Wednesday, October 29, 2008

cliché

In the last week I've taken mental snapshots on how clichéd P Bonez and I have become. The whole newly-wed game of finding the cute apartment that requires the special TLC only a fresh young couple could give. The sort of apartment that a newlywed couple gets all kinds of excited about, picking out a shade of green that looked khaki but is more lime. At 28 and counting, we're still young enough to forget that paint ruins a good pair of shoes or your work pants, but adult enough to buy a hammer and cover the wooden table with newspapers.
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Watch out world, Man-boy and Women-girl have been unleashed into the world and we've got the bands around our fingers to prove it.
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I've been glued inside my brown corduoroy's all week. Too cold to take them off for a good wash. The rain has been sliding down the windows and I've already forgotten that I live in the desert. Instead, I am transported to memories of Germany as a child. My goulashes swishing through rain puddles and that damp smell of rainy freshness. Lightly shivering, my small hand is warm inside the palm of my fathers protective paw. The rain is bouncing off of his London fog raincoat.
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I slipped out of my cordouroy's to play out yet another clichéd newlywed scene: giving hairy husband a haircut in my wife beater and black socks to protect me from the winter of the tiles in the bathroom. He laughs at me as my lower lip quivers and jerks everytime I snip a strand of his hair as he is beginning to look more and more like a gorilla from the stray hairs falling on his thighs and chest. I finish the job, put my courds back on and let him clean his follicles. I was too nervous cutting his hair and need to relax.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Ginrod Economics

I feel like I am running through the job forest. On one hand, I feel safe as a freelancer, my pay check destiny lies in my own hands. But I can't help but have butterflies in my stomach as I watch the markets dangle and the dollar strengthen and weaken, pumping like a human heart and causing us all to be on the brink of a heart attack.
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I suppose the precarious job situation in the world makes me realize that if this trend continues- Gone are the social lifestyles we have accustomed ourselves to. The get togethers with wine and cheese, the travelling in and out of Tel Aviv to socialize- the extra rogulach on Shabbat. All these little things that decorate our lives will be converted into penny pinching and saving- after all everything is unstable. We need to gather our pebbles and the rocks of our foundation, place them in a pile, and hope we don't blow away with the rest of the world.
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Then again, perhaps I should be living with this mentality anyway.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

My dream job

Avocado Worker

Must be a responsible, dedicated worker to work with avocados.
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Work begins in December 2008. Previous experience is desirable, at
least one year, and preferably two.
A tractor license is required.
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Operational Sector Agriculture
Region North
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Contact Name ***
Phone 04-98*****
Postal Address Kibbutz Gilad
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Unfortunately. I don't have a tractor license.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Moving on and OUT

I don't think i am exaggerating when I say that we've viewed over twenty apartments in the last two weeks. Some realtor's tell us how "tough" the market is, or "you'll never get it for that price", but at the end of the day, it's a market place, you haggle, you smile, you sell yourself as the nice, newly married couple who smell good and have big smiles. This isn't America they tell us. Which is a translation for: we'll rent you a crap apartment without heating and it's ok. What little do they know as we smile back at them.
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They have no idea.
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They don't know that secretly we have maddening karoake parties on random days. That we're addicted to barbequing and yes, we are thinking of getting a dog.
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Dare US!
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We also know we have been looking for something a little bit different. Something that has an "edge" which I can't be sure what that means in Jerusalem, but for what it's worth. We might have found it. Not a place with a huge edge. But definately a place that has a big bathroom (which is unheard of) and probably too big to keep warm during the Jerusalem winter.
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Until then, i'll probably get my panties in a knot thinking about my absentee ballot and it's location (which is not in my mailbox)

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Collective conversation with a Ginrod-Notserp

me: i stepped on two snails in a row this morning
Tina: LOL
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me: is that good or bad luck?
Tina: omg, how horrible
i dont believe in luck like that
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me: it was gross, i did it once and was like ewwww and then kept walking and two steps later, boom! again
Tina:
why gross? did it cut into your foot?
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me: no, slimy is just gross
Tina:
omg, you wrote snails, i read nails!
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me: snails Tina. why would it be gross to step on nails?
your talking to the girl who doesn't mind using other peoples loofahs

Monday, October 13, 2008

A piece of humour I came upon this week

My own

Ella Fitzgerald is in the speaker behind me. Singing in my ear. This morning I opened the doors of the house to the morning breeze, you know the one where it's cold enough for a cup of tea first thing, but warm enough that you can still just wear a t-shirt?
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It's Sukkot. Out on our porch, P Bonez is revelling in the joys of being male and is building our sukkah. He explained to me earlier the amount of tools that he will need to build our outdoor space and I asked him why he can't just borrow them from our neighbour. Apparently, men borrowing tools is about as out of the question as borrowing underwear.
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Today is one of those peaks in life when you kinda realize how lovely it is to be where you are in life. This is how i envisioned it to be, husband building, me- working from home writing and drinking tea. I mean, of course- ask me next month when my projects are completed and I may be frothing at the mouth from frustration. But at this very moment like Ella says: I found a dream that I could speak to. or more so, One I can call my own.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Mango Chutney

I have peeled a clove of garlic and sliced a bit off to eat raw. This is what we always did in Thailand. And when it slid down my throat my oesophagus flared, and then my stomach. And now I have a garlic trail thinly burning me in half. I still feel it, many minutes later.
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My HUSBAND and I have been playing with all of our vegetables as of late. We receive a surprise box of organic veggies each week and after a day of writing about real estate or internet gift cards, I anxiously await P Bonez arrival and then we let the guilt of a billion ORGANIC vegetables come over us until someone gets up and starts making a soup, or looking up recipes online on how we can pickle everything we own including the washing machine.
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I have a feeling that a box of Mason Jars for upcoming family birthdays may be in order. Garlic is yummy and spicy raw, but what if I created a world of pickled garlic in red, green and blue jars? A rainbow of pickled jars to decorate the new apartment we haven't found with. How romantic. I could even put in a fake eyeball for shitzNgiggles.
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With my new inspiration, and thorough 5 minute Wikipedia research, I have also come upon a PLETHORA of garlic festivals in the u.s. Can you imagine? Two days of garlic. A roadtrip of garlic fests. My toes are tingling.
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The fun didn't stop there. There is also an INTERNATIONAL MANGO FESTIVAL in India. Do you hear that MiL??