Having read this week's parshah (Torah portion) about the tragic slander spoken by the Spies about the Land of Israel, I felt compelled to post about how much I LOVE living here. As in L-O-V-E. Having made aliyah from the States, where we lived in a four-floor house with two cars (now that I've falsely conjured up images of luxury, let me just date the cars as '88 and '92; as for the house...no comment!) I will be the first to say that life here is not as easy as it is in America. But what you get here in terms of emotional and spiritual fulfilment is unmatched anywhere else in the world.

Maybe it's my quirky personality but I just love meeting the colorful characters that freely inhabit Eretz Yisrael. They're fellow Jews and they are just the best. No one says it like it is like an Israeli, and my shopping experience on Wednesday really left me laughing. This is one of those "Only in Israel" stories. I went over to the produce guy to ask him to choose a watermelon for me. While I was at it, I asked if he could sell me just a half (Y'know how you have this huge watermelon that you've paid for so all of a sudden it's watermelon sorbet, watermelon quiche, watermelon cookies, and watermelon smoothies for, like, a week!). So the guy kind of looks down at the floor and mumbles, "Weeeeell, we really don't sell halves except...Except to pregnant women. So...."

It took me a small moment to realize that he was trying to ask if I was expecting in order to determine whether he could sell me a half a watermelon. I was way too flustered to ask what the watermelon-pregnancy connection is when Produce proceeded to add that he had a horrifying experience the other day. A woman asked for half-a-watermelon; he refused not noticing that she was expecting (!) but immediately afterward he happened to, er, make the connection, and he apologized profusely and immediately ran to get her a juicy half.

Something about the produce man being next-to-know after my mother and the OB/GYN is just too funny to me. It almost tops overhearing the saleswoman in the clothing store telling a customer, "You're way too heavy for that skirt!" But it's the same "say it like it is" that compels the bus driver to wish you an easy birth, a random woman on the bus telling you your baby isn't wrapped up properly, and the cleaning lady who calls you the Morroccan equivalent of "sweetie" which is actually "Mammy"!

It's very real, it's very heimish (homey), and I love every minute. Thank You, Hashem, (G-d), for the gift of living in this wonderful Land.

This is a real, actual, unedited conversation overheard on the bus. I will give you my take on it at the end, allowing you to swish it around in your mental wine glass and savor the aromas for yourself first.

Boy 1 (Sadly): "Yeah, I was all shtarked out and then I went home and I came back and I just lost it."
Boy 2: "Yeah, you had really shtarked out. Crazy. What happened to you?"
Boy 1: "Yeah, I was really shtark. I dunno...I..."
Boisterous, Noisy Girl #25 of a group of about 40 to Boy 1: "Excuse me, where did you get your yarmulke?"
Boy 1: "I had it custom-made."
BNG #25/40: "Oh...cuz, like, my brother really wants one like that..."
Boy 1 shrugs. A possible firtation attempt has just been foiled. Or maybe she really wanted to get an identical kippah for her brother.
Boy 2 begins a complex and meandering conversation on his cellphone.
Boy 2: "Listen, he's going to have a really hard time taking this. Are you okay with me kind of hinting to him that it's going to break up? I mean, he's very sensitive, and I don't want him to take it too hard. Yeah, I know. I'll just tell him that I overheard you saying to your friend that it's not going to work out and you still wanna be friends and everything, but it's the distance. Y'know, the regular stuff you say."
Conversation continues for several more minutes. Boy 2 continues to make very heartfelt and sincere offers to break the news of the breakup to poor, unawares Roomate. He is obviously talking to Roomate's Soon-to-be-Former Girlfriend. He finally concludes the conversation with chivalrous aplomb.
Boy 2 to Boy 1: "I heard them laughing. It's so mean--I mean, they're not trying ot be mean or anything, but...He's such a great guy. This is gonna kill him. He's obssessed with her. I hope he doesn't hit me when I tell him. He's a pretty strong guy. I bought some vodka, so he can drink afterwards..."

Gulp.

It took every ounce of restraint not to turn around to Mr. Chivalrous and give him the following piece of sound advice: Remember this golden acronym: M-Y-O-B! Mind Your Own Business, dude! Words to live by. Let Girlfriend do her own dirty work!" Unless he was trying to ally with her thinking he could step in after she dumps Roomie with his tactful assistance, but I'd rather not even go there.

It's conversations and realities like these that really make me wonder who, deep-down in the most inner realm of Self, actually thinks that casual guy-girl dating is healthy. And he was so shtarked out before he went home...

Not like Hamas is shooting rockets a dozen or so kilometres from my home...

I couldn't sleep last night. It was a combination of things, really; namely CNN, BBC, Jerusalem Post, and Arutz Sheva. But the overriding reason I just couldn't conscience sleeping was thinking of all those people whose sleep will be disrupted multiple times throughout the night by Code Red alarms. People in Sderot, who haven't slept a decent sleep in years. Now people in Ashkelon, in Ashdod, in Netivot, in Ofakim, and in Be'er Sheva where they're gearing up for missiles.

How can I curl up in my warm, cozy bed thinking of my fellow Jews sleeping in their miklatim (bomb shelters), not knowing if the next rocket to hit will be, G-d forbid, in their home?

What is happening in the world and in Israel defies all logic and reason. That's the good news and the bad news. It's good news because it means that Hashem Himself is behind maneuvering this illogical (to us) logic. The "bad" news is that it hurts. Real bad. To see the news stories that show pathetic children, dripping blood, but not a single image of all the trauma and shock victims of rocket attacks is just searingly, flamingly evil. But there's a halacha (law) that "Eisav sonei es Yaakov" (Esau hates Jacob), and we can grin and bear it so long as we're grounded in the reality that God chose Yaakov as His People and loves us infinitely. I'm crazy about my kids; imagine how much God loves us, His children. That thought helps mitigate even the worst of BBC.

When I lived in the United States and Canada we always were told to daven for Eretz Yisrael and I DID feel bad for "those Jews far-off in Israel". I did. But it just isn't the same when you're up close.

I think on some level we're all feeling Moshiach . It's a scary thing and it's a beautiful thing. The fear is always hovering over our heads and now that fear isn't only a Made in Israel entity. Americans are also feeling it. The economy is scary. The surging anti-semitism is scary. The Madoff scandal is scary. The anti-Israel protests are scary.

The only right thing to do with fear is to act productively on it. Right now I'm trying to divine what exactly that means--for me. Certainly increased tefillah, chessed (acts of lovingkindness), and achdus (Jewish unity) come to mind. But there's also a part of me that feels an urge to stock up on a month's worth of groceries and supplies. Just in case...

Please, Hashem. Geulah (Redemption) would be nice right around now.