kibbutznik

"Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement."

- Golda Meir, was a teacher, kibbutznik and politician who became the fourth Prime Minister of the State of Israel.

Muzak Stole My Boyfriend's Soul
  (and I apologise in advance for the use of screaming CAPS)




I don’t even know what that means as I was, not exactly, drunk, but certainly not in my right mind.
One of those, ‘What are you KIDDING ME?’ moments.
Of course I know about Muzak.
It was a company.
How did I know about it?  How does ANYONE know about ANYTHING I wanted to scream over my Arnold Palmer (I can’t believe I admitted to drinking that).

At least I can’t remember knowing where I learned much.  (That’s not even a sentence is it)

SNBF however trumps my story (as he always seems to do - in a very sneaky yet masterful way), of knowing about Muzak from friends who were studio musicians in Omaha, by telling me that, when, as a young tyke, he got some sort of decoder from Muzak and learned how to separate the Music/Muzak from regular FM (like I understood any of this) because of a Popular Electronics subscription he was given by grownup friends in the States

I thought the story ended there, but no. Of course not.

Because then I learn that he worked with a Muzak system on his Kibbutz (you did know he was an Israeli, right - which can give y’all an easy stereotype) - and then when he rushed off to NYC he installed Muzak through ‘phone lines, which was, apparently, completely backwards.

OR SOMETHING

 And I was so proud about Nebraska of all things.

Nebraska - my experience of which was screaming the entire way across the state because it was so damn FLAT and UGLY.
Iowa’s rolling hills (yes I said something positive about Iowa. So sue me) at my back.
 The Rockies in front of me, my head stuck out the passenger window like a dog.

A screaming dog.

I don’t think we stopped to eat, pee or sight-see, unless you count my (then) husband* pointing south and saying, ‘That’s Lincoln’.

And I’m not exaggerating.  South Park bears this out: http://www.southparkstudios.com/clips/150953/grandma-song



But what I really wanted to write about was the moaning and whining of men when they get a cold.
A cold.
A COLD
A COLD

You’d think they’d just been diagnosed with terminal Pneumonia and limb-falling-off disease.

babies. all of them.

And as a sign-off - My best friend was just outed on Facebook by her daughter.
What did the poor stressed woman dare to do?

Eat a gallon of Ben and Jerry’s Vermonty Python/ Coldstone Cookie Batter ice-cream.


This is NOT A CRIME.


What IS a crime is driving across Nebraska without the aid of an IV Morphine drip, sunglasses and a coke.




*need an appellation for ex-husband if I insist on mentioning him.  Possibly ‘exH’.






From Yavniel to the Sea of Galilee is an uphill climb over rough ground, through wild plumb trees and thorn bushes which tear at the eyes. I held tight to my gun in case there was someone lurking in the shadows. I reached the summit of the mountain, and there was the Sea of Galilee spread out before me like a burnished mirror, smooth and soft as silk, a pleasure to look upon. The sun was reflected in its sparkling waters and I stood wonder-struck at the sight of it. The surrounding mountains are a sullen black. Black basalt rocks are scattered about as if they have at this moment been spewed up from the centre of the earth by some erupting volcano. To the eastwards, the mountains are steep and crumpled-seeming, for the floods have scored deep gashes in their sides. They tower over Galilee like sentinels. From there I could also see the Jordan as it flows out of Kinneret - the Sea of Galilee.
—  Shmuel Dayan, The Promised Land: Memoirs of Shmuel Dayan