From the Forty-Ninth Floor

From the Forty-Ninth Floor

When I had to go to Tel Aviv for a narration job last week, I decided to head in a few hours early and spend some time at the top of the circular Azrieli Tower (there are also a triangle and a square), looking down on Greater Tel Aviv from the observatory. Here are some pictures I took while I was there.

(Click on any photograph to see a larger version.)

Looking out to sea:

Another angle:

The Ayalon Freeway:

Looking out toward Ramat Gan and the Diamond Exchange:

The Tel Aviv North train station is at the center of this photo:

A guide you can hold in the palm of your hand. This little gizmo plays recordings that tell you exactly what you’re looking at, plus a good deal of background material:

Finally, the elevator showing the number 49 just before it began its descent. If you look carefully, you can see the photographer from at least two angles—and no, I didn’t plan it that way!

Oh, yes, the voice-over job went just fine.

Kitty in the Knesset

Kitty in the Knesset

From the I Kid You Not Department: Israel TV news has just reported that a cat was spotted in the Knesset cafeteria sink after hours.

From what I could see on the security camera footage they showed, it was a tabby. Maybe some kind-hearted staffer, or even MK, will give it a forever home.

Virginia the Shop Cat

Virginia the Shop Cat

Yesterday, when I was at the pedestrian mall downtown, I saw this torbie beauty:

She was outside a store that sells model cars. Turns out that she lives with the proprietor, whose home is close by, and her name is Virginia. She has a son who prefers to stay home while she spends the day with her human companion at his store. The proprietor told me that once, when he had to go home four times during the course of the day, Virginia accompanied him back and forth each time.

As we can see here, they love each other very much.

I hope I’ll be seeing Virginia again. She’s sweet, and I have a weakness for calicos.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Got a Bee in Your Bonnet?

Got a Bee in Your Bonnet?

No, but here’s one on a flower:

(Click to embiggen.)

Can I Grow One of Those?

Can I Grow One of Those?

In a patch of wild cucumbers, no less.

So what fertilizer does one use for such plants? Do they carry the sanctity of the sabbatical year?

(Seriously, what is it?)

This Is Just Wicked

This Is Just Wicked

Ever work with a director who really gets into micro-managing?

This is a wickedly funny video starring my old college buddy Charles Ilardi, who pioneered the film studies major at our alma mater. Full credits here.

(For those who want or need to know: It is clean, though it hints at risqué behavior at the end.)

Birthday Kittypics

Birthday Kittypics

Several friends of mine had birthdays recently—two on the same day.

One is Laurence Simon, the King of Catbloggers. Another is Elisson of Blog d’Elisson, whose cats I would love to meet one day. Back to my own neck of the woods, a very dear friend of mine celebrated her birthday on the same day as Laurence’s.

Since all three are Jewish and have cats of their own, I am posting some photos of Israeli cats in their honor. First, a tabby and a tuxxie in the grass:

Next, Lady lounging on the sofa, looking for all the world as though she is sleeping off the carousing of the night before:

Next, a kitty on the tiles:

Ad me’ah ve-esrim (till 120) to all of you!

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Sabbatical Cat?

Sabbatical Cat?

The year of shemitta, or the sabbatical year when fields in Israel are supposed lie fallow, has just begun. Produce that grows in Israel during the sabbatical year must treated with special reverence, since it has what is known as kedushat shemitta—the sanctity of the sabbatical year. There are all sorts of rules about how one is supposed to care for one’s garden during this year, what produce one may buy and even how one should treat their peels, rinds and cores, since produce that has kedushat shemitta may not be disposed of in the ordinary fashion.

I need to ask my local rabbi: what do I do when I find a kitty growing in the planter?

More about the sabbatical year here.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Cycling to Sderot

Cycling to Sderot

On my way to work this morning, I passed by a bicycle ride about to start:

It wasn’t just any bike ride. This was the Team OneFamily trek to Sderot. (More information at the link above.)

I saw people of all stripes getting ready to ride, including a religious woman who wore a kerchief under her helmet and a cut-off skirt over her cycling leggings.

It was so special to see all these people headed for Sderot on their bikes. Made me wish I were going, too.

Gold Mine in a Bookstore Window

Gold Mine in a Bookstore Window

One of the many bookstores downtown changes its display every week or so. Each display has a theme. This week’s was—you guessed it—cats! (Click on the photo to embiggen.)

In my opinion, one of the books should not be there. But the rest of them look terrific. A veritable feline gold mine in print!

(The window next to it was full of books on classical mythology—for me, a double-header.)

Symmetri-cats

Symmetri-cats

Her Ladyship and Missy go symmetrical again. I love it when they do this.

The Friday Ark.

The Carnival of the Cats.

Sukkot 5768

Sukkot 5768

This year’s arba minim.

Happy Sukkot!

Open Your Gates

Open Your Gates

Open the gates for us
at the time of their closing.

The day is fading,
the sun westering and waning;
let us pass through Your gates.

(from the closing prayer of Yom Kippur)

As I was running errands downtown this morning, something drew me into the doorway of a building, where I saw this:

An open door with a padlock on it, engraved with the word “Eden”—evidently just the name of the company that made it, but pretty symbolic.

May this year see the gates open for all of us. Gemar hatima tova.

Pre-Yom Kippur Catblogging

Pre-Yom Kippur Catblogging

No, I haven’t grown a tail...

Either Her Ladyship wants to share hers, or she likes to be in her tent, otherwise known as my skirt.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Gemar hatima tova.

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Ahoy! It’s September 19th—which means that it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Pirates would enjoy my neighborhood, actually. It has lots of large, green parakeets flying wild—maybe they could convince a couple of them to try out a life at sea.

But I wanted to recommend a book in honor of the day. It’s called The Ring Bear, written by David Michael Slater and illustrated by S.G. Brooks. Check it out here.

It has pirates in it, together with a pirate ship that is in danger of being scuttled until a new pirate, complete with eye patch, makes friends with the captain, joins the crew and saves the day.

(Click here and scroll to the bottom of the page for Orson Scott Card’s review, too!)

Arrr, mateys! Ye’ll want to be gettin’ yer hands on this book, I’m thinkin’, if ye or yer little ones wants a good read.

Looking Back, Moving Forward

Looking Back, Moving Forward

Who remembers the All-of-a-Kind Family series? If you do—and even if you have never read it— you may want to take a look at the following essay, Family Affair:

It is December 1912, and in the front room of a tenement flat on the Lower East Side of Manhattan an eight-year-old girl named Sarah is dusting the piano keys and the lace doilies, the intricately carved heavy wooden table legs and knicknacks from the “old country,” with the greatest of care and even a little bit of enthusiasm. She's playing “find the buttons,” a kind of work-as-treasure-hunt game devised by her clever Mama. The mother of five girls ranging in age from four to twelve, Mama is a master of making life simultaneously instructive and fun in spite of her large family's rather precarious financial situation amid the pickle barrels and clothing vendors of New York’s crowded immigrant enclave. As usual, this particular diversion—one of many in Mama’s arsenal for getting her girls to complete their daily chores without grumbling—proves to be a winner. “I found them! I found them all, every single one of them!” Sarah cries out joyfully as she bursts back into the family kitchen, her dreaded task complete. Dusting will never be the same again.

I knew Sydney Taylor only very briefly, during the last summer she spent at my summer camp, where she had been the dance and dramatics director for many years. At the time, I had no idea that she was the author of a well-known series of children’s books, and she was too modest to say anything about it. It was my bunkmate who told me, asking with incredulity: “What? You mean you never heard of All-of-a-Kind Family?!”

I hadn’t, but I soon fixed the situation by reading all of Sydney Taylor’s books.

The link to the above essay arrived in my in-box only a few hours ago, as I was in the middle of preparing for Rosh ha-Shana—a quick look backward as we prepare to move forward into the new year.

Shana tova to all my readers and friends. May you inscribed for a good and sweet year filled with all blessings.

Out of the Woods, Finally

Out of the Woods, Finally

I had delayed writing this post because I wanted to be sure, but I now have it on very good authority that after approximately half a year of frequent vet visits, oral surgeries, a brief bout with diabetes, medications, injections and more suffering than any cat should ever have to experience, the Lady in Red is finally out of the woods.

Since the vet put her on a prescription cat food (Royal Canin hypoallergenic variety, for those who are interested), Lady has been doing extremely well. Although she is missing most of her teeth—multiple extractions are just about the only thing that help in severe cases of chronic gum inflammation in cats—she is eating and grooming normally, things that she couldn’t do at all when she was so terribly ill. I was very happy to hear that lately she has had a few hairballs—not that I want her to suffer in any way, but hairballs are a “healthy” problem and she’s dealing with them just fine. I’m also told that for the first time in weeks, she has even started playing again. And this is without painkillers or medications of any kind!

I’d like to thank everyone who helped with advice, encouragement and funds. I’m still climbing out of the hole that Lady’s expenses dug beneath me—thanks to your help it shouldn’t take much longer—and I will start sending out the thank-you gifts as soon as I can.

In the meantime, here is a picture from a recent visit to the Lady in Red, showing her well and happy and demanding her due of worship bellyrubs:

Thank you all so much for helping us get through this challenging time, and for helping my old friend get well.

Not Again!

Not Again!

Earlier this week I got a call from a musician from Europe who is currently in Israel. He is going to be producing a CD in several months and was looking for a woman singer to provide harmonies for some of the songs, and he got my telephone number from a mutual acquaintance. When I asked him what kinds of songs he wanted to record, he told me: Religious, spiritual, with Biblical texts. He said that they had been written by a particular songwriter, someone with an Israeli-sounding name whom I’d never heard of.

We made a date to meet earlier this morning, and soon after we began speaking together a tendril of suspicion wound its way into my mind. I had no overt reason for it, since I had never heard of the songwriter he named, but after only a few minutes I found myself asking: “Is this songwriter a member of the Messianic community?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh, no,” I said. “I think we have a problem.”

And I told him what I had told the previous two musicians from that community who asked me to work with them: as a professional singer, I do not work with Messianics. Maybe I should rephrase that, actually, since after all there is a difference between working on a project where a Messianic may happen to be a co-worker but not the one in charge, and working on a project where a Messianic is the leader or sponsor. So let me be more specific: I will not record or perform any religious songs that I know to have been written by Messianics, and I will not be involved in any musical project, particularly one of a religious character, in which they have an influential role.

Why not? Because the so-called Messianic movement is actually a missionary group whose goal is to convert Jews to Christianity. In order to do this they use lies, deception, deliberate mistranslation of Biblical texts and fear tactics. (Yes, I said “fear tactics.” If you tell me, even with all the politeness and compassion in the world, that I am going to burn forever in the fires of Hell unless I believe and worship the way you do, you are using a fear tactic to get me to change my religion.) In short, they are trying to make my people disappear off the face of the earth, even if by non-violent means. If I were to lend my voice to such an effort, I would be putting the gift that God gave me to the worst possible use—treason against my own people.

The musician himself does not belong to the Messianic community nor, to the best of my knowledge, is he Jewish by birth. As we spoke, I felt that despite my best attempts to explain why I cannot become involved with his project, I don’t think he really got it. In fact, I got the feeling that he thought I ought to be more inclusive, especially when he said: “But doesn’t God say in the Bible that His House will be called a house of prayer for all nations?”

I said: “Yes, absolutely. Jews do not believe that God will punish people who do not believe and worship as we do. It’s the Messianics who believe that. Ask them. They may be very polite about it at first, but if you insist on the truth, they will tell you eventually.”

I apologized for not having asked the question sooner, which would have saved him the trip to my place. I truly hadn’t meant to inconvenience him. Maybe one day we will work together after all.

But it won’t be on a project of Messianic music.

Salad Days

Salad Days

This past week, the Strauss company recalled a batch of their packaged salads due to contamination.

I confess: I am a salad fiend, and I buy packaged salads. I succumbed to temptation several years ago, figuring that I’d earned a break after several decades of standing over a cutting board.

When I telephoned Strauss’s customer-service hotline, the woman I spoke to asked me to read her the date on the package. When I did, she replied: “Zeh lo be-seder”—that’s not OK. The package of salad I had bought a day or so before (and, thank goodness, hadn’t opened yet) was one of the tainted ones, and she told me to discard it immediately.

She took down my name and address and told me that within two weeks I will be receiving a voucher for a free package of salad. Well, that’s nice, I guess.

But it does make me wish I could grow my own vegetables.

Her Ladyship: In Your Face

Her Ladyship: In Your Face

Her Ladyship under my skirt. I held the camera toward myself for this one.

This week’s Carnival of the Cats is at Lair’s.

The View from Hebrew U

The View from Hebrew U

Last week I went with a friend of mine on a walking tour of Hebrew University’s Mount Scopus campus. The tour ended at the amphitheater, from which one can see the beginning of the Judean Desert, and on a very clear day even part of the Dead Sea. Here are two photographs I took there. (Click to enlarge.)

How to Lose Me as a Client

How to Lose Me as a Client

Last night I found an invitation to join a social network called Quechup in my in-box. Since the invitation came from someone I trusted, I thought, “Why not?” and joined.

I soon found out why not. To my dismay, this network started sending e-mails that were purportedly from me to contacts of mine, inviting them to join their network.

As soon as I found out what was going on, I deleted my account with them. I do not appreciate a hard sell. I appreciate even less any network that sends e-mails to my contacts in my name without my full knowledge and consent.

Yes, I realize that they might be able to argue that they had my consent. Didn’t I read the fine print when I signed up? It says right here in Paragraph 397.2 that they have the right to blah, blah, blah. Nope, doesn’t wash with me. Nothing—but nothing—gives any organization the right to send out automatic e-mails in my name to my contacts or to anyone else. Do that and I’m gone, and I’ll never come back.

So much for Quechup. Goodbye and good riddance.

Rouse Not the Sleeping Tiger

Rouse Not the Sleeping Tiger

Well, I didn’t. But I did take a picture.

The Red Wagon

The Red Wagon

A two-minute film by Yad Eliezer, well worth seeing.

A Little Jerusalem Story of My Own

A Little Jerusalem Story of My Own

While I was at work last week, a friend of mine called. He was going to be in the neighborhood and wanted to drop something off for me.

The building I work in has a wedding hall on the floor below our office. Since my friend was headed to a brit milah—a circumcision ceremony—that would be taking place there shortly, we agreed that this would be a great time to deliver the item. I met him in the hall downstairs, received the item, and prepared to head back upstairs to work.

On impulse I asked, “So who’s the family?” Turns out that they are acquaintances of mine from almost my first days in the country whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. I greeted them and got an invitation to stay for the ceremony and the meal! When I told my employer, he gave his permission.

It was a lovely afternoon. I got to see several old friends and greet a new baby, too!

Two Pictures, Three Cats

Two Pictures, Three Cats

Here are two pictures, since I missed posting last week:

Look out! There’s a tiger on the loose!

Her Ladyship and Missy form a symmetrical pattern:

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Wishful Thinking on the Bus

Wishful Thinking on the Bus

One Jerusalem bus driver uses his imagination to beat the August heat. (Click on the photo to enlarge it.)

The handwritten sign on the lower left-hand part of the windshield reads le-hof ha-yam—“To the beach.”

Flirty Tortie and Her Beau

Flirty Tortie and Her Beau

I was on my way to work the other day when I saw this gorgeous red-and-white cat on a stone wall, adding his beauty to that of the garden behind him:

Then he came downstairs for a happy meeting with a ladyfriend:

“Um, do you mind? We’d like a bit of privacy, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Aw, what the heck. She’s harmless. Let’s pose for her.”

Time to go.

And off they went...

... until the tortie lady discovered that the red-and-white, who has a tipped ear (meaning that he has been neutered), couldn’t give her what she wanted, so she swatted him.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Furry Fundraiser

Furry Fundraiser

Remember my old friend the Lady in Red, who used to live in the park nearby? As you may remember, last winter she became seriously ill. Turns out that the person who took her in ran up a lot of expenses with her vet care.

When they took her in, I promised to help with the vet expenses... which proved to be much more than anyone expected. Three oral surgeries, a bout with diabetes... the bills ran up. And up. And up.

Lady recovered from diabetes several weeks ago. She is healthy now and the worst appears to be behind us. But the vet bills have left quite a hole in the bank account, and now I could use some help.

(UPDATE: PayPal is now an option, thanks to some very kind friends. The button is at the top of the right-hand sidebar.)

Any amount is welcome. If you would like to help—and if you can—please click the donation button at the top of the right-hand sidebar or get in touch with me at rahel dot jaskow at gmail dot com.

P.S. Thank you, Laurence. Thank you, Meryl. And thank you to the people who have already offered their help. Much, much appreciated.

P.P.S. The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

I’ve Been Down That Road Before

I’ve Been Down That Road Before

... specifically, with this taxi driver.

As Jerusalem’s only female Muslim taxi driver, Mrs Bahr, wearing a white headscarf, cuts a distinctive figure in the city's taxi-driving community.

“People always think I’m Jewish at first,” says Mrs Bahr, who speaks conversational Hebrew.

“But then I tell them that I’m Muslim and they are even more surprised. They say it’s brilliant, it’s fantastic.”

I agree. I was in Majda al-Bahr’s cab a while back, and I even blogged about it. Yup, it’s a small world indeed!

And about the Islamic fundamentalist types who don’t like the fact that Ms. al-Bahr drives a cab for a living: wouldn’t they feel secure knowing that there’s a woman taxi driver out there for the women and girls of their community? At least they know she will never make a pass at them, and with her there will be no testosterone-induced rage at the wheel. What’s not to like?

The BBC article says that she sits on the board of a local transport union, too. Way to go, Ms. al-Bahr. Way to go.

Nice Shirt!

Nice Shirt!

So I’m on the bus headed home yesterday afternoon, and I saw that the man sitting in front of me was wearing a great t-shirt. I asked him whether I could photograph it, and he said yes.

Well, you can’t argue with the truth. Nations and empires that mess with the Jews end up gone. This t-shirt lists most if not all of them.

Take that, antisemites of the world.

(Turns out that the Moriah Bookstore in the Old City carries these t-shirts. There may be other places to get them but that was where the man on the bus got his.)

The Jerusalem War Cemetery on Mt. Scopus

The Jerusalem War Cemetery on Mt. Scopus

Yesterday I headed to Hadassah Hospital on Mt. Scopus for an annual routine test. On the way out, I decided to take a closer look at the nearby Jerusalem War Cemetery.

Although the graves in the cemetery are approximately ninety years old, the cemetery is in excellent condition. I saw a team of gardeners employed by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission working there, one of whom helpfully directed me to the Jewish section (located on the far left, second section as one ascends from the street).

The grave next to the Jewish one is that of an unknown soldier. The inscription reads: “A soldier of the Great War, known unto God.” I would have taken more pictures, but as the above photo shows, the sprinklers were on at the time, so I couldn’t get much closer.

Farther up, near the memorial chapel, is a memorial wall inscribed with the names of more than three thousand soldiers who fell in the Middle East whose burial places are unknown.

The cemetery also contains the graves of several Turkish and German soldiers, who presumably died as prisoners of war.

Besides the war cemeteries in Jerusalem (including the Indian Cemetery in Jerusalem, for Sikh and Muslim soldiers from India who fought and fell here), there are other cemeteries in Beer Sheva, Ramle and Haifa. (There is also one in Gaza, but I am not sure how accessible it is these days. It was vandalized in 2004.)

Today is Tisha be-Av (the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av), the saddest day in the Jewish calendar. Today we remember our destroyed Temples and our exiled people, and all the catastrophes that befell us throughout history.

So, my half-dozen readers may ask, what does a war cemetery on Mt. Scopus have to do with Tisha be-Av?

If I remember correctly, World War I began on Tisha be-Av, and as terrible and tragic as it was, its effects lasted far beyond Armistice Day. I felt that it would be appropriate to remember these fallen soldiers the day before the anniversary on which the war started. And, as Treppenwitz pointed out in a post from March 2006, we owe a great debt to their memory.

An easy fast.

Stretching Out

Stretching Out

Her Ladyship stretches out one hot summer day, showing her fuzzy tummy.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

The Friday Ark.

The Carnival of the Cats.

(And yes, I hope to start writing again soon, instead of just posting cat pictures. I have been extremely busy over the past weeks, but things are calming down, at least for now.)

Cool Cat Cools Off

Cool Cat Cools Off

Her Ladyship cools off on cool stone:

Friday Ark.

Carnival of the Cats.

The Lady in Red, Kitty Yoga, and You

The Lady in Red, Kitty Yoga, and You

From a recent visit with my old friend, the Lady in Red:

(The title of this post is taken from the well-known television series Lilias, Yoga and You, which ran on PBS from 1972 to 1992.)

Check out today’s Friday Ark, and the Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

Missy, What Do You See?

Missy, What Do You See?

A nonchalant Missy perches on the stone wall, watching the world go by.

Check out the Friday Ark, up at The Modulator tomorrow. And check out the Carnival of the Cats home page to see where the next Carnival will be.

Mr. Neighborcat, Sitting in a Tree

Mr. Neighborcat, Sitting in a Tree

Since I took this picture at around dinnertime, I’m betting that Mr. Neighborcat is scoping out a bird or two for an appetizer.

Catch today’s Friday Ark at The Modulator, and stay tuned to the Carnival of the Cats home page to see where next week’s Carnival of the Cats will be.

Peek-a-Boo

Peek-a-Boo

Lady in Red, I see you!

Catch today’s Friday Ark at The Modulator, and check at the Carnival of the Cats home page to see where Sunday’s carnival will be.

Intruder Alert!

Intruder Alert!

Well, it was an intruder alert as far as Her Ladyship was concerned. Missy was perfectly willing to make friends.

The intruders were a tux and a gray tabby, possibly related. I had never seen them before. They entered at one side of the garden and exited the other, moving so quickly that I didn’t have time to get my camera out to take a picture of them.

So all I got were the reactions of the two resident cats. Check out Her Ladyship’s raised hackles and poofy tail. And check out Missy’s lack thereof.

O the difference between cat and cat!

Catch today’s Friday Ark, and check out the Carnival of the Cats home page to see where the Carnival will be this coming Sunday.

Foot Pillow

Foot Pillow

I was changing the water in the yard when Her Ladyship came over to me with a demand for attention. I barely had time to put the bowl of water down before she flopped down on her side with her head on my foot.

Don’t believe me? I have photographic proof! Yes, I somehow managed to get out the camera without disturbing Her Ladyship. She flipped from foot to foot, too, but I didn’t manage to get that on camera.

Check out today’s Friday Ark. The next Carnival of the Cats will be up at Justin’s Random Thoughts on Sunday.

A Study in Black and White

A Study in Black and White

Missy in the yard:

I really like black-and-white photography.

Today’s Friday Ark is up. Check out the Carnival of the Cats home page to find out where the next Carnival will be.

Camouflage

Camouflage

Her Ladyship blends in with the scenery:

Check out today’s Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats will be at The Catblogosphere on Sunday.

Urban Wheat

Urban Wheat

So I’m in one of Jerusalem’s industrial areas, about to cross a street. I look down and what do I see?

(Click to enlarge.)

What? Wheat!

This is pretty unusual. Wild barley and oats grow all over the city, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen wheat growing wild here (or anywhere else, for that matter).

Wheat. Wow.

Scaring the Birds Again, Eh?

Scaring the Birds Again, Eh?

When I went out to work one morning this past week, I heard the birds making a racket in the trees overhead. I didn’t know why until these two came sauntering out of the bushes to say hello.

Check out the 138th edition of the Friday Ark. And check out the Carnival of the Cats home page to see where the next CotC will be.

Interesting Bug

Interesting Bug

(Click to enlarge.)

I wonder what it is.

Kitty Muscles In

Kitty Muscles In

The lion is the symbol of Jerusalem. Recently, someone in my neighborhood decided to give the rampant Jerusalem lion a bit of competition:

I have no complaints!