Last week I took a tour through Jerusalem (with my own personal tour guide). It was a good route we took, because it was all downhill, starting at Damascus gate and ending at pool of Siloam, and that set in my mind better the topography.
And in addition to a tour I got some good shawarma--probably the best beef I've ever had in Israel. I can't wait to go to the same shop again. Since being in Israel I've been starved for sunlight, moonlight, and good beef.
March 29, 2016
March 28, 2016
Cats
Not having a child, or a dog, or even a cat in your life makes it really empty. So right now I'm just going to think about some of the cats we have had.
When I was about three, we had a cat that my parents named after a certain woman we knew, because its face reminded them of her. I heard my parents saying that if she were to come over for a visit, and she found out we had named a cat after her, she might take that as an insult.
Then there was the cat that strolled through the house at night. I loved the cat, but I found it frightening one night when I woke up and saw two eyes glowing in the dark. After that, whenever I woke up during the night, I was careful to keep my eyes closed.
Then there was the cat that got hit by a car not long after giving birth to five kittens. In spite of our attempts to feed the kittens with a doll bottle, one by one they died. The last one was Tommy, who cried loudly for a long time. My brother and I watched my mother bury them in the back yard.
Then there was Paint, who was a black and white cat that looked like he had run through some paint and splashed it on himself. He let us build a tower of blocks on top of him while he slept. When he finally woke up and moved, the blocks fell on his head, so he calmly got up and walked away.
Paint used to climb on the screen door and look in through the window in the inner door. We often saw him hanging there while we were eating supper. Even when it was dark out, you could see him because of his white spots.
After Paint died, we could still see him hanging on the screen. There just happened to be a spot of white paint in the same place where he used to hang.
Then there was Snoopy, who was a BLACK CAT, not a White Dog. She was named after a cat in the Bobbsey Twins. She lived more than 18 years. And there were Missie, who lived 12 years, Blackie, May-may, May-two, Caesar, Black Pirate, Emily, Tootsie, Tiny, Snowball, Mittens, Barney, Silas, Sylvia, Mittens, Doozy, Sam, Arthur, Timothy Smoke, Tiger, Pussy Willow, Calico, and Trouble, who was never any trouble and as far as I know never died. And lots more. I'll add to this list as I think of them.
Some people prefer dogs to cats. They like the close connection you can often have with a dog. But I admire cats because of their self-sufficiency and their wildness.
All the bad things they say about cats are also true of people. But do you ban such people from your life? No, you just learn to live with them, and you appreciate their good points, and don't worry too much about the bad points. You have to have a sort of skill in dealing with them, and any amount of success is very rewarding.
My cat (if I had one) doesn't especially need me, or at least not to the point where she can't live without me. But the very fact that my cat is patient with me and content to live with me makes me feel important.
When I was about three, we had a cat that my parents named after a certain woman we knew, because its face reminded them of her. I heard my parents saying that if she were to come over for a visit, and she found out we had named a cat after her, she might take that as an insult.
Then there was the cat that strolled through the house at night. I loved the cat, but I found it frightening one night when I woke up and saw two eyes glowing in the dark. After that, whenever I woke up during the night, I was careful to keep my eyes closed.
Then there was the cat that got hit by a car not long after giving birth to five kittens. In spite of our attempts to feed the kittens with a doll bottle, one by one they died. The last one was Tommy, who cried loudly for a long time. My brother and I watched my mother bury them in the back yard.
Then there was Paint, who was a black and white cat that looked like he had run through some paint and splashed it on himself. He let us build a tower of blocks on top of him while he slept. When he finally woke up and moved, the blocks fell on his head, so he calmly got up and walked away.
Paint used to climb on the screen door and look in through the window in the inner door. We often saw him hanging there while we were eating supper. Even when it was dark out, you could see him because of his white spots.
After Paint died, we could still see him hanging on the screen. There just happened to be a spot of white paint in the same place where he used to hang.
Then there was Snoopy, who was a BLACK CAT, not a White Dog. She was named after a cat in the Bobbsey Twins. She lived more than 18 years. And there were Missie, who lived 12 years, Blackie, May-may, May-two, Caesar, Black Pirate, Emily, Tootsie, Tiny, Snowball, Mittens, Barney, Silas, Sylvia, Mittens, Doozy, Sam, Arthur, Timothy Smoke, Tiger, Pussy Willow, Calico, and Trouble, who was never any trouble and as far as I know never died. And lots more. I'll add to this list as I think of them.
Some people prefer dogs to cats. They like the close connection you can often have with a dog. But I admire cats because of their self-sufficiency and their wildness.
All the bad things they say about cats are also true of people. But do you ban such people from your life? No, you just learn to live with them, and you appreciate their good points, and don't worry too much about the bad points. You have to have a sort of skill in dealing with them, and any amount of success is very rewarding.
My cat (if I had one) doesn't especially need me, or at least not to the point where she can't live without me. But the very fact that my cat is patient with me and content to live with me makes me feel important.
Post-Purim, Laugh, Don't Laugh
Purim is over, and we're back to the humdrum. Especially today, since it's cloudy and the sink is backed up. A bottle of Drano made it worse.
Laundry is piling up and I don't want to wash clothes because the kitchen sink is clogged. No, I don't wash clothes in the kitchen sink. But I am suspicious that the main drain is clogged, and I don't want to risk flooding the floor when the washing machine empties, which has happened before.
When they talk about rain in Israel, that means the sky is cloudy and the pavement is wet. I look out my window time and again to see if it's actually raining, and it's not, but it must have been. I see wisps of clouds floating by that remind me of the really good skies, including clouds, that I have seen in Texas and Indiana. It's hard to get a good view of the sky or the moon when you're in a city. I can hardly remember when I last saw the moon.
For Purim I made myself a hat out of yellow and blue plastic bags. Only a couple people saw me wearing it, and they thought it was funny. I'm not sure why it was funny except maybe because of the bright colors, or maybe it was obvious it was made out of plastic bags. I thought it was actually a pretty nice hat. It was a nice shape, and what's wrong with wearing blue and yellow? Maybe because it was Purim they thought they were supposed to laugh. But what if I was serious?
In some instances I can understand why people laugh. Once I was with a friend who tried to teach me the alphabet in Malayalam. I repeated each letter after her, and sometimes we both laughed because I obviously couldn't make the sounds right.
But another time I was with some Africans and they tried to teach me the letters in some African language. I thought I was doing a pretty good job, but every so often they would laugh. Was I really saying them wrong? Or was it odd to hear African sounds coming out of a white woman's mouth? Or maybe I made a funny face when I said them?
So, ho-hum. What am I going to do today? There are a number of possibilities, but none of them stand out as being important. Maybe I'll just blog.
Laundry is piling up and I don't want to wash clothes because the kitchen sink is clogged. No, I don't wash clothes in the kitchen sink. But I am suspicious that the main drain is clogged, and I don't want to risk flooding the floor when the washing machine empties, which has happened before.
When they talk about rain in Israel, that means the sky is cloudy and the pavement is wet. I look out my window time and again to see if it's actually raining, and it's not, but it must have been. I see wisps of clouds floating by that remind me of the really good skies, including clouds, that I have seen in Texas and Indiana. It's hard to get a good view of the sky or the moon when you're in a city. I can hardly remember when I last saw the moon.
For Purim I made myself a hat out of yellow and blue plastic bags. Only a couple people saw me wearing it, and they thought it was funny. I'm not sure why it was funny except maybe because of the bright colors, or maybe it was obvious it was made out of plastic bags. I thought it was actually a pretty nice hat. It was a nice shape, and what's wrong with wearing blue and yellow? Maybe because it was Purim they thought they were supposed to laugh. But what if I was serious?
In some instances I can understand why people laugh. Once I was with a friend who tried to teach me the alphabet in Malayalam. I repeated each letter after her, and sometimes we both laughed because I obviously couldn't make the sounds right.
But another time I was with some Africans and they tried to teach me the letters in some African language. I thought I was doing a pretty good job, but every so often they would laugh. Was I really saying them wrong? Or was it odd to hear African sounds coming out of a white woman's mouth? Or maybe I made a funny face when I said them?
So, ho-hum. What am I going to do today? There are a number of possibilities, but none of them stand out as being important. Maybe I'll just blog.
March 18, 2016
March
In some respects March is just the same in Israel as in Indiana. There is a feeling of spring in the air, but the reality is COLD. And bits of rain and wind, and it drags on and on, and you wonder if spring will ever come. Actually it's not quite as cold as Indiana, it's just that I have no patience with cold anymore.
Spring is not so dramatic here, but it is spring. Almond trees have been blooming, and sycamore trees are starting to leaf out. I start thinking ahead to all the things I will do as the weather gets better. This is the time of year when I used to like getting seed catalogs and planning a garden.
The wind was high enough one day to blow my three tiny jade plants off the balcony. I found two of them down below and rescued them. Other plants are growing well, except the four Mexican heathers, which I had thought would be easy to grow. They aren't called Mexican heather here, but they're identical to the ones I used to have in Texas.
Purim is this week, and it's a time when people are a bit crazy. You see people dressed in various costumes, which they do for a whole week, both children and adults. I don't ordinarily care for silly stuff; but when the rest of the year is a bit dreary, Purim seems like a good time to break out of the rut. Last year I kept my eyes open for something I could do to celebrate Purim which would be a little bit jolly but still within bounds. One day I saw a middle-age or older woman dressed conservatively, with plain dark colors and a long skirt--but she had a very conspicuous purple feather stuck in her hat! Ever since then I have been wondering where I might find a purple feather like that.
Today I rode my scooter here and there and tried going in stores where there isn't really room. Sometimes there isn't room to turn and I have to back out. Even riding on the sidewalk is tricky, because you never know when a car will be parked on the sidewalk. There are apparently no laws against it, although you have the right to be annoyed if they are in your way. Though actually I am not annoyed--it's just part of the adventure to either squeeze by with an inch on either side or find a new route.
I drove past a few marathon runners. A little girl was sitting on the curb cheering them on. Occasionally she would yell, "If Trump can run, so can you!," which always brought a smile from the runners.
Marathons. Brings back a memory of a nice summer night a few years ago when I ran 90 strides. I thought at the time I would add to it bit by bit until I could run _______. It never happened. I never even got to 91 strides. Today I can run about zero. Sometimes when my coffee doesn't taste quite right I have to debate with myself whether it's worth it to walk a few steps back to the kitchen to fix it, or just drink it as is.
Spring is not so dramatic here, but it is spring. Almond trees have been blooming, and sycamore trees are starting to leaf out. I start thinking ahead to all the things I will do as the weather gets better. This is the time of year when I used to like getting seed catalogs and planning a garden.
The wind was high enough one day to blow my three tiny jade plants off the balcony. I found two of them down below and rescued them. Other plants are growing well, except the four Mexican heathers, which I had thought would be easy to grow. They aren't called Mexican heather here, but they're identical to the ones I used to have in Texas.
Purim is this week, and it's a time when people are a bit crazy. You see people dressed in various costumes, which they do for a whole week, both children and adults. I don't ordinarily care for silly stuff; but when the rest of the year is a bit dreary, Purim seems like a good time to break out of the rut. Last year I kept my eyes open for something I could do to celebrate Purim which would be a little bit jolly but still within bounds. One day I saw a middle-age or older woman dressed conservatively, with plain dark colors and a long skirt--but she had a very conspicuous purple feather stuck in her hat! Ever since then I have been wondering where I might find a purple feather like that.
Today I rode my scooter here and there and tried going in stores where there isn't really room. Sometimes there isn't room to turn and I have to back out. Even riding on the sidewalk is tricky, because you never know when a car will be parked on the sidewalk. There are apparently no laws against it, although you have the right to be annoyed if they are in your way. Though actually I am not annoyed--it's just part of the adventure to either squeeze by with an inch on either side or find a new route.
I drove past a few marathon runners. A little girl was sitting on the curb cheering them on. Occasionally she would yell, "If Trump can run, so can you!," which always brought a smile from the runners.
Marathons. Brings back a memory of a nice summer night a few years ago when I ran 90 strides. I thought at the time I would add to it bit by bit until I could run _______. It never happened. I never even got to 91 strides. Today I can run about zero. Sometimes when my coffee doesn't taste quite right I have to debate with myself whether it's worth it to walk a few steps back to the kitchen to fix it, or just drink it as is.
February 12, 2016
Contranyms and Others
Why is it that when your alarm goes off you turn it off?
When you dust your cake pan you are putting dust on it, but when you dust your house, you are taking the dust off.
Sometimes the quiet person gets overlooked, but from an overlook you can see everything.
Buckling your belt won't keep your knees from buckling.
Brer Rabbit could no longer run fast when he was stuck fast to the tarbaby.
Flammable and inflammable more or less the same.
Are reckless drivers more apt to be wreckful?
This could go on, but I'd better refrain. Ee-eye-ee-eye-oh.
When you dust your cake pan you are putting dust on it, but when you dust your house, you are taking the dust off.
Sometimes the quiet person gets overlooked, but from an overlook you can see everything.
Buckling your belt won't keep your knees from buckling.
Brer Rabbit could no longer run fast when he was stuck fast to the tarbaby.
Flammable and inflammable more or less the same.
Are reckless drivers more apt to be wreckful?
This could go on, but I'd better refrain. Ee-eye-ee-eye-oh.
February 11, 2016
Wheels
I have wheels! I have a new scooter, a nice one. Not the clunky kind they have in grocery stores, but one with plenty of speed, and nice wheels that can go over bumps. I wanted a silver one, and I would have taken a blue one, but I ended up with a bright red one, which is actually pretty fun. It is a three-wheeler, so it turns in a small space. It occupies our space in the parking garage where my Ferrari used to be. :P
I can get to the vegetable market or the plant store in no time. That might be a bad idea. Do you know how many kinds of succulents they are selling? I want one of each! I managed to limit myself to only five, one of which is a Haworthia, with no zebra stripes and no spikes of any kind. The other ones have no names, poor things, so I will have to name them. That will take some thinking. What do you name a plant that has very fat, pointed leaves? Tophy? Zolla? I guess I'll have to browse through lots of pictures of succulents and see if I can find their real names. I think one of them is a Cheiridopsis.
I might name the silver one Sylvia, but that reminds me too much of a cat we had that caused us a lot of trouble. On the other hand, "Who is Sylvia, what is she, that all our swains commend her?" Seems like my mother showed me that poem when I was quite small. In light of that poem, it's not a bad name. But I need something more original.
Throughout the summer I will be taking various routes to various places to see where my scooter will go. Some places have no ramps onto/off the sidewalks. Driving in the street is bad during rush-hour. Places where I used to walk often had stairs. Sometimes there are ramps beside the stairs, but they're pretty steep.
Besides my five succulents, I picked up three jade leaves off the floor of the nursery. If I'm lucky, they'll sprout roots. I don't know why they sometimes do and sometimes don't.
Besides succulents, I broke a stem off a Solanum bush and stuck it in water, and now it has lots of roots. I didn't know it would be that easy, or I would have chosen a Solanum with better flowers. But my purpose is not really flowers, but greenery. Next best thing to a cat.
I can get to the vegetable market or the plant store in no time. That might be a bad idea. Do you know how many kinds of succulents they are selling? I want one of each! I managed to limit myself to only five, one of which is a Haworthia, with no zebra stripes and no spikes of any kind. The other ones have no names, poor things, so I will have to name them. That will take some thinking. What do you name a plant that has very fat, pointed leaves? Tophy? Zolla? I guess I'll have to browse through lots of pictures of succulents and see if I can find their real names. I think one of them is a Cheiridopsis.
I might name the silver one Sylvia, but that reminds me too much of a cat we had that caused us a lot of trouble. On the other hand, "Who is Sylvia, what is she, that all our swains commend her?" Seems like my mother showed me that poem when I was quite small. In light of that poem, it's not a bad name. But I need something more original.
Throughout the summer I will be taking various routes to various places to see where my scooter will go. Some places have no ramps onto/off the sidewalks. Driving in the street is bad during rush-hour. Places where I used to walk often had stairs. Sometimes there are ramps beside the stairs, but they're pretty steep.
Besides my five succulents, I picked up three jade leaves off the floor of the nursery. If I'm lucky, they'll sprout roots. I don't know why they sometimes do and sometimes don't.
Besides succulents, I broke a stem off a Solanum bush and stuck it in water, and now it has lots of roots. I didn't know it would be that easy, or I would have chosen a Solanum with better flowers. But my purpose is not really flowers, but greenery. Next best thing to a cat.
February 1, 2016
A New Year
I can't believe I haven't posted since October. This has to stop. I mean, stopping has to stop, and posting has to begin. It's not as if nothing ever happens.
Spring is on the way. I sat in the sun for a few minutes yesterday and felt normal for the first time in weeks. I hope it happens again.
After one week of really bad depression (Ha, had you fooled! I was outwardly cheerful and polite all the time, except I had to escape to my room every so often.), one week of terrible stress, and one week of total exhaustion--this week will have to be different. It's impossible to predict what kind of different it will be, but maybe I could apply this principle, Thank God for what he is about to do.
And you know that the stone cut out without hands is going to grow into a mountain that will fill the whole earth, so you know that praying along that line is valid.
They say not to despise the day of small things, or not to undervalue them. So even though they don't look like much, they are connected to the bigger picture, where Messiah saves to the uttermost those that come unto God by him, and he receives the nations for an inheritance. etc.
That said, it is possible to become more or less content with the present situation (which is not the same as having contentment in the present situation), and have some vague hope that things will get better eventually. It's true, they will, but they will also get worse, and in what way and in what order no one knows. And how will they get better if no one cares, no one prays, and no one works? Or how will we be effective if we propel ourselves with our own zeal and justify ourselves by our good intentions, and never stop to listen to what the Spirit is saying?
Asking for help is relatively easy, and you should definitely do that. But when you continue to focus on your own desperate condition, you can miss what God has already done, what He has promised, and what He is.
"All scripture [is] given by inspiration of God, and [is] profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness:"
Spring is on the way. I sat in the sun for a few minutes yesterday and felt normal for the first time in weeks. I hope it happens again.
After one week of really bad depression (Ha, had you fooled! I was outwardly cheerful and polite all the time, except I had to escape to my room every so often.), one week of terrible stress, and one week of total exhaustion--this week will have to be different. It's impossible to predict what kind of different it will be, but maybe I could apply this principle, Thank God for what he is about to do.
And you know that the stone cut out without hands is going to grow into a mountain that will fill the whole earth, so you know that praying along that line is valid.
They say not to despise the day of small things, or not to undervalue them. So even though they don't look like much, they are connected to the bigger picture, where Messiah saves to the uttermost those that come unto God by him, and he receives the nations for an inheritance. etc.
That said, it is possible to become more or less content with the present situation (which is not the same as having contentment in the present situation), and have some vague hope that things will get better eventually. It's true, they will, but they will also get worse, and in what way and in what order no one knows. And how will they get better if no one cares, no one prays, and no one works? Or how will we be effective if we propel ourselves with our own zeal and justify ourselves by our good intentions, and never stop to listen to what the Spirit is saying?
Asking for help is relatively easy, and you should definitely do that. But when you continue to focus on your own desperate condition, you can miss what God has already done, what He has promised, and what He is.
"All scripture [is] given by inspiration of God, and [is] profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness:"
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