August 7, 2006
There's a little girl here who speaks English! Her family is visiting the couple who rent my step-son's house toward the end of our property.
She was looking for "the children." I described the way to my nephew's where they had all been invited to eat cake. She started going up the wrong set of steps (to a different step-daughter) and when I said not that way, she said she was just going to hug the cat.
She had Sweetie in her arms. Sweetie hadn't seen it coming and was slightly non-pulsed, but pretended to be a stuffed animal to the best of her ability. I told her the cat's name is Sweetie. "Cats are sweet," she answered.
As opposed to my own children who continually ask me to translate it for them again, as they've forgotten what it means. They're the ones who chose the name. They heard me calling her sweetie and decided that was her name.
I told her all the other cats are Sweetie's babies. She didn't understand how such a small cat could have babies. It was nice to talk to a child in English! I asked Ya why my kids don't speak English, but she wisely didn't answer.
There are so many people from the north of Israel seeking refuge where ever they can get it. Four people at the top of our stairs with my older step-daughter lives. Now this family at the end of the yard. G has a family staying at her smaller place here in the village. I don't know anyone who lives in the north, except the family staying with my step-daughter.
Rt was at therapy group today. Every summer she goes to the north to take care of her daughter's children. She was gone several weeks, but now has her daughter and grandchildren here in her apartment. She's difficult to understand. She would come out with a few disjointed sentences here and there.
I came in a few minutes late. It seemed that the two other women there were feeling the need to defend their concern over the war because of Rt's statements. Rt seemed to be saying no one was doing enough. Later she mentioned that during the Yom Kippur war she had been breastfeeding a new son and her milk dried up. A neighbor went out to bring her a bottle. While he was gone, his code was called to report to duty and he never returned.
I think probably the deepest anxiety each of us has is brought to the fore by the stress of the war. To be continued maybe...
She was looking for "the children." I described the way to my nephew's where they had all been invited to eat cake. She started going up the wrong set of steps (to a different step-daughter) and when I said not that way, she said she was just going to hug the cat.
She had Sweetie in her arms. Sweetie hadn't seen it coming and was slightly non-pulsed, but pretended to be a stuffed animal to the best of her ability. I told her the cat's name is Sweetie. "Cats are sweet," she answered.
As opposed to my own children who continually ask me to translate it for them again, as they've forgotten what it means. They're the ones who chose the name. They heard me calling her sweetie and decided that was her name.
I told her all the other cats are Sweetie's babies. She didn't understand how such a small cat could have babies. It was nice to talk to a child in English! I asked Ya why my kids don't speak English, but she wisely didn't answer.
There are so many people from the north of Israel seeking refuge where ever they can get it. Four people at the top of our stairs with my older step-daughter lives. Now this family at the end of the yard. G has a family staying at her smaller place here in the village. I don't know anyone who lives in the north, except the family staying with my step-daughter.
Rt was at therapy group today. Every summer she goes to the north to take care of her daughter's children. She was gone several weeks, but now has her daughter and grandchildren here in her apartment. She's difficult to understand. She would come out with a few disjointed sentences here and there.
I came in a few minutes late. It seemed that the two other women there were feeling the need to defend their concern over the war because of Rt's statements. Rt seemed to be saying no one was doing enough. Later she mentioned that during the Yom Kippur war she had been breastfeeding a new son and her milk dried up. A neighbor went out to bring her a bottle. While he was gone, his code was called to report to duty and he never returned.
I think probably the deepest anxiety each of us has is brought to the fore by the stress of the war. To be continued maybe...