Whiskey

I like whiskey, even though a very good friend of mine, who shall not be named, has told me I am not a true whiskey drinker.  The reason  for this insult is that I told her that I simply cannot drink whiskey when the average night time temperature is  90 degrees.  In other words, it is bloody hot and sticky here in Israel, and has been so for three months.  She insisted that a true whiskey lover will partake, no matter the weather.

As you know, I live in a retirement community.  One of the more delightful residents - a former South African, and a whiskey drinker, has been rather unwell for some time.  This has been very upsetting, of course to her, but also to those of us who enjoy her company. She has a devoted Philippina attendant who cares for her.  She wheels her and her maltese poodle to all the activities, concerts, and lectures she is able to attend. She wheels her to the park at sunset, and to the clinic for her medical appointments. 

In the past, when the resident was in a better state, she would invite me and another resident  over at 6.00 for a 'drinky.' The attendant would faithfully replenish the ice and make delicious appetisers. These delightful activities have been on hold for quite too long as the woman has been in and out of hospital. 

Recently, since she has improved somewhat, she will call to invite me over, only to call later to cancel.  This week she asked me over for Monday night, then canceled.  Wednesday also was a no go.  However Thursday morning she said to me "it is on tonight for 6, but we won't be a threesome. I have invited a number of people, but I can't remember who. Come to me at 6, and whenever the bell goes we will see who walks in.

I went over at 6. Her wheelchair stroller was parked by the door.   I walked in to see  a couple sitting around the hostess' recliner. He had a tumbler of whiskey, and she had a glass of white wine.  They are an elderly (redundant word) former South African couple.  My hostess' way of introduction was to tell them I enjoyed whiskey.  I then quoted my friend.  The man said, of course you can drink it in summer, just put in lots of ice. The hostess in her recliner, dog at her feet, held a tumbler of whiskey.  The man poured me a healthy shot and we drank lechaim.  After a knock at the door a very large female resident came into the small apartment  with her stroller. She navigated to a chair, and said "whiskey is mother's milk to me."  I poured her a healthy shot, and the attendant replenished the ice bucket.

 The hostess was ready for a second shot.  A short while later another knock and in came a strong Philippina attendant carrying a very frail looking man. He didn't look very good! She propped him on the sofa,  and poured him a whiskey!  Then the man's wife came in walking alone with a cane. She had a glass of wine.  

The man is 100 and was a doctor. His body as I said, is  frail - but his mind seemed fine.  He had left his hearing aids at home, as had some of the others, but after repeated yelling he answered questions to the point, made suggestions, and generally engaged in the conversation which centred around whiskey, medications, and King Charles hugging some paralympic competitors.  That was surprising, because the King is NOT supposed to hug anyone.  From Charles the conversation turned to Winston Churchill who thrived on alcohol and cigars, and the Queen Mother who tippled away at gin and tonics, and also lived to a ripe old age.  Princess Margaret was also a heavy drinker, but she died much earlier.  We agreed that being a prime minister of a country at war, or being born to royalty, is a heavy burden, and probably it was eased by alcohol.  We did NOT mention our prime minister.

The hostess was ready for a third, the woman who told us whiskey was mother's milk to her hurried to catch up. The first man there also wanted a third but his wife seemed somewhat averse to the idea, so he said to her "yes dear,"  and didn't have a third.  He told me the secret to a good marriage is two words "yes dear" and it seems to have worked for them. 

The hostess drank her third, because, after all she didn't have to stand up and get wheeled or push a stroller anywhere.  She looked far better than she has looked in a long while. I suggested she give up her medications and just have whiskey.  This was repeated several times in question form to the frail deaf doctor. Once he heard the suggestion,  he raised his second glass in her direction and said lechaim.  Obviously he concurred.

Anyone ready for a shot?

Single malt for me.

Here Goes

 Here goes an attempt at a new entry.  Tomorrow I am hopefully meeting a group of 23 people whom I have never before met. We will be going on a one week spiritual/mystical tour of the Greek mainland. Temples, monasteries, the homes of the Gods. I say hopefully because as I have attempted to describe in previous entries, life here is moment to moment. The airport is open, the airport is closed, planes leave Israelis stranded in foreign countries ,then Israeli airlines charge extortion rates to bring them home. For those that still have a home - despite the 'defeat of the Hezbollah attack" missiles and rockets continue to bombard the north.  The Gaza 'envelope' continues to have rockets sent, many schools are not opening in September.  Schools that can open, in the center of the country, may not open because of teacher strikes. An Israeli Bedouin hostage was returned yesterday - some momentary joy as we wait and hope, and pray for the remaining hostages to be returned.  Talks have stalled - WHAT a surprise. Nasrallah lies to his people, Sinwa lies to his people, Bibi lies to everyone - America tries. 

So sorry, yet again, a miserable entry.  I will be gone a week. 

Waiting Game - Day 308

Iran, Nasrallah,  The Hezbollah, Hamas - terrorists, yes, certainly.  They are also geniuses of psychological terrorism. 

The nation waits - what will come next? when will it come? How will it come? Will it come?

Where? when? Are we ready? Who is lying to whom? Which airlines are flying? Which airlines aren't flying? Will civilians be hurt? Where are all the army bases? Are our shelters strong enough? Will there be electricity? Won't there? What about the hostages? We are close to a deal, we are far from a deal, yet again. 

WHY is Bibi opposed to a deal? What the hell is wrong with Smotrich and Ben Gvir? How did we get here? What is going to happen?  

And in the meantime life continues - do we go to a demonstration or don't we? Is it safe or wise to visit Druze families in Majdal-Shams? Is it safe or wise to go to a museum in Tel Aviv? Jerusalem? Herzlia? Should we meet friends on the beach? Arabic homework is so difficult this week. What am I doing at my age sitting down with an exercise book struggling with homework?  What art will I work on now? Oils, watercolours? Maybe nothing. To go to yoga or not go to yoga? Which shelter to go to?

And on top of it so many people here have come down with corona - because they did go on an outing together, and attended lectures and classes together. And the heat - the hottest June and July since records began. 

But thank goodness - the Olympics continues - please don't let it finish. Then comes the question, what to watch? What will save us?

What Next?

To say I feel really sad, disheartened, concerned, fearful, anxious, would all be an understatement. 

I guess it is no surprise that I have some kind of virus - sore throat, cough, fatigue, voice gone (to the delight of some, I am sure) - not corona, tested negative. There are of course many other viruses lurking in the bowl of soup in which we are living. The hottest June and July on record and now we lurch into August - the heartbreaking killing of the Druze children playing soccer on a Saturday - the targeted assassinations of the Hamas political leader, and the Hamas military commander, and Hezbollah's commander - blood, blood, blood.  Chopping of monsters' heads will only spawn many more monsters. This is like an insane game of chess, subterfuge, counterfuge, and thousands of innocent people dead.  And now we wait in dread for what will come next. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and soon there will be noone left - 

Once again airlines have stopped flights. Last night I bid a teary farewell to a dear family who have to go to a wedding in the States - they had to change all their flights and plans and have a very long, expensive trip ahead of them, and don't know how they will get back - if they get there.   I am not given to crying much, but these days it seems that is all I do. 

This week I haven't even had the wherewithal to do much other than sleep and watch the Olympics. Thank GOD for the Olympics. What will happen when they are over?

This is all far too much.

Shabat

Shabat today.  The temperature outside is 33 degrees (that is about 98 fahrenheit) humidity is at 63 %. In other words, not a day to venture outside - I swam this morning in the lovely pool - only 4 of us were enjoying the water, until the grandkids came at 11.  I am at home catching up on things, listening to Rhiannon Giddens on Spotify. I have neither looked at, nor listened to any news for 2 days. I truly can't handle it. Tonight I will go to the demonstration at the bridge and get caught up with everything.  I know there is a march to Jerusalem demanding that Netanyahu go with the 'deal' to release the hostages. I will also hear about that later.

With the suffocating heat we are all suffering from - all over the world, I wonder why countries bother to send armies to battle, we will all just fry anyway - we don't need to kill each other on top of it all.

So here is some of my recent art. 

Mount Sinai, in pastels.  Whether sub consciously or not,  I began this on Shavuot - the time Moses received the Torah.

The above is in pencil, I have entitled it (with apologies to Thich Nhat Hanh - No mud, no lotus."  So far we have plenty mud.

This week I attended to second get together of "Women Promote Peace."  We met on Sunday in a beautiful sustainable farm.  Really heartwarming, and nice to see people again, but it is but an infinitesimal drop in the great bloody ocean.

And on that uplifting note - shabat shalom.

I am scared

 I have been physically under the weather, apparently some unknown virus.  A little headache, a little fatigued, a little congested, a little cough, a streaming nose.  It is NOT corona or the flue - there is now a new test here that tests both.  It will pass.  Everything passes. 

I decided to listen to the presidential debate this morning - I am scared.  Trump (he who shall not be named) scares me - he scares me like Putin, Kim Jong Un, Erdogan, Netanyahu, Nasralla, Sinwa, .scare me. How can we even think that all the horrors which beset the planet will pass? If and when they pass they will leave in their wake an apocalypse of a planet.   I really try to be in the moment, to do yoga, to meditate, to paint, to garden (FULLY protected against mosquitoes), to go to demonstrations, attend gatherings, but today I am scared. Maybe that is why I do not feel well.

Up and Down

When I was growing up in Johannesburg,  The Rand Easter Show would come around once a year.  Johannesburg was part of an area known as the Rand, which included some other towns and farming areas.  The Show lasted about a week or 10 days, I don't remember anymore.  It was a fun event - like a great big fair.  New farming equipment and the latest model cars were on show.  There were people selling different fares.  We could go for rides on animals  We bought popcorn and candy floss - I remember sticking my tongue into the fluff for the first time, and how it melted and tasted sort of warm-ish, and transformed from a cotton ball into melted sugar strips.  There were also all sorts of fun rides, houses of mirrors, fun things. I must have had a sensitive vestibular system as a child - some of the rides really scared me - I remember screaming for dear life as the roller coaster began its downward swoop - my stomach lurched outside of me, and I was grateful when the ride ended. I did not get on it again. There was something else, like a round wall and you stood with your back to it and it began spinning around and the floor dropped away and one was stuck to this wall in odd configurations.  Not for me.

Why am I remembering all these things - on Saturday 4 hostages were rescued - the country experienced euphoria, mixed with fear for the others still somewhere in Gaza, the officer killed, all the Palestinians killed - and the eternal - what next?  As a friend said to me, life here is a roller coaster.

That exactly describes the way we are living since that "black Saturday."  As I said, I was not a great candidate for the carnival rides.  I experience a strange feeling of discombobulation.  I feel disoriented, even, in a way, disembodied.  I think most people feel the same.  It is not a good feeling.