Trouble In Paradise

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It all started with a hat on the bed on the morning we left Tel Aviv.  It was my silver felt one......bloody Drugstore Cowboy - it's made me forever paranoid about hats on beds.  Am I alone here?  Does anybody know what the hell I'm talking about?  I must have done it unconsciously - I was a little tense with a million jobs that morning.  But then I saw it there, and immediately thought "Oh God".  The last time there was a hat on that bed, my mother put my orange felt one there on her first day in Israel.  That very evening she put her back out for 10 days.  Don't mess with the hat on the bed.  It's powerful stuff.

Not as powerful as Matt Dillon's hair oil

I loathe the Keep Calm crap

Apparently having the kids birthday celebration before their actual birthday in Israel is a bad omen.  In fact before a baby is born, it is considered very bad luck to prepare anything for it.  Sure you can go to the shop and put anything away in there that you want - ready to be shipped to your home as soon as you drop your load (charming!).  But do not actually purchase anything.  And for the love of god do not gift any expectant mothers with an early pair of gender neutral booties.   Furthermore, need I even mention the date of our little party this year - Friday the 13th.  Plus it was full moon and a retrograde mercury situation if you really want to dive into astrological detail here.   I always refused to succumb to friggatriskaidekaphobia  - (fear of Friday 13th, for all those who are not up with their various phobia related disorders) I thought perhaps it could have been an auspicious day for a celebration.  I think I was mistaken.  Then there was the omission of the two extra candles I was meant to put on the birthday cake.  Jewish people always put the number of years old in candles (as usual) and then an extra one for the next year.  The lady from the kindergarten who also looks after the girls at home seemed a little horrified I was putting 5 for each  girl rather than 6.  I brushed it away.

But I should have known.......

The trip to the island was uneventful.  A squashy flight from New York to Barbados.  Cordi and I were trapped in the window and middle seats by a large woman in the aisle seat who smelt.  She kept falling asleep and her unconscious elbow changed the channels on my TV constantly.  That shit is hard to put up with for 5 hours.  I had to keep digging my finger under her arm flesh to get to the controls so I could continue watching Hotel Budapest (love that movie by the way).

It won't be that bad Cordi

We had a few hours wait at the boring airport in Barbados.  A place I've spent a lot of waiting hours at. But at last we boarded our tiny plane and took the 45 minute ride to Bequia.  We were so happy to be back.  Flying over those seas and seeing the coast of a place we've spent more time in over the last 5 years than any other place was pure joy.  It's bloody miles away from everywhere, but it is such a special part of the world.  Going there is like pressing the pause button on life for a couple of months.  I cannot express how grateful I feel to sometimes have that luxury.  And to go to a beautiful, welcoming, comfortable, familiar place to do this, is utter heaven.  To sit outside at night, with a postcard view below you, the winds gently blowing through, and have complete silence is unbelievable.  Complete silence.  Not a sound to be heard at night.  Occasionally you might hear a dog barking, or a lone car drive up one of the valley roads at the bottom of the mountain we live on.  But that's it.  When you've gone straight from inner city Melbourne to live in a city as busy and vibrant and noisy as Tel Aviv for 6 months, and then followed it up with a few mad days in New York, then the true peace and quiet of nature is so treasured.

Stunning - every time

Little shark

The property housekeeper Cathy was waiting for us at the airport. She of the drawn-on purple eyebrows.  They were still going strong.   She was with her cousin Sandra who drives a ute-taxi on Bequia.  As soon as we were loaded up in the back, Cathy told us about an awful mosquito-borne virus that was running rampant through the area and had been on Bequia for a couple of months.  It was called "chikungunya".  The majority of the small population had already contracted it.  She said the virus was pretty bad for a few days - fever, joint pain, rash, headaches - but then it went away.  Although, however, she did say that she still had joint pain a month and a half later.  We were really concerned, but not freaked out......at that stage....  Actually we were more freaked out by the dryness of the island.  It looked like there had been no rain for months.  The usually lush vegetation was crispy dry, and you could see all the way through the jungle, when once the dense growth made it impossible to so.

A familiar angle

Getting to our place was heaven.  Despite the dryness of the garden and the fact that the two pet tortoises (Speedy and Hasty) were there no longer, there were still plenty of hummingbirds - maybe not so many butterflies.  We had a peaceful night, and watched the fireflies in the bushes from the balcony.  The next morning we went into the town.  The vegetable selection was a bit sketchy.  Our vegetable sellers said that they didn't have much because there weren't so many people around.  I mentioned the dryness to one of the Rastas at the food market and he looked around, put his finger to his lips and said quietly "Shhhhhhhhh".  We heard a guy outside in the street rambling on about the evil spirits that had come to Bequia.......A few more tales from those who had contracted the virus, and an explanation of how you could tell who had been sick - they walked with a stoop - and the alarm bells were ringing........hmmmmmm

Away! You little bastard

Upon further investigation - eg the internet - we discovered that chikungunya racing through the Caribbean and is already present in 16 other  Caribbean countries, while other neighbouring islands fearfully focus on trying to prevent any outbreaks, and what to do to contain them if an outbreak occurs.  People are packing shit.  It's an epidemic.  And we flew right into the epicentre of the SVG outbreak.  Jesus. Thanks for giving us a heads up dudes - fucking hell.

Chikungunya was "discovered" about 60 years ago in Tanzania in Africa.  And since that time there have been various outbreaks around the world that health authorities were desperate to eradicate.  The symptoms sound scary -  the word "chikungunya" directly translates from the Kimakonde language as "to bend upwards" because suffers of the virus contort upwards with pain.  There's also the high fever - 40 degrees, extreme headaches, hideous looking itchy rashes, and the pain in the joints is meant to be so excruciating that you can't even lifts the sheets on your bed.  There can be ongoing problems with eyes, heart, and joints for years later.  Nobody knows much about it, and at present there is not treatment, no prevention and no cure.  There was one thing that was certain; we did not want to get this virus, and we did not want our kids to get this virus.

We had to leave.  Unfortunately we couldn't get a flight out until 5 days later.  We thought it was too risky to stay and decided to take the boat to the next island (St Vincent) the next day, where we could get a flight out to Barbados - one of the few islands in the area that didn't have any reported cases of chikungunya.   So I packed it all again.  People often ask me if I am an expert packer by now.  I would like to state confidently that I am truly gifted.  I had also cleverly done 3 massive loads of built up washing, dried it, and folded it ready to be loaded in our bags.  It takes talent people, don't write off the natural abilities of a skilled laundry technician.  I just want to master the "fitted sheet fold".....that's all I'm asking for.....

Special Place

Anyway - we were organised and on a 9.30am ferry the next morning.  We noticed that the ferry guy was using his smallest ferry.  There just weren't that many people around, certainly not much movement in and out of Bequia.  As we pulled out of the harbour, and the boat pushed through the waters between the headlands, Mark and I looked back on our beloved dry Bequia.  We joked that we were leaving the bad spirits behind. Then the sea began to get rough.

The relief at coming into the harbour was intoxicating

What followed next was a terrifying hour that involved huge waves, extreme wind and one tossed-about boat.  We keep getting soaked by huge sprays of water (on the 2nd deck) and I really and truly thought that the ferry was going to capsize.  I'm not great on a boat at the best of times, and I'm positive that many of my boating friends would tell me to HTFU (harden the fuck up - in case translation is needed) - but I was truly frightened.  And an hour of intense fear on the back of 40 hours of underlying anxiety was doing me no favours.  My husband was ashen as well.  We had to keep one hand on the girls and save one hand for gripping the rails to stop being tossed about.  We were just looking at each other with that "Oh Fuck" kind of sentiment in our eyes, as Vali and Cordi were screaming "Weeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! This is FUUUUUUUNNNNN".

Oh to be innocent again.

Six hours wait in St Vincent and a short flight to Barbados later, and here we are.  Barbados has no reported cases of chikungunya despite it's proximity. We quickly (perhaps a little too quickly) rented a place for a week.  This will give us time to find our feet, get a back-up plan, and perhaps more worryingly wait out the incubation period, which is usually about 5 days, but can be up to 12.   We have a few bites.

Docking at St Vincent

Sometimes you just have to know when to pull the plug.

Could wearing this actually reverse the hat on the bed that sealed our fate?

New York - Expect The Unexpected

Pink, Green and Clean?

Just a little bit of rubbish

Good old New York.  It's a brilliant place - but for the love of god could it be any filthier?  I honestly thought I was all filthed out after 6 months in Tel Aviv.  But I was wrong.  Way way wrong.  What was I thinking?  Tel Aviv may be dusty and riddled with dog shit.  And yes, there may be the occasional septic overflow - as what happened with our neighbours front yard for days on end.  Was it gross?  Absolutely putrid.  And do I always take my shoes off before setting foot indoors?  Yes, without a doubt - and I enforce it like a drill sergeant for all my guests.  I was going to write "enforce it like a nazi"  but it's actually illegal in Israel to call anyone a nazi, and subsequently it puts me off now.  I wonder if it's illegal to call yourself a nazi.  I shall have to find out.....Anyway, Tel Aviv grime has nothing on the grime of NYC.

Beam me up

This time we were staying in Manhattan.  In Chelsea actually - which is just south of mid town.  Had a few little issues on arrival.  We had spent the night in Madrid on the way there staying in a hotel where each floor was designed by a different architect.  It was pretty cool actually.  Our floor was designed by an architect called Kathryn Findlay, who's intention was to;
"recreate a place of meditation where guests could dream or, in her own words, listen to the breeze".
 Really???? I was honestly thinking she was going for the inside a 60s imagined futuristic spaceship......Then again, I guess I'm no architect.....

How come saying don't touch never works?

Anyway, it was a long couple of cramped flights, and teamed with the time difference it meant we touched down at JFK in the middle of the night.  Our car service never showed, and bullshitted us about it, we took a yellow cab with a driver who seemed to be nodding off while driving erratically on the freeway (we had to keep waking him up).  We discovered our apartment had been rented to somebody else, so we were instead shoved into a back-up one which was like a long thin box.  Minimal natural light - stunk of room deodoriser.  We weren't pleased.  On the plus side - our street was lined with plant sellers which was pleasant to walk down in the day.

Anyway back to the grime - I'm determined to discuss it.  Those streets are all kinds of repulsive.  Take a wrong step off the kerb and you can submerge your treasured See By Chloe nude leather slides in a puddle of cloudy brown stinking water (see how cleverly I worked my new babies into the discussion....).  And there's no amount of soft cloth sponging that can take them back to their former glory.  Granted, actually being there is worth the occasional shoe sacrifice.  If it's excitement you're after, then soak it all up.  I also like the commitment to "looks" that people go for.  You really see some great style.  Giant red dreadlock-containing hats,  chicks 2 metres tall with giant afros, dudes crossing the road wearing 12 inch platform shoes, glossy 20 year olds with immaculately put together style......I wish I was a bit quicker on the old photo finger.  Then there's the crazies.  It's tough to be a homeless mental case in a big city.  You see so many everyday.  People shouting out random crap to nobody, people screaming random insults to everybody, people doing all kinds of weird hand movements (nearly had my eye taking out by a particularly enthusiastic pointer finger), lots of whiffs of poo soaked clothing.....it's horrible actually.

The ram's carcass hat.  This look takes a major commitment in summer

Then there are the ones that you engage with by accident - the ones that catch you unaware because they look normal.  I'm bad at warding off annoying people at the best of times.  I've had a few uncomfortable rides in Tel Aviv with sleazy taxi drivers.  One old man actually put his hand on my knee and didn't move it the entire ride.  I'm so embarrassed about this actually -  because everyone says - why didn't I just tell him to fuck off???  Well firstly I was impressed about his ability to steer the taxi and get a grope in at the same time.  And secondly, I honestly thought he was going to move it any second, and an embarrassing confrontation could be avoided.  I was mistaken. He was in it for the long haul.  These days I sit right behind the driver so he'd have to be a contortionist to get a feel up.

So as I walked up our street with my shopping bags from Wholefoods - I heard a "Hi, how are you beautiful?".  And thus the first mistake was made.  Always a sucker for a compliment - I slightly inclined my head and said "Good thanks".  That was all he needed.  The next minute he was right beside me saying all kinds of sexual things.  Then I was grabbed.  I tried to pull away, but couldn't get my hand free.  He started kissing it - which may sound old fashioned with a tinge of the romantic, but when it turned to licking I knew I had a big problem on hand (!!).   I may have offered something weak along the lines of "Now that's just disgusting", and then I made a bolt for the nearest sushi shop to seek refuge.  The workers let me wash the saliva off my hand and helped me scope out the entrance so I could make my escape.  Fucking crazies.  And horny crazies should be avoided at all costs.

Icecream - enough to fade the memory of any stranger's slag

But let's not dwell on the bad times - because by christ there were good times as well.  Not to mention the usual enjoyment cruising around New York can bring - a touch of shopping, wines and snacks with a friend I haven't seen for ages, good restaurants, daytime kid activities - like visiting the museum and splashing around water fountains fully clothed (them, not me).  But I think the outstanding highlight of this trip involved a little excursion to a comedy club in the West Village.  We were booked in to go there (a genius move by the wife of my husband's business partner) at 9.15pm - she was keen to see a particular comic at that time.  But restaurants being restaurants, we were late to front up, and got the boot.  The ticket sellers said we could instead attend the 11.15 show.  So we reluctantly agreed, but were pleased to discover that our ticket for the later session meant we were one of the front tables.

Soaking

Wet

Look Cordi look

Museum of Natural History (notice the slides...anyone anyone?)

Cordi and the bison

Fly Vali Girl Fly

Summertime city fun

I'm actually scared of them in this picture

Old Nerdville himself studies a little Quantum light physics

I didn't take this btw - no phones allowed

But back to the Comedy Cellar.......After a few drinks upstairs and a nice long wait outside we were finally in.  The first two standup acts were pleasantly amusing.  However, between the second and third acts the host seemed to be killing time......then who should he announce was coming on the stage but Chris Rock!!!  Unbelievable stuff!  We were only a metre away from him.  That man is a funny funny bastard as well.  We were so excited - and that is a fucking understatement!!

Chaining

Then following Chris Rock, who should be announced but Dave Chappelle!!!  Holy Crap.  Jesus he was looking a bit on the rough side let me mention.  Really pissed and chain smoking ciggies.  Also he had gained quite a bit of weight - but nevertheless completely hilarious.  He had a lot to say about feet fucking and also......The Slender Man.  This was resulting from a news story where two 12 year old girls had stabbed their friend (also a 12 year old girl) 19 times to please The Slender Man. http://edition.cnn.com/2014/06/03/justice/wisconsin-girl-stabbed/
Dave said he was curious about who the Slender Man was but too scared to google it, in case it was discovered he was a sicko.

This photo really scares me

I was curious too - and unfortunately the kind of sicko who googles and pastes burnt arses from firecrackers - so I went in for a look just now.

Just in case anybody else is interested too, I discovered that The Slender Man is an alleged paranormal figure purported to have been in existence for centuries, covering a large geographic area. Believers in the Slender Man tie his appearances in with many other legends around the world, including; Fear Dubh (or, The Dark Man) in Scotland, the Dutch Takkenmann (Branch Man), and the German legend of Der Großmann or Der Grosse Mann (the Tall Man)......Apparently he's got a thing for mind control and child kidnapping - according to a blog I just read, he psychologically assaults children until they break, before gaining control over them and leading them off......Creepy.....I wish I never went there - Chappelle was right.

Marlon - he's hot right?

Anyway....Jesus....the fucking Slender Man - I'm totally freaked out now......must get back to the comedy night.....must.....So, while Dave was cracking us all up - who should also turn up in the club but Marlon Wayans!!  Totally pissed.  Then he, Dave and Chris were all up on stage together - drinking, smoking and cracking each other (and the rest of us) up until 3am. Dave Chappelle is currently doing a show at Radio City Music Hall where the front 5 rows cost over US$900.  Our front row table = $12.  What a win.  We left exhausted and with really sore faces from laughing so much - but highly highly amused and impressed about what can happened in New York at midnight on a Monday night.

Well, it was fun while it lasted - but peace and tranquillity await us on our beautiful island home of Bequia.  We.  Cannot.  Wait.

Almost there.......

The Gayest Thing Since Gay Came To Gaytown

Is the one on the left topless?

Literally it did.....the city of Tel Aviv hosted Gay Pride Week with a Mardi Gras tacked on the end last week.  The city was packed to the rafters with far too many good looking men holding hands with other far too good looking men.  The city sold out of short shorts and beard grooming products - and waxing salons hired extra workers to deal with the requests for baby bottom smoothness on the rest of their bodies.

Bitter old women always regard it as a tragic waste

View of a lifetime

I had my own little gayzelle mates in town - my darling old school friend, her brilliant partner, and their cherub of a child - now officially BFFs with my girls.  Their visit was coincidentally timed with the explosion of gay love - and fortunately for them they had been moved into the presidential suite at their hotel as a "favour" for the hotel manager.  Glamorous times were aloft.  I spent some hours there let me tell you.  Giant pool on giant balcony + hot chicks and beer = I'm your best friend always and forever.

There was the interesting question raised one night by my husband.  Are gays the only social group that  revolves around fucking?  I thought it was an interesting point.  I suggested prostitutes - but you don't see prostitutes taking to the streets in a celebration of the shag fest they are subjected to every night.  They would have more of a workers union march I guess. Like lots of yelling with megaphones and heaps of angry banners saying things like "Shorter Foreplay - Just Get It Over With"  - or "Just Because You Wave It In My Face Doesn't Mean I'm Going To Suck It", or "Two In The Bush Is Not Worth One In The Arse"  etc etc. (I think I could have a talent for Prostitute Rights slogans - am I wrong?).  Another idea of "Swingers" as a viable social group was put forth as a suggestion - and I guess there are swingers clubs and hang out opportunities, but again they're not exactly designing a flag and taking their love of rooting other peoples spouses to the public arena.  I guess the whole Gay Pride has to do with overcoming persecution and prejudice - which are are two of the worst "P" words ever, along with "poo".

The sun's gotta burn

Anyway, back to Tel Aviv - where the word for gay actually means proud.  There were events by day and night, and rainbow flags a plenty - who doesn't love a rainbow?  Surely every person on the earth upon seeing a rainbow thinks "Awwwww a rainbow".  If there's anyone out there who when catching sight of a rainbow thinks "What the fuck?  Another god damn rainbow, I'm so sick of those things" - then I want to meet them.  I will be impressed with their arseholeness. The same might be said about puppies.  But hating puppies, although indicating a cold heart, is understandable.  Puppies shit all over your house and chew up your favourite things.  In fact, I'm sure I've felt hatred for a puppy before.  But rainbows?  They just hang in the sky and look pretty......show me a rainbow hater - just one, just one....... 

Is this what you want ladies?  You're getting nada....

So the rainbow flags were flapping in the breeze all week long and the city was amped.  There were beach parties every afternoon, and events every night.  Gay men taunted me with their beauty and disdain.  Then came the most anticipated event of the entire occasion on the final day - Friday 13th June - Valentina and Cordelia's 5th Birthday Party!  Oh, it was also the Mardi Gras parade and sunset beach party too.

Crazy Sunset Beach Party

Should have worn this myself

The whole of Tel Aviv was torn - what event should they attend?  For me it was easy - the gay parade of course - even for the outfits alone.  Sadly, I had no choice.  I really wanted to be there and even more at the beach party - that shit looked wild.  But as the host of the birthday shenanigans I guess I sort of had to do my duties.  All that joy and celebration did cause a few traffic problems - those gayzelles really took over the entire city. Guests and food deliveries were having issues getting to us.  Fuck your rights bitches, where's my god damn princess cake and my mini muffins?".

But the party still went on.  As I said - I completely delegated almost all responsibility, and spent the entire time trying to convince myself I was chilled by talking a whole lot more quietly than usual and not thinking about the packing.  Hosting a birthday party for 20 kids and their parents and various family members is kind of huge.  And huge is how they roll in Israel.  As previously mentioned, under 12s rule the entire country - hmmmm maybe that's why there's so many issues in this part of the world.

There they are

Child Control At It's Finest

So I did as any self respecting parent would and should do when throwing an extravaganza for their 5 year olds.  As little as possible and made other people make it great.  Success!  I honestly do think it was great.  OK so there was no dolphin display (as seen at their 2nd Birthday Party at Cremorne in Tasmania), so Skye didn't make the food this time round - those mini mushroom pizzas were memorable - so all my beloved friends and Vali and Cordi's little Tasmanian chums weren't the guests - miss you honeys!!......but all in all I think it was pretty good.  Pretty pretty good.  The best thing of all was the party entertainer who came with the venue.  This guy was not mucking around, he had a headset microphone and a drum, and he wasn't afraid to use them.

Redlight Action

Watch and learn people, watch and learn

This guy was a modern day Pied Piper of Hamelin.  Remember that childhood story where the Piper took all the rats that were plaguing the town away with a few notes from his trusty pipe.  But then the people refused to pay him, so he got really pissed off.   Once again he played his little pipe.  Then, what should happen, but all the town children followed him like the little rats they were and he led them all away from their parents never to be seen again.  Harshness.  Basically a mass kidnapping then I guess - love a childhood tale - no wonder we're all fucked up.  So, yes, I hired a child thief to look after all the grotty little buggers.  In everyone's dreams......  There wasn't a parent among us who didn't secretly wish that "Ranaan" would lead all of them away for ever.......But in reality we eventually had to wrestle them (completely off their heads on sugar) out of the party zone,  shove them into the car, clean up the techni-coloured heave that they did all over the back seat from eating too many jelly snakes, and drive through a city swarming with half naked men waving glow sticks in our faces.

Somebody's happy

Make no mistake - this is what it's all about

The sugar thing is a big issue here.  You don't see many fat kids - but good lord - could they eat more sugar in this country?  It seems like it's treat day every day in school, and there are constant birthday parties all brimming to the top with bowls of marshmallows.  I was trying to tone down the sugar consumption and was buying fruit at the market with no intention of stopping at the candy store.  However, I was stopped in my tracks by my husband - an avid sugar hater usually, so I had to pay attention - who said that there was no way I couldn't buy a shitload of lollies.  I refused to back down at first, and a bit of fisticuffs broke out in the candy store (told you he likes to play that way - see last blog).  But I withstood the blows and relented only to a small bag of jellies.  Following further "discussions", and after one school mother told that her son couldn't sleep the night before because he was so excited about all the candy he was going to eat at Vali and Cordi's birthday, I thought I better relent.  Vali must have really been talking up the amount of sweeties they expected around class that week.  So we went back to the market with the girls in tow so they could choose their own birthday candies.  I stepped way out of that scene.  I think Vali might have stolen and eaten 20 lollies in the shop while Mark wasn't looking.  The drive home was unpleasant.

I tried with the fruit - I really tried

Hang in there Sulky, the end is in sight

So there were lollies, cupcakes, and plenty of MSG-laden snacks to really rev everybody up.  Then the giant ratpack were all set loose on the Pied Piper dude in a completely padded room.  All the parents and family then ate all the food and drank beer and wine, until an hour later when the little screamers were re-released on us chanting for pizza.  Luckily the pizza had been ordered and arrived on time - I employed one person to hold them back while my husband loaded pizza on plates which were handed out by me and a trusty assistant.  Chaos was averted.  Then they were taken away again, I brought the cake out and they all went berko on that too.  Vali gave out the take home bags early, and another frenzy ensued.  But finally I said all my goodbyes, forced the girls to thank all their friends, and shipped bags of presents out to the car.  And then drove back home.

And then at last silence.

But not for long.  After we did multiple trips up from the car there ensued a present unwrapping frenzy like no other, followed by a Friday night dinner at our family's place, followed by a bit of late night packing, and some apartment cleaning.....But at last it was up, up and away day......Bring on the peace and quiet for the love of god, and for fucks sake keep the glow sticks out of my face......

Bound for chocolately goodness

Let Them Eat Cake

The living incarnation of my blog

Alright - yes, this is getting really sad now.  My blog is limping on more slowly than those poor suckers who finish marathons about 6 hours after everyone else.  I mean the barriers have already been packed up and the cars are back on the road - there's not a drink station in sight and still that sad fool shuffles on.  Nobody is even watching, and anyone who is, just thinks "Give up now mate, get it over with, nobody cares dickhead"  Yet the limping tragic case keeps dragging those blistered feet.  A rare clap and a "You can do it buddy" just prolongs the misery.  So my advice - don't do it.  Don't even pretend you care.  You would be doing me a disservice to acknowledge my pitiful existence.  But still, I shrug off your apathy - I will cross that finish line, if I have to do it on my knees with chunder all over my shoes......

And so I will........

Let the holidays continue……Seriously I have never known a country to have so many holidays and celebrations as Israel.  Maybe I'm mistaken, but there seems to be a hell of a lot of calls to do random shit and mark it with a public holiday or two.  Particularly annoying to myself is the amount of days off my children seem to have from school.  Look, I love my children as much as the next person (I assume so anyway - I might not be posting inspirational parental style quotes on facebook, but I'm pretty sure I still like them very much) - But lets be honest - my babies are so much more pleasant be around when time spent entertaining them is limited.  Am I alone here - and more to the point, am I a bitter and cruel parent? - Well it's debatable, and something you can question Vali and Cordi about when you next see them.   Actually Cordi declared the other day that she was planning on finding a new Mummy and Daddy that would let her play "Palace Pets" on the iPad anytime she liked.  So I guess her answer would sway heavily in the yay.  Fair enough, and good luck love.  You can also ask your new parents how they cope with salvaging an apartment that looks like a monster vomited a toy shop on it daily.  Does anyone else also feel like they are a complete slave to their children's whims on a regular basis?  The little fuckers have us by the nuts and they know it.  My girls seem to have developed a recent fondness for changing outfits about 6 times a day and slopping crap all over them.  Lets just all do a whole lot more washing than we need to, as I honestly feel like 3 loads a day isn't enough.  The folding is the worst too.  I've taken to just spreading it all over the floor in the bomb shelter, but I think that it just encourages more changes.

If the religious love it, then we can love it too

So welcome to Lag BaOmer.  A completely random occasion which occurred mid May, and I just can't work out what it's about.  What I do know is that it involves lighting bonfires all over the city and shooting bow and arrows about the place.  A couple of activities that you really want a couple of 4 year old psychopaths with omnipotent power to engage in.  I dropped in to picked them up from school, and 15 little shits all shot me in the head with plastic arrows.  They may not have been sharpened, but still, an arrow in the face is an arrow in the face.  Vali actually worked on her technique for days and became quite proficient. My husband suggested getting her a proper archery set - Jesus CHRIST I don't think so.  Forget Katniss - hasn't he seen "We Need To Talk About Kevin".  And sorry about the spoiler, but it's the husband who copped one directly to the heart, so go for it darling.  No Palace Pets bitches????? Well take that - POW.

I don't care if it's pink you evil little fuck

Ah yes, my children made cupcakes with logs and candy flames on them on a playday....

It's all fun and games until it escapes the pole

Prancing about a bonfire wouldn't exactly be my recommended child activity either - and I just can't see this going down in Australia.  Yet Tel Avians were sparking them up all over town that night.  I passed on that one - and it was an incredibly hot night too that particular evening.  I tell you what though - I really miss firecracker night.  That was some great stuff as a child.  We all remember those Catherine Wheels that got free from the nail on our backyard fences and raced along the ground up our mother's skirts while they screamed in fear and agony.  I don't think my mother ever wore a skirt to firecracker night again.  Such quality entertainment.  And how about when the Roman Candles took a tumble and started shooting everyone and you all ran yelling and fighting each other to get away from those jolly 3rd degree burns.

Grow a pair bitch

Then your parents would try and tone down the mood and hand out sparklers and you'd be like "L A M E - bring out the jumping jacks so I can throw them at someone".  I do have some bad memories as a teenager going down to the oval at Nutgrove Beach in Tasmania with a Jan Sport backpack full of crackers and it was flat-out war down there.  Truly terrifying.  I think I ripped my shorts scaling a fence to get away from some particular gung-ho lads that were trying to shoot me with some rockets.  No wonder they banned it actually.

Well I won't now

Here's something sweet and wholesome to try and wipe the last image from your mind......

The sweet smell of dairy products baking in the midday sun

And last week came Shavuot - another mystery to me - but apparently it was a festival to celebrate wheat - yet everybody eats fruit and dairy, and kids wear flowers in their hair.  And I guess God also gave the bible out to everyone a fair while back so that warrants some kind of recognition around here.  But religious documents aside, it's like a cheese fest for Africa around these parts.  And, you guessed it, more days off school.  I liked this one though - the food flowed thick and fast and we had a big family lunch and totally pigged out on various dairy goods.  Fuck the figs, it's all about the cheesecake people and don't you forget it.  I made a white chocolate mud cake as part of the premature celebrations for my daughters 5th birthday which is fast approaching.  It was a complete and utter abortion (no offence to foetuses).  The recipe called for about 6  blocks of white chocolate, 2 blocks of butter and multiple cups of sugar - so obviously it was a healthy number.  I couldn't even look at the   lump of lard again, so immediately piffed out the leftovers.  What a mistake.  I dreamt of scouring the rubbish at my sister in laws place later that evening.  Yet there will be more cake.  And more.

Its not your birthday yet girls, hold onto your loads

Really struggling to stay in control of the icing here

I have two birthday parties to execute this week - as is tradition, they have one in their kindergarten (on Wednesday) and one big one on Friday at some indoor play centre I have booked.  Delegating responsibility is the catch cry of my life this week.  Its worth paying other people big bucks to take twenty 4 year olds out of my sight and entertain them for 2 hours.  I am also paying people to do all the food and cakes.  Why have I never gone this avenue before?  It's inspiring.  Not sure what everyone else will do, but I myself, am going to hide in the food room and drink wine.

Look who found the icing pot....

Part of the reason I am leaving my children's entertainment in the hands of professionals is because we are busting out of here for two and a half months the day following the birthday party.  What a blessing.  The weather is starting to really heat up, and our apartment of windows hits 30 degrees at 8am.  The air conditioner just doesn't quite cut it when competing with a Middle Eastern sun.  I have taken to traipsing the city streets with a sun umbrella lately, which apparently singles me out as a gigantic tourist (as if I needed any help there), and sleazy men now keep introducing themselves to me in English whenever I step a toenail outside the front door. However I am a little bit disappointed to be leaving all the fun that summer here promises.  But surely it's a good thing?  After my solo trip home in March I got a taste of freedom and I just can't let go.  I have had far to many half drunk school runs lately.  Not to mention a night under the stars with everybody's favourite heart throb JT (Justin Timberlake to the thickies), with 50 000 other screaming and creaming women.  I actually mean girls.  I could possibly have been the oldest person there, and that was disheartening.  Old people can love JT too bitches.

That's a lot of held up phones....Oh, I'm doing it too

JT I'm hot for you baby!!! 

Utter self pity the morning after - oh and a posing selfie

I could be getting a nasty reputation among the other kindergarten mothers who are entirely sick of my Friday morning vodka breathe.  Adding further suspicions about my character was the good old black eye from an unfortunate stumble into a nightclub wall.  Thus I think my time is almost up.  I may have never removed my sunglasses during those three healing weeks, but word spreads.  The jig is up - Vali and Cordi's mother is a delinquent yobbo.  The black eye really was particularly embarrassing - not just for me but also for my husband.  The guy at my corner store still thinks I was bashed and encourages me in a whispered voice "Tell me anything" every time I go and get milk.  It was nice however, to get a bit of mileage out of it by suddenly yelling out in public to my beloved whenever he annoyed me "Please NOOOOO, don't do it again, I'll do anything……ANYTHING".  However, after Cordi ran into a tree a couple of days later, it actually looked like the poor misunderstood bastard beats not only his wife, but his child as well.  Sucked to be him that week.  What can I say - like mother like daughter.  Takes one un-co to breed another.

Hmmm I suspect Emily could be a total dick.

So I guess I should get packing sooner or later, but not before I have my final fun with my darling old school chum and her amazing partner and their cherubic two year old……and not to mention all the so longs to my Tel Aviv family and friends - and maybe one more night living large as a hooligan.  Walls of Tel Aviv beware.....

When Lulu comes to town who knows how far it will go.....