my life: the movie

After five months back here in Israel, every once in a while I forget where I am -- that is, still in Toronto or back here in Israel. It's like waking up in a hotel and being disoriented. (Then I remember, and particularly since it's January, I'm pretty happy with reality.) It happened one day this week when I looked out of my office window down onto the picturesque fountain- and greenery-filled square nestled between our glass and concrete buildings, and saw a movie (or perhaps TV show) set, where a crew was shooting for several hours. When I went by at lunchtime I didn't recognize any of the actors, but I sure recognized the look of the extras standing around on their marks. While in Toronto I spent a month doing background (extra) work for local productions while researching an article I subsequently published in a Toronto newspaper, and the memory of the tedium of that job is still with me. I felt no nostalgia gazing upon the set, but it did transport me back to Toronto where there were often film/tv crews in the streets near where I lived or using the attractive fountain in front of my parents' downtown apartment building in their scene.

Unfortunately, life has taken a decidedly harried, tired and bloated turn. Without regular blogging I'm getting FAT. But I WILL go to the gym today, and I will also make a Heruculean effort to drag myself there one evening a week, as well. Do not mistake this for virtue; this is utter necessity. I'm not kidding, I put on underpants today that fit me 2 weeks ago and are now too tight! That is not a pleasant situation to sit in all day, and sit I must. All day, 5 days a week. Okay, I do find excuses to go for little corridor-walks now and again in the search for elusive project managers that need to explain what they've written so that I can fix their English. (I am dreaming nightly of people giving me long-winded explanations of highly technical telecommunications concepts.)

And then there's the midday cage-opening for the feeding ritual. This is a ritual I have always found problematic at new jobs (and I've been at more new ones than old ones -- but it never gets easier). My boss took me under her wing the first day, but since then has not made any move to include me in lunch plans. Just as well; she's a bit high-energy for me and talks a lot. My two closest colleagues are religious and don't even go out to lunch (for reasons partly due to religious-dietary issues, partly time-issues, and partly economic issues -- even though lunch is subsidized, it still costs a daily eater about 220 shekels [US$50] a month). So that leaves me going out alone rather than seeking out relative strangers to eat with. That doesn't work well either, since I don't want to sit alone at a restaurant, so I usually end up buying something to take out and bring it back to my desk, where I eat while sort-of working. Fortunately, another "Anglo" (what we call native English-speakers -- expats of North America, the UK, Australia, and even South Africa) has turned out to be my savior (as I don't fit in comfortably with Israelis, for the most part [see name of blog]). Although he's not as much of a misfit as I am, having come to the country much younger and having done army service (excellent for cultural absorption), he has taken pity on my relative isolation and we've gone to lunch together several times. However, I still sometimes prefer to be alone rather than make polite conversation, and if it's sunny, I can grab some space outside to eat my takeout in peace. Some days the weather cooperates, some days not. It is January, after all, even if we are in Israel.

But I have now survived two weeks as a wage-slave and it could be worse. If my boss were not so well-organized and protective of her duckling-team, it would be a harder day. She may be a bit of a drama queen, but that comes with her territory (Marketing) and I accept this as a natural part of being good at what she does. The very best thing about her is that she gives me a task and just lets me get on with it, only checking back once or twice to see what the status is. I adore bosses who Just Let Me Get On With It! And my helpful colleague (mother of 5 who is only 36 and may be pregnant again) never gets impatient with my questions, is always full of information, and (best of all) only there half-time. We're in a small room, not a cubicle, but she gets a lot of phone calls, and insists on keeping her phone ringer on full-volume (so she'll hear it if she's across the hall); I jump every time it rings, and then she speaks very loudly and for some reason slams down the phone when she's finished. I don't want to say anything ... yet.

Last week I was completely burnt out by the end of the week and spent all Friday in recovery mode, but this weekend I feel quite normal.

So it's Saturday again, and I've spent much of my weekend just catching up with stuff I should have done long ago -- putting order in piles of papers and junk, figuring out what's wrong with the computer so that my daughter can load her Sims programs, cooking a little, cleaning out my email inbox (I'm optimistically subscribed to too many newsletters) and of course NOT getting to the gym. I want to go now, but my in-laws are on their way now and I really shouldn't; it would be rude, and they're driving all that way in the rain.

This afternoon, I SWEAR!