The Good, The Bad, and The Chag

The Good, the Bad, and the Chag

HaTov (the good)
Back in Tel Aviv once again, in a lovely rented flat in the ” target=”_blank”>our charming and competent real estate lawyer. Yair assures Steve that things are progressing and that we should consider paying the owners a minimal “rent” so that we can start the renovations. We desperately want the apartment ready by July when we return for Steve to compete as a member of the ” target=”_blank”>Purim.  Benji calls us in Los Angeles to tell us that he is in the emergency room in Tel Aviv with a suspected appendicitis.  The test results are inconclusive and he is sent home. But soon after, he calls again to tell us that he is about to undergo an emergency appendectomy. Oy! But the Israeli medical system functions perfectly and thankfully, Benji is fine.

Flash forward to my third evening back in the holy land. I am at dinner with Benji and his good friend, Adi Davis (no relation).  My wallet is somehow stolen from an inner pocket of my bag which lies tight across my body. I am impressed by how professional some Israeli thieves are. Annoyed, but impressed. Who’d a thunk? Since Steve is minister of documents, the incident is duly reported to him and he quickly restores my credit cards, but not my California driver’s license, nor the 40 shekels in cash, nor my beautiful ” target=”_blank”>Kokhav Ya’ir. Wouldn’t you know that both of our families sing the same goofy American parodies of the four sons?  A week of family, good friends and amazing food – now that we eat ” target=”_blank”>Kibbutz Sa’ad.  While driving there, I told him that I had a small gift for Safri, the mother of 7 and an amazing Yemini cook despite her Ashkenazi upbringing.  The gift for the kitchen was none other than a