New Qoute

When I have to choose between two evils, I always try to pick the one I haven't tried before."

Mae West

And another tough read

David Grossman's new novel "Until the End of Land" was recently published in Israel. It tells the story of a woman who drops her son off to participate in a military operation when he's just about to complete his service, and she's afraid she'll never see him again.
The horror of reading it lies partly in the knowledge that the author's own son, a gentle, beautiful boy, was killed in the last war in Lebanon, as he was writing this novel. The inevitability there is devastating.
Every second page I start to sob and must stop to breath.
Is this all there is for us from now on, in terms of great Hebrew literature (it is a great book, no doubt about that) - holocaust and war, death and sadness? I hope not. There must be more. In that vibrant, sensual culture of the middle east there's got to be more.

Reading Corner

I'm reading this controversial book, ("The kindly Ones")a fascinating read in a disturbing way.
Written in French, the book has not been published in English yet, I'm reading it in Hebrew. It's enormous - about 900 pages. I take breaks every few pages because it's very intense.
Written from a point of view of a closeted homosexual SS officer who talks about his part in the war, the language is direct, explicit, graphic and unblinking.
I've just past his account of Babi Yar - for those unfamiliar with the name: This is about the 2 days during which the Jews of Kiev were marched to the edge of the city and were shot to death by the Nazis. More than 30,000 of them in those 2 days, and another 100,000 or so in the months that followed. He talks mainly about the difficulty he and his fellow killers encounter in the process of killing so many people in such a short time.
I find myself suffocating while reading this, yet I can't stop. It's obscene, I suppose.
My father got this book for his birthday, it's a best-seller in Israel these days, but he and my mother refused to keep it. She said it's disgusting and that they don't want to read it, not to mention keeping it in their apartment. She didn't like his frequent mention of various bodily functions, fluids, emissions etc. I must say it doesn't bother me in the least. I find it quite fitting to describe how stinking the violent death of thousands can be.

Visit this blog

http://www.zacsunderland.com/blog/
(click on the title to get there)

Here's a fearless young person, a kid really, who goes after his dreams, with the help and support of his family.

How much do you like shoes?

Would you, could you, spend $8000 on one pair, custom made from crocodile skin, wear it only once, suffering for hours in discomfort? I couldn't, although my fascination with shoes is something I've been battling for years.
Yet there are people who do that. This person ordered a pair for his beloved sister's wedding ("I'd pay anything to get rid of her", he joked), walked her down the aisle in them, and never wore them since. I'm dying to see them.

The Kissing Project

My husband and I volunteered to participate in a film production that aims to promote Toronto as a romantic city. All we had to do is gather with other couples and kiss in public for a while as cameras are filming around us. It was fun.

New Qoute

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
Lord Byron

Hurt - Johnny Cash.

Back and Forth

I'm back home from my trip, where my father celebrated with all his family 80 years of existence, 60 of them with my mother. It was a bittersweet kind of a visit.
I used this tune to illustrate the beginning of their romance, wrote new words in Hebrew, and we all sang it together. It was touching to hear the older generation hum along with us. This song means a lot for them, they remember the context very well.

I took my mother to visit their old apartment and get some things. They live now in a seniors residence. It's a very difficult transition for them. On our way back she was talking about her relationship with her own father, who's been dead for more than 50 years now. I never got to meet him, he died before I was born, but I heard many stories about him as I was growing up, from my grandmother, my mother and my aunt. He was a melancholy and angry man, a frustrated sculptor, and he died quite young of a sudden aneurysm.


My mother still can't forgive his shortcomings as a father, and although she's older than he got to be, can't get over the ways he treated her when she was 5 years old. She refuses to settle her account with him. Perhaps it's her way of keeping in some kind of contact with him, maybe that's how they always did it, connecting through resentment.
As my parents get older, I see a stubbornness in them that scares me in it's familiarity. They refuse to listen to us, we will always be the children. They have their ways and they don't budge. In all likelihood we'll be just like the when we get there.

I'm in a romantic mode

I'm just about to leave for a trip home to celebrate with my tribe, my father's 80'th birthday, and my parents' 60th anniversary. I've been looking for music for the party, and knowing my father's taste for those great schmaltzy songs of the good old days, I'm finding all kinds of treasures.
Here's another fine example. My 10 year old son has been humming it all day. He's a romantic type...

A song

My Foolish Heart - I've never heard it before and it's just lovely. Enjoy.


Lately I'm sharing here things that I like thinking of and parts of my life outside my shop. The shop, by the way, is just fine these days. People are shopping and bringing their lovely clothes to consign, and I'm quite busy there. I will post shop news when something really interesting comes along. There are some stories brewing...

Time

Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.
Buddha

I was talking to my mother today on the phone and she told me she's obsessed with her past, what makes her happiest is seeing pictures of her young self and remembering how lovely she looked, and how handsome my father was. She's not interested at all in talking about her grandchildren (she's got 20 of them, and a few great grand children). She told me she once left the house angry after a fight with my father, early in their marriage (one of many, in their 60 years of matrimony) wearing only a robe, and walked to her parents' home. I asked if she remembers what the fight was about. She laughed: "I can't remember, I only remember how beautiful I was then, even in that silly robe".
I want to believe that I can be different in that regard, that I can enjoy and be present in my life as it unfolds.

New Qoute - Canada Day

It is wonderful to feel the grandness of Canada in the raw.
Emily Carr