What Eighty, What Shoes?

Guest blogger number 6 here. My involvement with BFO can be described as an on-the-fringe-friend. I have known the BFO since about 19footsack. For the last 30 years or so, I have had the honour of seeing BPO and BWO through Opening and closing a music store, Ein Karem, Raanana, Houston, Marriages, Parties, (lots of parties), Pregnancies, Births, and Deaths, - you get the picture.

I thought long and hard since that offer-you-can't-refuse landed in my inbox. I mean, cmon, BPO even added a little footnote when he asked me to guest blog. "Please say yes".

So I came up with this whole rant about the dog crap all over the small city where I live. It had a whole section with pictures so that you can really feel the 80 percentness of finding excrement carefully laid on the sidewalks, parking lots and playgrounds. I was even going to catch some offenders live on camera for your viewing pleasure.

But then we went away for Pesach and from the moment we arrived at Kfar Hanokdim, I knew that the whole nature of this post was going to change.

Let me back up a bit. We usually have our Pesach (Passover) night with my in-laws otherwise known as the Breshnevs. This year, due to unforseen circumstances, it was decided that we will go away for the night. All in all, 21 of us including in-laws, sisters, neices, nephews, and my wife and kids drove to the middle of the Judean desert to have our Pesach and to sleep in a Bedouin tent. We were hoping for 80% at best and expecting a possible 20%.

When we arrived, there was a small reception with strong, sweet, dark Bedouin coffee and even sweeter tea. We were greeted by a friendly young girl who escorted us to our tent and gave us a tour of the place. The small village had Bedouin style tents all around. The place was spotlessly clean with every ammenity you could wish for. There were communal barbeques, designated bonfire areas, a communal kitchen with stove, work tables and sinks. They had a small stable with horses, camels and donkeys. (More on that later).

Each group (minimum 15 people per group) received a section of a tent which was partitioned from the next group.

Our Passover Seder was moved into our tent due to strong winds. This was the best Seder ever. We did the whole hagada and ate the best home cooked meal. Most had more than the obligatory 4 glasses of wine. We even had a rare appearance from Elija the Prophet.

A full moon rose over Massada and lit the entire site. There was no need for flashlights.

After playing sheshbesh, drinking some more Bedouin coffee, we went to sleep on mattresses laid out on the mat covered ground.

The next morning, my wife Debs and I woke up to watch the sunrise over Massada. It was too cloudy but we did watch the dawn shuffle in.
We ate a hearty breakfast in the tent and then took the kids and my dad-in-law for a camel ride in the desert. I think I will be able to walk again in about 3 weeks.

We then headed out to have a dip in the Dead Sea. The water was cold, it was a bit windy and the salt water burned every scrape, cut, nook, and cranny in our bodies. But we had fun and the family synchronized swim team got some good practice.

All in all, this was a most memorable Pesach in which the only 80% was the wind and clouds.

The British Conundrum

This post is by a good friend Louise, in true 80% form her internet is down for 24 hours, so I'm posting this from an internet cafe somwhere in the depths of Hungary.

Ive always thought England and London in particular had that wonderful and unique mix of a long and illustrious history, a mature culture with depth alongside cutting edge 21st century life when it really mattered. I mean Britain sat astride the world at one time and the sun never set on the Empire. Who could be more experienced, sophisticated and at the top of their game and have that ace up their sleeve of Monarchy compared to the rest ?
The sad fact of the matter is that this mud island which used to be Great, has been left behind, scrambling for her place in the world just like everyone else. And while the rules of the world game have changed and moved on, Britain, like the aging grand Dame seems to prefer to have another spot of tea and contemplate what the weather might do . Or maybe she's sipping her G&T and grumbling about why her subjects are not as loyal as they used to be. It’s her silly little secret which you only get in on once you come and live here.

Okay so one does get to enjoy the lovely Georgian architecture, the little hanging baskets bursting with flowers, the well tended and pretty gardens no matter how small, english tea and cream scones, the impressive history, traditions, pomp and ceremony. I mean even my grandfather used to send his butterfly collars to be laundered in England because everything British was better.
The countryside is still terribly beautiful and London Town and the Westend still have a certain quality shall we say. So have a somewhat dwindling number of the stiff upper lipped, strong backboned lot who have weathered every storm with a sharp and charming wit thankfully in tact . From my history lessons, I too shall never forget Churchill’s heart stirring speech about how ‘We shall never surrender’. But sadly, the Englishman is a dying breed and with it, all those values and traditions that we have come to admire and expect.

I dont know about you but I think something has happened here. An insidiousness which has pervaded almost every level of society and with it the freedom to speak. It just isn’t politically correct any longer to do anything because its an affront or an offence to one community or another . No more comments, funny jokes and light hearted banter about any particular person, community, country, race, religion, political persuasion, traffic issue (which is another story in itself) , service level, eating habit, joke, fashion statement, sexual persuasion, teenage crime, education, health policy or any thoughts about anything specific which is guaranteed to offend someone, somewhere.

We have become a truly multi-cultural, politically correct, over crowded, immoral and aging society who can talk about the weather really well.

over and out from bpo's guest blogger in London - with the dust of Africa still left on the soles of my shoes.

Brian

Before I start my first attempt at writing a blog, my extended family and I wish to convey our deepest empathy to BFO for what happened at their abode a couple of nights ago. (See previous blog). But as the saying goes: Ha'ikar Habriuth - as long as you got your health! BPO, don't give the wireless router a second thought!

My day has arrived! Shite. Just like your trusted Tuesday blogger, these past few days have been inundated with the good old klabberjas shakes! How can I, who's English and Hebrew vocabulary combined, barely reach the 80% mark.

My excuse is that I live in the country that, thanks to BPO's talent in being able to sum things up with pinpoint precision, and for many, many years before the above-titled blog was born, I was fortunate to be involved in many a deep discussion about how almost everything here is 80%.

We moved offices about 2 weeks ago and as usual, most of the sweaty movers were of the great Russian influx of immigrants over the last decade, or two. It seemed, though, from the way they mumbled and grumbled (I suppose your trusted one-time blogger would also behave that way doing what they were doing), and gnashing of their teeth, blurting out obscenities I presume are unfit to print in this respectable neighborhood, were probably a barely two weeks out of the Motherland.

So, this is the 80%. Granted, they worked extremely hard and were quite proficient, but were always in need of a screwdriver, or a spanner, a ladder and even the most basic of tools used when packing/unpacking, the trusted Japanese knife (literaly translated). I think it has a number of names "on that side of the Atlantic" - box cutter, a Stanley knife, a razor blade knife, a carpet knife, a stationery knife. C'mon guys - come prepared - geez!

As for 100%? Today is one of those days we have during the year that is called "Erev Hag" (guttural H please). It's the eve of one of our yearly inundated holidays (Pesach, this time) and it's one of those days that gradually slows down with a comfortable ease to a kind of a halt.One has to be here to really experience it. Unfortunately, it does get interrupted, now and then. Like now I have to cut up and slice a shitload of potatos for tonights feast, which, praise the Lord, is at my trusted brother's house! Phew!

I know yesterday was video day, and I know there is no music day on this blog, but I really need to share this very nostalgic, fantastic version of "The Pan Within".

80% Robbed

bno here, with an unfortunate update from the bho (blackhomeo).

Monday night I worked late, only leaving Squint East (we're east of Squint Central) at 10:30pm. On my drive home, (in bpo's bpo (blackpriuso)) bpo's mobile mobile phone started ringing. I looked at it for a second, and saw that it was bso. I figured he wanted to talk to his father, left the phone alone, and continued home.

Upon arriving at home, I was greeted by a wide open front door. The first thought in my head was that bso got mis-routed and instead of the Hungarian rendezvous, he wound up in Ra'anana, free to carry out his life in his typical, non-door closing, manner. I also noticed that every light upstairs was had been switched on. I ran into the house, put down my bag, and flew up the stairs. It was when I saw this that I knew strange things were afoot at the circle k:

I looked to the right and saw a disasterous mess in the parents bedroom. Now those of you regular-readers of the blog will know that we are not the cleanest of families, but the mess I was looking at easily rivaled some of our no-housekeeper days. In fact, it made the 'parents-are-away-on-holiday' days from this past fall, seem spic-and-span.

I didn't know what to do, so followed the most logical option... and had a freak-out. Then I called bpo, whose 1st words were, 'Call Ari." His second words were, "Call the police." I called blackario who stopped what he was doing, presumably lying in his bed getting ready for slumber, got dressed and was here in 10 minutes.

At this point, I would like to state that blackario will from here-on out be referred to as goldario, as the man is golden. Those of you who wish to protest can come and take it up with me, the self appointed Sahr-Betachon (Minister of Security). He called th police for me, he interpereted to the police (once they arrived), he organized the next-day's events of the Gil Grissom fingerprinting team arrival, and handled the appraiser, too. There is nothing goldario can't handle. Etiquette and protocol must be his primary functions and he is versed in 2 forms of communication.

The blackin-lawso came over as well, and we went looking around the house. Here are some snaps of what we found. I was told to keep it mild, as the family is still on vacation, and I don't want to alarm them. But, I know this family. They're as tough as nails and can handle anything.

3 weeks ago I returned from the US, in my bag was $900+ dollars worth of computer parts. Once again, my cousin, who can't have anything just out of the box, constructed a megolithic computer. it could have been named 'The Computer to End all Computers', or at least, 'Deep Tought.' The computer had a close kinship with Franken-pedal. What was the boy's project ended up being started, executed, and completed by bpo. My heart goes out to my cousin, I'm sorry for your loss.

Now we'll have a look at the office:

Note the one flat panel monitor is still here. They took the other monitor. They took a flat-panel monitor from the upstairs 'office' why leave this one? Which is a great question to start our segueway into the 80%ness of this robbery. I understand that they stole the items that can be turned over and sold quick, but some serious booty was left behind. Strange things we noticed:

1) These goons didn't enter the kitchen. The didn't take our fresh strawberries that we intentionally hide in the back of the fridge.

2)If there is no toilet paper or q-tips when the bfo return home... it wasn't me!

3) Some of the most important items were left behind, include a wireless router in the bedroom (it's twin in the basement was taken), my external hard drive, my ipod nano, and my camera. It's all my stuff, because I don't venture upstairs too often, so don't know what my family members own, and may still own.

Needless to say, the show must go on.

The whole extended family came over last night, they cleaned up, reorganized, and put the house back together. These guys are fantastic. I would like to take an opportunity to thank them all. If it wasn't for the backin-lawso (and goldario) I wouldn't have known what to do. They are an incredible family, and once again, in the last couple of days, I have been reminded of the power of a close family. A billion thank yous.

In the tradition of 9/11, 'If we don't have our passover seder in this house, then the terrorists have won.'

Posted from my horrible, horrible IBM Thinkpad, nick-named The Hyundai Getz. I want my MacBookPro back!!

AT Percent Assured

Oh my hat! Pressure like this I haven’t felt since those heady days in the mid 80s (see I’ve hit the magic number already), when BPO and I, aka GBO spent an inordinate amount of time trying to close up a business that came 80% close to bringing us fame and fortune.

Err, let me take 80 steps back.

So, I’m riding my bike home from work, when the weather report decides to finally be accurate and the 80%-chance-of-rain prediction kicks in. In buckets…on my head…thanks a lot. The chances of rain In Los Angeles in April are less than zero. Point is; I’m suffering through the deluge when it hits me like 80% of a ton of bricks. Shite….it’s my frikking day to blog!

I’ve been avoiding blogging like the plague since its inception. The thought terrifies me. How do you do it? What do you say? What if you can’t think of anything? Then what? Huh? Huh? And where is the reminder BPO?! What do you think the likelihood of me remembering my date with destiny is? A lot less than 80% I can assure you. I nearly rode into an electrical pole as I contemplated the disappointment I was causing BPO and his expectant readers.

I arrived home blew a wet kiss to my girls, who seemed somewhat amused at the fact that I was 80% drenched, and proceeded to blog baby blog somewhat secure in the knowledge that while it’s already someone else’s turn to blog on that side of the Atlantic, out here in the west it’s still safely Tuesday, and I can fulfill my duties to 80% of the best of my ability.

And now, it suddenly occurs to me that it’s actually Music Video Tuesday with a whole new set of pressures. There’s a cool band out here called the 88, which is just about 80 after tax, so that’s something to consider. And then there’s Tahiti 80, but I don’t really like them that much. So how to choose something appropriate that’s sufficiently wonderful to pass muster on the 80%-o-meter? Fortunately, I found a kabalah number generator online and after inputting the names of 8,880 artists, I finally hit the jackpot and found one that added up to a beautiful, clean, compliant EIGHTY. Introducing the Polyphonic Spree…

Waiting for the 20% Fairy

Good morning. I'm Bob and I worked, lived, breathed, and ate the Silicon Valley with the black family-o during the mid-90's. All the eating occurred at their house because bpo was a pain-in-the-arse about coming over our house - he has his peculiarities about feeling comfortable, as you know. They were like family to us.

I live in the Raleigh/Durham/Chapel Hill - aka Triangle - area of North Carolina. I've been thinking hard and sincerely this past week about its 80%-isms, as bpo had asked. I used to complain that THEY didn't have imported Mozzarella di Bufala that wasn't spoiled by the time it got to the store, but now I can find it at Costco and it tastes surprisingly fresh. I used to complain that THEY didn't have good Italian bread, and we still don't in the traditional sense, but we have Italian-like breads that taste better than Italian bread. I used to complain that THEY need to get some serious computer companies in our area, but we now have companies like Red Hat (headquarters are here), Nvidia, Cisco, and Netapp.

I didn't have anything to do with bringing these things to our area. They were all accomplished - apparently - by the 20% Fairy. She flies around at night looking for high-tech areas of the world where people are whining about how things suck, and she makes stuff happen. It's magic. Thank goodness we have her on our side.

Then I got to thinking about my own accomplishments of late. I'd say I'm operating at about 50% right now. I have installed only 4 of my 8 Dolby 7.1 speakers. I have not finished the plan to build the golf hole in my backyard, so our yard continues to look like a garbage dump. My diet keeps getting interrupted by - uhh - pigging out. I told my youngest that we need to spend a little time every day building the robot, but we haven't touched it in over a week. I have this pet project at work that will change the world, but I haven't picked that up in a week and a half. Where is the Code Fairy when I need her most? THEY should have more code fairies.

Is 80% good enough

So according to blackpetero I am it for Sunday April 5th. This is Arnie - brother to BPO and I have been nominated to be your blog-person of the day while our chief protagonist is away enjoying himself in Hungary.

Let me start out by saying that after BPO asked me to be one of the guest posters I did my best to ignore his request, I figured if I ignored it he would find someone else - but no! He was quite fastidious and 3 requests later here I am. Since being asked I have spent at least the last 2 to 3 minutes pondering about what to go off about. BPO had suggested we talk about what is 8o% in our lives as if 80% is a problem.

Well, I am a great believer in the theory of 'good enough' and in many cases I think that 80% is quite adequate. I find that the 80/20 rule that says that it costs 20% for the first 80% of a project to be applicable in many cases and that elevating the quality past that point is unnecessary overkill. So is 80% is good enough? I think yes. Of course there is a time and place for everything and I would not be too happy if I only got 80% of my gall bladder removed or 80% of the hole in my roof repaired.

Enough with the editorial. We have just returned from an extraordinary family trip to South Africa. 14 of us travelled from the USA to visit with our South African family. Our group consisted of my 2 sons, their wives, my 4 grandchildren and my son's in-laws. What a treat! I have been fortunate enough to visit South Africa regularly and each trip is filled with many nostalgic moments. This time, having the whole group together was particularly nice.

Somehow after each trip we end up coming home with overstuffed bags. This time other than the standard load of chocolates we also brought back some Peck's Anchovette - I had forgotten just how good that is - they clearly surpass the 80% standard. Along with Marmite, Anchovette is one of those things that you can only eat and enjoy if your first exposure was before the age of seven. I am fortunate enough to fall into that group (and not be vegetarian).

BPO - hope you and your family enjoy the rest of your trip - I am done!

Good Morning

This is what our hotel room looks like this morning. We're off to Lake Balaton this morning. I'm pretty sure we will have no internet, so as of tomorrow it's over to the guest bloggers. Thanks in advance to all of you. bye.

Hotel Normafa

We left home at the grumpy, miserable, crack-of-dawn. Our taxi driver to the airport had verbal diarrhea and would not shut up the whole way. We bitched and miserabled through the huge Pesach lines, and finally made it onto the plane without bwo dropping more than a month's salary at the duty free. Finally we were off and winging our way over the mountains to Budapest.

On disembarking, we noticed this sign painted on the ElAl plane's side (for the non-Hebrew, it basically tells Israelis to try behave well overseas). We collected our luggage and found a taxi to take us to Hotel Normafa.

Now the Normafa is a story in itself . A few days back, bwo and I had a huge row over this (I was just rattling the cage as usual) as the hotel was on the wrong side of town, too far away from the center etc. But when she called to cancel they sent such a kind email we decided we would book there anyway. The taxi drove and drove, we passed through the center of the city, crossed the Danube and kept driving. This guy was the opposite of our Israeli taxi driver, perfectly groomed, but not a word. We started up the hills on the Buda side, and kept climbing. It seems the Hotel Normafa not really in Budapest at all, but on the top of a hill, on the edge of a nature reserve, overlooking the city.

Our room was not ready so we fed the starving family. The restaurant made us a to-order veggie plate with some sort of salty fried cheese , excellent. We then all took delicious naps .

On awaking we took a walk in the nature reserve, and found our way to the little local supermarket. Hungarian is a strange language that has no resemblance to anything recognizable, check out the instant soups . On the way back from the store we stopped to admire the view .

We passed a little hut with a line of locals buying some sort of delicacy . They are called retesek, and are sort of like a rolled up crepe with filling. They cost about a dollar a piece and we were encouraged by the locals to try all four types . They're filled with cheese (like cheese cake), berries, plums and poppy seed (yuck). We sat on a park bench, licked our fingers and enjoyed the view.

We walked back to the hotel. The elevator has a mirrored roof. We're having big fun but missing the boy, who went to Auschwitz today.

We're Leaving On A Jetplane.

The bags are mostly packed. The screaming match with bdo is over. The cats are sitting on/in the suitcases. All the necessary data (music, tv shows etc) has been downloaded. All that's left is a few hours sleep and then a pre dawn taxi ride to the airport and we, blackfamilyo, are off to Hungary on vacation. I will try post when I can, but I have left you, my blogging audience, in very good hands. Starting Sunday you will have the pleasure of the best guest guest bloggers no-money can buy from around the globe. Have a lovely Pesach and we'll see you back here in the holy land all too soon.

Socks

And you thought wearing black was easy. Above is what a bunch of my socks look like once they come out of the washing machine. Some show up gray in the picture, but let me assure you that's a trick of the light. It takes hours to sort into pairs. Its all based on texture and slight color differences. Much like making a puzzle (an all black puzzle). But then, I'm a firm believer that one must pay a price for one's convictions.

Meir Ariel

I have been coming into work pretty early for the last few weeks. I enjoy the peace and squint-free quiet. A big advantage is that I can do my work with the music as loud as I like. Yesterday, iTunes chose to play me the collected disks of "Meir Ariel". He was an outstanding poet and his album "Shiri Hag Umoed Venofel" is, in my mind, the best Israeli record of all time. I was studying at the Technion when it came out and I went to see him in a tiny hall in Haifa, with some of the guys from dorms. When we got back they sat with the album and translated it word for word for me. I still get shivers when I hear "Erol". Unfortunately, Meir Ariel died in July 1999 from Mediterranean Spotted Fever transmitted by a flea bite. He was only 57 at the time and is greatly missed.

Now, there are not many videos of Meil Ariel worth watching. Here is "Terminal Lament" played live, to gives you a taste. I quite like the video for "Get In The Car, Already". My current favorite song of his is BeTzaharei HaYom, which contains the classic line which loosely translated goes "Hey Hey, all that really matters, is a cold drink in the heart of the desert" (it loses a lot in the translation). The only half way decent version of the song on YouTube is a live version by David Broza, who while being an accomplished guitarist needs a slap from time to time. Here it is.

The real version, with Meir Ariel and David Broza together, but with no video, can be heard here.

It's All In The Olive Oil

A few months back bwo bought home this wonderful machine. It changed my life. I have become so good with this griller/toasted sandwich machine that the kids think I need to write a cookbook. I'm ready to throw out the microwave (never did like it, don't trust cookers that don't get hot), the oven (lost its sealing ring and now takes years to heat up) and the gas rings (we always running out of gas anyway). But, I love this guy. I'm great at all sorts of toasted cheese sandwiches, with and without tomato and onion. I make all sorts of fake meat (tivol) sandwiches as well as warming up tortillas. I can whip up a sumptuous supper for the whole family in mere minutes. George Foreman would be proud.

Now I'm going to let you into a secret. Many cooks of my caliber jealously guard their special secrets, but I'm a big enough man that I will share. The secret is the olive oil. See the bottle of olive oil and the brush to the left of the machinka. You paint the top and bottom of your bread with a thin layer of oil. Then close the top and toast away. Heaven. The biggest challenge in our kitchen is finding the brush, but unpacking every drawer and every cupboard, every day, is a small price to pay for perfection.

What you see currently toasting is a whole wheat pita, filled with sweet chili veggie fake chicken and frozen chips, with a generous smear of mustard on one side and BBQ sauce on the other. And don't forget the pinch of salt, paprika and pepper. Pay special attention to the glistening of the extra virgin olive oil showing through the golden brown crenelations of the toasted pita (I love the word crenelation, even though its not exactly used in the correct way in this instance as it refers to "the rampart built around the top of a castle with regular gaps for firing arrows or guns", but you get the picture).

Wasting Time

Some days its just difficult to make a blog post. Yesterday was one of those days. So I blew it off rather than posting about the difficulties of posting. Then someone (usually bwo) will say: "But, bpo, you don't need to post every day", as if they had never met me and believed I'm not a completely binary person who could just do things in half measures. So rather than bore you completely I will point you to this huge tetris game to keep you busy. Thanks to kelley at Magneto Bold Too for pointing out this fascinating piece of Soviet era flash programing (the site is called sovietrussia.org for god's sake).


Note: I'm getting very nervous because more than half my guest bloggers for next week are yet to accept and sign up to be part of the mystical experience that is the 80% blog.

A Walk On Ahuza

This morning was bwo's birthday. I woke her with a cup of tea and forced her out of bed to join me on today's walk down Ahuza the main street of our "village" of Raanana. All today's pictures are bwo's creations. It's true that not much is happening in Raanana at 8am on a Saturday morning, but its what you make of it. Click each picture to get a full screen version.

We started off on . From our house we can see two water towers. The larger one used to be the symbol of Raanana. The smaller water tower outside our house is decorated , it needs a bit of a touch up.

All the way up and down street, the flowers are starting to bloom . The street was very quiet with little traffic . The only passers by were on their way to synagogue, bwo was concerned about taking their pictures, lest they stone us . We passed Sharona's mom on her morning walk , and a whole slew of dog walkers .

There is signage everywhere. The bill boards are round and reminders that Israel is a dangerous place . Of course, there is artwork statues of people , and statues of animals .

We passed Raanana's best hummus bar and our neighborhood police station

We made our way home, near our house, the flowers are blooming and the grass in the park where I walk the cats is looking very good

That's it for today.