Update

Remember how we convinced ourselves that the cat left our house? I didn't even mention that as I was finally falling back asleep, I thought I saw a cat sitting on the A/C unit in our bedroom. I sat up and thought I saw it leave, wandered downstairs after it, didn't see it, and assumed that either I had been dreaming as I dozed off, or I saw who-knows-what in the dark without my glasses and jumped to conclusions. So when I heard a crash from downstairs fifteen minutes after that, I resolutely stayed in bed and went back to sleep. Sure, in the morning I saw a metal bowl that had been precariously near the edge of a shelf and was now on the floor, but none of this was worth mentioning a blog post.

Until today.

Bum bum bum.

I bet by now you all can guess what I saw just as BSM was finishing up his dinner yesterday.

Bum bum bum.

The Cat.

Bum bum bum.

Luckily (?), it dashed right back under the stairs as soon as it saw me, so BSM remained unaware of its presence. I called Husbinator home from his office to keep an eye on it (no more not being sure if it's in the house or not!) while I got BSM in bed, and we spent the next two-and-a-half hours clearing out the crawlspace, coaxing, shining lights, waiting patiently, stomping on the stairs, hitting the wall, opening cans of tuna fish, discussing sedatives...

In the end Husbinator did what I refused point-blank to do and climbed into the crawlspace with the pointy wild animal still inside. He worked some magic and eventually the cat came dashing out. There followed a quarter-hour of chasing the cat around the house again (though first we blocked that crawlspace so it couldn't get back in) and wondering why on earth it insisted on clawing up walls and clinging to windows instead of going through the wide-open door that it just dashed right past. Husbinator went outside and opened screens though, and in the end, we saw the cat jump out a window, exiting our abode.

Aannnnd stay oot!

Durned Cats

I woke up a little after midnight last night and heard Husbinator coming up the steps. "Malka," he said gently and quietly, "There's a cat in the house." I sighed, not quite awake. "Well," I finally answered, "I'ma go pee first."

There followed a half-hour silent chase, herding the cat out of the spare bedroom, closing all doors upstairs, standing guard next to the open main level doors so no more cats would come in, watching in desperation as the cat tried and failed to leave, and losing the cat. Yeah, losing it. (It was about then that I recalled the phrase, "like herding cats.")

We have our hopes about how it may have exited without us noticing, but we still searched pretty thoroughly for the cat: Husbinator very firmly and wisely did not want a cat in our house overnight. While I wasn't awake enough to care (it's amazing how well I can cling to drowsiness even as I stalk a cat and have it run past me in a panic), even in my sleep-befuddled state I knew it would be Very Bad if BSM woke up in the morning and saw a cat in the house. He does Not Like Cats at the best of times, and does verily freak out if they come into His House.

Well, we never found the cat last night, and I sure didn't see it this morning, so whatever. Gol-dinged cats, even if they are better to chase out of the house than birds or bats. Poopy British introducing them to control the rodent population. Growl, grumble grumble.

Encouraging Observation

This past Shabbos, we had guests who found us through Shabbat.com. This isn't the first time we've had "internet guests" either through Shabbat.com or AnywhereInIsrael.org, and Husbinator made an interesting observation: we've never had guests from either of those sites whom we wouldn't be happy to have again. Hooray for the world not being completely filled with irritating people! I mean, also hooray for an easy way to find guests, but I already knew that...

Swapping Tall Tales

BSM has a birthday coming up, so we mentioned to him that he'll be turning three soon. BSM told us in no uncertain terms that he has no interest in turning three, and though he was open to being "3 and a fraction", he would still vastly prefer to be two.

I thought I could start to bring him around by explaining what a birthday is. So I told BSM that before he was a boy he was a baby (yes, this is old news), and before he was a baby he was a fetus (OK: he hadn't known that but it sounded fine), and when he was a fetus he lived in my belly. That's when BSM burst out laughing. When he finally caught his breath, he said, "Staaaaaaaam, you kidding me!"

I told him I most certainly was not; he lived in my belly (more giggles) and then when he came out of my belly that-- (BSM collapsed into irrepressible laughter again.)

When BSM subsided back into giggles, I told him that all children used to be babies (yeah, yeah), and that before they were babies they were fetuses (fine) and lived in their Emas bellies (back to hysterical laughter again). This time he responded not only with a huge grin, but with a twinkle in his eye, "Before babies, live in mountains with yaks!" This was followed by more laughter and "Staaaam, I kidding you!"

Well, his acceptance of biology might be squat, but at least he knows to respond to a tall tale with one of his own.

What is a Farm, Anyway?

One of the songs that BSM sings the most often when left to his own devices is "Old McDonald had a Farm." This morning, I heard him at it again:

Old McDonald had farm
EIEIO
Cows everywhere
Cows anywhere
EIEIO
Moo Moo anywhere
Moo Moo anywhere
EIEIO
On the farm had a flamingos
EIEIO
[protracted period of contented humming that actually strongly resembles the musical score of "Old McDonald had a Farm"]

On an Unrelated Note...

There was a forest fire across the street from my office building yesterday, and about two hours after we first saw smoke the company asked us all to go home, even though the fire department wasn't evacuating us. Half an hour earlier, the head of payroll announced that if anyone was upset and couldn't focus, they could take the rest of the day off with pay. My co-workers agreed with my assessment that we weren't upset, but that didn't mean we could fo-- Hey, look, a firefighter plane! Cool!

Speaking of which, firefighting planes release foam, and since the foam has a non-zero horizontal velocity upon release (since it's dropped out of a moving plane) and is not released instantaneously (because the foam is released in useful amounts, not as single mathematical points), the chunk of foam falls as a triangle. Also, it's more of a thick mist than a foam. Also, the foam is white but glows orange as it reflects the flames below. Very cool. Oh, and nothing happens for about half a minute after the foam falls, and then the flames totally die where the foam landed (though there's still significant smoldering). So, so cool.

Also, it makes me sad to watch actual trees burning. And I don't know how all trees in various weather conditions burn, but the ones in the Jerusalem Forest burn for about 5 minutes and then the flames are gone: not because they've been put out, but because the tree has completely burned. It's nuts.

On an unrelated note, since I left work 3 hours early, I had time both to go grocery shopping and make jellyrolls yesterday. Yup, you heard me right: I made jellyrolls for the first time, and they totally came out fine. Boo-ya!

For their significant contributions to the successful jellyroll experiment, I would like to thank Israeli Cooking on a Budget (easier instructions than Spice and Spirit), parchment paper (easier to use than waxed paper), freezer paper (easier to use than a tea towel), and BSM (who had a glorious time helping me mix the batter and spread the jelly, and was very cooperative about scootching over when I needed elbow room to roll up the jellyrolls).

Notes for next time include (a) get a big enough oven to fit my jelly roll pans (a.k.a. half-size baking sheets)... Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh...

More universally applicable notes are (b) immediately spreading the jelly and rolling up works just fine, there really is no need to roll the cake, let it cool, unroll it, spread the jelly, and roll it back up again. (Seriously, Spice and Spirit? That's how much your Bubby patchkied over these?) Additionally, (c) cleverly sprinkling coconut and powdered sugar on the bottom of the pan before pouring in the batter does not result in a perfectly-coated jellyroll. It tastes fine, but the toppings bury themselves just under the surface of the dough and are nearly invisible. Oh, and (d) the batter really is done when it springs back to a light touch, even if it still looks loose.

I am very proud and pleased about these jellyrolls. And they're totally faster to make than cookies, even drop cookies. Again I say, "Boo-ya!"

Topography

After dark on Thursday night, we drove to the kibbutz/resort/motel/what-have-you near the Dead Sea where we'd spend the weekend. When we went on our first daytrip on Friday, I had a moment of complete disorientation: the horizon was low and flat and So. Far. Away. Then I looked to my other side and saw the Jordanian mountains right next to me and felt much better.

NOTE: It seems that if I make a slight change to an old post (e.g., take out a mistaken underline from a post from February 2016), it gets re-posted with the date of the edit (e.g., June 2016). Huh.

Native vs. Learned

I asked an Israeli recently if "playgroup" (משפחתון) is masculine or feminine. "Actually, it's really easy to figure out," she explained, "You just say 'big (masculine) playgroup' and 'big (feminine) playgroup' and see which one sounds right." (משפחתון גדול OR משפחתון גדולה)

So I pointed out that was the reason I was asking in the first place: I have no way to conclusively determine if I should write that Dikla's playgroup is 'warmly recommended (masculine)' or warmly recommended (feminine)'. I have a better grasp of the rules than many Israelis (feminine nouns tend to (a) end in a ה ָ  (b) end in a ת, (c) name a body part that comes in multiples [e.g., eye, finger, hand], (d) be sharp [seriously, like knives and swords], or (e) belong on a list of exceptions of which I am consciously aware), but at the end of the day, I just need to ask.

Emulation

BSM is quick to point out that he is not a baby (or even a little boy), but he is still "shorter. Soon I be bigger like Abba, though."

And speaking of being like Abba: the boy squished a bug in our living room recently. In his own words, "I squooshed it. Just like Abba-loosh." GROSS. But very, very useful.

Sports

BSM got his first hair cut on Lag B'Omer (that was Thursday, May 26), and now he looks like a little boy instead of a large baby. Therefore, I hereby declare that "BSM" no longer stands for "Baby SpiderMan", but "Boy SpiderMan".

I don't think it's a coincidence that on the Shabbat immediately following his haircut, he was invited to join his first soccer game. (The teams were as follows: a 4- and 5-year-old vs. BSM and an 8-year-old. BSM played goalie and successfully kicked the ball away from the goal the one time it got close to him. Nachas!)

Speaking of sports, the following Shabbat, BSM found a large foam floor puzzle that we hadn't put out with his toys yet. He took a foam flag and a white foam disc and used the flad to push the disc around. "Look!" he told me, "Moon soccer!" I tried to teach him the word "hockey", but my heart wasn't in it: "moon soccer" is so much cuter. But why did he pick the two puzzle pieces that most resemble a hockey stick and puck to play?

Look What I Found!

Now there's a real blast from the past...