Here are Naamah and I on the beach in Tel Aviv.  That's Jaffa in the background.  We had just finished lunch at Manta Ray and were hunting the biggest feral cat ever.  It was a bobcat.  Like, a yeti.

I know.  I know.  Tomorrow for sure.  I promise.

Here are some pictures from Israel, as a down payment.  They are, in loosely descending order (you're smart and cultured, you should be able to figure them out yourself): the port of Jaffa, the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, a goalie near the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem (that's the Mount of Olives in the background), street leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, and spices at the market in Tel Aviv.

I could never be an agent of international espionage.

The jetlag is too taxing.

The legacy of the short fork

It occurs to me right now that I am rarely left alone in somebody else's house. I suppose this makes a lot of sense, given that I am neither a burglar (five tries to spell that correctly) nor a stalker, but it still feels very strange being left to my own devices with somebody else's belongings. I just dropped Matt (My Matt? Old Matt? versus Mississippi/Scrabble/Taller Matt?) off at the Altanta airport and now I'm killing a few hours in his apartment before heading back to the airport for my own departure to Israel (If you hear a thunderous noise and then notice the skies darkening it is because I've finally unleashed the full extent of my wrath on Delta Airlines. I can't think of a more appropriate place than the site of our first encounter: Atlanta International Airport). Andohmygoditssotemptingtomesswithhisthings. An avid follower of The Office, and something akin to a master prankster, I think Atlanta Matt (Sacramento Kings Matt? Self-designed Public Health Major Matt?) would appreciate the violation of his home. So here are some quick ideas. There are pros and cons to each, the first of which comes to mind is my lack of fishing line. And a dead bird.

1. Sharpie out the digital temperature display on his enormous wine fridge.
2. Set all of his clocks ahead 41 minutes.
3. Dead bird in the cereal box prank.
4. Cut the crotch out of all his pants prank (Hepatitis C Matt himself once threatened to do this to me. That would certainly show him, Hubris Matt)
5. Take all the screws out of his ironing board - or is this breaking stuff now?
6. The old release three chickens, painted with the number 1, 2, or 5, in the apartment prank ("Ahhh! Where are chickens 3 and 4?").
7. attach fishing line to all of the items on his desk, send it over the back of his desk, and then lash it to the bottom of his desk chair.
8. Hide all but the short fork* which, surprisingly, he still owns
9. Sign all of his framed art/photos with "Best Wishes Friend! -Garrison Keillor"
10. Using the contents of his enormous jar of capers, spell out on the refrigerator shelf: "Capers of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains!"

I should probably just get some grading done. Bah.



* When Indie Rock Matt and I lived with another couple back in grad school, the other couple and I and a bunch of our friends colluded to only allow Only Child Matt to use the lame, short-handled fork. We would always set his place at the table with it, sometimes frantically washing it while distracting him, before lunch, dinner, whatever. So this went on for months and he never noticed that it was deliberate, even though he'd often launch into long riffs on how terrible this stupid short fork was. Anyway, we finally broke down one day and fessed up, mostly because we were giggling about it all the time. Fun times at 851 20th St.

comets grow back tails!

just like lizards!