Friday, October 23, 2009

Signs and Wonders & sorrel soup

All during Yom Kippur I prayed for guidance--what should I do this coming year? Should I accept the tenure-track offer at an Israel University, or shall I stay here in the States?
Let me tell you, signs are not for the thin-skinned or the weak of heart. I got my sign, all right. We're moving.

We're moving although my parents just lost their farm and livlihood and are coming out of cancer treatment.
We're moving although our significant other left us the first week of September (I say "us" because really, my daughter and I were a unit to him).
We're moving even though it might mean having to teach at both universities for six weeks, with me flying back and forth in the spring.
We're moving, though I don't know where we'll get the energy because both my girl and I are slammed with a bad cold? a flu? I don't know. Moving my body hurts...just think about how much it will hurt to move all of our effects.

We're going Israel citizenship route.

Let me just say that this has been the worst 6 months of my life (with the exception of the last six months of 2006). Each week there is some new gawd-awful thing to cope with, and for the last month my only goal has been to make it through each day. Honestly, if it's not part of my calendar or daily routine, I simply forget what I promised I'd do. I think it's a kind of shock.

Though it has sucked, at least the results have been okay so far. The custody case in May was awful, but it turned out okay--I mean, it's great to have the clarity and child support and permission to move out of country; the loss of the farm was awful, but it looks like my family be fine after they adjust. Uprooting from a dreamy community, after we finally got a 2-bedroom apartment this month and a garden plot in May and a place in a preschool my daughter loves to pieces is going to be really hard, but we're trusting that we're moving onwards and upwards.

Soon I'll be reporting from Tel Aviv. Anyway, I already feel like I'm in Israel: at my interview with the Jewish agency the interviewee couldn't help herself and started arguing with me about why I want to live in Tel Aviv and not a surburb, where it's cheaper.

Let me end this with a recipe. The sorrel from our garden inspired this, and our colds have made it useful. This is a sorrel soup, hearty, tangy, and wonderful. I adapted it from Claudia' Rodin. It makes you feel alive, in a good, earthy way.

Sorrel Soup:

1 lb potatoes cut into manageable slices
enough vegetable stock (I use bullion) to cover the potatoes and make it soupy
1/2 lb sorrel leaves
black pepper


Cook the potatoes in bullion until they are tender. Then half-mash them.
add sorrel, once it is washed and chopped. Cook for 5 more minutes

I used my hand blender and half-blended everything.

Rodin suggests you beat two eggs in hot soup, then add it to the mixture, cooking until it thickens, not don't let it boil, because then it will curdle. I did't do the eggs yet because my girl keeps asking for scrambled eggs and we don't have enough left. But it tastes great without the eggs.











But you know what, it's a new year.

5 comments:

Ima Shalom said...

We love you guys! Feel better, body and soul...

Anonymous said...

Why won't you live in the suburbs, really? It is definitely cheaper, and probably more healthy in terms of air pollution than in TA.

Michael Feigin said...

The part about how the interviewee argues with you about where you choose to live is so Israeli... good luck on your move.

Anonymous said...

This may be true. And yet, at the same time, when you actually do have a problem, those same people, and others (sometimes total strangers) will be there wholeheartedly for you.

Maya said...

I know. The advice giving is usually not very helpful, but it's always very loving, and usually entertaining, and so I like it.

When I worked and lived there last time, a year ago, I always had a deep sense of happiness, even though I didn't know anyone and didn't speak very well. Just because I felt sort of taken care of, in the sense that random strangers were looking out for us.