I Hate Everything About You

Stupid stupid STUPID Sharks. How does this keep happening, year after year? I love you, I hate you, I love you again, but right now, with 10 minutes left in the 3rd, I want to throw your favorite sweater out the window of the car doing 80 down the freeway and secretly brush the dog's teeth with your toothbrush. You'll never know.

Body Movin'

If I were you, I would cash in my 401K, pull everything out of my kid's college savings account, sell my stock and invest pillows. Seriously. Because somebody, somewhere, like someone with the kind of power to decide that Toms are INCREDIBLY FASHIONABLE, like the guy who invented fro yo, someone like that has decreed that pillows are the new black. And I have been checking in fabric and placing patterns like *nobody's* business. I have been on my feet, measuring, cutting, and measuring again non. freaking. stop. and I don't see this trend slowing down. Mind you, I'm not complaining. If you'd looked me in the eye 15 years ago and told me that one day, I'd be making beautiful custom pillows for a living, I would have done the following:

1. A spit take.
2. Laughed at such a preposterous idea.
3. Spent the next 15 years wishing that I made beautiful custom pillows for a living.

So like I said, not complaining. Just severely taken aback by the thought that one little custom upholstery shop can get SO MANY PILLOW ORDERS. And when the fabric is cut and I've handed off to our (thankfully) speedy seamstress, I might dare to venture over to the computer to rest my weary feet and sit down and check the email and...more pillows. Pricing requests. Yardage requests. Many, many requests.

I'm glad that I have sparkly red shoe laces. I feel like they give me extra power to be on my feet.

Tomorrow, 32 pillows are being delivered so that I can cut new cases for them. 14 more new pillows need to be cut in the next week and a half. Every day, 3-7 new rolls of fabric arrive for additional pillow orders. I THINK MAYBE I SHOULD GET NEW SPARKLY RED SHOE LACES.

My List

I'm not sure what I did to make the list, but I'm guessing it has something to do with when the kiddo walked up to me in his pajamas the other morning and asked if I had $50. It went something like this:

"Mommy, do you have $50?"
"Nope."
"Well, how much money do you have?"
"In my wallet? Maybe 7 bucks and change."
"But how much in the whole world do you have? Like all of it."
"Somewhere around $32."
"Even in your bank? That's it?"
"Yup."
"Huh."

I'm not sure which list I made, but I'm guessing it's either the List Of People Who Can't Loan Me Money or the List Of People Who Lie Rather Than Trying To Explain Finacial Ownership To Their Six Year Old While Drinking Coffee On Saturday Morning.

This Place

I'll start with an apology to all the parents of young kids who live in SF, as I'm sure I will offend you. Please note that this is not my intention.

San Francisco is not a kid-friendly place. I'm trying to say this as diplomatically as I can, but it's not designed as a place for young kids to live. It's great for lots of other things:

--dogs
--20- and 30-somethings with lots of free time (obviously not parents)
--ironic clothes

Of course, I miss it dearly and I'm still bummed that we were outbid on EVERY. SINGLE. HOME. that we put offers out for in 2008 (yes, with our baby). But the comfort and lack of homeless folks in the suburbs, not to mention the copious amounts of parking, have made me grow soft and pasty. And I suppose these thoughts are exclusive to the areas we could afford when we tried to become homeowners here.

Please commence with the angry comments and feel free to shun me for retreating back to the safety of the 'burbs.

Make Some Noise

Nail gun + air compressor + sewing machine + phone ringing + electronic rotary cutter whirring + customers whining = head pounding. The cure? One giant hug from six years of awesome.

Carry On

Back at work and busy as ever. School is back in session tomorrow. Fully caught up on Game of Thrones. Expecting house guests in one month and have signed the boy up for summer camp. Dishes, clothing donations, wall decorations, school lunches, paying bills, making dentist appointments and never-ending piles of laundry to fold...

...and one week ago I had my toes in the warm waves of the Mediterranean Sea. It's great to be home, but hard to get back to where I need to be. That is to say, on a schedule that doesn't include time for hours of bird watching on a rooftop garden. I finally got close to this couple, close enough to snap this:

I miss them. Sigh.

Tongue Tied

WARNING: this post will blow. your. mind. No joke.

The kiddo has a new favorite activity. It does not included the military or weapons in any way. It does not involve kittens, nor does it require any adults to sit on the floor or on their knees. It doesn't cost anything, and it cannot be categorized as "screen time."

My six-year old boy loves to do the dishes. I will pause here so you can pick your jaw up off the floor and rub your eyes in disbelief. Go ahead. I'll wait.

It's true! All of a sudden, he loves to clear the table and put dishes in the sink, load the dishwasher, and hand wash the pots and pans and other items that are dishwasher unfriendly. I have no idea what happened to bring on this huge shift in helpfulness, but it doesn't end there. He's been putting his Legos away without being asked screamed at.

I don't know what to say, other than good lord I hope I'm not jinxing it by posting about it on the blog. 

Jet

OK, can someone please tell my husband and kid that it is no longer necessary to wake up at 3 am? Jet lag is one thing, but this is ridiculous. I don't mind the whole the wonky-eyed, 3 hour afternoon nap part of it for the boy (remember nap time? those were the good old days), but the part where Max falls dead asleep by 9 makes it very hard for us to watch the first two episodes of Game of Thrones that aired while we were in Israel. UN. FAIR.

When The Lights Go Down In The City

After 15 hours in the air, we are home and fighting jet lag...two of us have already given in, but I'm trying my hardest to stay awake for the whole Sharks game. We left Tel Aviv at 7:30 am, left London at 2:30 pm, and were back in the bay at 6 pm. That means there was daylight the whole trip so it was really hard to convince the kid that he was, indeed, tired. Thankfully, he couldn't fight off his heavy eyelids for too long, but he definitely got his fill of Banana Kong in the meantime.

Ain't This A Wonderful Day

Yesterday was our field trip day, and we made the most of it. We started with sightseeing and a hike had at one of Israel's national parks followed by lunch in a Drooze village then a wonderful afternoon at the kibbutz where my sislaw's boyfriend grew up. It was an amazing day with at least three of my favorite things:

--road trips
--gas station snacks
--a fez

The kibbutz was a big hit, with lots of sheep, goats, peacocks and more. Behold:

Max taking it all in.

I'm not sure what these were, but they really liked bread. 

Peacocks everywhere!

I don't know if this was a joke or not, but I thought it was pretty funny. 

Goofy kibbutz selfie. 

We're getting ready to head home tomorrow, which is, of course, bittersweet. This has been one of our best trips to Israel, and we are sad to have to say goodbye to family and friends (for now). But I for one am anxious to get back to our home and our our own animal friends...and to sort throught the 1,600+ photos I took. Yikes. 

Damn Good Times

We saw more than buildings and buildings and BUILDINGS full of guns and ammo at the IDF Museum while in Yaffo the other day. The Old Yaffo train station is a lot like the Ferry Building in my beloved San Francisco; delightfully charming and packed with wonderful shops, yummies and designers--not to mention a goat statue or two.

Outside of the Made in Tel Aviv shop.

We strolled along the seaside while brides had photo shoots and surfers bobbed around in the water. Samson and his cousin ran around battling imagined crusaders and continued their six-year dialogue in different languages, only rarely getting frustrated that the other had no idea what the one was saying. 

The food. THE FOOD. For the love of all things holy, the food in Israel is unreal. Sure it helps when you lock your low-carb ways in one of the long term storage lockers at SFO at your departure, but I still have to say it: Israelis have little bowls of table salads down to a science.

Cauliflower, pickled carrots, beets, cabbages, hummus, all the eggplants a person could ever dream of!

Take your fluffy as a cloud pita, stick into any of the dozens of bowls in front of you and sample your way into a tahini and sumak tinged coma from which you can only be awakened by one thing: gelato. 

Some flavors are even available without processed sugar! What the what?

So obviously, we're having a crazy awesome time here, as per usual. The food, the family, the friends--all are amazing and make for an incredible vacation. 

Eat It

In response to requests for more pictures of the UH-MAYZ-ING food here in the holy land, I took a few snapps of today's stroll down to the main drag for--what else?--beer and falafel. The food is, indeed, UH-MAYZ-ING here and I've always been impressed with the variation and sheer abundance of awesome restaurants in Israel. Steaks and kebabs, pavlova gelato, delicately flavored waters of mint and lemon...not to mention the insane cheeses. Seriously, I cannot even begin to describe the dairy here. It's unlike anything I ever experienced anywhere, if you'll excuse the superlatives

War

Huh! Good god, y'all! What is it good for? Fashion, apparently! This was *by far* my favorite part of the IDF Museum yesterday.

Picture Book

A Wednesday afternoon in Tel Aviv.

Hella good!

Love my sislaw.

Drinking shots of arak with the  bartender.

Wait And See

Some of the parrots I was blogging about last night joined us on the roof this morning for breakfast! This isn't the best shot, but you can see that it's green and parroty, no question. I'll try to get a better picture during our stay here in wild Israel.

Birdhouse In Your Soul

These beautiful green birds fly around my in-laws' place every morning and at sunset, squawking loudly and reminding me that I'm not in my normal environment. 

I've noticed them every time we come here, but this time I've figured out what they are--namely, Indian Ringneck Parrots. They really are pretty amazing, bright green and with long tails. They congregate in this big tree with equally gorgeous red flowers, cleverly managing to eat the sweet insides of the not-quite-yet-open blooms then dropping the intensely colored petals to the ground. 

While on a walk this morning, the kiddo and I collected some of the bright red leftovers to take home as souvenirs, and we wondered if these were left behind by the parrots. Thank you once again, internets, for making it so easy to find out so many new and useful answers to our "I wonders" and our "what ifs.

So Happy Together

Some of today's highlights include:

Beach time in Tel Aviv!

Fighting jet lag at Bait ha Thailandi...

...and subsequently loosing the battle.

We are having a blast, spending lots of time doing fun stuff with the family, and really enjoying the springtime weather. We are quite lucky to be here during a few family birthdays and anniversaries so as to ensure that the kiddo's ice cream and cake requirements are consistently met.

Everybody To The Limit

Loving me up some Israeli family! After a lovely day siteseeing in London, we have completed the last leg of our journey to Israel. We arrived at six this morning, staggered around for a bit, then got our Max Brenner fill with a side of selfies. More to come...once I win my battle with jet lag, I'll recount the fun we had during our seven hour lay over in London.

Fly Like An Eagle

Yes. As long as eagles have three huge suitcases stuffed to the gills. Also, do eagles have like 15 different personal electronic devices and a ziplock back of various foreign coins?

Whiner's Bio

Another MRI completed, and if you listen closely, you'll hear the sound of a thousand high fives around the world. I have managed, once again, to retain my status of Medical Miracle by lying in an insanely loud tube for 45 minutes, then sitting in a tiny exam room while Ol' Dr. Recht says "Looks great. See you in four months."

I'll indulge myself by harkening back to those days in 2009, lying in the hospital with a half-shaven head and a 98% chance of freaking the fuck out, when the kindly old surgeon look sadly into my drugged up eyes and said, "I'm sorry." After giving me a dire prognosis indeed, 18 months to live, well...I'm sure I did or said something meaningful and/or courageous, but I can't remember most of what happened between 2009 and 2012. So let's just say FOO ON YOU, ODDS OF SURVIVAL. See you in four months.