7 Years of Bad Luck????

So here I was, waltzing around all delighted that my apartment had finally come together. In the past few days, I bought a microwave and washing machine, and today I had a really nice picture put up on the long expanse of empty wall in my entry hallway.

All that's left to do is groom the garden, and that will be taken care of post-Pesach.

I was finally relaxing. The long and bitter odyssey of decorating the huge, empty expanse of my apartment appeared to be over - I had this actual thought ten minutes ago.

That all came literally CRASHING down. As I sat here typing up a blog entry for your enjoyment (about the fascinating topic of nuking a sweet potatoe in my new microwave - more on that to come in the next entry), suddenly I heard a great noise. I wondered if one of the light fixtures had fallen off and broken??

I rushed out to the hall and guess what?? My brand new picture (not a Van Gogh but I tagged this entry as such for sh*ts and giggles), that had been put up just hours ago, had fallen off the wall, taking the nails with it, and all the glass had broken into huge shards on the floor.

And there it currently sits. I just don't have the coy-ach (strength, as we say in Yiddish) to deal with the mess now.

And honestly, I'm upset. It's like the Heavens sent me a message: Don't get too comfortable.

To which I answer: Why not?? What is so wrong about wanting to have a sanctuary in the middle of a new, foreign, busy as heck city??

And does this mean that I am being punished for something?? I hate to go that route but I can't help but think that way. When dramatic things like this happen it's important to sit up and listen.

I need to go back and review my conduct over the past while - perhaps this is atoning for something. At least I wasn't under the picture when this happened.

Oy, all I can say is whatever. The gallery owner is coming to get the painting in order to fix it, since he was the one that put it up in the first place. I guess I'll have to sweep up the fricking glass. I just don't feel like doing it right now. Let my 7 years of bad luck sit on the floor for a while and think about what it did.

Note to Self: Learn Slang and Words for All Questionable Body Parts Before Posting on Facebook

Today's Facebook exchange is so hilarious I had to post it. Check out my status update and the comments that followed. (Each dash represents a different commentator - identifying names and photos have been removed to protect the innocent.)

Erica Why do the words 'Shadayim Yerushalayim' keep running through my head at odd intervals? What the heck does that mean, anyway? (And don't tell me to look it up because I just got back from 5 hours of ulpan and my brain is fried.)

4 hours ago ·

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Not so sure you *want* to know what that means - but take it as a compliment.

4 hours ago 

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I tend to translate too literally and so my translation of the G-ds of Yerushalayim doesn't sound so kosher.

4 hours ago 

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I would look up these type of things before you post it on Facebook. It is more or less referring to the Jerusalem chickens "white meat":)

3 hours ago

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I'm getting close, but your friends seem to have a better idea that it refers to the breasts of Yerushalyim.

3 hours ago

-Shadayim means "breasts". They didnt teach you that in ulpan? usually when I learn a foreign language, the first few words (after please" and "thank you" and "where is the bathroom"?) "are either curse words or private anatomical parts!

2 hours ago 

Erica

OMG this is HILARIOUS!!!!!!!!!!!

25 minutes ago

My Belt Left Me Bereft

Curiouser and curiouser!

Being that I finally am in one place for more than one night, yesterday I was finally able to unpack the majority of my suitcases.

I must confess that prior to this I have been - yes, shamefully - essentially wearing the same four outfits over and over again. It's really not a big deal. Everyone in Israel wears jeans every day.

(Please do not disclose this to ANYONE! I have a reputation to uphold, after all.)

Where were we? Ah, yes. So one of the things I unpacked was my prized collection of belts. I decided to wear my current favorite - a Forever 21 number in stretchy, studded black fabric - that very day.

I sashayed over to ulpan with it clipped around my new sweater with drapey sleeves. I patted it comfortingly a number of times throughout the morning. Around 11:07am (I remember the exact moment! Horrors!) I suddenly realized that my belt was no longer on my person!!

What had happened?? I surmised that it was clipped on tenuously and had fallen off somewhere. Oh, the worry! I dashed out of class and was so relieved to find it laying in a snake-like heap under a chair in the nearby lobby.

I re-secured it, making sure it was well on, and continued with my day, trying to forget the trauma.

That evening, I went out to dinner at one of the cafes lining Rechov Emek Refaim (and had a very odd salad, might I add). Oh, I had myself a fabulous time. After I returned home, I was straightening up my new sublet, feeling rather content with myself, when I suddenly realized - gasp! - I was no longer wearing my belt!!

Yes, it had disappeared for the second time that day.

I had either lost it in my friend's car, in the restaurant, or it was gone forever.

For a moment, I was devastated by the third possibility, but then realized that I didn't really want a belt that was just not that into me.

Still, I argued with myself, I wasn't sure of the belt's motivation. So like a teenage girl with a lovesick crush, I called my friend to inquire: Might he have found a belt in his car?

He hesitated for a moment, perhaps pondering what kind of pills I was on and where he could get some, but finally responded that sadly, no, he had not.

Strike one!

Yet I persevered. Today, on the way home from ulpan, I walked (beltlessly) by the restaurant and asked in Hebrew (probably making the whole exchange sound ever more bizarre) whether they had found a belt under my table, around the bar or elsewhere? I could barely look at them, so shamed was I by my request.

They HAD!

I was so happy to see my belt again that I flew into a state of bliss.

However, now that I've had some time to think, I'm wondering:

• Just why did my belt run away from me twice?
• Was it unhappy to be found?

AND

• Has it found another girl it likes better than me? (Is she Israeli? Is she Belgian? Oh, I'm torturing myself.)
• Was my belt, in fact, planning to rednezvous with Giveret X at the Restaurant of Broken Dreams (and Belts)??
  

My belt aint talking. I'm holding on to it, for now. But I have banished it to the deepest depths of my belt drawer. My new favorite doesn't just clip, it has a fastener. And it's not going anywhere.

I cannot tell a lie - Pinnochio RAWKED New Years

Greetings, Earthings! Please allow me to take a break from sharing Part Deux of my Aliyah in order to introduce you to a very close and personal friend of mine:

Pinnochio, also affectionately known by his Hebrew moniker, Pinni!!

Not only is Pinnochio one heckuva human being (oh wait, he's not, although he aspires to be), he is multifaceted in that he also functions as a wine cork. I sassily picked him up at an adorable curiosities shop in Santa Barbara, and my life has never been the same.

I also befriended his twin brother, Dominochio, who now resides with my dear friend, Leron. Her life has also been changed in immeasurable ways, some too amazing to share. She was forced to put him in a long-term living situation (storage) while she transversed the globe, but had a blessed reunion with Pinni (and secondly, me) when I arrived in Israel.

(Side note: Please do not refer to Dominochio as the Dapper Dom, Twinnochio or Twiggy. Pinni, who at times, sadly dabbles in the immature arts, has harrassed his twin with these nicknames in the past and we don't want to recreate a contentious atmosphere for our wooden brothers.)

Leron and I took Pinni out for a whirlwind night on the town on New Year's Eve and he truly made it a time to remember. He took Jerusalem by storm by pounding vodka shots and chasing fast women, while we looked on in horror. Yes, we had brought him to a pub, but had trusted him to behave, and were therefore forced to put him to bed.

We tried to make nice the next day by taking Pinni to the shuk for cappuccino and a lovely day in the park, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Leron and I think we are all at a good place right now, although we suspect that he might have snuck out while our backs were turned.

Please enjoy the photo montage below, which captures this delightful tale in all its glory. Pinni is too hungover to thank you, but I know he would want it this way.