A Story of Long Ago

OK, not that long ago, but over 10 years ago.

I've been listening to/watching classical music lately, mainly inspired by the boys' comments on the classical music that Husbinator generally plays in the car. (BSM: guessing the correct family of instruments, even if he's a little off "Is this a flute? Is this a violin?" FF: always "Right this is piano and violin, Ema? Right this is piano and violin? RIGHT THIS IS PIANO AND VIOLIN, ABBA? RIGHT????")

The Sinfónica de Galicia has lovely recordings (Scheherazade op.35 conducted by Leif Segerstam is well worth its 50 minutes), and yesterday, I discovered a really fun conductor named Christian Vásquez (I highly recommend Tico Tico, which is three-and-a-half minutes plus applause). So now I'm trawling through other pieces that he has conducted, and seeing his tailcoat reminds me of the titular Story of Long Ago (which, as we have established, isn't all that ancient).

***

A little over ten years ago, while I was waiting at a bus stop in Jerusalem, a woman started chatting with me, and very quickly recommended that I go on a date with some guy she knew. There were many reasons to politely decline: I wasn't currently interested in dating, I certainly wasn't interested in dating a guy suggested by a stranger who knew nothing about me and whose trustworthiness I could not verify, and anyway, something she said about the guy (or was it just that she was pushing a stranger to date him?) seemed a bit off.

Not wanting to offend (or argue), however, I latched onto a pretense. The woman had mentioned that this man was a Gur Chassid, so I told her that I "didn't have a Chassidic heart", and so wouldn't consider dating within the Chassidish world. Which, granted, was true, but rather besides the point. The woman laughed a little and, gesturing to her hip, said, "Ah, you're looking for a half-suit (חצי חליפה)!" Picturing a standard suit jacket compared to a long Chassidish bekeshe, I laughed and agreed, and that was the end of it.

Which just goes to show you, eh?

(For the record, a few years later my roommate recommended that I date now-Husbinator, and she warned me that he dressed like a Chassid, bekeshe and all. I quickly established that he wasn't culturally Chassidish, and then rightly dismissed clothing choice as not a deal-breaker. After all, as I told her, I walk around Midtown Manhattan in a cloak, so who am I to judge? Speaking of which, it's a good thing I sewed myself a second cloak in my senior year of college, because the first winter after we were married, Husbinator completely appropriated my first cloak.)

Premature Analysis

Assuming this Israeli election cycle is similar to the previous one (and it certainly looks like it is), I expect the initial results published last night and this morning to differ substantially from the final results, which are due on September 25th.

That being said, there is one really important takeaway here: namely that "תיקו מקסיקני" is a valid Hebrew phrase.

I am disproportionately amused by the conflation of the American slang "Mexican standoff" with the Talmudic "תיקו".

In actual news, ynet currently has a very nice "build-your-own-coalition" interactive at https://z.ynet.co.il/short/content/electionchairs/. The goal is to select enough parties to form a coalition having at least 61 seats. As I said, in my oh-so-educated opinion, it's way too early to bank on specific numbers of parliamentary seats for each party, but the ynet interactive does have some informative built-in rules, such as "party A will not join a coalition that includes party B", which prevent you from building an impossible coalition.

Also note the interactive's clever title, "משחק הכסאות", which is a pun on "משחקי הכס", the Hebrew title for the popular Game of Thrones.

Unfortunately, the interactive doesn't include the rules which create the Mexican standoff. I assume those rules are missing because they all have workarounds, although all of the workarounds involve significant loss of face.

Name That City!

Granted, I was in the city itself when I first saw this logo, so I was primed to read it:

But still, I think it's a really fun graphic and surprisingly readable version of אַשְׁדּוֹד [ASHDOD].

All of the Updates

New school year, day 3:

BSM went to the bus stop without complaining.

FF did lots of complaining both last night and this morning; however, all but one of his complaints were "FF go different gan now" ('different gan' being what he calls his new preschool). If we're going to have complaints, that's a great one to have. 

Discerning readers will have noticed the phrase all but one in the previous paragraph: after his myriad complaints about wanting to go to preschool now now now now now, when we were finally in the car (after a few more renditions of "FF go different gan now"), FF suddenly said, "FF no want go different gan." I didn't scream, but I didn't soft-pedal my response, either. "Are you kidding me??? You've been complaining since last night that you want to go to your gan!!!!" To which FF smiled oh-so-smugly, "FF silly. Want go different gan." Yeah, yeah, you're very funny. Ha ha ha.

Point of Reference

BSM goes on a school bus this year!

I don't know if things have changed since I was a kid in the US, but here in Israel there are generally 2 adults per school bus: (1) the bus driver and (2) the מלווה, which thank-you-Google-Translate is not an escort, but may translate to a bus monitor. The מלווה is the adult who helps the kids get on and off the bus and makes sure everyone is buckled up and reasonably well-behaved.

Husbinator and I discussed this brilliant Israeli system, reminiscing about our own experiences, wherein both roles were carried out by a single adult. We were happily chatting away until BSM piped up, asking what a fire drill was. (Interestingly enough, Husbinator never had a school bus fire drill.)

I immediately backed up the conversation, clarifying that Husbinator and I had been talking about American school buses, which are completely and totally different from Israeli school buses. Then I gave thought to fire drills. A few words into an explanation of Fire Drill Theory, I realized there's a much simpler way to explain fire drills to BSM.

"You know how they sometimes test the sirens, and people practice going to their bomb shelters? It's like that, but for practicing leaving a building safely in case there's a fire. Oh, and it's a bell inside the building, instead of a siren outside."

I was quite pleased with my zero-drama, totally relatable analogy. BSM thought that made perfect sense, and was satisfied. Husbinator raised his eyebrows and pointed out that speaking of cultural differences, that one was kind of a doozy.

School has Begun!

Yesterday, BSM started 1st grade and FF started 3-year-old nursery. (I have given up on official preschool grade names, which seem to vary by social group. Instead, I insist on calling the various years of pre-school 3-year-old nursery, 4-year-old nursery and 5-year-old nursery, respectively. Ha.)

Yesterday, I was incredibly nervous and both boys were totally fine. Today, BSM was very emphatically "too tiiiiired" and FF "no want go" to his new school, but I was totally fine. As long as we take turns, right?