The black dog and the invisible dog

There's a lot on my mind, which is good if you enjoy reading this blog... the big dipper, paying bills, roads, dialing 9, and more. But this one is a timely issue, so y'all come back for more, y'hear!

Remember yesterday's foolproof method for getting out the door? Well, apparently bad breath attracts dogs. I got out the door and started walking to shul only to be harassed by barking, growling, and howling.

As stated previously, I do not wear my contact lenses on the way to shul, which means I had poor-to-no vision. I was able to make out a black dog – or should I say, a black dog came within 5 feet of me. And then there was another dog. I could not see him, so he/she is the invisible dog.

While gauging if I could pass the dynamic barking duo, I decided that in the future, I need to be better equipped for my morning strolls. Please help me decide which side arm would best protect me against further canine attacks?

1. Brooklyn baseball bat

2. Texan Colt ’45

3. Pepper spray for the dog

4. Pepper spray for my bad breath

Thanks. I appreciate your help… and yes, I chickened out and went on an alternative route.

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Where’s the other shul?

You know the joke, for two Jews you need three shuls. But in small communities, you only get one shul – like it or not. And in my community, there’s just one shul, which I’m perfectly fine with; there was even a nice Carlebach style davening this past Friday night.

But – and you knew there was a but coming – during the week, there is only one minyan in the morning… at 5:45 no less! As you can imagine, for me, getting up in the morning is a daily struggle with battles on two fronts: getting out of bed and getting out the door with my wife and kids still in bed.

The former is a daily battle that goes in waves. Nevertheless, I think I perfected my method for the latter: before I go to bed, I place all my clothing by the front door and then in the morning I take care of getting washed up after minyan. So out the door I go with no deodorant, without brushing my teeth, and without putting my contact lenses in.

Word to the wise: if you see me walking in the morning in zigzags with my shirt on backwards, stay away.

This is the small world, not Pluto!

Today, I quickly glanced at the international headlines and was saddened to see Pluto, a controversial, yet sound 76 year old planet, kick the solar space bucket. Although it did not disintegrate or collide with Neptune - remember learning that in the 2nd grade, "Pluto and Neptune's orbits crisscross, so one day they are going to collide," said the teacher. Rather, it was demoted by leading astronomers at the International Astronomical Union. So, now, thanks to them, I need to relearn the new Solar System.

Mercury, Venus, Earth... hold on... that's also a small world... perhaps smaller than Pluto.

And one of the smallest parts of the world is the Golan, which in turn is one of the smallest populated areas in Israel. As such, one of my natural concerns with moving here was knowing people beforehand. And shortly after the move, I quickly learned just how small this world can be - no matter which one of the 148,939,100 square kilometers you might be on.

1. The first night I'm here, I meet a neighbor who comes from the same village as me.

2. After sending out an email to family and friends about my move, an old friend writes that she has cousins living in our community. Well, actually, no; we moved into their home, but still.

3. Also, I got an email from one of my cousins, saying that the rabbi of the community is her cousin.

4. And the real kicker, just the other day, our very good friends came to an agreement to buy a house in our community!

So there you have it. Continuing with the science lesson... Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. Oh by the way, if Pluto was disqualified because its oblong orbit overlaps with Neptune's, why not kick out Neptune, too?

Little house on the prairie

It's official. People know about this blog, and by people I mean more than just myself and cyberspace loonies who can find a needle in a haystack blindfolded. By the way, we have haystacks here, but that's already going off on a tangent... well not really.

Growing up in the early 1980s, I vividly remember one of my brother's favorite TV shows - or at least I think it was his favorite - "Little House on the Prairie." It was loosely based on the life and adventures of the Ingalls family in the 19th century American West, which was loosely based on the children's book by Laura Ingalls Wilder, which was apparently loosely based on her childhood.

The point is that I'm out here in the Golan where the land is vast and the people are sparse. I hear the crickets chirping and the cows mooing, I see the open pastures and deep ravines, and I smell the fresh cut grass and cow plops (it grows on you). And of course, we come to my little house on the prairie. Except for the fact it is not on the prairie; it's on a plateau that sharply rises approximately 1,700 feet from the eastern banks of the Kinneret. The house is small, but it is surrounded by the great wide open where the farmers and cowboys tend to their daily chores.

No, I am not a farmer. A retired cowboy, yes, but not an active one.

But being out here makes me think what it may have been like living out "on the prairie," save for the fact I'm on a different continent and have a phone wire running out my screen door and into the backyard and looped back around into the house and into my computer.

Sneeze at first sight & the horse-e-boy

I’m sure that you’ve heard of the popular adage, “it was love at first sight,” well for me and my first few days living in the Golan Heights, it was “sneeze” at first sight.

We moved up to the northern frontier last Wednesday and for the first few days between unpacking and taking in the beautiful scenery, I couldn’t help but sneeze, sniffle, and/or blow my nose. Thankfully, the hay fever has passed, and I attribute it to the weather and not my new home. It’s been hazy and hot the past few days, so I have not been able to see the Hermon yet… yes, I’ll be able to see it from my backyard on a clear day!

And speaking of looking north, on the other side of the road is the peripheral fence of the moshav. On the other side of the fence is grazing land where the cows roam and the jackals and wolves play. So as one could imagine, the other day while playing out in the back with the kids, I see a cowboy trotting along the dusty path on a brawny brown horse, which immediately prompted me to call my 3 ½ year old daughter to see.

“Hadas, come look, here comes a cowboy,” I called out.

She quickly ran - as fast as a little girl can – over to have a firsthand view of country-living. But she quips back to me, “Abba, that’s not a cowboy, that’s a horse-e-boy!”