I miss weather.
I am a fairly weather-obsessed person. I love weather. I am obsessive about weather.com. One of my most treasured gifts from Dave is this super awesome thermometer. At school, I was the go-to weather person. I made money off of my correct predictions of the weather. And then I came back here. There is no weather obsession here because this is the weather: it is hot during the day and cools off at night. There may be some degrees of hot: hot, really hot, unbearably hot and some degrees of cool: add a sweatshirt, open your windows, add a blanket. But that’s it: hot and a bit less hot. I miss weather. There is a joke in Cleveland (the midwest is known for its hilarity) that goes like this: if you don’t like the weather, wait 5 minutes it will change. It goes from cold to hot to rainy to thunderstorm to do I need to actually take that tornado warning seriously in a few hours. So no more weather channel for me. I’m missing it (also, it’s really hot).
Everyone is doing well. Even really well. I think I may be having the hardest time adjusting. Dov is just attacking the Hebrew language. He seems genuinely undeterred by the fact that he speaks pretty close to no Hebrew. In his fabulously unself-conscious way, he is figuring it out. He is our first kid that just says goodbye at the door to class and saunters in. It’s both heartbreaking and liberating. The other kids are rolling into their old lives, reconnecting with old friends, toys, life. David is racing around the country, meeting people, setting up programs. Suddenly we’re talking about bees and honey and hives and apple presses. He has contacts up and down the country that would make for the most interesting sociological study. The Ham Radio Society of Israel warmly welcomed him back, ironically via a mass email.
I’m feeling a bit more unsettled. I honked my car horn more on my first day back than I did my entire year in Cleveland. I forgot that things are crowded, louder, aggressive here. We are slowly unearthing boxes that we had long forgotten about and are starting to unpack. We take the kids to the kotel, ply them with endless ice coffees. We get them ready for school and send them off. There are so many friends to see and we see them one by one, slowly and I’m loving it. But I am beyond overwhelmed. Lots of people kept up with our year through the blog so David points out I’ve really got nothing left to say. Everyone is so surprised that we came back after only one year that I feel a bit silly, as if I showed up early for a junior high dance.
We have started making plans for Rosh HaShana — with yeshiva boys, friends, family. The grocery stores embrace the holidays in such a genuinely unironic way that I need to love the apple print paper-napkins, the pomegranate palmolive, the ceramic pomegranate napkin holders. It feels right being here, but I’ve got emotions flying all over the place., which may be why this happened: on the first day of school, Eitan is feeling a little nervous, a little anxious, I think in my crazy untethered state, I may have promised him a dog. I don’t even want fish in the house let alone a dog, but that’s what first day drama can do to an unstable mamma. (it rhymes, i’m okay with that.)
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