A Month Like No Other

Australia meets Israel in one glorious pavlova creation

Ah yes, I've decided to do something I haven't done for quite some time - well I did mention that I might be somewhat occupied over the last few weeks.  And I would like to announce  that the parentals have now left the building.....well and truly.  I would also like to mention that my parents are two of the sweetest, kindest most loving people on the planet.  I would also like to add that I have never spent so much time in their company.  24 hours a day, 7 days a week for 5 weeks.  Not even as a baby was I hanging out with them so long.  I was in creche a lot as an infant. It was for the best - I was apparently a little "bumhole" - direct quote from my father by the way.

Love you my honeys  - especially from afar......

 Possibly as a foetus I was hanging out with them more, but my senses were dulled by all that liquid, and it was mainly just Mum, so it's totally not the same.  During this last month I slept on one of Ikea's "finest" mattresses in our bomb shelter.   That was an experience I am never volunteering for again.  Have you seen how thin those fuckers are? Jesus, I should have just slept on my yoga mat.  Nothing like a body that is stiff and stuck in one rigid position to make you feel that warm family-loving fuzz.  It didn't help that they kept boasting about how comfortable our bed was.  I KNOW you bastards - it's my god dam bed.......at least it was.  When they referred to my room as "ours" I decided their days were numbered.....luckily they left the country before the poison I ordered online arrived (again no offence Mum and Dad.....).

I'm going to avoid the whole roadtrip through France discussion.  What can I say? - wine, cheese, chateaux, hours and hours in a small car, stuffing my kids with lollies to shut them up and letting them watch The Lorax 3000 times.  The good times.  It was great - I'm not going to boast - I'm annoying enough anyway.

Tel Aviv Street Style

One thing that really impressed itself on me was this: during my time away in Australia and France, I was extremely homesick for Israel.  Honestly I was.  I actually got a bit misty in the eye when I saw the Tel Aviv version of Pharrell William's "Happy" clip.  I did.  And it really surprised me.  Coming home was an extremely pleasant experience.  This place is alive.  It is pumping and it is passionate.  People love their country, and that has been no more obvious to me than the events of the last month.

First came Pesach - or Passover.  This is the biggie everyone.  The build up, the anticipation, the songs, the special dinner.  But I would like to mainly address the issue of bread.  Bread is a big No No.  Huge No No during the week of Passover.  This has to do with the haste in which the Jewish  slaves fled Egypt, so much so, their bread didn't have time to rise.  In recognition of this, only a flat bread - Matza is permitted at this time of year.  It's more like a dry cracker really, and I must say I don't rate it.  People clear out their shops of ALL wheat products - including pasta, crackers, breadcrumbs.  Bakeries shut their doors for a week and typically renovate their stores.  The entire country is in Bread Shut Down.  You can notice the odd Arab with a stall of bread on the side of the highway flogging it off to the sinners.  I was hoping that it was an highly illegal trade in bread products, but apparently it is not law breaking.  Imagine that - you strike up a conversation with your cell room mate who is doing 6 consecutive life sentences for child murder, and admit to him that you had a hankering for a brioche and the rest was history.  Sux to love your carbs that much.

Side of the road illegal bread trade

Get out of my sight

Anyway - people go a bit matza mad.  They start making shit with matza during that week that you have to ask yourself "What the FUCK are these people doing?".  Even my own husband soaked a big pile of that dry cracker crap in some water and then when it was all soggy put egg in it, and them cooked up that mess in a big frypan and fed it to my babies.  There was a questionable "cake" served at the Passover dinner that consisted of (correct me if I'm wrong here) layers of matza, nutella and wine - one on top of the other.  Some people may love this, but in my definition this cannot masquerade as a cake.  It's like making a mountain of vita-wheats, peanut butter and champagne, sticking a lit cigarette in the top of it as a candle and trying to palm it off at a birthday party.  That shiz don't fly - no matter how much nutella you put in it.  I would usually lick nutella off the bottom of a shoe, but I could not face the matza cake.  I could not.  Then there was the matza crumbled in a cup of coffee by my brother in law.  And that was on the second attempt.  On the first attempt he put two teaspoons of salt in it by accident thinking it was sugar.  That was funny to watch.  Then I was worked on to appreciate all the things you could with matza by making it soggy first - roll it, deep fry it - but to me, a soggy biscuit is a soggy biscuit.  Repulsive in every way.

Syria Spotting

In between this week of 1000 ways with Matza, we kept up a hefty touring schedule.  Took my mother to the border of Syria and Israel.  I think she was pleasantly surprised - and I'm sure that's something she never thought she's admit to.  Go on, shut your eyes and imagine what it's like.  Well, it's not like that at all.  At least these days it's not.  You do see the odd tank and shot up structure to remind you that that area was not all grass and vineyards once upon a time.  But these days it is peaceful.  And pretty.  Saw some crusaders castles, visited the ancient town of Caesarea and Masada, floated in The Dead Sea, stayed on the edge of a naturally formed crater in a fancy pants hotel, visited Jerusalem......all your good old special sights of Israel.  What a month.



And then came 2 extremely solemn days in the Jewish calendar - Holocaust Memorial Day and a week later the Memorial Day for all the Israeli soldiers.  On Holocaust Memorial Day the sirens ring out over the city and every person, every car, every bus, and every truck stops still.  People get out of their vehicles - even on the highways - and stand straight with their head bowed to acknowledge and remember that a third of the world's Jews were murdered 70 years ago.  And there they remain for several minutes.  Then the sirens stop and the world starts up again.  But people are much quieter in the streets that day.  Sometimes I wonder how Vali and Cordi will one day deal with the realisation that such brutality happened to their own family and people.  Like everyone I guess.  With disbelief, heartache, grief and despair.

"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them up with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone".
(Rose Kennedy)

A week later is the memorial day for the Israeli soldiers.  All the shops close that evening and everybody tries to deal with the fact that their young people are still dying protecting their country and people.  Whatever your political views, the pain of loss is real, and it is relevant for so many citizens here.  In this case, as my sister in law said - here the wound is still fresh.

My little patriot

That's one serious flag

Then at sundown, Yom Ha'Atzma'ut begins.  As my daughter's American kindergarten teacher said to me this morning - it's like the 4th of July on crack.  Brilliantly said. This year was Israel's 66th Independence Day - dating from 1948 when the State of Israel was established.  I would like to mention that I have never seen a display of patriotism like it.  Much much more than when our Cathy Freeman took gold at the Sydney Olympics.  Much much more than a pack of 21 year old Aussies smashed on beer at ANZAC Cove on Australia Day.  No matter how many "Aussie Aussie Aussie Oy Oy Oy"s we chant out, no matter how many Aussie flags we use as capes, no matter how many vegemite sandwiches we stick to our bodies, we could never match the love of country I have witnessed here with my own two eyes.  For a start - the flags.  They go up early - first they start creeping onto cars a couple of weeks before.  Then a few people hang them off their balconies, then shops and businesses start plastering them all over the outside of their walls.  Then there are whole lines of them being strung up everywhere.  Seriously, I could not walk down the street without snagging my hair on a Star of David.

*The following images contain pictures of food.  I am still denying this is a food post, but you have been warned in advance.

Testing the brand new big boy

you will eat it and you will love it

Looking for planes

There they are!!!

Run wild my darlings, draw on the walls,  Mumma is written off today

All the street parties started at sundown the night before, and went all night long.  So did the roof parties.  I sat on my balcony and listened to the music and spied on all the drunk people.  Then the next day was the big celebration for Israel's birthday.  The atmosphere is intoxicating - the whole city smells like smoky meat.  We had a BBQ too.  There is an air show of fighter jets and helicopters along the beach at midday - all perfectly viewed from our balcony.  The guests arrived early and I immediately got them drunk on cocktails.  Fuck coffees - a total piss-up is how we Aussie's love to roll.  The meat was BBQ'ed, the salads laid out.  The parents got hammered and the kids ran wild.  I made a pavlova and Vali stuck an Israeli flag in it.  It all slopped off the plate and I cut my finger apart trying to serve it - I did mention the cocktails didn't I??  Then after we got rid of the guests, it was off to a street party to get more drunk and obnoxious.  What can I say? - it's what I do best......Hangovers aren't what I do best though.  However, the week before's was worse though.  On that occasion I walked through the door at 4.30 in the morning to be greeted by my husband and daughter.  The first words were "Cordi's just vomited all over the floor in our room, and you have to deal with it". It wasn't quite the collapse into bed I had in mind. Then, in what seemed like an instant, I awoke to the call "The kids have to be at school in 15 minutes or they're going to miss the parade".  I was still upright on the couch still wearing all my clothes from the night before including my shoes.  The school drop-off was highly unpleasant.

Old bung eye strikes again

Street fun

Why do I do it??

Yes, I am running in the streets and wearing an Israeli flag as a cape

So let life return to normal.  Let me stop sweating vodka and craving bread products.  Let me go back to my own beloved bed and stop driving a 7 seater mini bus around unforgiving city streets.  Let me stop sitting up to 3am in the morning waiting for my fucking pavlova to cook, and for the love of god, let the neighbours move their blood stained mattress off the footpath outside my house.......

See what I mean?  It's just so gross

It was all pretty fun though......

Doing it for the Kids - Yeah!

Happy

It really is a kid's world here.  Seriously - calling all kids out there - do you want to rule the world, have no boundaries, never get told off, push, scream and yell at whoever you want, tell adults to shove it if they even attempt to tell you what to do, run wild, and eat sugar all day???? - then Israel awaits you.......perhaps steer clear once you get to your late teens - then you're off to the army for years, and you better enjoy early mornings, push-ups and the colour khaki.  It's amazing how quickly you adjust to seeing teenagers walking the streets sporting massive weaponry.  They don't even have to be in uniform.  We walked past a heavily tattooed dude the other day who had an M-16 casually slung over his shoulder.  If this sight was viewed in Tassie - the scream would go out "He's got a GUN!!!".  People would begin screaming, pushing, and running in terror.  Old ladies would be mowed down in the stampede, and children would be used as human shields.  But here - nobody bats an eyelid.  I too am used to seeing the heavily armed men on patrol at the kid's kindergarten, and think nothing of having my bag searched every time I enter a shopping centre, and sometimes a cafe.  Being asked if I've got a weapon no longer sounds like a wacky enquiry but a fair enough ask, and dancing in a nightclub waving a machine gun above one's head (actually viewed once by my husband) sounds like a lot of fun.

Flower fairies

But never is there more of a kid's celebration anywhere than the festival of Purim in Israel.  Apparently in Australia, Jewish people celebrate by wearing a costume one day.....what evs - just 1 lousy day??? Boring!......but here......oh my.  So far, the celebrations for the kids have been going on for 10 days.  They have been in a different costume everyday (as organised by their teachers) - smurfs, elves, clowns, face painted animals, queens, funny hat day, and finally the grand finale of Freestyle Costume Day - this was the Rapunzel/Snow White extravaganza.  There were actually 3 Snow Whites and 2 Rapunzels this year in Vali and Cordi's class.  And these other princesses had far classier outfits - the adoring parents had especially ordered them online (and boasted to me how amazing they were).  And admitably they were pretty special - completely kicking the arses of Vali and Cordi's tacky pieces of tattered shit that I bought last year from Toys R Us in New York - outfits which they have been eating and sleeping in on occasion, over the last 8 months.  But seeing as I ordered brand new $6 wigs from the UK to bring the outfits together,  V & C's Princess looks completely trumped all the other Snow Whites and Rapunzels.  As soon as they caught sight of those glorious 6 buck manes, the non wig-wearing Disney Princesses were all howling because they didn't have the proper hair. There was meant to be a parade as well, but the weather was shit (the weather is NEVER shit here by the way) and so the parade for the school is tomorrow, with the parade for the whole entire city - to be held next Friday.....and thus it stretches on for even longer.

Clowns

"Dwarf" Day - How politically incorrect - I think they meant "Elves"

Homemade Smurfs

It's all about the wigs people

Scary or cute?

Slutty Angel

And it's not just the kids who are going all out.  Purim here for adults is far bigger than NYE.  In fact it is a religious requirement to get rolling drunk at Purim - God orders it be so, so put on your outfits and getting sculling.  Purim is the only holiday that is just about fun - and I have to admit, it's a beauty.  The traditional story behind it, is all about when Queen Ester saved the Jews from annihilation from some total bastard called Haman - who is such a prick that whenever his name is said during the telling of the Purim story, everybody shakes rattles as loudly as possibly to block it out.  The streets run thick with candies and gifts, and people get round in costumes for days.

I like seeing all the different looks around town.  Some are genius (Tammy), some are cool (Amit), some are pathetic - it would be wrong to mention names here.....  and a considerable amount are slutty - or as is preferred - "sexy".  I still say slutty though.  What is it about the slut look that everyone loves so much - slutty policewoman, slutty nurse, slutty cat, slutty cowgirl, slutty angel, slutty devil, slutty school girl, slutty fairy, slutty slut.....the list is endless - everything can be slutorised - and is.  There was a street party stretching all around our neighbourhood last night.  For god's sake - what a bunch of noisy drunkards - I hope they all feel sick today.  I am lame and did not join in the merriment.  This is mainly because I am boring, but also was because I was buggarised.  I'd been at the synagogue that day for an early morning start.  No, I am not getting swayed by the lure of religious ecstasy at 8am on my only sleeping-in day - but instead I was there for the pre-wedding celebrations for my husband's nephew who is getting married this Wednesday.  Chalks was there to chant a blessing for his nephew which was pretty special and important, while I was there to throw lollies at the groom - which is part of the duties of the women pre-wedding - and also to let my children eat candies for breakfast.

That's what I'm talking about....hmmm the slutty bee, that's a new one

The gimp does the limbo

Purim goes off in Tel Aviv

Show us what you've got ladies

Buck up smurfs

Marge Simpson - I like this one

For anyone who has never been to a synagogue let me explain a little from what I can gather.  Men and women cannot sit together - they have to enter through separate doors.  The men are involved in praying, chanting, wearing shawls (called tallit) and kippahs, reading holy scrolls and doing some kind of secret dance with special hand movements under a sheet that nobody is allowed to see.  Especially not the women.  We sit separately above, or in this particular synagogue, next to the men's area (but blocked by a wall and a curtain).  We don't do much.  You can follow along in the Bible if you read Hebrew.....but apparently women aren't even required by Jewish law to attend synagogue.  It's a bit of a chauvinistic approach really - and this apt description was given in class by my Hebrew teacher - who in in fact religious herself  - when she explained that women are considered unclean.  Really religious men will not even touch a woman - including shaking their hand when introduced -as I found out in our local carpet shop when I held out my hand after our salesman had enthusiastically pumped Mark's paw, and mine was disdainfully rejected.  But what religion doesn't discriminate between the sexes?  I prefer to think of it as women are so naturally spiritual that they don't need all the bullshit religious crap that's imposed on male worshippers.

Just substitute "Hanukkah Party" with any Jewish celebration or event

Apparently all the synagogue regulars aren't big on the usually non-religious-only-there-for-the-wedding attendees - especially not non- Jews who give their children colouring books to do while they wait for the candy toss.  I got severely reprimanded by a lady in an unflattering hat, and of course had no idea that it was forbidden to put pen to paper on the Sabbath, I thought she was worried they were going to draw on the bench so I was trying to assure her that they would be really careful.....hmmmm.....not popular......But as I said, it's a kid's world here, so as soon as the kids have gathered enough lollies to rot the teeth of an entire Cambodian orphanage, they break free and go and play on the play equipment out the front, which is also a lot more fun than sitting in a place with a lot of disapproving looks and "SSSSSSHHHHHH's" being thrown your way.

Nice point Jeremy....nice point

At least Vali and Cordi have finally been accepted as new citizens.  Things were looking rough over the last few months due to my heathen status.  Apparently Chalks as the Baby Daddy was called into question due to our relationship being considered a bit on the suss side, and there was almost the need for a court ordered DNA test which would have cost a pretty penny.  Bugger that, we should have just booked a spot on Jeremy Kyle and got one for free.  The main reason for the suspicion over my sperm donor, was that our wedding was held after the kids had entered this world some 4 years previously, plus the fact that we don't have joint bank accounts, have never been on the lease for a rental together, and basically haven't owned anything together (mainly because we don't own anything).  But following several visits to the worst place in the the entire world - The Immigration Office - and many unpleasant encounters with a woman who looked like a walrus, we got a foot in the door with the actual head of the department (following a few pulled strings thanks to our connections with medical royalty) - visited her a few times, narrowly avoided court, and finally got the stamp.   For me, it's going to take a little longer.  I don't even get an interview to enquire about gaining temporary status until September.......nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm going to the garden to eat worms (that was one DEMENTED childhood song by the way - who's with me on this??).

It's Twilight Sparkle and her Star of David cutie mark

If my children want to keep up the illusion of being Israeli citizens they had better toe the line.  Two things happened on Saturday that alerted me to the fact that I am raising a couple of shiksas.  The first was Vali's reaction when she saw the huge Star of David on the synagogue wall.  She pointed to it, and shouted out "Look Mum!  It's Twilight Sparkle's cutie mark".  For all you thickies that aren't up with MLP (that's My Little Pony by the the way) - a pony gets a special and original pattern on it's butt once it graduates from foal to pony.  Apparently Twilight Sparkle (the purple one with wings and a unicorn horn) has a star on it's hind quarters.  See........who says that this blog is full of drivel and you never learn anything important.  The other faux pas made by my offspring happened while I was getting a plate of food for her at the kosher brunch following the synagogue outing.  Vali started yelling at me from up the stairs "Mumma get me pig-meat!!!!  Mumma, I want PIG-MEAT".  I was trying to hush her, and she just kept saying it over and over.  This random request for ham comes up at the strangest times.  The first thing she asked for when she finally got better after her brush with pneumonia was "pig meat" - on that occasion I got some sliced turkey and pretended it was a new white variety.  But seriously, how random; #1 For not calling it "ham", and #2 For wanting to eat it in the first place as the girls almost never want to eat meat - they are going through a empathetic stage toward eating animals themselves, yet at the same time are totally fascinated that people and other animals eat animals and want to see photographs on the internet of lions savaging zebras and a snake eating a crocodile.......

A day in Paris

So..... currently I am Dubai awaiting my 15 hour flight to Melbourne.  FIFTEEN hours!  Jesus, I must really love my cousin.  This is following a 4 hour flight from Tel Aviv to Paris and a 9 hour stopover there - charming by the way, yet god dam FREEZING.  And just recently, a 7 hours flight from Paris to my current location.  But I have my eyepatch on the ready, my earplugs set to go, eyedrops, a spray can of facial Evian and a sleeping pill on standby to get me to Australia.  Bring it!!!

*Update;  I have finally made it to Tasmania.  On the upside, my plane didn't get kidnapped by aliens or terrorists.  On the downside, I have had 3 hours of sleep since Monday morning and I saw a woman in the row in front of me shake her newborn baby to get it to shut up......I must admit it was a pretty annoying baby and I was thinking the same thing, however I'm pretty sure that kind of thing is kind of illegal these days.....

I'm going to miss you and everything girls.....

But then there's freedom - (Should I have waited until they weren't looking before I did this???)

Health, Hebrew and Homecoming

Of course

It's almost sad really that I continue to push on with this drivel.  This blog is sicker than Christopher Skase at his last court appearance...... allegedly that is, but then I guess he did die from stomach cancer, so maybe that wheel chair wasn't a prop.......It also doesn't help matters that I'm slacker than Boy George's arsehole either.  But what can I do?  I've got a million excuses, but sitting firmly on top of the list is pneumonia.....And I'm pretty sure that one's a slam dunk straight to Pity-ville.  That would be pity from you to me, in case you were wondering.  Well good old pneumonia, and various other ailments have seen me nursing my entire family through a myriad of germs and diseases since Christmas time.  I never truly understood the germ pits of cess and human misery that are child care centres.  Although I knew friend's kids that came home with school sores, hand foot and mouth disease and green snot oozing from every orifice - but I never really had to deal with that kind of shit before.  I just googled a picture of school sores for this blog, but have been too busy cleaning the vomit off my keyboard to post it......seriously, YUK.

But with fresh, untainted immune systems, V and C were basically bacterial sponges. For 8 weeks I battled the twin evil demons of Princess Phlegm and Sir Snot.  At the climax of the war, over a 10 day period, I ended up with shit, piss and vomit in my bed.  I got vomited on three times - some of which went in my mouth.  I was up for large portions during the night, and wore earplugs in the day to muffle the howling.  I administered so much panadol,  that I should have bought shares in the local paracetamol company; and basically wore both my children at various time like some lumpy, heavy, heated piece of uncomfortable clothing.

This is what you get when you search "Latvian Stripper"

During one of these more unfortunate periods - when Vali got pneumonia and lost about 3 kg in a week my husband had a business trip.  This was extremely ill-timed, but unavoidable.  I could not leave the house.  Ever.  I couldn't even take Cordi to school as Vali was too sick to be put in the car for the journey.  I ended up paying one of the kindergarten teachers to pick her up and drop her off via taxi.  And as I lay there holding my limp, white, unconscious child in my arms; meanwhile in a random eastern European nation, my husband addressed business strategy by day, and by night got absolutely blind with other computer nerds, the highlight (for me) being when he sobbed and embraced a Syrian IT dude - with both of them hugging and weeping "We're all brothers, we're all brothers........" .  This was obviously in response to the political issues that have gripped Israel and Syria over the last decade or two.  Anyway the two of them swore eternal friendship as they glugged vodka straight from the bottle and watched 7 foot Latvian pole dancers show them their fannies.  World peace right there everyone - At the next UN conference they can all just empty a couple of bottles of Grey Goose each, visit some "exotic dancers" and look at boobies......and thus, all the troubles of world could be solved.  But back in Latvia, my husband proceeded to steal alcohol from the VIP area - suffer a paranoia attack and bolt into the snow where he got totally lost for hours in freezing conditions while trying to find his hotel (it was, for the record, directly opposite from the strip club).

I love how random his conferences are.  I think I once mentioned my all time favourite business trip story, when one was held in Denmark, and everyone had to dress up like vikings and row a long boat in a moat, then fight a tournament with large sticks, and later consume a feast of mead and roasted baby pigs.

My poor shiny eyed baby

But back to the warm, dark, stuffy, germ filled "House of Happiness" in Tel Aviv.  When I finally took Vali back to school - looking very white and very small - the cutest thing in the world happened, which I am writing about because I don't ever want to forget it.  I took her into the classroom to say hello to all her school chums one afternoon when she was well enough to  put on her clothes and come and pick up Cordi with me.  She had been away from school for 8 days and was still not back to her normal self.  When the children saw her, with utter joy they cried out "Vali Vali we miss you", and one by one they all came to her and put her arms around her.  The entire class all surrounded Vali in a giant group hug.  They were all just so happy to see her.  I actually cried.  It was the most beautiful, spontaneous thing I ever saw from a group of 17 four year olds.  Just so so special.  Vali was so happy that everyone missed her so much.  I'm telling you, it was moving.

Anyway, it wasn't long after that the disease finally penetrated my shields - vomit directly in the mouth can do that.  And I would like to say that I have never been so sick.  There were actually times when I really thought I could die.  It lasted almost a month - with an especially bad week in the middle where I literally could not get out of bed.  I didn't even lay eyes on Vali and Cordi for 2 days - my husband ran the ship - I ate nothing for days, and when I finally crawled out of my hole, I have never seen a scarier sight than what looked back at me from the bathroom mirror.  Hair = one clump of matted frizz.  Face = grey and shrivelled.  Body = dry and wasted.   I looked like a dying neanderthal....

Trying for Lady Mary, ending up Mrs Patmore

So there we have it.  And in between all of that nonsense I turned 40 - threw a Downton Abbey themed birthday party, rolled my hair under into an extremely unflattering hairstyle, fucked up the batches of scones, and nursed Vali - who was downstairs in misery, as people danced the Charleston above with a lemon tart in one hand and a cucumber sandwich in the other.  The poor little poppet.  She tried so hard to feel better and helped decorate the cupcakes in the morning - only to suffer a relapse and ended up passed out in her party frock for the entire party.

Over this hole

Second on the list in regards to my futile attempts to keep this crappiola limping along, has been the time spent studying Hebrew.  I swear, it's like having a full time job.  I go to class 3 day a week for 5 hours a day, and then all of my free time in the evening, and my days off are spent doing my homework and studying.  And I am still one of the worst in the class.......I was never of those people who studied much at school and despite that penchant for laziness, I did annoyingly well - but now I am studying ALL the time, and getting nowhere.  I can't take it.

This is where I spend my days.....

In fact so bad am I, that I tell everyone around me that I never have a chance to study or do my homework because of the kids.  It is of course a lie, and along the same vein as the lie I tell about how much time I spent in Japan as to explain my pathetic grasp of the national language there......I also had to set up an alternate Facebook page so that I could befriend my Hebrew teacher and all the other class-members.  Originally I set up the new identity so I could write blogs about all the people in the class and bitch about them - like the Russian student's outfits (tight and tacky with visible g-string) and the arseholeness of some of the French students who stink of cigarettes and cheese and sit up the bag talking loudly in French all lesson - but hmmmmm - I like them all too much by now.  Yes, there's another thing I didn't get around to doing.  Learning Hebrew is fucking up me slagging off learning Hebrew.

I don't even know what this says, but this picture makes me feel like punching out that kid

I don't know you.  I don't know any of you.

Anyway in regards to my new identity, gone is the stoopid profile picture of me sticking my finger up Hello Kitty's arsehole, now replaced with the adoring Emily Korman - "Serene Mother" pictured in her wedding dress, smiling and cuddling her two blonde angels.  Don't try to befriend my under my new identity - I will not accept any of you rif raf as friends of my new pure persona.  You'll put evil techno music on my pristine page, or send articles about how doing a poo can give you an orgasm, or some other various assorted hippy shit about loving plants, inter-galactic beings or some other crap.  I think I will also befriend all the kindergarten mothers under my new identity as well, as I really don't want them to know either that I took acid in the 90s and over-use "cunt" when writing blogs about my children.

So that's me - studying Hebrew night and day, spending my life savings on tissues, and fending off friendships by ignoring texts and dreaming up excuses.  But behold the incredible light at the end of the tunnel.  I am blowing this popsicle stand, on Monday, THIS coming Monday, for a SOLO 10 day trip to Tasmania, followed by a family trip in France, followed by my parents coming to Israel for a month.  This is very exciting news........stay tuned....or don't actually......I probably won't resurface until May.  Wish Chalky luck - I don't think he knows how to use a hairbrush or cook anything apart from toast and omelettes - but I guess dreadlocks have their place, and who doesn't love eggs?

2014 The Year of Permanent Slackery

I'm just not buying it Cam, I see no strays....

Wow, I've never taken a hiatus for this long before.  But let's face it, there's only so much crap a person can write about themselves, or poo, or who annoys me,  or about my kids - their poo, the ways in which they annoy me.....before it all gets a bit tired.  I s'pose I could talk about my pubes again, however that particular topic has been covered more recently by Cameron Diaz lately, and I have no hope of competing there.  It does turn out though that Cammy and I are on the same page when it comes to pubes.  Pubes are in!!!  Lasering your fanny flaps is out....or it will be one day, and then all you will have left is some bare draping skin, that, like the skin all over the rest of your body, will be adversely affected by gravity -......But enough, enough.  After all, like I said, who cares?....http://metro.co.uk/2014/01/16/cameron-diaz-why-im-on-a-quest-to-enlighten-women-about-pubic-hair-and-poo-4264278/  Well..... aparently a LOT of people - I think Cammy and her pube obsession was far more frequently googled than "real" news such as Australia's international crisis involving boat people and the Indonesians.  I saw this comparison of 'give a fuck' in a recent article by an Australian comedian - and sadly I too knew about the pubes, but not Tony's fuckery.....just smile and don't think about it too much, it's a far too sad reflection of the human race.

Mine doesn't look soooo bad does it?

So quite a bit has happened in the last month.  Christmas in Vienna, NYE in Tel Aviv, my 40th in Hertzliya Pituach (well some of the day anyway).....Several Hebrew classes, a few rounds of child sickness.......and something that mostly explains my out of action-ness......No, not alcohol or drugs.  It's that the battery of my computer exploded.  Yes exploded.  Did anyone even know this was possible?  Nope.  Me neither.  Well it is, so now you all have something else to worry about.  Will your computer explode, burn you and your family into disfigurement and set fire to your house......?

Apart from the explosion, none of the above actually happened to me, but rest assured, after I researched on the internet, I found that these extra fabulous outcomes were also possible.  For me, my computer just wouldn't turn on and it looked like it had been dropped.  Dropped hard in fact.  Smashed on the ground until the bottom of the laptop was warped and open.  My husband blamed me, I blamed the kids.  We took it to get fixed, and upon opening the bottom the battery had a second explosion in the repair man's office.  He said he'd never seen anything like it before.  But there has been many episodes just like my explosion only much much worse, see exhibits A, B and C below.

Nasty

Even more nasty

Miss Happy got a rather large burn on her leg from her battery explosion

This restaurant doesn't do subtle

But anyway, enough of the excuses and back to meaningless tales about my sad little existence.  Flying directly from the land of Anti-Christmas to an ocean of Ho Ho Hos, eggnog, lights, presents and Jingle Bells was a shock to the system.  In fact it was like taking a bit of pulverised Santa (his pinky toe or something unnecessary.....perhaps even his appendix....), mixing it with some tinsel, a snowflake and some liquefied gingerbread and injecting that yuletide hit straight through the chest plate directly into the heart - like that scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta smashes that shot of adrenaline into Uma Thurman's chest after she ODs on his heroin stash thinking it was coke and has a trail of blood coming out her nose.....let's face it, we've all been there......... - Basically we landed in full Christmas cheer right on Christmas Eve itself - in Vienna.  And my poor Jewish husband??? Basically forced to bring in Christmas in the country of Hitler's birth.  But to be fair, it was his idea.  Although he strays towards the nonchalant side of Christmas, he is in fact, a sucker for Christmas lights.

Mr Christmas Lights gets his fix

Pretty - but can we go home to bed now Chalksie???

We headed straight for the toy shop, where we had planned to let the girls mark out their special wishes for the big guy and secretly buy them when they weren't looking.  Unfortunately the shelves were fairly sparse, and my repeated attempts to guide them towards the vet outfits and the puzzles were stamped out with a heart shaped box of make-up and those stupid soft toys with the big eyes.  More unfortunately still, was that Cordi asked me at the age of 4 - "Mum is Santa actually real?"  I had braced myself for this question - anticipating it from about age 8, and decided that after my own parents repeated bullshit with accompanying feelings of betrayal, I was actually going to tell the truth when finally asked.  But at 4???  No, it's not fair.  So I copied some random Mum's response in some internet letter about how Santa, while not being actually one person represents the idea of magic that all parents carry on for their children and how magic is real to people that believe in it......blah blah blah.  She didn't buy it for a second.  Instead she just looked at me and said "Yes, but is Santa actually real Mummy?".  I skirted the issue and said "Do you believe in him?".  She said "Yes", so I said, "Then he is real......now get that carrot ready for Rudolf"....... let the Great Lie continue......

I guess that that's what happens when you send a couple of semi Christian kids to a kindergarten full of Jewish children and tell them that Santa will visit us in Austria.  The Jewish parents have got to tell their kids something.  Some magical fattie can't be favouring all the yoks and leaving the Jewish kids out of the present fiesta....like I previously said, the chocolate coins and jam donuts are no match for a sack of bounty.  At least I didn't have to explain away Krampus this year - there was no sign of the evil fuck in any shops.  I think he has his moment early December, and then is whisked away to leave minimal psychological scars......see last years Austrian Krampus explanation if this makes as much sense to you as quantum physics.....http://twintravelling.blogspot.co.il/2012/12/krampus-castle-and-pus-sticks_2.html

Hidey Ho

So cut to the Christmas Eve dinner -  a restaurant completely filled with cuckoo clocks (it was called Restaurant Der KuckKuck, so I guess it was appropriate).  It sounds great, but you don't count on the little pricks going off every two seconds all over the place.  We had a cuckoo clock as a child.  It was never on the wall, as it never worked.  I suspect it was because me and my brother were constantly trying to open those little wooden doors to catch a glimpse of the little white elusive bastard....praying, just praying it would cuckoo for us.  Never did, the little shit.  So, as Cordi got creative with her own Mr Hanky, we all walked around in the freezing cold, marvelling at the lights of Vienna, and then back to our glamorous room - which might I add was free due to an usual amount of Starwood points my husband happened to rack up.  Seeing as we'd had to leave our Tel Aviv apartment at 3am to make our flight that morning I really expected the girls to nap on a bit longer that 4.45am the next morning.  F U C K.  But I guess I did it to my own parents, and them to theirs, and so on..... every Christmas morning.  Its hard to go back to sleep with a pillow case of loot winking at you from the bottom of the bed.  So Christmas morning off we went with two four year olds completely plastered in toy make-up (hopefully non toxic, but unfortunately I can't read German), and received daggers from all the staff suckered into working Christmas morning in the restaurant.  It wouldn't have mattered if I'd passed out Rolex's and diamond earrings, they would have still despised us.  I punished them for their weakly veiled hatred by not leaving a tip.....on Christmas.  That is some evil shit right there......

I asked the girls to spell a word with the available sticker letters at dinner - I must say, I'm impressed

Ohhhhhhh Santa!!!  You do love me - Mum's threats were bullshit

Santa BABY!!!!!  You love ME more

This one's been done to death

Then it was off to the Christmas markets at the Schönbrunn Palace to meet Chalky's niece and boyfriend who by total coincidence happened to be in Vienna for 2 days.  We all indulged in some festive bullshit (i.e. looked at some Christmas decoration stalls) and ate some Nutella waffles.  Saw some ducks performing a Christmas miracle, took some photos, and shoved off back to the hotel via a few hot chocolates where I almost lived my dream.

Yeah Baby

Give me more

Oh dear.......

The miracle ducks - I'm talking about the dudes at the back not the loser at the front

Photos never do it justice, but take it from me....it was magic

This dream involved seeing the Nutcracker Ballet inside the Vienna State Opera House on Christmas night.  The slight drawback was that it was completely sold out, and if, by chance, seats became available, they were extremely expensive.  BUT......the lounge room windows of our swanky joint opened directly onto the front of the Opera House where a giant 8 by 10 metre screen had been erected.  And what was on the screen but........ National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - The Uncut Version!!!!!......OK, so it was really The Nutcracker, with all it's orchestra glory.  They had put up seats directly in front in the square, but we had the best view in the house - plus we had heaters under the windowsills which made a difference with the windows open - Ha Ha Ha everyone else freezing below.  We sat and drank French champagne and watched the entire show.  I was literally so happy that I shed joyous tears - especially during the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy herself.  I had always dreamt of a life on the stage (in a tutu) until Mrs Todd broke it to me at age 12 that I was never going anywhere outside the St Stevens Community Hall.....thanks bitch - you could have mentioned that before I made my Mother spend 200 bucks on point shoes that I had Buckley's of standing on......gutted.  Nowadays my only chance of being on the stage is cleaning it at the end of the night.  Who cares, I'll take it.......

It's all about the spread

But it was Auf Wiedersehen not long after that......NYE came on quick - it's a relative non event here - the Jewish New Year being in September.  So NYE here is called Sylvester, and a few restaurants make a lame effort - balloons, a count down that half of the people don't realise is happening.  I tried to get drunk and failed epically.  Went back to Chalk's nieces place via cafe on the corner who's coffee I enjoy by day.  However, this evening they had erected a stripper pole near the coffee machine and I lamely watched from the stairs, as a pale chick in sparkly undies, slid down a pole upside down and showed everyone her fanny......no pubes.....she hasn't caught on yet.........We chewed the fat a bit more back at the birthday girl's place, and ate cake that I had made for Sunny's birthday - yes, it's on the 31st - bad deal huh......it was chocolate and beetroot.  Tasted like dirt.

Flavors from the ground......

The beginning of January flittered away fast, and here I am at 40 wondering what the fuck happened.  I'm sure it's a common feeling.  I will attempt to address this milestone in the not to distant future after I sober up and the anti-Ds kick in.  Suffice to say, that I am reasonably impressed with the birthday wishes from one and all....but next time you better say it with presents or I'm defriending you all.....the fact that I'm on the other side of the world should not be a deterrent.