Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Shabbat doesn't always come on Saturday

August 14, 2007

A home in Tel Aviv

I woke up this morning with a headache and feeling like I just didn’t want to move. Not really sick, but just bone-tired. I was supposed to travel south of Tel Aviv to meet with a children’s book author who is a friend of Hedva’s, but I couldn’t face the thought of going anywhere. Instead I called home and blithered to Dave and Deborah (especially Deborah, just because she’s done this before). Then cancelled my appointment and lay about and read some of the books that fill the bookshelves of this house. The house—where I am? I am staying in Nurit and Colin’s house while they are gone. It is the lower floor of a two story house and it feels like family. There are signs of children everywhere—books, writings, clothing. There is a refrigerator full of family food (which I am supposed to help eat). The dishwasher and the washing machine are almost identical to mine. There is a pet—a small dog named Meshi (silk). Meshi is silent and very affectionate. The last two nights, she has slept by my bed, which was quite a comfort. The neighborhood is quiet and there is a small shopping center around the corner where I bought a falafel for lunch and where I will buy fruit in a bit. Tali was here last night, watching TV and chatting amiably. She’ll be back tomorrow and tomorrow evening we’ll go out to eat. In the meantime, the day has been entirely rejuvenating—tomorrow I am ready to head back into Tel Aviv for one event or another.

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