This is a terrible admission.  Don’t read if you want to feel good things about me.

Here it is:  I’m sick of Jewish Writing.  50 years ago a friend of mine laughed at the entries he was getting for an English publication in Israel.  “It’s all about the shadow of grandmother’s candles on the wailing wall!”  I remember saying to him that I had come to Israel to be normal, to live my life without having to think about being Jewish all the time.  

But in the last few years the issue of Judaism invades every aspect of life.  I just bought superkosher butter because it is cheaper, and I know that all the superkosher foods are cheaper.  But I can’t bring myself to go to superkosher neighborhoods to cut my expenses.  I’d rather spend my afternoon in the Russian supermarkets because they remind me more of my youth, even though the pig’s knuckles are a bit problematic. 

And I’m really tired of tv programs about Hassidic families that are very cute.