Ironic bread: Davidovitch Bakeries is nice enough to print this lovely little nutrition pyramid on their bread label…
For those of you who don’t read Hebrew, the base of the pyramid, above “daily physical exercise,” specifies “products from whole wheat.” Of course, this is on a package of white bread. (Don’t be fooled; קמה חיטה כהה is not whole wheat flour, just white flour with about two microns of bran left in!) So we have to assume that to follow this healthy Mediterranean diet, we can’t eat Davidovitch bread. Oh, the irony.
Don’t rely on your spell-checker (yet again): From a mobile phone app site.
Ahmed from Namibia, using a Samsung s8300
August 6, 2009
i was very disappointed with this version 3. when i installed Ht on my s8300 it overwrought my standard google map and now the accuracy is far off. version 3 is absolutely Crap. the older versions were better.
Damn. Don’t you hate those overwrought apps?
It may not be paradise, but…: We enjoy the benefits of a hot climate. On our morning walk, Terri and I pass fig trees, passiflora (passion fruit), olive trees, dates, and more. This morning, I scoop up one ripe passiflora and one ripe fig. Lovely. You can’t do that if you live in Michigan!
There is a lovely hike in Nahal Amud that includes a small bustan (planted garden). It has been lovingly filled with all manner of fruits and herbs that were mentioned in the bible, including figs, dates, pomegranates, grapes, and more.
Terri’s been working hard: Here’s the girl at work with me, doing exactly what a good office dog should. And here she is at the end of a long day.
I don’t care what they say: No one’s taking my coffee away from me. Fascinating reading. Hat tip to Central LS.
Turning the clock back on human development: Leave it to Texas to boldly take a giant step backward and condemns their students to more ignorance and idiocy. Nice to see an outside take on the issue. Times like this have me despairin’ for the world. Makes me miss the late-great Molly Ivans, one righteous cowgirl who was not afraid to stand tall against small-minded bigotry, ignorance, and mean-spirited redneck ideology.
There is simply no way that I can reconcile Texan hospitality and the cowgirl mystique with this idiocy, so just color me confused (but note the boots).
Missing Denise: My sister’s yartzeit was Friday. Hard to believe that it has been a year. (Actually, it will be a year by the Gregorian calendar in another week.) Each holiday or event without her marks another milestone, so it was with some contemplative sadness that I found myself baking a cheesecake for Shavu’ot.
Terri is less hairy: Girl got a haircut this morning. She was well overdue. Now that the hotter weather is here, the brush is dry and loaded with burrs, so each walk ends with me picking oodles of the little buggers out of her fur. I’m lucky to have such a good girl; she sat patiently while the clippers whirred and buzzed around her.
First semi-final is tomorrow! That’s right, the insanity of Eurovision is upon us! Don’t have your parties lined up? This is your chance. The first semi-final is Tuesday, the second is Thursday (that’s the one Israel is in), and the finals are Saturday. Yeah! If you haven’t reviewed this year’s entries, you still have time.
Salivate the good times: I finally get together with friends in Nahariya. We have a fun meal, apart from the not-so-cold beer (“Should I bring some ice?” queries the clueless wait-person). Mmmm. Suds-on-the-rocks. I think not. I try to snap a few pictures, but my friends retaliate (with my own phone, no less). Here’s the money shot:
Gimme my phone!
Menus from hell: Can’t receive faxes. Can send. Spent an hour trying to troubleshoot. Turns out that buried deep in a multi-nested menu system is a setting that blocks faxes where caller ID isn’t showing. Sigh. Since most companies in Israel use switchboards that block caller ID, this is not a smart default! Still, this is what we call a cockpit error (i.e., the pilot’s fault, not the plane’s). Color me stupid.
Nadine fresses on treif: Yes, it is that pork-flavored medical food from the vet that she seems to like. Warm, mind you. Girl is now eating a few tiny portions a day and seems to be OK. I no longer risk cutting my hand on her backbones while patting her! She scores a heat-able gel pack (microwavable heating pad) for Hanukkah, while Terri gets a fleece-lined raincoat (which she tried out yesterday in the rain).
Happy Hanukkah! I eat my annual soufgania and feel ill. Why do I do this every year? It is a horrible compulsion. The greasy, sugary mess always sits in my stomach like a rock, yet the next year I feel compelled to do the same thing again. It is said that we celebrate the miracle of the small jar of oil that lasted for eight days by eating deep-fried food that sits in our guts for eight days… But if anyone wants to share a healthy recipe for latkes (there are baked versions instead of fried), be my guest.
Our path is closed: We are turned away from the walking path this morning. Nature conservancy work or something. Terri is very sad. We make do with a goat path, but it isn’t as nice.
Horky-Dance math: I wake at 6:00 to the moist sounds of Nadine retching. She makes six distinct emissions. I find only three spots to clean up. Do the math. At some point, I will discover the others…
Why you need a hyphen: WordPress cheerfully announces that this is “National Novel Writing Month.” Uh, no. That would be a month dedicated to writing “new” or “unique” material. If they mean something dedicated writing novels (fictional works), it would be “National Novel-writing Month.” Can people not hear the difference?
Such a scary dog! I pick Terri up from Doggy Daycare yesterday evening. Three adolescent boys are playing soccer next door. As I come out with Terri, one cries, “Oi, such a scary dog!” At first, I assume that he is being sarcastic, but then I realize that the kid is actually afraid! He tells me that he was bitten by a dog and still has the scar. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, “but this is a very friendly dog.” Terri, bless her heart, sits quietly and looks as sweet and innocent as possible. Two of the boys approach and pat her, but their dog-shy friend hangs back. How can anyone be afraid of this foolish-looking mutt?
Traffic-a-go-go: Or no-go, as the case may be. It takes me over 40 minutes to get from just after Hanaton through Tzomet HaMovil. Yikes. My drive to a client in Yokneam normally takes between 50 and 55 minutes. Yesterday it takes 90 minutes. Holy crap. On the way home, knowing that there would be huge backups in the other way (between Zarzir and Tzomet HaMovil), I took a break at Alonim. Good chance to replace my Bodum milk frother, which is now my third (I seem to break them after a few years) and get some gooood coffee. Better quality than what you find at the supermarket (other than the top quality Lavazza), and less expensive than all but the cheapest, most undrinkable espresso grind (did Elite really think they knew anything about espresso?!). But I also make the mistake of spritzing on some perfume that smells nice in the bottle but quickly becomes nauseous. The scent lingers on, despite energetic scrubbing.
Followup on the Akko riots: NIF (New Israel Fund—a very fine social action organization) has this to report.
Holding our breath for Tuesday: In the meantime, you can keep busy with this. Hat tip to Central LS.