hebrew as I try to explain difficult concepts; and they are receptive to my lesson that just as they don’t laugh at me, I won’t laugh at them. Week by week, they are gaining courage, and even some proficiency. (They are very proud of knowing when to add “s” to the end of a verb, and when not to, something that often stumps even adults.)

We have fun together playing word games, singing songs, playing “grocery store,” reading easy stories. For this exercise, I am permitted by the program either to use the book provided, or to come up with my own plan. I’m rather proud of this: I have taken an easy Hebrew children’s book and translated it to English for them. First, we read the Hebrew version. It is full of moral lessons, and the girls happily debate where they stand on the issues. Then, we painstakingly make our way through the English version. As I remind them that they already understand the story, they gain faith in themselves, and struggle on. Last week, I said that I look forward to when we can debate this story in English. Unexpectedly, my initially most reticent student led a discussion in very simple English, wherein each girl stated her case! I am so proud of my girls!

After our classes (which are currently 30 minutes and 50 minutes in length), we volunteers meet, each week, to share concerns and ideas. I have gained so much wisdom from these fellow volunteers. Very often, next week’s plan starts with something learned during this meeting. Best of all, the girls, the English program teachers, and especially Andy and Yael Ben-Pazi, the principal, are so supportive of our efforts.

I love this program. It is very rewarding to give back to a community that patiently helps me with my Hebrew. It feels good to be respected for something that is part of the definition of who I am: an English-language-proficient Anglo with a lot to give the next generation in Israel.

Glossary - tzedakah b'guf: charity through deeds rather than money; ulpan: intensive Hebrew language class

Repaint Your Own Reality

Yom shlishi, 24 Adar I 5776/1 March 2016.

"I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality." ~ Frida Kahlo

I feel like a new bride, who just moved into her new apartment!

That's what a fresh paint job will do for your spirits.

We have loved this apartment for the last eight years. It has been our friend and haven. We have wonderful landlords, interesting and delightful neighbors, a loving and accepting rabbi and community. But while the landlords, friends, neighbors, rabbi and community are still fresh and exciting, the apartment walls were showing their age. I'm not going to show you before-and-after pictures, because it had gotten a bit embarrassing. This winter's mold had gotten ahead of my yearly efforts with economica. (You have to be healthy to wash a ceiling with bleach; and we feel like we've suffered the ten plagues this year, thanks to seven truly blessed months of our grandchildren living with us: colds, strep, flu, chicken pox -- you should never see a 21-year-old who's caught his tiny nephew's chicken pox -- bronchitis, a stomach bug, pneumonia...)

We called Moshe Aaron Swartz, our friend and neighbor and owner of Primary Painter Moshe, for an estimate. He came by with his stack of paint color cards, looked over our apartment, and gave his recommendations. He knew we would want easy-to-wash paint here, mold-retardant paint there... It was obvious from the beginning that Moshe cares very much about doing a great job, and about making sure that his clients' individual needs are satisfied. When we were finished with the plan, the Dearly Beloved and I were excited about the color choices, ideas, and even the price, which seemed very reasonable.

New paint. Fresh, new beginnings. Color-crayon marks surrounded by chocolate finger prints, teenager shmutz haloing bathroom light switches, the pencil growth chart on the kitchen wall -- all obscured by "What an Inspiration" turquoise and "Perfume Powder" soft yellow Meshi ("easy to clean") paint. Eight years of history, embalmed but not forgotten.

Eli Tryfus, Moshe Aaron Swartz, Yedidya Fisch, after a job well done.

Moshe assured us that we wouldn't need to move anything ourselves, save for computers, and that the entire operation could be completed in one day. We were a bit skeptical, because the Eastmans have collected a lot of stuff over the years. And yes, like most semi-neurotic housewives, I made sure that a lot of life's detritus was out of the way before the agreed-upon hour.

Moshe showed up with his two young Jewish assistants. (Much to our comfort, Moshe only hires Jewish workers.) These fine young men are trained in the art of wall and ceiling painting by Shmuel of Just Now Painters. I got a chance to speak with our two young painters. Yedidya Fisch will be drafting into Golani in March 2016, and has been working with Moshe since last summer. Eli Tryfus is the cousin of one of our Judean Rebels football players. He is studying in Tel Aviv in the field of computer networking. Eli had been working with Moshe's father for something less that three years, and started working with Moshe last July. Both men enjoy the work, and it showed. They were careful, polite, and very gracious about accommodating the customer when at one point I confused them about which paint went on which wall.

Moshe and his delightful bride Chani have lived in Neve Daniel since August of 2012. Their son
Eitan was born in January of this year. Moshe learned his art at his father's side. He worked for many years with his father before going out on his own, and still consults with his father on various jobs, painting techniques and paint types.

As the trio worked, Moshe explained the process. Certain paint types were employed for their mold-inhibiting properties. A couple of spaces were painted with a metal-flake undercoating, invisible to the eye, but a magical wonderland for grandchildren who can now stick magnets directly to walls.

Moshe enjoyed smearing barbecue sauce on one nice, clean, dry, wall and rubbing it in, to show how easily the Meshi cleans up with a little dish soap and water, and no scrubbing, and no loss of paint.

We were very pleased and impressed that the team cleaned up after the job so well, sweeping the floor and wiping up messes, and making sure that I was satisfied with the result.


Moshe stopped by with paint and brush a day later to check on the work, and to touch up a few spots.

"So, how do I clean up any little drops of paint I find?" I asked. They'd done an excellent job of cleaning up, but my practiced mommy eye had seen a speck of blue on the hall floor.

"Just use Scotch and a little dish soap," Moshe said.

I looked at him with a wild surmise. He'd mentioned dish soap several times -- but scotch? My! These South Africans are extravagantly elegant people!

He read my expression. "Not scotch," he said.

Ah. I seem to remember a scrubbing pad with the brand name "Scotch." Apparently, these South Africans use "Scotch" like we Americans use "Kleenex." Like I said. Extravagant.

When you are tired of your walls and want brand-new, fresh and elegant surroundings, call Moshe at 0545320024 for an estimate.

Oh, my stars!!! What a performance!

Yom shlishi, 24 Kislev 5775, Erev Hanukkah.

I recently learned an expression in Hebrew:
".רק משוגעים סופרים את הכוכבים" (Rak meshuga'im sofrim et hakochavim.)

Only madmen count the stars.

I love this expression. Probably because it sounds beautiful in Hebrew. And because I think it would make a great title for a book. And perhaps because it makes me think of my dear "father," Avraham Avinu -- surely not a madman -- who was told by God that his children would be more numerous than the stars. The very idea to the childless prophet must have been perplexing and exhilarating. I know that when the part of this awe-inspiring character is played very well, I am transported to another dimension of possibilities. Care to be transported? Time to see Count the Stars!

Photo credit: Rebecca Flash Kowalsky

The Raise Your Spirits acting troupe has never disappointed me. This talented local group, based in Gush Etzion, gives me so much personal pride. These are my friends and neighbors, teachers and fellow writers. Some I know to be very shy people off-stage -- but when they are onstage, they blossom to life, as if there were something about those colored lights that enhances the flower inside each woman's soul. I have been blessed to see six of their eight productions. Count the Stars: The Journey of Avraham and Sara, is an original musical written by Sharon Katz and Avital Macales, with able musical and choral arrangement by Amit Ben Atar and Gayle Berman, respectively. The play is directed by Toby Klein Greenwald, and choreographed by Sara Orenstein.

Whether Avital Macales is playing a Jackie-Kennedy-esque Queen Esther or a spiritually connected Avraham Avinu, I believe her absolutely. She totally becomes her character. Her vocal command and range have always held me in thrall.

Photo credit: Natan Epstein

And who knew that my fellow blogger (Ima 2 Eight) and neighbor, Rachel Moore, also has such a believable stage presence, and such a wonderful voice?! Her Sarah complemented Avital's Avraham so completely, I felt myself crying with them over their childlessness, and laughing joyfully with them when the promise was finally fulfilled. It didn't matter that I know how the story comes out. Their heartfelt singing and acting made it real and fresh for me.

A real surprise was Chana Singer as Lot. I had fun with her, because even at intermission and immediately after the play, she stayed in character, sparkling with the fun of "being Lot." It was easy to believe she was a young prince of a famous desert family. This is her first performance with Raise Your Spirits, and I anticipate seeing her with the troupe in the future. She also created the poetically-drawn logo for the Count the Stars poster and tee shirt.

L-R: Eliezer, Lot, Sarai, Avram

Photo credit: Bati Katz

Some of the hallmarks of Raise Your Spirits productions are the graceful blend of pathos and humor, and of impossible but totally fun time warps. The irrepressible Sharon Katz as Avraham's servant Eliezer leads the talented pack in just the right amount of comic relief throughout the suspense and drama of the play.

Egyptian border guards take custody of Sarai

As our hearts are gripped by the fear the caftan-clad Israelites feel during desert famine, we are shifted to a comical scene of Western US sheriffs (complete with swaggers and cowboy hats and Texas accents) who crack us up as their Egyptian border guards spirit off Sarai to Pharoah.

The "Mesopotamian Idol" live TV show!

 The show is kicked off with a game show atmosphere that involves the play's audience in a typically silly game show audience warm-up... and later in the play, we are brought to hushed and emotional tension as Avraham bargains very believably and very humbly with Hashem over the lives of the people of Sdom.

How I wish I could tell you about the individual performances of each of these talented women and girls! There is so much to praise -- the direction, musical arrangement, dance choreography, costuming and makeup -- and so many individuals worthy of mention... Rather than risking leaving out a friend's name or failing to mention a particular person, I'll take the chicken's way out, and tell you that there was not a person on stage who let the audience down. All of these very talented ladies, young and older, worked together to make our spirits soar.

If you -- ladies only, of course -- have yet to treat yourself to a Raise Your Spirits production, I welcome you to make this the one. You deserve a special night out -- and the price of the ticket goes toward the very worthy cause of raising the spirits not only of those who have suffered from terrorist attacks, but for all of us -- in the audience and on the stage -- who need to focus on the joy of being part of Jewish history rather than on the headlines, if even for a short time.

Go to the website -- Raise Your Spirits -- to look into upcoming performances, and to buy tickets.

You can count on it: your evening or afternoon with these stars will be time well spent.

All photos not otherwise credited by Debra and Orlee Kodish.

Play synopsis (from the site):

A world of idol worship, cruelty, human sacrifice. A world of falsity and frightening superstition. A world saved by the goodness and beliefs of one man – Avraham.

Together with his life’s partner, Sara, Avraham introduced thoughts that shook the foundation of mankind – only One G-d ruled the universe, and He desired a world of goodness.

Ridiculed and threatened by those around them, Avraham and Sara never stopped providing the example of kindness, caring for others, hospitality and gratitude to the Creator.

The reward for their valiant willingness to go against the crowd in order to live lives of holiness – a son, Yitzchak, who would carry on the family’s tradition of loving-kindness; descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky; and a country, Eretz Yisrael, from which a future people will grow and serve as a Light Unto the Nations of the world.

In today’s turbulent times, we find strength and guidance from Avraham and Sara, as their lives give us the spiritual DNA we need to confront the trials of life and soar like stars to the heavens.

Our Mother Rachel Weeps: Bring My Children Home

Yom chamishi, 21 Sivan 5774. The end of Day 6.

The mothers of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali 

I'm listening to Ruchama Raz in the background. Her sweet voice connects me with something old in me, before my birth, that itself is connected to this Land. I'm listening to this because my husband has told me to stop listening to the news so much. (I joke with him that one of the signs of an Israeli is news addiction. So I'm a real Israeli now.)

Stunt Man comes in with a tub of kruv adom (red cabbage salad). Towering over me, he asks with absolute trust in my kitchen wisdom: "Ema, could you smell this or taste this, if you don't mind, and tell me if it seems okay to you? It smells okay to me; but I'm not sure." Dutifully I smell. Taste. "It's fine to me. I wouldn't have any problem eating it." Except for the calories I can't afford, I don't say. He takes his tall, handsome frame out the door, after giving me that gently grateful smile... full of trust.

And I get tears in my eyes, thinking of three mothers, wishing with all their hearts they could say "Yes, you can eat that." or "No, that's not good for you. Throw it out."...

אנגן שיריך... I will sing poems...

And then Sports Guy comes in. "Can you wake me up at eight tomorrow?" "You don't really need it anymore," I chide him, gently, gently, loving my "job" of being his back-up alarm. "It's okay. If you don't want to, I..." "No. It's okay. I don't mind. Just letting you know that I notice you've been getting yourself up lately." To lay tefillin and daven, sometimes in his room, before he goes back to sleep before work. Before he leaves in his olive drab uniform.

And I get tears in my eyes, thinking of young soldiers, searching for boys only slightly younger than themselves, and their mothers who send them out the door, with kisses and prayers...

 בארץ אהבתי... in the land I love...

Yeshiva Bochur drops by with laundry. "Do you mind if we come by for Shabbat dinner, Ema? It will be good to have all of the brothers home together..." All the brothers. And yes, I'll change the laundry, and hang the things that shouldn't be put in the dryer.

And I get tears in my eyes, hoping the boys -- all the brothers -- will be home for Shabbat dinner...

היו לילות, אני אותם זוכרת... There were nights, I remember them...

Soldier Boy calls me from the States, so very anxious to get back to this family, to his dear brothers, to this crazy land... He sings a song of love in his sweet, strong voice. He always makes me cry, even when there is nothing about which to cry. And I think of all the mothers who want to see their sons in the same room with them, to hear them laugh and sing, to hold them close...

And I get tears in my eyes, thinking of the prayers set to song, saying them fervently, for each and every boy and mother and every brother...

היה לי חבר היה לי אח... Be for me a friend, Be for me a brother...

Please God, bring them home. And don't let me take for granted a single day with these brothers.

I light a candle at precisely 20:30 with other mothers in Israel, praying that Hashem will rescue these boys in the merit of our Mama Rachel, and all her tears for her dear children... And then I tune back in, hoping for good news before another night of fitful sleep...

May we all share laughter and hugs and the wholeness of life and family, very, very soon.

איל בן איריס תשורה
גילעד מיכאל בן בת גלים
יעקב נפתלי בן רחל דבורה

Eyal, son of Iris Tasura
Gil-ad, son of Bat Galim
Yaacov Naftali, son of Rachel Devorah

When Will We Have Made Enough Concessions to Appease Our Supporters?

Yom rishon, 17 Sivan 5774.

Last Thursday night, three yeshiva boys were kidnapped.

Without the swearing and vitriol that this topic usually seems to arouse, I would like to hear a reasoned discussion on the possible scenarios.

There are (at least) two different opinions among those who claim to support Israel.

On one side of the discussion are those who, for religious or nationalistic reasons, believe that Jews are entitled to land beyond the so-called Green Line, that we have a right to populate and rule over the region called variously the West Bank, Yehuda and Shomron, or Judea and Samaria. On the other side of the discussion are those who, for reasons of the pursuit of human rights or merely for peace and quiet, believe that Jews have no business occupying the land beyond the Green Line, that this land rightfully belongs to the Palestinians. For the sake of this discussion, I won't present all of the arguments of each side, about which much has been written extensively already.

In 2005, the Israeli government attempted the experiment of removing Jews from Gaza. For years, no Jews were there (except for Gilad Shalit). It is true that Gaza was not left unmolested -- but only as a response to attacks on Israel emanating from Gaza. This did not bring an increase in peace. Those on one side of the argument saw this as proof that moving Jews out of the area was a mistake, only allowing for another (and nearer) launching pad for terrorism. Those on the other side believe that it was not enough, and that the terrorism will stop when Israel withdraws from all of the land the Palestinians claim.

For the sake of this discussion, I won't deal with the chimera of settlement construction, as it is only a stepping stone. Why does settlement construction matter? As has been proved many times, it is not about building new settlements in areas currently occupied by Palestinians. In most if not all cases, the construction is happening in existing Israeli communities. Settlement construction is offensive to one side of the argument because it indicates that Israelis are planning to stay on land the other side covets. So let's cut to the chase.

If I and my neighbors in Judea and Samaria left our homes and moved into other parts of Israel, would the attacks stop? If they did, if there were peace, I guess we would have to concede that the other side of the argument was correct -- that at least for the purposes of peaceful coexistence, moving out of these areas and leaving them to the Palestinians was the necessary approach. But if peace didn't ensue -- if instead attacks now moved into Haifa and Tel Aviv and other areas that (so far) many of Israel's supporters (within Israel and without) believe Israelis are entitled to inhabit -- would the other side begin to believe that perhaps the Arabs do not want peace at all, but merely an absence of Israelis, and specifically Jews?

Or would that side merely suggest that it is fine and understandable for the Arabs to still be attacking, because Israel waited too long to pull out, or because Israel isn't doing enough to support the new Palestinian state surrounding her, or because the Arabs have a legitimate right to further chunks of Israel?

When will it finally be enough? Is there any way to prove to those on the other side of the argument, to our friends outside of Israel and inside her (accepted) borders, that Hamas and Fatah and Hizbollah and indeed the Palestinian and greater Arab world have no intention of making peace with even a sliver of Israel?

Please pray for the safe and speedy return to their families the following young men: Eyal ben Iris Teshura (age 19); Gilad Michael ben Bat Galim (age 16); Yaacov Naftali ben Rachel (age 16, and a US citizen).

איל בן איריס תשורה
גילעד מיכאל בן בת גלים
יעקב נפתלי בן רחל דבורה

Dames of the World: Unite, and DANCE!

Yom revi'i, 25 Shevat 5774.

I live in a remarkable part of the world, in a remarkable country, in a remarkable community, surrounded by remarkable women. And some of the most fun I've had with these dedicated, generous (in time and money), totally joy-filled and life-embracing women has been around a wonderful project called "Dames of the Dance."

To quote my friend Varda Epstein, who wrote about Dames of the Dance for the Times of Israel last year, "Dames of the Dance was born in 2007, as a remedy to local poverty. As Sharon Katz, founder ... and producer of Dames put it, 'We give women a safe environment in which they can try their wings, expand their creativity and express themselves freely.'

"Katz had learned that contrary to the stereotyped image of Efrat and Gush Etzion as wealthy communities, there were some 360 resident families living below the poverty line. It was unacceptable to Sharon that people in her neighborhood would go without while she did nothing. She thought about all the talented women in her regular dance class and knew that her 'sistahs' would be glad for the chance to do a good deed."

Dames of the Dance programs are always entertaining and lively, with varied styles of dance, beautifully choreographed and danced by talented women and girls of all ages. The emcees balance humor gracefully with message. I have rarely missed the yearly adventure, as it is a highlight of my year -- and I look forward to seeing dear friends on stage, and in attendance.

Here's the info on "DAMES of the DANCE 7 - CELEBRATION", an evening dedicated to TZEDAKAH and filled with fantastic dance troupes. See you there!

** Tickets - http://tinyurl.com/buyDames7Tickets 
Checks should be made out to the Gush Etzion Foundation

** Thursday, February 27, 27 Adar A, 8:15 PM, Matnas Gush Etzion
** Monday, March 3, 1 Adar B, MATINEE, 5:00 PM, Matnas Efrat
** Thursday, March 6, 4 Adar B, 8:15 PM, Matnas Gush Etzion

** For fun, here's a DAMES parody I think you will enjoy. Dames of the world -- UNITE and DANCE!

Voting, Springtime, New Beginnings

Yom revi'i, 22 Shevat 5772.

Yesterday was voting day in the Gush.  (Finally!)

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign...

Several of us who live on this street thought it was a celebration about us!

We've behaved better.  We will again.  Fortunately, those who spoke out against the questionable election behavior outnumbered those who participated.

(It was also Valentine's Day, in case you thought we didn't observe the "really important" holidays.)

The morning after.  Nice cleanup, guys!  Thank you!

Looks just like my street again.

The bottom line is that the post has been filled, presumably by someone who will try his best to build and maintain unity among his supporters and his opponents.  May Hashem bless him and us with success in the things that truly matter.

As more than one writer pointed out, it is important to take advantage of the privilege to vote afforded in the only true democracy in the Middle East.

Sports Guy's voter's card

Our 17-year-old Sports Guy voted:  something he would have had to wait another year for in America.  His father and I are proud of him.

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@

We don't need the groundhog in Israel.  We have the almond blossom.  The weather man says we should expect cold and even snow over Shabbat -- so I thought I'd better capture the springtime to gaze at when the temperatures drop.

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@

There's a new kid on the block in Israeli journalism, brought to you by an old favorite of mine -- David Horovitz -- who recently retired from his position at the Jerusalem Post.  David is much more middle-of-the-road than I am; but he has always seemed reasoned and fair.  Please give his new publication, The Times of Israel, a place among your sources on the Israel news scene.  My bracha for the fledgling venture:  "May your entire staff be blessed with clarity, with wisdom, and with much success in meeting your noble goals. May The Times of Israel be a light unto the journalists of the nations."

Here's hoping for good news through the month of Shevat!

A Food Network star, just waiting to be discovered

Yom chamishi, 26 Tamuz 5771.

I finally had the privilege of meeting Miryummy at a recent food-bloggers event here in Gush Etzion.  How does a non-food-blogger get invited to a gig like this, you may ask?  Protexia, my friend.  Vitamin P.  The most important tool for survival in Israel.  (Write that down.  There will be a quiz later.)  Stay tuned for more about this delightful event, after I finish looking over the notes of the real food bloggers.

Miryummy and I "met" some time ago in Cyberspace, and enjoyed each other's stories and writing styles.  As much as I enjoyed the event, meeting my "old friend" was one of my favorite parts.  Please let me share her, the very interesting story of who she is, and her wonderful blog with you.

Introduce yourself.  Who are you, what are you, why are you?

I don't know who I was when I was born, but one cold November afternoon in Mount Sinai Hospital on Fifth Avenue I was given to my parents, childless Holocaust survivors.  My father had lost his children to the Final Solution, my mother had her childbearing opportunities literally ripped from her, and on that day I became Mirjam, pronounced MirYAM.  My father called me Miroosh, my mother called me Miraleh.  My friends' nickname for me is Mirj (merge) and my husband, when he's not busy calling me "My sweet, my love, my cherub," calls me Miriyummy.  I am a second generation Holocaust survivor who has been put on this world to boost my husband's ego, to embarrass my children and to make people feel good by feeding them.

Where do you live, and why?  

I live in Ra'anana, a city that claims (probably rightly so) to have the highest quality of life in Israel.  I don't live here by choice.  My choice would be to live somewhere in the area of Jerusalem, enjoying dry summer days and brisk summer nights.  Instead, I live in the sauna that is Ra'anana because that is where my husband lives.  He lived in Ra'anana and I lived in Givat Ze'ev, one of those mountaintop settlements surrounding Jerusalem.  He couldn't move to my mountain, so I moved to his sauna.

What is your family like?

We're a blended family.  My husband has 4 children, I have 4 children.  Ever see The Brady Bunch?  We're nothing like that.  I have a blog called Miriyummy (www.miriyummy.wordpress.com) where I discuss the family, and even have a page that explains the entire tribe, my own Guide to the Perplexed (http://miriyummy.wordpress.com/about/).

What is your relationship with food?  Do you like to cook?

I have a love/love relationship with food.  My mother taught me that cooking and eating (and feeding) is an enjoyable experience.  I love to cook, it relaxes me, makes me feel creative.  The only time I don't enjoy it is when I'm rushed, usually on Friday afternoon right before Shabbat.  I do not do well in Headless Chicken mode. 

Miriyummy in headless chicken mode?

What is your first food-related memory?

My first memories are an amalgam of smells and sounds coming from the kitchen where I played while my mother cooked.  I remember lying over coloring books on the kitchen floor listening to an accompaniment of my mother chopping liver in a wooden bowl while the aroma of shmaltz rendering on the stove filled the air.

How would you describe yourself in the kitchen?  As a hostess?

My mother had two descriptions for me as a cook.  She always marveled at the fact that I am a fast cook.  I move about the kitchen quickly, close to the speed of light, rummaging in my spice drawer one moment, rinsing some tomatoes an instant later, grabbing eggs out of the refrigerator so quickly I drop one and the dog gets a treat as he licks up the yolk from the floor.  The other way my mother described how I cook is that I cook for the six million.  If there are ten of us sitting down to dinner I will cook enough for 24.  This drives my husband insane.  He's a wonderful cook in his own right, but he prides himself on cooking enough for everyone, and just enough.  My cooking for the masses spills over into my hostessing, I love to entertain, love to have people sitting around my table rolling their eyes in ecstacy (or sarcasm) over my food.  I would rather inundate you, stuff you, overwhelm you with food than leave you wanting more.  This is something I inherited from my mother.  In the Holocaust she had to do without, so she made sure that we never had the chance to be hungry, ever.

What is your favorite comfort food and why?

Macaroni and cheese, in all its permutations.  I love the Eastern European flat egg noodles with cottage cheese and sugar and cinnamon just as much as I love the elbow macaroni smothered in a cheddar cheese sauce.  Why?  Carbs, cheese, gooeyness, all the ingredients to make me feel good (at least for the moment).

Desert island picks, name three foods you could not live without:

Coffee, chocolate and sushi, my drugs of choice. [Oh, I can't wait to make sushi for/with you, Mirj!]

Now I know how to lure you here for a visit!  (Besides:  dry mountain air, no humidity, cool breezes from the Med...)

Is there any food you hate?  Why?

I hate, despise and loathe passion fruit.  [One of my favorite fruits, and absolutely my favorite flower.]  As far as I'm concerned it looks, smells and tastes like alien vomit.  Don't ask me how I know what alien vomit tastes like.  [Ooo-KAAAAY.  Guess we won't be serving my favorite fruit.  Fine.  Thanks for sharing.]

What is your favorite Miriyummy post and why?

My all-time favorite (so far) is I Am Not Everybody (http://miriyummy.wordpress.com/2010/05/09/i-am-not-everybody/).  [I love this post.]  I may not be the genetic production of my parents, but I am who they made me.  A close second is Barge Pole (http://miriyummy.wordpress.com/2010/07/14/barge-pole/).  My motto in life is Man plans, God laughs, and that post shows just how much this philosphy follows me throughout life.

Do you have a food-related story you would like to share?

I have so many of these stories that I started blogging them in Miriyummy (http://miriyummy.wordpress.com/).  Little did my husband know that when he gave me my nickname it was going to brand me.

Recommendation:  When you want a recipe, check Miriyummy before you go to Google.  You'll get more than a recipe.  You'll get a story, a slice of life, a laugh or a good cry.  And you just may make a friend.

G-d chooses the time and place.

Yom rishon, 10 Sivan 5771.

We think we make our own decisions.  My suspicion is that -- at best -- we get to help.  But many of our most crucial decisions are made for us by Hashem.

Ask any ger (convert to Judaism).  Everyone has a fascinating story about how and why he became Jewish.  But to a person, each one I have met and listened to has shared that he or she didn't so much choose as was chosen.

So it was for our aliyah.

I had fallen in love with Israel the first time my husband brought me for a visit in 1991.  But it would be 16 years before my dream would become our life.

After years of visiting for a few weeks each year, due to a job with a remarkable employer, I found myself literally lovesick over this country.  But there were very logical arguments against making the move.  (Even today, as anxious as I am for all Jews to "come Home," my experience keeps me sympathetic to the very individual hurdles there are to overcome before one makes that final leap of faith.)

My boss allowed me an end-of-year bonus of a ticket to Israel for myself and one child each year.  It was a great way to reconnect with Israel, to spend time with a child, and even to brainwash him just a little to my way of thinking.  ("Yes, son, the most beautiful girls in the world do live in Israel."  The Talmud promotes bribery in a good cause.  A mother has to know her audience.)

In 5765 (early 2005), my bonus was so large, I was able to take the younger two boys and the Dearly Beloved to Israel for a couple of weeks.  I had been telling my husband that we had reached a critical stage in my continued emotional health: we needed to finally make up our minds.  I couldn't keep the dream alive anymore: I was going to need to put down real roots in one country or the other.

Before we left, I had a little chat with the Creator of the Universe.  "Tatte B'Shemayim," I said, hoping to remind The All Powerful of our Father/daughter relationship, "I accept Your will.  Whatever You want for my dear husband to choose, please help him to choose once and for all."

The day before our flight, I checked the weather report.  We were planning to visit our Soldier Boy at his mechina in the Golan Heights.  The weather report promised that it would be cold, rainy and muddy.  Smiling resignedly Heavenward, I said (and meant), "Hashem, if You have decided to use really lousy weather to convince my Dearly Beloved to choose America as our home, I accept Your decision.  Just help him to choose, please."

From the time we landed in Israel, everyone who met us thanked us for bringing the unseasonably beautiful weather.  The air was fresh and clean as only mountain air can be.  The calanit was in bloom, dotting the green fields and purple hills with electric bursts of red.  There were other flora and fauna caressing the landscape, as if Israel wanted to show herself at her best.

The yishuv of Avnei Eitan went out of its way to make us welcome.  They offered us a luxury mountain cabin free of charge for the three days we were there.  And Soldier Boy -- though only 17 at the time -- exhibited grown-up genius by offering to take his brothers Stunt Man and Sports Guy to live in his dorm for the duration.  So they got the thrill of sleeping on mats on the floor amid dirty socks and underwear and pizza boxes, a kind of boy-heaven, and we got a second honeymoon.

The guys dropped by for meals, but otherwise enjoyed more freedom than we could ever give them in Baltimore.  (All part of my evil plan.)  I enjoyed watching my men toss the football around on great open fields, with no worry of hurling the pigskin through some apartment window.  The Dearly Beloved and I had time to think and plan and to fall in love yet again.  Most important of all:  my guys fell in love with Israel in general, and the Golan in particular.  We knew where we were going to live.  And we knew it was going to be very soon.  We were "ish echad b'lev echad" -- one person with one heart.

("Thank you, Ribono Shel Olam!"  I said it many times during that trip, and many times since then.  How often do we truly get to feel that Our Father in Heaven is holding us in the palm of His hand???)

When we came to Israel on our pilot trip the following year with Tehilla, we visited something like 23 communities in less than two weeks.  But we only paid cursory attention, enjoying the tour and the company of Israeli wannabe friends, because we knew where we were going to live.

Of course, man plans and G-d laughs, as the expression goes.

Just before our actual aliyah, we heard about a teenager ulpan  -- the only one dedicated to teen olim in the country -- located in Baka, a section of Jerusalem.  My husband and I grew up in small towns in America; and the idea of taking our boisterous, loud, gigantic boys to live in the wondrous albeit crowded Holy City seemed a bit overwhelming.  I wrote to everyone I knew or vaguely knew, saying that we would like to spend the first few months near but not in Jerusalem, and did anyone have ideas or suggestions?

Gush Etzion lit up like a neon sign in Times Square.  Friends and people we barely knew offered connections, offered to take photos of apartments, offered advice...

Throughout our career as Jews, we have learned one thing very clearly.  If one listens very closely, not to his own desires and plans, but to the messages that seem to be coming from Hashem, one reaps great rewards.  There is a saying:  If you are very happy in a place in Eretz Yisrael, it is because when Avraham Avinu walked the Land, he met your neshama there.

We never made it to the Golan, except for the occasional memorable visit.  We are too happy in Neve Daniel to ever leave -- unless Hashem needs us somewhere else in Israel.  And having lived this way for so many years, we trust His judgment, and will listen to His messages.

Thank You, Hashem, and a special thank you to all of Your emissaries and messengers who have helped us to make our Home in Holy Israel.

Glossary:
Aliyah: Jewish immigration to Israel
Tatte B'Shemayim, Ribono Shel Olam, Hashem: names for G-d
Mechina: Jewish army preparatory school
Calanit: anemone flower
Yishuv: community
Ulpan: Hebrew-language learning program
Olim: Jewish immigrants to Israel
Avraham Avinu: Abraham our father
Neshama: soul

LOCAL x-rays can be a reality.

Yom rishon, 3 Sivan 5771.

This is a PSA for folks in the Gush; but anyone anywhere in the world who wants to donate to the cause is more than welcome to participate!

Are you tired of shlepping to Jerusalem every time you or a family member needs an x-ray?  Very soon you'll be able to have them taken right here in the Gush.  But a little help is needed to make this a reality.

If you've spent any time outside the yishuv lately, you may have seen a friend of ours riding around the Gush on a red Vespa.  His name is David Bogner, and he actually rides from Efrat to Beer Sheva and back every day on his scooter.

To mark his 50th birthday (this month), David has decided to take a 1,000 mile (approx. 1,600 km) ride around our beautiful country on his Vespa.   He's calling it the "Midsummer Night's Dream Ride," and he is inviting residents of the Gush to sponsor the ride to the benefit of the Efrat Emergency Medical Center's nearly completed Radiology Suite.

All of us stand to benefit from being able to get X-rays taken locally; but there is only a short time left to participate.

So we're writing to ask you to sponsor the "Dream Ride" and the Radiology Center.  If enough of us make really modest donations, this project can be up and running in a matter of days.
You can read more about the ride on David's blog (http://www.treppenwitz.com/2011/05/a-midsummer-nights-dream-ride.html) or go directly to the EEMC site (http://efratemergencymedical.org/mndr.html) and click on one of the yellow "Dream Ride" buttons to submit your donation through their secure server.

Our kids, who maim themselves routinely (puh-puh-puh), thank you for participating in this important project!

Dear Bogner:  The Major says to watch out for rocks, and to remember to wear your Air Defense Equipment, aka "helmet."  Ruti just reminds you to drink lots of water.  Pit stops aren't just for tires.  Happy birthday.  You're almost an adult.