Israeli TLC is like no other. It’s a glimpse into the warm Israeli heart – the same bossy Israeli heart that overrides all opinions, doesn’t know what “polite” is, and drives Western immigrants nuts with culture shock.
Where else would you find Breslaver chassidim playing encouraging songs for a patient outside a major hospital? But there they were, guitars, harmonica and voices uplifted, when I went for a checkup last week at Tel HaShomer.
Back home, I took my first short walk after surgery, leaning on a stick. As I hobbled around the front of the building, one of my neighbors emerged from the lobby and came up to me, looking shocked.
“Whatever happened to you?”
I tried to wave her concern away. “Knee surgery, not considered a big deal these days. The worst is over already.”
“But how are you managing with the shopping, the cooking? Who’s making Shabbat?”
My husband and teenager have been managing the house, with The Little One cooking. She got lots of hands-on practice while I sat in the kitchen directing, sometimes taking the bowl or chopping block on my lap to show her how. She would show me the dish in progress and ask, “Is it supposed to look like this now?”
And that’s how we’ve been eating. Although I admit, we did send out for pizza once.
Continue reading »