Israel under fire
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Israel under fire

Newest sabra on the block

My dad told me last night that maybe if I write a good blog, this whole Hamas sending rockets over thing will end.

Not likely but I’ll try.

Things on my end of Israel – at least for me – have been very on edge. Suddenly every sound I hear I need to double think. I feel like a two year old telling myself, “Now, that’s a car alarm so sit back down and calm down.” And that whistle of wind, ya that’s wind.

A week ago I never thought it was possible for someone to jump from wind … and then came this week.

I made myself a little survival pack that I put by my main door. It was pretty hard to decide what I would want to eat if I was in a bomb shelter. It couldn’t be anything that smelled bad or gave me bad breath because who knew how long I would be in there for. If I am meeting the neighbors for the first time down there I don’t want to smell bad. Also, it would mean I would need to bring my toothbrush and toothpaste. Once I’m bringing that I might as well bring a change of clothes and my laptop. I didn’t really want to be that person, with the bag and all. It also couldn’t be anything that needed refrigerating. When my life is on the line I am not going to say “oh wait I just needed to get my Caesar salad and dressing from the fridge. Oh and does anyone know where the plastic forks went.” This needed to be an on-the-go sort of thing.

Fletzels – flat pretzels. The only solution. So I have fletzels and water (which I keep drinking because I am too lazy to walk an extra 10 steps into the kitchen and get so technically a basically empty bottle of water) are ready and waiting.

Over Shabbat thank gd things were quiet here. I just kept wondering what have I ever done to Hamas to make them want to kill me? Pretty much all I do all day is sit on a couch. I am the most harmless of beings. I’m guilty of killing a bug once or twice, but I don’t think that’s a legitimate reason for all this.

Granted, I have an amazing blog, but that’s really the one thing I have going for me. I come in peace. And so do the rest of Israel. So leave us alone.

I never thought the words bomb shelter, siren, and rockets would come out of my mouth when talking about my life. I’m this little nothing from Teaneck. We don’t do this. Unfortunately Israelis do though. I am honored to be a part of it, however frightening it may be.

This morning I was up for a little but decided to turn my phone off and take a little catnap before the day starts. You know, because it was 10:30 a.m. Everyone goes back to sleep at 10:30 a.m.

All of a sudden I heard the siren. Me and Ronit flew down the steps. Just imagine two normal Americans. At the time it was far from funny but secretly maybe if someone recorded it we could have a little laugh now.

We are on floor 6 and a half (which is the most annoying-est floor on the face of the planet. You need to explain it to people. You can either take the elevator to floor 6 and walk up a flight or to floor 7 and walk down. If I was going apartment hunting now I would not even look at apartments on the half floor. The effort it takes to explain it to people is just not worth it) and the miklat is on floor negative 1. We got to floor 4 and a woman told us to stay in the stairwell with her on that floor since we may not make it to the miklat. There was another woman there too.

It was really the best of first impressions to meet people for the first time when you are in the middle of hyperventilating and are wearing polka dot pajama pants and some T-shirt with the “five guidelines to marry Prince Harry.”

At least now they know I like polka dots and plan on marrying Prince Harry.

And I was shoeless. May that be the first and last time I am ever shoeless outside of my apartment.

Ronit and I were shaking like leaves.

One of the woman said that her brother is living in Boca and told her to go to Florida and stay by him until this all dies down. Her response was “Israel’s where it’s at. I got my family and my Tehillim and I’m not going anywhere!”

I’m telling you I highly advise this ice-breaker for meeting the neighbors. They know I don’t react well to rockets coming straight at me from Gaza and I know they are totally chill by it.

Thank gd I didn’t hear a boom and the Iron Dome intercepted both rockets that were heading in the Tel Aviv direction. Unfortunately I did forget to bring down my snack pack with me. May there not be a next time, but just in case I put it a little closer to the door. Food is important in times of distress!

My little medicine for most hard times is a good sense of humor and lots of emunah so I got my “Rock It Out To The Iron Dome” playlist sorted out. We got “Don’t Rain On My Parade” “I Dare You To Move” “I’m A Believer”, the Jewish classics and some more. This whole situation is so surreal.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever guessed that I would get a glimpse at what Israelis in the south have been experiencing for years. This is real and scary stuff.

In a nutshell, I would be lying if I said it’s not scary and it’s all great. Hearing hundreds of planes flying overhead during all hours of the night, saying bye to friends in the army, hearing sirens whether it’s the real one or a noise that catches me off guard, it’s petrifying, but I am honored that I can at least be a footnote in Israeli history.

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