Anna

I saw my therapist yesterday. I told him that - despite having action plans and timetables - I was feeling a distinct letdown after finishing CELTA. And I also told him that I knew it was going to happen, dammit!

He reassured me that it was perfectly natural. And he encouraged me to give myself exactly one week of grace, to feel the letdown. During that time, keep up with household chores and work on writing up a weekly structured schedule, but nothing else. Give myself time to feel.

After that week, take action.

Strangely, I felt heartened. Something about allowing myself to feel something instead of just trying to plow through it.

****

I've been on a cooking kick to cheer myself up. Eyal is indulging it...not that it isn't to his advantage. He recently sanctioned the purchase of cake pans, a lemon zester, a double boiler, and a set of whisks. He's also agreed to a KitchenAid Stand Mixer and a new air fryer (the latter is a necessity, as our current air fryer is five years old and on its last legs), to be purchased on Sunday, along with (finally!) a new television.

See, Eyal loves my cooking. No matter what. Not that I've ever fucked up too horribly, but he loves all my creations. And I've never thought of myself as a good cook. Good baker, yes - I have an instinctive touch with baking and I've been turning out tasty baked goods since my teenage years. But cook? I've always thought of myself as merely adequate as a cook - good enough, but not outstanding.

But lately I'm realizing that I'm pretty good. I make my own spice blends. I can think on my feet and problem-solve. I don't mind the tedious repetitive jobs, as long as I have good music playing. And I get genuine pleasure from Eyal's enjoyment of my creations. Maybe that's what makes a good cook.

****

Next week: shopping trip to Big (that's literally the name of the shopping center) for kitchen gadgets and television, gaming night Wednesday, and Friday morning to Tel Aviv to take my father-in-law to the Israel Philharmonic. On the program: Haydn, Beethoven, and Mozart. The latter two are his favorite composers, and the Mozart piece (Symphony No. 41, "Jupiter") is Eyal's favorite. It's also a nice call back for me, as I saw Emanuel Ax perform the same piece he's performing (Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3) in 1992 with the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood. Mind you, at the time he was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt (summer in the Berkshires can be a wee bit chilly at times, and it was a rehearsal), but it was no less magical for all that.

And by next Thursday I'll have a weekly schedule ready to hash out with my therapist.

I got back my third paper from my CELTA program. I need to resubmit. Fair enough.

I had planned to rewrite it today, but that got derailed by a nasty headache. Not a migraine thank heavens (excruciating head pain is bad enough without visions and hallucinations), but a killer tension headache. And yes, reasons (other than CELTA) exist. The state of the world, for one. Also family drama. (Mine, not Eyal's.)

Treating a tension headache is somewhat different from a migraine. For one thing, caffeine isn't in the cards. However, lying down in a cool, dark room definitely is. With the help of a 16 pound ginger cat as a weighted blanket, things settled. The pain gradually ebbed, Cheddar wandered off, and the situation at home returned to DEFCON 5.

Eyal returned home from the office, and we resolved the family drama (as much as it likely will be). See, my family listens to him. He left afterward for his weekly role-playing campaign.

I talked to a trusted family member who isn't part of the drama for awhile. After that I headed upstairs. Still tense.

Well, one great remedy would be a hot shower. I flipped on the water heater. While it warmed up the water, I made notes on rewriting my CELTA paper. I may not have gotten it done today, but at least I know what I'm going to do.

The shower was great. Seriously. It was my day for exfoliating, so I scooped out Dove Crushed Cherries & Chia Milk Body Scrub and applied it with an exfoliating mitt. After the requisite soap, shampoo, conditioner, drying off, etc. I returned to my office to get to my evening routine with various lotions and potions. I feel much better. Tomorrow I'll be ready to face my paper and rewrite it to standards.

1. Game night! Much fun and laughter. There was pizza (good pizza, which is not easy to find). There were plenty of drinks, most non-alcoholic, though there was beer for those who wanted it (and no one overdid it). And there was Munchkin. There were five of us: Peter and Regev (Eyal's coworkers), Esti (Regev's girlfriend), and Eyal and I. Only Peter and I had previously played Munchkin, but everyone got into it quickly. We agreed at the end of the evening that yes, it would happen again. Yay!

2. Chanukah is currently ongoing. It's pretty low-key in Israel. We don't do presents, just traditional food (latkes, sufganiyot, and dairy foods - the latter a Sephardic custom I've adopted since moving to Israel). Candles, of course. And songs. But that's it. We had planned to go to Tel Aviv last Thursday night and do Chanukah with Alon, Sarah, and the boys. However, Sarah texted me that afternoon to let me know that the boys were sick, so it would be better if we stayed home. Sad face.

3. This week is Eyal's birthday week. Tomorrow night: a comedy show in Tel Aviv and dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Wednesday is his actual birthday. He has to go into the office, but I'll be sending him in with his birthday cake. Saturday night we'll head up to Modi'in for the family party at Orit's.

4. A week from tomorrow I have my cardiologist appointment. And the day after, I start my teacher training. Goodbye, social life.

1. My interview with CELTA Athens went well, and they offered me a place in the course starting January 7. I have made a down payment on tuition to guarantee my spot. Yay!

2. Saw the cardiologist. Dr. Slutsky (stop giggling) treats a lot of young women, which is a plus. He ordered a stress echo so he can see the extent of the damage - if any - and decide how to prevent future damage. He specifically said that he avoids invasive testing unless absolutely necessary - a good thing. Blood tests have also been ordered. (If you think his name is funny, imagine the fun Israelis have with the name "Zona"...which is Hebrew for "whore".)

3. My brother-in-law Alon had his 50th birthday party, which was a romp. Good food, cake, sufganiyot, and lots of laughter. He's usually a pretty serious guy, so it was nice to see him loosen up and smile. The last time I saw him loosen up like this was at our wedding. He went out of his way to tell me that our present was the best present he could think of (we gave Alon and Sarah enough money to pay for a date night and volunteered to babysit the boys). Also he imitated a parrot that he knew when he was a kid that had interesting vocabulary. (The boys were out of earshot by then.) Hearing Alon croaking "Maniak! Maniak!" had everyone cracking up. (Maniak means "fucker".) All in all, a great night, well worth the drive to and from Tel Aviv.

4. Today I received a pre-order copy of Az Nashir: We Will Sing Again. It's an anthology of Israeli women's prayers written since October 7, in Hebrew and English. My friend Rachel Sharansky Danziger was one of the editors and contributors. It's really wonderful - a worthy addition to the Jewish tradition of women's private devotions.

5. On order: the Twin Peaks Tarot.

6. Eyal and I have already made our anniversary plans: we're seeing the Toscanini String Quartet in Tel Aviv. Strangely, my therapist was surprised when I told him, saying he didn't realize we were so much into classical music. Well, we are. Very, very, much. Particularly chamber music. A favorite of ours? Beethoven's cello trios, as performed by Daniel Barenboim (pig!), Pinchas Zukerman (cute smile!), and Jacqueline du Pre (team Jackie!).

7. On Wednesday, Eyal asked me if I'd ever heard of a card game called Munchkin. Long story short, a game night involving one of his co-workers and a couple other friends is in the works.

Prepping for family gatherings - largely holidays, but also birthday parties and other such occasions - is hard work.

Let me clarify. If Eyal and I are merely dropping by for a visit with my father-in-law, then it is not hard work. I will dress and groom myself neatly and with care, but I can forego makeup and other such accoutrements. However, family gatherings are a different beast. Women at family gatherings are expected to look elegant. The expectation: make-up, jewelry, perfume, and a dress or skirt outfit or pantsuit with appropriate shoes.

Yeah. I did do a decent job for Sukkot this time. I'll detail all that at the end of this post, under a cut, for those who get bored with such things.

The ride up to Modi'in was smooth. And the holiday? A lovely one. Sukkot, by the way, is when we build temporary booths, decorate them, and eat in them. There's also the theme of the wheat harvest. And shaking a bundle of branches and a citron. I would go into the meaning, but I'm not the greatest at explaining. Here are some links:

Sukkot Resources from Aish

Sukkot Resources from Chabad

We ate in the sukkah, and as usual there was more than enough to feed an army: asado, meatballs, schnitzel, rice, challah, and homemade pavlova for dessert. Om nom nom. After eating we drank mint tea, as is the custom.

We welcomed Avraham Avinu as the first guest of the holiday (yep, the Abraham of the Bible).

And we talked. Harel is about to start basic training as a combat soldier. Ta'el turns fourteen soon. Elinor told me how much she still loves the Sephora products we got her. Nati worked off his energy by kicking a soccer ball around the yard after dinner, but made sure to come over and hug me and Eyal more than once. He's a sweet boy, a truly gentle soul. My father-in-law looked much better. Orit was the ultimate hostess. We might celebrate our birthdays together - they're really close.

We lingered fairly late, but when Nati began to yawn and droop, we took the hint, said our goodbyes and hugged everyone, and set off.

Now I'm in my pajamas. And for those interested, the beauty details are below.

( Takes a lot of money to look this cheap )

1. Today I got my student loans out of default. We'll see just how much they judge I should pay in the Income Driven Repayment Plan. I can tell you that I'm hoping it won't be much, given that my monthly income is ₪4250 (or, if you prefer, $1125.98). It would be lower if the Department of Education knew about the insane cost of living in Israel (even though Beersheva has the lowest cost of living of any major city in Israel, this is not in any way to imply it is low compared to, say, Glens Falls, NY). Still, there's a light at the end of this tunnel, and it ain't the 8:30 express.

2. I gifted Eyal cologne. I felt him out about it first, because he didn't really wear it when we were dating even though he owned a few different bottles. He said that he used to wear it on dates and special occasions, but then his mother died and he wasn't permitted to wear it during the first 30 days of mourning. Then the pandemic hit before he could start dating again. By the time we met during the second lockdown, we were meeting in his apartment. He'd shower diligently, and shave, but cologne was off the radar. That is what he told me when I asked him if he would wear cologne if I gave it to him. So he was open to it. I got him English Oak & Hazelnut and Cypress & Grapevine Cologne Intense from Jo Malone. He doesn't like lightweight scents on himself (though, interestingly, he likes them on me and prefers extremely femme floral scents to lightweight unisex scents on me).

3. We played Truth or Drink with grape juice and one of the questions was "tell me about the one who got away." I simply said one word: Balázs. Eyal knew.

4. This weekend we're taking my father-in-law out to lunch at Indira, a super Indian restaurant in Tel Aviv. My father-in-law really likes Indian food, so yay. He has quite the spice tolerance for an Ashkenazi Jewish man...but maybe that helped him survive marriage to an old school Bukhari woman. And they were married for almost 50 years.

5. We talked to my father-in-law recently and asked what he was doing. Swimming three times a week, yoga, and hanging out with his friends at the community center. Sometimes his friend Yehuda comes over and they'll each nurse a beer while watching the footy match. I think that's not bad for 81. He still drives, although we don't like him driving at night. Eyal asked him if he wouldn't like to go on a pensioners' tour aka geezer trip to Italy or Greece, and he was not interested. Not even the temptation of uneven numbers (that is, there are a lot more grannies on these trips than grandpas) tempts him. He's not interested in dating again, and Eyal's mom has been gone almost five years. That's okay, though. I can understand - maybe she was the only one for him. And that's actually amazing.

Expect me to use this icon if I bring up a conversation or experience with my cousin Ruth. For the record, we both agreed: she's Dorothy and I'm Alice.

And we both look good in blue.

Last family call my brother wasn't there. My uncle couldn't be there because my aunt is in the hospital. My mom had to bow out early to attend an afternoon event. So it was just the two of us.

Along with updating on our current lives (her job is good, her home life...well, it's home life; I'm not always coping with a war zone and horrific news in the healthiest of ways) we dished. I revealed some interesting tidbits about my first marriage (I'll spare you, but she hadn't known he was that big of an asshole). And then we got to talking about our moms.

Because it always goes there. I mean, both of us were emotionally neglected by our moms. She's estranged from hers. I'm not estranged from mine, but that takes a lot of boundary setting and enforcement. I was raised by a narcissistic mom, she was raised by a borderline mom. And I'm a borderline myself, albeit one with a fuckton of therapy under my belt and a smidgen of self-awareness, while my aunt has, as Kenneth Branagh so marvelously and bitchily put it in the film Peter's Friends, all the self-awareness of Zsa Zsa Gabor.

I don't know if we accomplish much, but we both felt better after.

Today my mom came up in conversation again. I mentioned to Eyal that I had played boys a couple of times for plays during elementary school. He was confused. Why would I play boys? I pointed out that it was because I could be counted on to remember lines, and had a boyish haircut.

He got mad.

"Why did your mom let your Bubbe cut your hair like that?" he growled.

"Mom said she had to pick her battles," I said. Which was true. Bubbe was giving my mom quite a bit of financial and other support. Money talks.

"This is a hill she should have died on," Eyal said.

Maybe so. But Bubbe was determined to spoil my looks. She refused to put sunscreen on me and cut off my blonde hair.

It must burn her that in Israel, I'm actually considered fairly pretty.

I thank heavens Ruth never went through any of that. Her looks were never in doubt. Unfortunately, our family neatly set up the "pretty one/smart one" rivalry. Took us until our twenties to realize what a bunch of shit that was.

Alice and Dorothy aren't any prettier or smarter than each other, after all. Just different. Similarly lost in worlds they don't understand, but entirely different people. I just wish that Oz and Wonderland were a lot closer.

Something I've noticed that's uncomfortably common in my generation is this whole "my parents beat the shit out of me and I turned out okay!"

No, you didn't. If you think that hitting people is a solution to a problem, then no, you didn't turn out okay.

There's also the whole "we didn't wear seatbelts or bike helmets and we survived." Yeah, but a lot of us didn't. A lot of us did die from completely preventable accidents.

Nostalgia is a dangerous thing, folks.

Do I think there were good points to the way I was parented in the '80s and '90s? Sure. Boredom can be good for a kid. Unstructured play time stretches the imagination. Stranger danger may have been in the news but in reality it was as likely as it's ever been and as it is now - which is to say, not very. (Fun fact: 93% of children who are harmed are hurt by people known to them.)

On the other hand, I do wish my mom had given me more attention. She was emotionally neglectful a lot of the time and treated me and my brother like we were impediments to her living her life. I don't think that's a generational thing, though. That was just my mother, who was woefully unprepared for single parenthood at the age of 29.

And yeah, I got hit as a kid. I remember dreading the skinny belt. That fucking hurt. My mom did quit hitting me when I was about 13, because she had the uncomfortable realization that I could and would hit back - and it might not go so well for her.

I don't think a lot about how the aggregate of all that has affected me. I know it has, and I have to deal with it. I know that I flinch when people raise their voices. I know that I like my space and alone time. I know that at times I can be pathetically needy and I need constant validation. I know that I dread when people are angry at me.

I wish people would be willing to admit that no, they didn't turn out okay.