Caesar's Revenge

Years ago, while studying towards my BBA, one of the students, Michael, an accountant for Ceasar Stone, makers of artificial marble for countertops and alike, told me they've developed new glittering colors that include little pieces of mirror. 'But they don't fit your refined taste', he added. He was right. Not only didn't I like glitter, but I also didn't like artificial materials. Years later, as if they heard me, they developed the Concetto collection from semi-precious stones that look wonderful backlit.

With time, me and my taste became less conservative. Instead of dismissing glitter, I learned to combine it with opaques to get great design effects. So, when planning my new kitchen, I decided to go for white cupboards and red Ceasarstone countertop. Last week, when the man came to take measurements before cutting, he asked me what color I ordered. 'Red', I told him. 'The glittering red?' he asked in disbelief. 'Yes', I replied. 'What are you, Georgian or Bukharan?' came the "tactful" question. (The subtext for my non-Israeli readers: only Georgian and Bukharan immigrants like tasteless glittering colors, in this person's view.)

I wonder why people who don't even know me expect me to have what they call refined taste. They don't even know I'm a Virgo...

Between Dreams and Economic Playground

This morning while squeezing Hellmann's jalapeno sandwich spread on hard boiled eggs, I noted the "this is the time for real excitement" slogan on the container. I like food, I even enjoy it, but excitement sounds more like the brainchild of an avid copywriter than something I might feel when thinking of sandwiches or even caviar.

Yesterday night in a news item, elegant women claimed they are excited that now, because of the economic crisis, they can afford buying designer items they could only dreamt about until now. I like nice clothes and accessories, but dreaming about them is really not me.

Our dreams and aspirations, among other things, define who we are.

As a teenager in Romania, a Jewish American student tried to court me, but we had no connection. His dream was to buy his mother an exclusive shoe shop, a dream I could not relate to for different reasons. Being born and raised in a communist regime with no private businesses, I could not relate to a dream about any private business in general, and a boring shoe shop in particular. We were indoctrinated that real work produces a usually tangible something, buying and selling was considered parasitism.

Our dreams change during the years as we open up to new people, ideas, places, and experiences. Now I can at least understand such dreams, but not dream them. The transition is usually from one extreme to the other, until the pendulum stabilizes somewhere in between. When coming from a communist experience into a western economy, one usually embraces the political right and free market theory.

To understand where my economic pendulum stopped, imagine a sports ground with boundaries and rules defined by the state (laws and regulations), that also provides the referee (police and judiciary system), and players who play freely all sorts of games. No wonder in communism, where the state controlled all the games and winning or losing had no meaning, the players lost their motivation to play.

So what do I dream about? Affording a comfortable living.

Moments of Happiness

My own defitinition:

A moment you don't want to do anything else, but what you are doing, you don't want to be enywhere else, but where you are, you don't want to be with anyone else, but the one you are with, a moment you'd like to prolong.

Hypocricy

Thursday night.

Hairdresser salon.

Hairdresser: "Is your watch real?"

I wear an Omega Constellation.

Me: "Everything with me is real."

Except my haircolor, he is just dying it to hide the gray hair.

I'm a combination of vanity and hypocricy.

Dates

I love dates. I mean the food type, not the meeting type. The majhool species we buy dried is soft, sticky and sweet. Perfect dessert after dinner.

About 2000 years ago, some guy was eating a date in Masada, watching the Romans as they prepare for the seige of the fortress built by Jewish Roman King Herod the Great. The stones he spat were found by world-renowned Israeli archeologist and former army chief of staff, Yigael Yadin, in 1963 and recently sprouted by Israeli scientists.

The seed, nicknamed Methusaleh after the oldest person in the Bible, is now a ~1.5m baby palm tree.

Read the entire marvelous story here.

Small Mercies

The routine of a full workweek (9.5 hours/day) with something to do almost every day after work, followed by housework on weekends is quite tiresome as doesn't leave much time for fun or relaxation.

A couple of weekes ago, Tom who learns in a boarding school, announced us he cannot bear the food at the boarding school any longer. Since then, my weekend routine contains more cooking and boxing a week worth of meals and cakes. Of course the cake vanishes minutes after his arrival there on Sunday.

This weekend I managed to finish all the cooking and baking on Friday, so Saturday morning my husband dragged me to the beach. As I've already mentioned, I'm not much of a beach person, but I must admit this time wasn't half bad. We walked along the water line and then I sat in the sun and read a paper. Fishermen, people strolling and jogging, dogs, even 3 horses, cafes, quiet music, jellyfish bodies in the sand. Free parking!

In the book I'm reading, (Night Train to Lisbon by Pascal Mercier), I found an interesting definition of love, something I'm always loking for: Love = passion + enjoyment + security. Since all three are temporary feelings that can't survive real life, loyalty, a decision rather than feeling is more important. I'm not sure I agree with the author's conclusion, but he definitely offers a good definition.

Tom says my food is the best among all of his friends' at the dorm. Don't all the kids say the same to their moms?

I have to finish my week by folding 3-4 machine loads of washing.

Thank God for small mercies.

Morality Improvement or Deterioration?

A news item caught my attention a few days ago. It was about a father who killed the mother and then committed suicide leaving 7 orphans, the oldest being 20 years old. The item was followed by an interview with a mother of a foster family with 7 other children, orphaned in some other tragic event. She was asked about the way the extended family of the children copes with the situation and she explained how she keeps the family ties between the children and the other family members.

Why doesn't the extended family take care of the orphans? Some families do, they even 'fight' for the right of raising the orphans. Why doesn't the oldest sibling assume the role of head of the family and act as mother or father of the young ones?

In the not so distant past, about 60-70 years ago, it wasn't unheard of that a mother died, say during the childbirth of her 8th child and the father abandoned the children to start a new family or brought a step mother for the young children who treated the first wife's children badly. This was the life story of my husband's grandmother. Her mother died at the age of 44 in a disease and the father abandoned them to start a new family. She (the oldest sibling) assumed parental responsibility and raised her ten younger brothers and sisters, then got married and raised her own three children.

Nowadays, fathers in the Western world are much more involved in raising their children as the boundaries between the traditional parental roles are blurred. They take an active part in pregnancy and childbirth, feed the baby, change diapers, wash them, play with the children, tell them bed time stories and spend quality time with them. They are equal parents and sometimes beyond. When widowed, they don't feel as helpless as their grandfathers or great grandfathers. They are attached to their children and try to do what's best for them, physically and mentally. Society and second wife candidates condemn abandoning fathers. Improved morality indeed.

But young people in their twenties faced by such tragedies don't rush to give up their dreams, change plans and 'get stuck' or 'ruin their lives' by raising younger siblings. While it is true that life is more complicated now and you need to prepare for them longer, I suspect this is not the sole reason for such selfish behavior. Perhaps their parents spoiled them and did not ask them to take any responsibility. They are here to enjoy life and reach self-fulfillment (the top of Maslow's hierarchy of needs pyramid.) They don't seem to be grateful for peaceful life and never contemplate sudden changes brought by illness, accidents or war, as I frequently do.

Another relative of ours, a father of two, who lost his wife to cancer and raised his children single handedly, became ill with cancer a few years ago. Naturally, he was worried about the future of his children if treatment fails. I had no doubt about raising to the challenge, being fully aware about the consequences on my own life and the life of my family. Thanks to modern medicine and his endless willpower, he was cured and so my choice was not put to test. There are moments you simply 'have to do the right thing', whatever the cost, in family life, public affairs, or in the battlefield.

Sadly, I am revisiting my previous post about the next generation. Yes, they are smarter, more sophisticated than our generation, but more selfish. Not all of them, of course. Keep posing good examples and they won't be.