I'm having serious trouble concentrating. Must be Spring Fever. So I've been doing all sorts of things to keep me from having to work on my paper. The other night I made dinner for a bunch of friends, and it actually turned out pretty well. I'm surprised to learn that I can cook. Perhaps I have other latent talents I never knew about. I was always convinced growing up that I was a child prodigy in something, I just could never figure out what it was. Maybe I should start trying a bunch of different things until I finally hit upon my genius. Because, while I am pleased to discover that I can throw some tomatoes and onions and chicken together and somehow make it taste good, I'm pretty sure that cooking is not it.
But anyway, the dinner was nice; we alternated between Hebrew and English--felt very cosmpolitan, very ex-pat, very Hemingway. Well, except that we were speaking Hebrew. Unfortunately the dishes are still sitting on the counter while my paper collects dust. Ah well.
Last night I went for dinner at Luise's, then we got into her nieghbor Shimi's car and drove down to Talpiot for a CD release party. I had to pretend that I was Sabina, who was sick, so that our names would be on the guest list. I was instructed not to speak, because Sabina is, after all, German, and while I am picking it up a bit, I don't quite speak it just yet. Inside the band was playing some kind of electronic something-or-other, with a little light show and a small screen on which an odd loop of English words was playing. Butter. Contract. Bubble. Mister. Mouse. Coupon. It was very odd. I danced a bit, and ended up talking to another German all night, until we took a cab back to Luise's and I crashed in a heap on her bed.
Now I'm home, staring ruefully at the dishes and the notes for my papers, nursing a little hangover, and writing in this blog. I am happy. The sun is out. If I'm not careful, I'll end up calling Jef and talking for an hour like I did yesterday, just to hear his voice. I definitely have Spring Fever.