Babka goes to Israel — Part II
I actually have no idea how many parts this is going to end up being, so I apologize in advance. But I would like to give credit where credit is due and give a shoutout to Jo the Genius and the Apple Store in Garden State Plaza. Leading up to my trip, I noticed my battery was having some issues keeping up with my very busy schedule of writing and watching Netflix. Of course I didn’t realize this until a few days before my trip, and because I cannot remember my Apple ID, I wasn’t able to make an appointment online. Yes, I was one of those middle-aged women who shows up with her computer, begging one of the 12-year-old employees to help her with her battery dilemma. Long story short, Jo got the job done, found me a battery in the American Dream Apple store, and here we are. In Sanhedria Merchevet, where nary an Apple store exists. Where an apple is still an apple. All’s well that ends well.
Back to Israel. Without boring you too much with the details of this journey, we needed to order food for Shabbos. My Oreos in Israel are very kosher. I know that sounds like a redundant phrase, but, apparently in Israel, the Jewish homeland, there are different levels of very kosher. Who knew? Well, now you do. And that is why I would like to share ShabbosKodesh.com with you. It was so easy to order food for Shabbos, has a clever name, wasn’t crazy expensive, and ended up being delicious. Oh, and was kosher enough for my Israeli Oreos, which is the most important part. My mother-in-law enjoyed the stuffed cabbage, the chicken fingers were probably the best I’ve ever had, and it came in lovely containers. Baruch Hashem.
As I mentioned in my previous column, I “celebrated” my dad’s birthday at the Kotel. Son #3, who is really awesome and knows how to figure out everything (Son #1 and Son #2 are also awesome and also know how to figure out everything, but they weren’t with me at the time and I love all of them equally, for the most part), got us a cab to the Old City. Unbeknownst to us, on Fridays during Ramadan, most roads to the Kotel are closed. The cab driver had a lot to say to us, in Hebrew and in English about that fact, and it was highly entertaining in both languages. I was wearing my dad’s Brooklyn Dodgers hat and I am hoping that wherever he is, someone got him a Carvel ice cream cake. And that is all I will say about that.
What I always find amazing about Israel, and about the Old City specifically, is that there you are, surrounded by thousands and thousands of years of Jerusalem stone and history, and you turn around, and there is a store called Holy Bagels, a Burgers Bar, and hundreds of places that sell tchotchkes galore. It really is crazy. Is this what God intended? And when Moshiach comes, do those stores all go out of business and it is back to square one? Are these thoughts what happen when I am not near a television? In any event, in a miraculous turn of events, we saw a cab dropping off an elderly gentleman, and I had Son #3 run over to see if he would take us back to the apartment. And he did.
As I write this, I am sitting on the couch in DIL 2’s apartment. She is working, Danish is sleeping, Son #2 and Son #3 are learning, my MIL is with her dear friends from Monsey who now live in Israel, and my clothes are in the dryer. It is totally surreal. Husband #1 has been, hopefully, surviving without me, and I haven’t seen Strudel in over a week and hope she remembers who I am. I have been wearing only skirts, but still prefer pants. And that is all I got for this week.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is hoping that your Passover is going well, and would like to wish Son #1 a happy half-birthday because he for sure thinks that his mother forgot.