Upbringing vs.Personal Responsibility

A new singer candidate for my choir: "I regret stopping piano, but my parents didn't make me practice". Hey, that's my line, but I don't buy it anymore. It's so much easier to blame someone else or find excuses than acting upon something we consider important.

I hear adults in their 50 and 60s blaming or praising their parents/teachers/siblings for the way their lives turned out and I can't stop wondering where is that elusive boundary between upbringing and the choices we make. Unlike canned food, upbringing doesn't come with an expiry date. Its impact diminishes with time, making room for personal responsibility. Or does it?

Over-engineering

For some time now, I was looking to replace my 30-years old Kenwood Chef. It was a great mixer (still is) but it got old and noisy and there was no food processor matching this old model. I looked into the separate mixer (like KitchenAid) and food processor configuration, but since I keep the mixer on the counter-top, the all-in-one idea makes a lot more sense to me. So naturally, when I saw the new Kenwood Chef models in the importer's glitzy showroom, they felt familiar and reliable, just like my battle-proven model and I decided to buy one. Got a good price and took a unit from the importer (same place I bought the previous one 30 years ago) the same day.

When chefs use food processors on cooking shows, it seems so easy and convenient. You place the food in the bowl, close the lid and rotate a dial to turn on the machine and set its operating speed. It looked as even a person with two left hands like me can use a food processor with no difficulty. Although  I'm a novice user of the new machine, I assumed that all Kenwood products are easy to use like my old mixer, so I made a brave move and planned the Shavuoth meal for 8 (invited some friends over) around the new food processor attachment. This decision is actually in line with my risk-taking cooking policy of using my friends as guinea pigs for new dishes I prepare.

So I over-chopped some onions (common beginners' mistake), as I don't yet have the right correlation between processing time and food granularity. I also used the food processor for mixing and learned it would have been better to just chop the onions and use the K-beater for mixing. But these are minor issues. Apart from being too small, the major problem of this attachment is that it can be mounted on the mixer body only in a certain hard-to-achieve position. Also, it is over-engineered for safety: the lid cannot be open while the attachment is installed on the mixer, even when the power is off and there is no risk it'll chop your fingers. If you need to taste what's inside and add ingredients accordingly, you have to remove and install the attachment for each tasting. Obviously, the Kenwood engineers haven't heard of usability tests.

Timisoara Reunion 2011

  

When I lived in Oradea (sometimes I wonder if I ever did),  youngsters from Transylvania studied either in Cluj, or in Timisoara, as only these nearby cities had universities (a few studied in Bucharest or Iasi). Timisoara also had a rabbi: Dr. Ernest Neumann. Being a larger city and having affiliate citizens (as they now call these past students), Jews from Timisoara are a large, organized  group, thanks to Getta, the late rabbi's daughter, who maintains a site and publishes a monthly newsletter, featuring Jewish cultural events and related  activities.

She was one of the main organizers of the Timisoara reunion, held last week in Haifa. My husband studied in Timisoara, so we decided to participate, although I knew I wouldn't meet many acquaintances there. Since I had a plan to organize a reunion of Oradean Jews (but on a much larger scale), I decided to make this a learning experience.

The organizers invested a lot of time and effort in this meeting, but they lack practical experience in logistics, or so it seemed from the many organizational glitches. With more than 200 attendees, the site was in a busy Haifa location with no parking facilities. After a sweaty 15-minute walk, we arrived, got our name tags, a booklet and CD (was not clear what is being given out and where), and found ourselves in this crowded restaurant garden, with no mingling area and appetizers. There were no seating arrangements, so it took a very long time and some nerve-wrecking moments until everybody was seated. The speeches went on for too long, while the crowd was already impatient and hungry. The food was buffet-style, a difficult arrangement for the older participants (there were plenty in their 80s). Finding it unpleasant to stand in line for food, I never made it to the buffet. My husband brought me a plate with some salad, meat and petrous rice. Getta made a very nice movie for the occasion, but the screen was small and not visible from all tables.

Seeing old friends beats technicalities, so people really seemed to enjoy the reunion. I met some fellow Oradeans, Daniel Klein, Getta's son, and the reps of two Romanian organizations in Israel I didn't know about: former Labour minister Micha Harish of AMIR and Dan Krizbai of ICR, and even the rep of Radio Romania in Tel Aviv, Dragos Ciocirlan.

The cost per participant was a mere NIS 170 and the remaining budget (!) was donated to the Jewish cemetery in Timisoara. The well-meaning organizers are maybe not the best logistics experts, but for sure they are financial wizards.

Social Skills

There were two interesting ideas in the Friday newspaper. Columnist Yair Lapid righfully said we (Israelis) are much better in making others listen to our ideas than listening to others. Columnist Dana Spector said if we don't learn from our mistakes the first time, we should at least realize there is a pattern when the same situation happens again, and use the opportunity for soul searching on why we act the way we do.

How is this related to me?
Recurring pattern 1: too much information

I suppose I'm not a great listener myself, but with a twist. Instead of being judgmental and pushing my own agenda, I am first to admit that different things are not necessarily good or bad, they are simply different, but I feel an urge to offer advice or help. It's hard for me to get the idea of people telling me their problems or difficulties just to vent and get my empathy, I always jump in with some [uncalled for] advice. Even with the best of my intentions, people are not interested to hear my advice.

Recurring pattern 2: barriers

I know I am also distant, don't open up easily to new people in my life, unless I trust they will stay and our relationship will become meaningful with time. But how can it become more meaningful if I can't overcome my barriers and give them a chance?

To put it succinctly, I am simply unable of saying the right thing at the right time. I wonder when did I lose my social skills or is this a sign of aging? Do I need professional help?

I Am My Own Best Doctor

Turns out I was right when I asked my GP for the blood tests mentioned in a previous post. Some test results were way outside the norm, so I made an appointment to hear my GP's opinion on changing a drug dosage to address the problem.

He is usually overbooked and spends less than 10 minutes per patient, but had enough time (out of my 10 alloted minutes) to discuss the rightfulness of the doctors' strike and show me his wife's payslip (she is also a doctor) to prove his point (As an aside, last time he ran for city council). My lab test results were less important, how I feel was completely unimportant, his only advice being to keep a stricter diet. I asked for a second opinion (luckily I have a doctor friend) and got completely different advice. Then I set my own dosage and started to feel better within a week.

Coming to think of it, in more than 10 years I am this GP's patient, he examined me maybe a handful of times, out of which twice he took my blood pressure (always perfect BTW) to comply with a health fund regulation. He either looks at papers I bring or at the monitor. He is very helpful with paperwork, though, unless it costs the fund an extra buck.

'Perfect Balcony' Project

The house of my childhood had a fairly large garden, dominated by a majestic nut tree and populated by lots of flowers, peaches, gooseberries, grapes, strawberries, table with benches, resting chairs, cats, dog and occasional chicken.

I never had a balcony before, so planning our perfect balcony was one of my challenges after moving into the new apartment 2 years ago. My wishlist inventory included an Armenian coffee table (lower that eyebrow, I'll explain) with 2 wooden resting chairs complete with footstools and matching cushions, a small herb 'garden', a griller, a climber, a mini-citrus and wind chimes. I started with much enthusiasm, decided to report successful completion in a blogpost, and even took pictures along the way.

A colleague of mine and proud owner of an ample collection of Armenian ceramics, introduced me to this world. You'd think Armenian ceramics are to be found in Armenia. Wrong. Turns out there are none there (I can attest the weirdness), and the best place to buy them is ... Jerusalem. If you still don't believe me, just google it up! The few rival Armenian ceramic artist families in Jerusalem claim their pieces are hand made, while the others' are mass produced. I just trusted my colleague's judgement and went to visit Arman Darian's shop on 12 Shlomtzion Hamalka st., Jerusalem. The shop was crammed with lots of pieces, one more beautiful than the other. I couldn't decide which way to look, it felt like being in Hansel and Gretel of Armenian ceramics.

There was progress and there was regression. The herb garden was nice, then some herbs died. The wooden resting chairs and matching cushions are in place, but without footstools. The Armenian table by Arman featuring the seven biblical kinds [of crops in the land of Israel] was beautiful, then the varnish popped and 2 tiles cracked. The griller is there and works well and much. Never got to the climber, mini-citrus and wind chimes, but have a small olive tree in a pot.

After more than a year later, I realized I won't achieve perfection (how stupid of me to even assume I would), as the balcony project is more an ongoing process than a task with a distinct endpoint. Today it's time to decorate the balcony with flags for Independence Day. Happy birthday, Israel!

Market Dilemmas

For months we are complaining about the rising vegetable and fruit prices in the supermarket. Unfortunately, there is no market in Holon, the closest being the Carmel in Tel Aviv. As a new emigrant, this long and crowded noisy-smelly strip of oriental mess appealed to me, but I haven't been there for many, many years.

A friend who buys there often and knows the worthy stands, offered me a guided shopping tour. Armed with a short shopping list and 2 empty bags for the catch, I met him there early in the morning, to avoid the Friday crowds.

(1) Turns out that early was not early enough to find a parking spot along the sidewalk, but too early for fresh merchandise, that just started to be unpacked.

(2) The prices are better than the supermarket, but the difference is 'eaten up' by the parking fee, especially if the quantities you buy are for less than a regiment of hungry soldiers.

(3) On one hand the place is an anti-hygienic forest of tin huts, on the other hand the mess of underwear, carrots, baked goods, fish and beads living in charming proximity makes is authentic. Your shopping experience depends on they way you decide to perceive it.

(4) You can shop efficiently, visiting your regular stands owned by the merchants you befriended during the years, or wander aimlessly and experience sights, sounds, smells and tastes. Or combine the two. Whatever you chose to do, my friendly advice is stop checking the prices of items you bought, for sure the nectarines are being sold for 2 shekkels less per kilo 3 stands away. Well, actually the ones you bought seem slightly larger now...

And my bonus for today's market visit was watching the surprise flyover rehearsal for Independence Day.