After the downing of a certain green swill because the woman in the health food store handed me a bottle with the words, "Sweetie, you need to moisturize from the inside out," Mister Trevor Dog and I head over to the park.
And by "hanging at the park," I mean I sit on a bench and read Haaretz in English while Mister Trevor sniffs around, communes with nature and does his thing.
Because no one told me, I am telling you: If you are ever invited to an Israeli wedding, don't wear heels!
It's not like I'm a big high heel wearer. In fact, I don't even own that many pairs of shoes and the ones that I do own are all red. But since Israel is the land of casual-wear, when I dusted off some relatively spiffy threads for a work colleague's wedding, I noticed a pair of neglected heels in my closet and thought, Why not?
Walking along Emek Refaim the other morning I gasped when I saw that what once was a bus shelter had shattered into a million pieces, with shards of glass strewn everywhere and a big, gaping hole where the billboard once stood.
Across the street the same story: Broken glass and police tape sequestering it, not that this prevented anyone from staying away. People just jumped over the police tape and
It started out as a lovely Shabbat walk. Who could have anticipated the unexpected ambush?
But as my girlfriend and I rounded the bend I spotted a gentleman I know - albeit vaguely. I had met him and his wife soon after I arrived in Israel around a year ago and liked them both. I probably only saw him since then one or two more times.
So it was only natural that I introduce him not only to my friend, but also to my dog, who had joined us on the walk. “This is Trevor Pickus,” I said.
“That’s pathetic,” he spat. Then he repeated it. “That is so pathetic!” I can only assume that people who give their dogs their surnames are pathetic because it suggests we think they are fully human. Which Trevor is.
Blame it on the singer-songwriter online radio station I was feeding my brain like so much cotton candy.
I mean, how many Gillian Welch - Carly Simon – Jackson Browne – Lyle Lovett songs can a gal listen to before her brain goes into a sugar coma?
Which is another way of saying I was reading Jdate Success Stories. Oh yes, people, you can read first-hand accounts of all those dewy eyed couples who met and married through everyone's favorite Jewish love portal.
"It's just this anger, all the time, even during yoga," I said, evasively, which is another way of saying I was speaking in code.
Seated across from me taking copious notes was the young and adorable Israeli practitioner fresh out of herb and healing school who had been recommended by a girlfriend. She had gone to him for sciatica pain, and even though he had done shiatsu on her, since she knew how much I love witch's brew, she told me that his card also said he dealt in Chinese herbs.
“I don’t like how you’ve got your bed pressed against the wall,” said a friend who came over for Shabbat lunch and checked out my new-ish apartment.
At first I thought she was referring to my decorating skills, or sad to say, lack thereof. Or maybe she was something of a feng shui aficionado and pressing the bed against the wall meant bad chi or something.
But no, she was referring to my love life.
“It just means you’ve given up. That you’ve resigned yourself to being single.”
It took me a second but then I got it. The way the bed is set up now, only one person has a “side.” You know how in the movies there is always a “his” and “her” side of the bed? With two little tables resting against each side?
So if my life were a movie then there could only be one side table, which would mean that only one sad and lonely person and her funny little dog could sleep there. Because where would the “his” put his stuff? And how would he get into bed, with a wall blocking his way?
My friend sent out an article to her single and (ahem!) aging girlfriends as a show of solidarity. So it's not her fault that I'm a total cranky pants. Plus, why would she suspect that an article about having a baby alone would make me go so ballistic?