Author: Dotan Dimet

There’s a princess, see, trapped, in a tower in distant Tel Afoon. A damsel, in much distress.

Now, the princess and our hero are star-crossed would-be lovers. Accept that like you accepted the tower, OK? come on, it’s a story. So like I said, they would have been lovers, except someone was trying to be noble. Or was too timid. Nevermind. The point is that now, as she stands in the high window of the unassailable tower, they see each other. And they recall that they should probably have been lovers, and that there’s no real reason they shouldn’t be so now. Except, you know, life. And the tower.

Our hero thinks the noble thing to do would be to rescue her. Of course, he’s not sure he should try. He knows that only she can actually get herself out of the tower, and she’s the only one who can decide if and when she’ll do that. He supposes he could wait for her outside the tower, ready with the horses and the sunset, but he’s not sure how long he’d have to wait. Or if he should. Perhaps, he thinks, he can climb in the back window and see what’s keeping her, maybe offer her some companionship and comfort as she struggles with her big and frightening decisions. Maybe get some, too. If not a knight, perhaps a knave.

Hardly a worthy quest, to travel to distant Tel Afoon for a spot of nookie. Even if it is fabled, long-sought and long-denied (star-crossed, even) nookie. Which doesn’t mean it isn’t a worthwhile quest, if you know what I mean. Just not, umm, noble.

Our hero reflects that nobility isn’t neccessarily all it’s cracked up to be. That if he was less noble to begin with (timid, timid), there might have been no tower or distress. But he suspects that knavery, tempting as it is, isn’t really good for the complexion either. Perhaps, he should just walk away, and seek damsels elsewhere, without the weight of starry destiny overhead. Already there are indications, like cards pinned to a telephone booth, telling him of very nice ladies who would like to meet him. One of them, they say, is tall.
(Which our hero takes to mean that he is being called upon to solve someone’s problem).

Or perhaps he should forget the stars and the cards and simply enjoy the sun, which (although quite fond of dark cloud veils) now shines warmly upon him. He wonders, though, if it shines on him more than on anyone, and whether it might rain.

And as he sits buried in a heap of perhapses, the tower still looms.

Went shopping today (yes, riveting, this personal blogging stuff. Have I read you the headlines from New Scientist lately? All about prehistoric Indonesian hobbits, apparently).

Anyway, bought an eclectic collection of stuff, most of it Real Food.

Also, got knives (only one of my three fine knives was found, the morning after Suzie left. Of course this was discovered while guests were over, ready to eat steaks).

Toyed with the thought of buying a box of Quaker’s Chocolate and Peanut Butter chewy oatmeal bars, just because, I mean, Chocolate and Peanut Butter, come on…

Withstood the temptation. Bought beer instead, which is probably more suitable for my age.
Came home and unpacked. While putting the beer in the top shelf of the fridge, I realized it was occupied by all sorts of stuff that no one will ever touch anymore, such as a brand-new Tofu spread (Natural Flavour – what’s the natural flavour of Tofu, I wonder?), Cottage cheese and a dessicated lemon.

Rather than cleaning up the fridge in an energetic frenzy, I savoured the melancholy and tossed the lemon in the bin.

You should make your blog more interesting, my brother said, like write about your life instead of posting stupid links.
Except, he says, you should change things a little, so that if someone gets insulted, you can deny you wrote about them, like you could say, no, it wasn’t you, I meant some other brother I have…
Had the pleasure of being woken up by a call from Aya, who heard I was looking for her from Avner, who read it in my blog.
Which would be ironic, except that I think that was my point.
Made Schnitzels, and got to eat them in good company. Also, had my fingers mangled by a struggling dog (they were caught hooked in its collar when it decided to do backflips to shake me loose) and was startled to be asked by my nephew to wipe his bottom (my alarm was unfounded).

Trying to contact someone by phoning them at home: What a bloody primitive 20th century way of communicating.
And since this is Aya, who is not someone I call regularly, and since I have no “business” excuse to call her, there is a certain awkwardness to this. So I rehearse what to say to the answering machine, and as I dial I also think of an opening line if she answers herself.
But then her mom picks up.
(at least I think it was her mom. It certainly sounded like a mom.)
Out, maybe back in the morning, leave a message? Err, no, thanks. Ulp.
Of course by the time I get myself to call the next day she’s already left, and I get the mom again.
What have I learned from this? That he who doesn’t leave a message the first time loses twice:
First, his message is delayed by yet another day, and second, he really has to go through the awkwardness of actually leaving a message, just to prove (if only to himself) that he wasn’t intimidated to do so the first time.
Ah. I also had an observation about people without mobile phones, which are rapidly turning out to be the 21st century’s equivalent of people who live without electricity or running water. It’s that they choose to spend time with the people who are actually there rather than with the people who aren’t.
Another observation is that all these people (Aya, Tarzan, etc.) don’t have cars. A mobile phone is a lifesaver when your transportation is something as unreliable as my own car, which broke down three times in three weeks this September.