I like summer, as I’ve noted before in these pages. I like the heat and the long, bright days. Most of all, I like not having to struggle to stay warm. But even for me there can be too much of a good thing.
This past week has been so hot and humid that I find myself developing a certain, shall we say, glow. This is not like me. I’m cucumber-cool. I do not perspire. Yes, I could turn on the air conditioner. I do have one that I use for heating the house in the winter. But air conditioning quickly becomes too cold for me and then when you turn it off you get hit by that blast wave of hot, humid air which seems extra-oppressive. So I prefer to do without and open up the house to the breeze.
Fortunately I have stumbled on quite an effective heat-buster: frozen grapes. You just wash them and stick them in the freezer and they’re amazing, like Popsicles that you don’t have to feel guilty about because even the Fitness Police approve of fruit. In fact, it’s so comforting that I find myself wondering what else can be eaten frozen. Carrot and cucumber slices? How about pizza? I think I’m on to something.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
The Film Industry
Nothing can be more frustrating that wrestling with cling film. You try to pull out a smooth sheet but then it sticks at one end of the roll. You try to coax it free and the loose end bunches up. You tease that out as straight as you can and then the whole roll jumps out of the box and you have to start all over again. This is an engineering problem, I think. A well-designed product would unroll smoothly and stay in the box.
This has daily significance because every food item you buy in Israel has to be in some way repackaged. Everything. This is because nothing, except for excellent infant formula, comes in re-sealable packages. Whether it be frozen peas, breakfast cereal or blue cheese, once you’ve opened it unless you plan to use the whole thing – unlikely if you don’t have a family of 25 – you’re going to have to figure out a way to keep the rest. It’s a daily annoyance, one I don’t remember having in the USA.
Until very recently – listen up, America, this will make you rub your eyes in disbelief – all milk came in plastic bags. That’s right, bags. You needed a special pitcher to put one in, then you snipped off a corner to pour. Of course, re-sealing was out of the question and they often leaked. They are now thankfully pretty much gone, having been replaced by rational cartons.
What this all means is that because of cheesy, poorly-designed packaging, one is forced to use lots and lots of cling film, all of which eventually winds up in the landfill. So you know my next question: where are the Greens when you need them? Why aren’t they lobbying manufacturers for a solution? In the meantime, I’m looking for a way to cash in. I wonder what cling film stock goes for?
This has daily significance because every food item you buy in Israel has to be in some way repackaged. Everything. This is because nothing, except for excellent infant formula, comes in re-sealable packages. Whether it be frozen peas, breakfast cereal or blue cheese, once you’ve opened it unless you plan to use the whole thing – unlikely if you don’t have a family of 25 – you’re going to have to figure out a way to keep the rest. It’s a daily annoyance, one I don’t remember having in the USA.
Until very recently – listen up, America, this will make you rub your eyes in disbelief – all milk came in plastic bags. That’s right, bags. You needed a special pitcher to put one in, then you snipped off a corner to pour. Of course, re-sealing was out of the question and they often leaked. They are now thankfully pretty much gone, having been replaced by rational cartons.
What this all means is that because of cheesy, poorly-designed packaging, one is forced to use lots and lots of cling film, all of which eventually winds up in the landfill. So you know my next question: where are the Greens when you need them? Why aren’t they lobbying manufacturers for a solution? In the meantime, I’m looking for a way to cash in. I wonder what cling film stock goes for?
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Laundry Day
The number of tasks a person has to complete in any given day can be staggering. Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, feed the animals, make breakfast, wash the dishes, water the plants, make lunch, wash the dishes, dust, make dinner, wash the dishes, and then the day is gone. You get the idea. It takes endless work just to maintain your own existence.
Of course there are labor-saving devices, like washing machines. Probably most people on the kibbutz now have one. I don’t. It’s not that I have anything against them. If I had to choose between a washing machine and taking my clothes down to the river to beat them against a rock, I'd choose the machine every time. And, yes, I could budget the money to buy one.
But where would I put it? There isn’t really a space in my house marked, “Washing machine goes here.” Most people here build separate storerooms and put them in there. I could do this, too, but that would take some real money. And besides, I don’t really want to add all that sorting, washing, drying, folding, ironing to my daily to-do list. I’m much too lazy.
Fortunately, there’s another option: the kibbutz laundry. I drop off my clothes each week and get them back clean, neatly folded and ironed – even the T-shirts. Yes, there is the danger that something will get lost, I guess that should be “lost”, but most of the time it works just fine. I get my clothes, there’s less stuff for me to do every day and I can rest satisfied in the knowledge that I have provided employment to my fellow kibbutzniks. Life just doesn’t get better than this.
Of course there are labor-saving devices, like washing machines. Probably most people on the kibbutz now have one. I don’t. It’s not that I have anything against them. If I had to choose between a washing machine and taking my clothes down to the river to beat them against a rock, I'd choose the machine every time. And, yes, I could budget the money to buy one.
But where would I put it? There isn’t really a space in my house marked, “Washing machine goes here.” Most people here build separate storerooms and put them in there. I could do this, too, but that would take some real money. And besides, I don’t really want to add all that sorting, washing, drying, folding, ironing to my daily to-do list. I’m much too lazy.
Fortunately, there’s another option: the kibbutz laundry. I drop off my clothes each week and get them back clean, neatly folded and ironed – even the T-shirts. Yes, there is the danger that something will get lost, I guess that should be “lost”, but most of the time it works just fine. I get my clothes, there’s less stuff for me to do every day and I can rest satisfied in the knowledge that I have provided employment to my fellow kibbutzniks. Life just doesn’t get better than this.
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