The rocket fire seems to be diminishing, although at least 200 rockets were added to the number I gave yesterday this morning.  And I’m so pleased that Egypt is deeply involved in the negotiations.  If there’s a chance for an agreement, the US and Egypt can really help.  

Today is Shvuot and last night we went to a dinner we’ve been going to for at least 20 years.  It is a traditional dinner for Shvuot with lots of milk and cheese (I am lactose-intolerant) and wine (gives me insomnia) so I had a sleepless night even though Tel Aviv was not hit with rockets.  I was also terribly uncomfortable with sharing pleasantries with friends when rockets were falling incessantly on the southern towns.  So I was a party pooper and left early.

We usually talk about the significance of the holiday at these parties, the gift of the Torah (to me particularly significance because of the gift of laws, of rules, and the difficulty of accepting rules) and the story of Ruth (which I love to make fun of but love)  but that night all we talked about was food.  

so here’s one of the poems:

Ruth

  Book of Ruth

“Sometimes you just can’t be subtle

with these Jewish boys.”

My mother-in-law says,

“Forget the ways of the Diaspora,

the flirty eyes, a glimpse of stocking,

the wise, backward glance.

Jewish men have a thing for shikses.

Shikses and feet.  Shikses

at their feet.

“So dress well, use all the nuit d’amour

you can absorb, and tell him all

about your relatives, especially me.

“The strategy is foolproof,

and I’m sure it’ll get you

into the tribe

eventually, if you just

beget the right kind of sons

red hair and blue eyes.”