(no subject)
It seems that I have only made one post in 2018 and this is a travesty. A TRAVESTY. The self-disappointment is strong with this one.
If I had to summarize the past few months - or, as I have been conditioned to think of months now, Q1 - they have been, in a word, workworkworkworkworkworkwork. To a truly ridiculous extent. Here's the line I've been giving when people ask about work: I'm okay with the job, I really like the people, I'm learning new things, but the workload is a challenge. It's a diplomatic way of putting it, but it's true. It's hard to say I'm okay with the way things are, given that there were weeks where I literally didn't do anything other than work all day until very (very) late, fall into bed at home, and go back to work, recovering a little on weekends. But I'm also aware that this is a new job with a learning curve and that it's a start up, and that this kind of workload is - I hope, I hope, I hope - temporary.
The good thing is that the past two weeks - the start of my fourth month on the job - have been a bit chiller, and I've been able to leave work at around 7-8pm almost every day, which has been a relief and hopefully a sign that things are getting better. I'm caught up on a lot of my TV shows - this year I'm watching more firefighter shows than I have since Third Watch was on (look, 9-1-1 has Peter Krause and Connie Britton and Station 19 has Okieriete Onaodowan, it's really hard to choose.) I got to see
marina participate in a panel about SFF books at a local con. I've watched almost all of the movies nominated for this year's Academy Awards (only two left! This MIGHT BE THE YEAR I watch them all.)
More good things:
1. This year, work craziness and all, also included two (two!!!) trips to London, including two (two!!!!!) times seeing Hamilton, from pretty freaking amazing seats, and including hanging out with both
raven and
cesy ♥ and also visiting Stratford-upon-Avon for the first time.
2. This winter and spring so far have had absolutely breathtaking weather and I've been out in nature almost every weekend, seeing the flowers. I don't think there's a word for it in English, but in Hebrew it's called pricha - Blooming, used as a noun. "Do you want to go hiking this weekend? I'm in the mood for some Blooming." "The Blooming's about to start up north." "Do you know any good spots for winter Blooming in the south?" Anyway: it's been flowers in nature, week after week after week, and it's beautiful.
(Relatedly to points both 1 and 2: last week a friend and I went to see the poppies blooming on the way south. There were some massive fields by Kiryat Gat in full bloom. I had just been to the British Museum 2 weeks before, and was pretty freaking impressed by the Lachish reliefs. Clearly, His Majesty Mr. Sennacherib had worked really hard to capture the city and was quite obviously proud of it, and there I was, living 50 minutes away and had never visited the place! But the poppy fields were in an area called the Lachish geographic area so I assumed it was close by, and lo and behold, Tel Lachish - what remains of the ancient city - was only a 10-minute drive away, so we stopped by there too for a short walk. There's not much left there - some city walls, the gate, a few walls from the palace and a well, and mostly grass and flowers and birds and a view. It's a great vantage point; I can see why Sannecherib wanted it.)
3. We had the most amazing seder, and I honestly feel so blessed to have such great people in my family. It was the first time in many years we've done a seder with my dad's side of the family, and the first time we've done it in the kibbutz where my cousins live.
My dad was the youngest of four children, all of whom had 3 children of their own. Other than my sisters and I, my cousins are all married with children. Including a few guests, this made for a seder of almost 40 people, including over 10 kids, from babies and toddlers to 14. Unlike all of the previous seders I've been to, which were all ultimately hosted and led by my parents' generation, this one was organized by our generation (although it was funded by my parents' generation, I will say). There was a steering committee, which included one member of each of the four siblings' families; they were the ones who organized the affair and delegated people into subcommittees: food committee, decoration committee, treasury, haggadah committee, nostalgia committee, toddler corner committee, afikoman toys committee, afikoman committee.
The haggadah itself was beautiful. That team included two of my cousins' husbands, one of whom is the most traditional of us (he does kiddush every weekend), another of whom is an educator and principal of a boarding school, and my mom. They printed a new haggadah for the occasion, drawing from the traditional haggadah and from the kibbutz haggadah, which have things in common but are different; they included more songs and poetry, and delegated in advance who would read what aloud so the children would have time to prepare. They included a section from a 1948 haggadah that my grandparents had kept from their kibbutz: its pages are crumbling and yellow, but it's the same pages that the kibbutz members wrote and sat and read from in their seder exactly 70 years ago, in the middle of a war, two weeks after 7 of their members had been killed in the same afternoon, just a few weeks before the state was to be declared.
The readings were great, the food was nice, a friend I invited because she and her kid were alone this year felt super welcomed by the family, which is all I could hope for, and then it was afokiman time, aka the committee I was on. And friends. The afikoman hunt was, if I may say so myself, amazing. My cousin and I planned and built an escape room for the kids, with about 20 different puzzles and clues and locked boxes they had to solve along the way, in order to find the code to unlock the treasure chest where the afikoman was locked. We built it in a way that we hoped all the kids would be involved in, from the 7 year olds to the 14 year olds, from the Canadian kids who didn't really know the others to the kibbutz kids who grew up in each other's houses, and it went pretty dang great. My cousin and I were chaperoning and while I was mildly anxious throughout at the constant shrieking, the kids throwing tantrums, the one kid crying, and the general feeling that world war three was about to start, my cousin - who was the mother of 25% of the kids and slightly more experienced with kids than i - kept saying "This is SO GREAT LOOK HOW WELL THEY'RE WORKING TOGETHER" with stars in her eyes, and ultimately, "We kept them occupied for an entire hour. Mission freaking accomplished."
It was definitely one of the most exhausting hours I have spent recently - kudos to anyone who works or spends a lot of time with kids, honestly, wow - but I do think it went really well, and overall it was a really awesome night and I appreciate my family a lot.
*
Not that you would know it from my prolific posting in 2018 or anything, but like, I'm still super into MCU. Just putting that out there for the record. May I survive this upcoming movie, good god.
comments on Dreamwidth.
If I had to summarize the past few months - or, as I have been conditioned to think of months now, Q1 - they have been, in a word, workworkworkworkworkworkwork. To a truly ridiculous extent. Here's the line I've been giving when people ask about work: I'm okay with the job, I really like the people, I'm learning new things, but the workload is a challenge. It's a diplomatic way of putting it, but it's true. It's hard to say I'm okay with the way things are, given that there were weeks where I literally didn't do anything other than work all day until very (very) late, fall into bed at home, and go back to work, recovering a little on weekends. But I'm also aware that this is a new job with a learning curve and that it's a start up, and that this kind of workload is - I hope, I hope, I hope - temporary.
The good thing is that the past two weeks - the start of my fourth month on the job - have been a bit chiller, and I've been able to leave work at around 7-8pm almost every day, which has been a relief and hopefully a sign that things are getting better. I'm caught up on a lot of my TV shows - this year I'm watching more firefighter shows than I have since Third Watch was on (look, 9-1-1 has Peter Krause and Connie Britton and Station 19 has Okieriete Onaodowan, it's really hard to choose.) I got to see
marina participate in a panel about SFF books at a local con. I've watched almost all of the movies nominated for this year's Academy Awards (only two left! This MIGHT BE THE YEAR I watch them all.)
More good things:
1. This year, work craziness and all, also included two (two!!!) trips to London, including two (two!!!!!) times seeing Hamilton, from pretty freaking amazing seats, and including hanging out with both
raven and
cesy ♥ and also visiting Stratford-upon-Avon for the first time.
2. This winter and spring so far have had absolutely breathtaking weather and I've been out in nature almost every weekend, seeing the flowers. I don't think there's a word for it in English, but in Hebrew it's called pricha - Blooming, used as a noun. "Do you want to go hiking this weekend? I'm in the mood for some Blooming." "The Blooming's about to start up north." "Do you know any good spots for winter Blooming in the south?" Anyway: it's been flowers in nature, week after week after week, and it's beautiful.
(Relatedly to points both 1 and 2: last week a friend and I went to see the poppies blooming on the way south. There were some massive fields by Kiryat Gat in full bloom. I had just been to the British Museum 2 weeks before, and was pretty freaking impressed by the Lachish reliefs. Clearly, His Majesty Mr. Sennacherib had worked really hard to capture the city and was quite obviously proud of it, and there I was, living 50 minutes away and had never visited the place! But the poppy fields were in an area called the Lachish geographic area so I assumed it was close by, and lo and behold, Tel Lachish - what remains of the ancient city - was only a 10-minute drive away, so we stopped by there too for a short walk. There's not much left there - some city walls, the gate, a few walls from the palace and a well, and mostly grass and flowers and birds and a view. It's a great vantage point; I can see why Sannecherib wanted it.)
3. We had the most amazing seder, and I honestly feel so blessed to have such great people in my family. It was the first time in many years we've done a seder with my dad's side of the family, and the first time we've done it in the kibbutz where my cousins live.
My dad was the youngest of four children, all of whom had 3 children of their own. Other than my sisters and I, my cousins are all married with children. Including a few guests, this made for a seder of almost 40 people, including over 10 kids, from babies and toddlers to 14. Unlike all of the previous seders I've been to, which were all ultimately hosted and led by my parents' generation, this one was organized by our generation (although it was funded by my parents' generation, I will say). There was a steering committee, which included one member of each of the four siblings' families; they were the ones who organized the affair and delegated people into subcommittees: food committee, decoration committee, treasury, haggadah committee, nostalgia committee, toddler corner committee, afikoman toys committee, afikoman committee.
The haggadah itself was beautiful. That team included two of my cousins' husbands, one of whom is the most traditional of us (he does kiddush every weekend), another of whom is an educator and principal of a boarding school, and my mom. They printed a new haggadah for the occasion, drawing from the traditional haggadah and from the kibbutz haggadah, which have things in common but are different; they included more songs and poetry, and delegated in advance who would read what aloud so the children would have time to prepare. They included a section from a 1948 haggadah that my grandparents had kept from their kibbutz: its pages are crumbling and yellow, but it's the same pages that the kibbutz members wrote and sat and read from in their seder exactly 70 years ago, in the middle of a war, two weeks after 7 of their members had been killed in the same afternoon, just a few weeks before the state was to be declared.
The readings were great, the food was nice, a friend I invited because she and her kid were alone this year felt super welcomed by the family, which is all I could hope for, and then it was afokiman time, aka the committee I was on. And friends. The afikoman hunt was, if I may say so myself, amazing. My cousin and I planned and built an escape room for the kids, with about 20 different puzzles and clues and locked boxes they had to solve along the way, in order to find the code to unlock the treasure chest where the afikoman was locked. We built it in a way that we hoped all the kids would be involved in, from the 7 year olds to the 14 year olds, from the Canadian kids who didn't really know the others to the kibbutz kids who grew up in each other's houses, and it went pretty dang great. My cousin and I were chaperoning and while I was mildly anxious throughout at the constant shrieking, the kids throwing tantrums, the one kid crying, and the general feeling that world war three was about to start, my cousin - who was the mother of 25% of the kids and slightly more experienced with kids than i - kept saying "This is SO GREAT LOOK HOW WELL THEY'RE WORKING TOGETHER" with stars in her eyes, and ultimately, "We kept them occupied for an entire hour. Mission freaking accomplished."
It was definitely one of the most exhausting hours I have spent recently - kudos to anyone who works or spends a lot of time with kids, honestly, wow - but I do think it went really well, and overall it was a really awesome night and I appreciate my family a lot.
*
Not that you would know it from my prolific posting in 2018 or anything, but like, I'm still super into MCU. Just putting that out there for the record. May I survive this upcoming movie, good god.
comments on Dreamwidth.