Kav Imut, part 3

Urban renewal, Hezbullah style: The New York Times and other mainstream media start describing Hezbullah as the rebuilders of southern Lebanon. Why do I have a problem with this? Well, imagine if CalTrans employees started shouting "Death to non-coastal states! Wipe Nevada off the face of the earth!" while wielding rocket launchers as passing motorists. Now imagine that the press takes flattering photos of them repairing highways, and completely avoids mentioning this other (and very dramatic) behavior. (Disclaimer: I have nothing against CalTrans employees. I'm sure they are all very nice, hard-working men and women who risk their lives every day wearing those dorky orange vests. I am not suggesting that they are terrorists or that they derive any sadistic pleasure in tying up traffic on the 101.)


Livni speaks out: Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni wants UN forces to patrol the Syrian border to stop the flow of weapons to Hezbullah. "Nobody can talk of disarming Hezbollah when meanwhile we can see a process of rearming Hezbollah," she tells reporters. She's building up a major fan base by being articulate, hard-hitting, and yet significantly more polished and polite than many who've filled that post before her. She's even starting to win me over...


Who are you calling an ass? The donkey-powered Bedouin is back. There are a few Bedouin communities near Karmiel, and sometimes individuals cut through my neighborhood (particularly one older guy with his donkey). We are also the preferred shortcut for moving livestock, so every once in a while there is a goat-jam on the highway. A few years ago I came home on my birthday to find a calf in front of my house. For a split second I thought it was a creative present from Gill, or that he had just become tired of mowing the lawn, but then sanity kicked in. I called the city's hotline to report it. The conversation went something like this (albeit in Hebrew):
Me: Hi. I'm on (street name) in Givat Ram, and there's a calf by my house.
City employee: What color?

Ho hum. Another day, another cow...

The house returns to normal: The other day I finally roll the blast door back into its storage slot (getting some lovely bruises and completely destroying the shutters in the process). The bedding on the floor of the meimad is now put away. The emergency supplies are back in their proper cupboards. The Home Command instructions have been removed from their place of prominence on the fridge door. Nadine returns to basking in the dappled sunlight.

A friend told me that she was having trouble enjoying the normalcy, because she was sure that it is just a temporary phase, and that we will be embroiled in this mess for a long time. I can understand that. A cousin reminds me of the quotation that "survival is a form of victory." But I disagree. Mere survival is not victory; we must thrive—live with gusto and joy... Oh, please stop me before I turn into a beer commercial.