Food and our cat … is there anything else more important? - by Michal

Poor Simcha! He got his vaccinations today and is doing even worse than I am, lying on top of Jonathan’s shoes looking miserable. He’s not even purring, just staring at us kind of doped up. At least he’s filled out now and looks like a housecat, not a stray… aka meaning he came to live with us and got fat. What a shock.

Speaking of food, Jonathan and I had the healthiest, most Israeli meal for dinner: he had eggs and potatoes in pita, I had eggs, cucumbers, tomatoes, and cottage cheese in pita. Sooo good! I feel like a local. :)

And then, just when I was feeling Israeli, I remembered something I wanted to share with you: the last time I went to the shuk, I turned a new corner and ran into the butcher. An honest-to-God, straight-out-of-Fiddler-on-the-Roof BUTCHER. With huge slabs of meat and sides of ribs hanging from the roof on hooks (cows are BIG), unidentifiable round slimy things, probably organs, at the front on a shelf placed on ice. The man was wielding a huge knife, chopping something to shreds, and was wearing a blood-splattered red apron. I had been feeling like I fit in, like I knew the layout of the shuk, like I was at one with this country mentality of having fresh fruit and vegetables from the fields. But no. I’m a city girl. I was shocked by a butcher. Is this unusual? Someone else please tell me you’ve never seen a butcher before.