Archive for May, 2011

Fluffy Butts

The piggies during one of their many open-eyed afternoon naps:

For some strange reason, every time I see them I have to fight the urge to go: “Fluffy! Fluffy! FLUFFEEEEEEEEEEH!!!!”

Yes, I have moments like that.


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(This is a potentially gross-out post about fantastic food, hospitals, blood and other bodily fluids. Read at your own risk. You have been warned.)


It started off innocently enough.

No, that’s not exactly true. It started off on the opposite spectrum, is more like it.

R and I, together with our friend BBB, decided it was time to have our annual check up done (kids, this becomes important when you grow old like us). We went to our regular hospital for some blood work early Friday morning, which meant a 12-hour fast.We did get to the hospital for the blood work, but the fast meant we didn’t have much fluids for the urine test. (I know, TMI, right????)

So BBB and I had the brilliant idea of going out for breakfast first and coming back for the final sample afterwards.There was a nearby restaurant R and I had been meaning to try for ages called Benedict (breakfast food 24/7, how much guiltier can you get?), so we started walking in its general direction.

The only problem was, we were famished, the sun was beating down on us, and “nearby” actually meant somewhere in the vicinity of half a kilometer. (Ay, problems pala.)

By the time we got there, hungry, sweaty and grouchy, there was a weekend crowd outside the restaurant. Waiting list, said the pretty maitre d’. But there was room at the bar, she added, after taking another look at our starving faces. (Yes!)

BBB and I ordered Eggs Benedict with ham and bacon, and a bottle of water for…erm… “maximum output.”

Eggs Benedict

And because I am a cheese fiend with a weakness for roasted bell peppers, I also ordered the red bell pepper stuffed with goat cheese:

R, being his usual carnivorous self, ordered the Texas Steak, which meant a 200g entrecote steak with spicy home fries and two eggs sunny side up:

Texas Steak

(For breakfast? Really?!?)

The restaurant also gave us a basket of bread with small tubs of butter, Nutella, and some kind of cinnamon-honey syrup. I think the restaurant made the bread themselves judging from the freshness, but I forgot to ask as I was busy stuffing my mouth. Free refill, our server Leo said. Anticipating the huge meal that was arriving, we politely declined. (The refill, not the bread! We ain’t saints.)

We ate like ship-wrecked sailors on a desert island. Then we ordered three more meals for takeaway: one for the Shnufflebubby and two more for BBB and his, ehem, friend. The total bill: NIS 450 for six people.

At least the bill didn’t leave us feeling guilty, although BBB insisted on footing it. (Maybe it was his way of thanking us for forcing him to finally get a check up.)

I must say that the service at this restaurant was impeccable. Good food, good service, ambiance and value for money are important to me, and it’s not often that you can even get two together out of the four in one venue. In this case, we got three out of four! The only thing that was an issue (and it’s not necessarily negative, either), was that the restaurant was full to the brim and we ALMOST didn’t get to eat there. Heh.

Now on Monday, some people have to go back to the hospital so they could run on a treadmill like hamsters and have their hearts monitored. At 8:00 a.m. I wonder where they will eat breakfast? =)

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Loot for the Day

Following the family sushi date, we proceeded to our favorite bookstore to get “two books” (sic) which we promised for the Shnufflebubby’s birthday. We should have known better that “two books, just two books” never ends well.

I admit, the Shnufflebubby stuck to her book budget, which is more than I can say for her parents. Oh, well. At least we tried.

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Sushi Dreams

Family Date!

We went to one of our favorite hang outs, Super Sushi. It’s not Furusato, but it’s pretty decent and inexpensive. Kosher, too =)

Last year the Shnufflebubby insisted on learning how to use chopsticks. I am pleased to announce that she has now mastered it.

I ordered Ikura Maki because I missed eating salmon roe soooooo much. Turns out four pieces of this thing were a bit too much to handle. HB demolished his makis as soon as they were served, so I was not able to take a picture.

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I guess a lot could be said for the assumption of responsibility. It’s bittersweet, in a funny sort of way.

*Sigh* My bebe is really growing up.

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A lot has happened in the past two months that I haven’t had time to write about. One thing that truly deserves mention, in more ways than one, was the Armenian Pizza we had in March.

Our friends Jaja and Ben were visiting for the Jerusalem Marathon, and we took them to Mt. Zion. We lost track of time and found ourselves at Zion Gate at two o’clock, famished and not in any condition to go hunting for a place to eat.

Right inside the Gate was this quaint cafe called Nakashian Gallery run by an Armenian lady (her name escapes me at the moment), and we decided to take our chances (sooo unlike me, but then hunger does things to people). To get to the cafe, one has to go through a wonderful gallery of handcrafted glass, hats, and other accessories.

The Armenian pizza that she recommended was unequivocally wonderful, along with the accompanying salad and desserts. Everything, including the items in the gallery, were hand-made by her.

We had so much fun eating and trying out the hats that we ran a few minutes late for our next appointment. Those few minutes meant everything, because by the time we got to where we were supposed to go, the roads were blocked and the sirens were blaring.

That pizza saved us from a lot of heartache. For an obsessive-compulsive like myself, it also served as a reminder that delays can also be good things. In this instance, it was the Universe’s way of telling me that wherever I am, that is where I am meant to be.

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Jumping off from last week’s thoughts on money, I actually wrote that post because of an article by Dan Kadlec on common lies that people believe, which lead them to end up in debt. The article is pretty good, unlike some that I’ve come across that try to market the author’s agenda (i.e. “hire my services!” or “invest in my company!”).

Dan Kadlec really got me into thinking of how advertisements are geared towards this human tendency to believe that acquiring something material would help people find happiness: shampoo that would give you the man of your dreams, soap that would give you the face that you want, clothes that would make you cool and give you friends, and yes, a bag (or bags) that would make you successful and admired by all.

It seems that the more that the world is bombarded by all this information the less people stop to think about what it all means, or if it even means anything. But who could blame them? For a long time I was one of those people that Dan Kadlec was referring to in his article; at times, I don’t think I’ve even fully escaped that trap. My only saving grace is that I have a family to think about, and now I hang out with people who take good care of their money. So yes, surrounding yourself with like-minded people and avoiding those who don’t fit in with the life you want really does help.

But avoiding spending on this and that knick knack is always a day-to-day conscious effort for me, particularly because I have serious gratification issues (“I want it and I want it right now!”). I always have to remind myself that it is more important to have money to pay the essentials, than to have some bauble that would be admired by everyone while I secretly fend off all my creditors (Gah!).

In conclusion, here’s another link on the author. This time, it’s a letter that he wrote for his daughter entering college. I hope that in due time I can also impart these same lessons to my daughter.

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