The sun will come out tomorrow

WARNING.  THE FOLLOWING ENTRY CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE CONTENT.  DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY GROSSED OUT.

After the most rainy winter Israel has had in a while, the sun is fighting for its summer arrival.
How apropos after being hit with some stubborn Israeli viruses which kept me in bed three times in the last month.  Physically, I too am fighting for my inner fire to finally dry out the damp petri dish my body has become.

My latest digestive virus woke me up at 4am last Monday with a cold sweat and every orifice on high alert.  Thinking the worst was over by 8am, I dragged my weak body onto the bus to work.  Wrong move.  A few hours (and a handful of crackers) later, I was back on the bus dizzy, nauseous, and sweating profusely.  Unlike the respiratory bug that knocked me on my ass two weeks ago, the digestive strain requires proximity to a toilet.  Ooops.  The vigorous swaying of the public bus was exactly the shaking my stomach needed to hurl out anything that was left.  Which is exactly what happened just as I came to my stop and projectiled into a bush.  It brought back memories of when my office was next to the nurse's office at Oak Terrace and kids would be running into her office with a garbage can around this time of the year.  Sometimes running without the garbage can, leaving breakfast on the floor outside my office.  Good times.

So as the sun comes out and my immunity returns, I put on my Israeli armor and tackle the challenges that accompany life in this complex country.  They say that the first year of immigration is the most difficult; I'd venture to say that it was at approximately month 6 when it truly began for me.  Thankfully, I have my closest gal pals and canine sidekick by my side for fuel.  Together, we remind ourselves what it takes to make it here.  It takes persistence, strength, "chutzpa," talent,  confidence, sacrifice, meaning, dedication, connection, street smarts, and at many times- the ability to kick-ass.  So when I contemplate returning to the ease and comfort of America I am simply not ready.  I like the challenge and as masochistic as it sounds, I think it is character building.  I'm not going to lie, I yearn to spoil myself with pedicures, massages, facials, and the King Spa (of course) but unfortunately those luxuries are no longer part of my reality.  The whole notion of immigration to Israel, which in Hebrew is called "Aliyah" (to ascend), suggests to raise/lift/move upward.  Am I?  I think I might be.  Maybe?  Sometimes I feel Israel makes you suffer in order to test your commitment, kind of like the rabbis try to discourage converts from joining the tribe.  It's survival of the fittest in this country for sure.  And if you make it in this country it will have to be for reasons other than materialism, ease, and comfort.  I've been told it's kind of like living in one big dysfunctional family and at the end of the day, you can't escape your family.  I'm still not sure though.  In the end, will I be one of the fittest?  One of the converts?  Will I have ascended?  I just don't know.