‘Maybe you should be glad your body parts don’t connect to wi-fi?  Our wi-fi only works when it wants to…Feel better!!!!’

In response to my last post, Barbara’s cousin Beverly provided these words of wisdom, certainly worth considering. Maybe we should instead focus our attention on getting our actual wi-fi up to snuff instead of contemplating fanciful solutions. To be clear, our computers, our printer, our phones, even the timer for our water heater are all properly connected. The problem is with our a/c units and our fans, and for that we need some help from Bezeq, the folks who provide our internet connection. Yoni the electrician has offered to provide technical and translation assistance whenever we are ready and he has a few spare hours, but we’re just not up to it, as in too little time and too much stress. And in case you’re wondering what that’s all about, let me explain.

It was Fri., July 4, a big day back in The States, although just another erev Shabbat here in The Land. Because I was not in top form and it was hotter than we’d like it to be, I began Shabbat preparation Thurs. night (erev July 4), after doing my shopping at the shuk earlier in the day. I was almost done with the cooking, when our guests began to arrive to enjoy our hospitality, which we always provide with a smile.

Then Shabbat came in, lingered a while, and departed —as it always does – and two of our guests left. The third, an old friend, stayed over Sat. night because Barbara was to go with her to a medical appointment on Sun., which would take most of the afternoon. Monday morning, the wife and I went to the nurses station at Maccabi for them to attend to the bandages keeping my catheter in place. Then Barbara headed into Jerusalem to hang out with our step-granddaughter until Natania returned from work. Tues. we went to the hospital because my catheter now needed replacing, which, as we expected, took a good chunk of the day. You can see how time flies and stress builds up when you’re waiting for the nurse or the doctor(s) – even if you’re only there to provide solace for the actual patient.

Then it was time for The Levines to arrive on schedule the next day and stay through Sun., which involved repeating the shopping and cooking as per the week before, plus hold up my end of the pontification, which I’m better at when I’m in top form. (It’s hard to be witty when you’re feeling shitty.)

All the while, I’m feeling a certain amount of discomfort, and we’re trying to figure out if any medication will allow me to feel better. And this may be TMI, but every morning, Barbara has to change my bandages for my catheter and help me get my abdominal belt on properly. So maybe we’ll wait a while to deal with our wi-fi connection and let things calm down. (It’s called having enough on your plate.) Does that answer your question, Yoni?

What on the menu after Tisha b’Av? The birth of a granddaughter at some time to be disclosed, for one. The wedding of one of Natania’s closest friends here in Ma’ale Adumim, for another, involving rotating bands of folks needing our hospitality. More medical appointments, especially the one at the urology clinic all the way out at Ein Kerem (the same day as the wedding), at which time we may have an idea about any future plans for my urinary tract. And then shortly thereafter, The Levines are scheduled to arrive again, spreading cheer and topics for pontification – assuming we’re not in the waiting room or the delivery room. Only time will tell. Once that happens, rest assured I will also tell.

They’re doing what???

I wouldn’t have expected the information to come from Ezra, but he claimed to have seen it first in a post on Instagram. (You may assume I don’t do Instagram, although I have heard of it.) Power Coffeeworks is moving, said he. To which I responded as above. My informant even had the new address, 105 Yaffo, although he had no idea where that was. You can be sure that three and a half seconds after reciting Havdalah, I was at my computer, looking up the address on Google.

I know where that is! It’s that newish apartment building together with a Brown Hotel (That’s the name of the company, not the color of the building) that’s kitty-corner from Davidka, a stone’s throw from the shuk. I can get there. It would be easier if the light rail were up and running in that part of town. And it certainly would easier if I felt better.

But it wasn’t just a matter of curiosity, or even, as you might expect, out of loyalty to good friends. I was seriously out of coffee!!! Out of desperation, I had scoured the shelves at our local Supersol, securing a bag of beans (roasted over and beyond what is required) from the well-known American company (you know the one I mean). Not my favorite, but you gotta do what you gotta do until you can get what you want to get. Finally I got up the energy and the nerve to head back into town. And yes, Brandon was there pouring shots when I arrived. What’s going on?

If you ever run into Brandon, he can explain, chapter and verse, what prompted them to move from their cozy little shop on Agrippas, in which so much coffee had been brewed and served to a clientele of discerning caffeinophiles. We’ll just say that they had to move, and so they did, taking advantage of the recent lull in our lives caused by missiles from the north flying hither and yon to do so. It wasn’t long before Brandon and I began discussing the pros and cons of moving, whether it be where you live or your place of business. The moral of the story is there is advise and there is advise, and you have to know which to take and which not take.

Before his family left South Africa, some well-meaning person of some local importance gave them the same advice we had been given. Before you buy a home is Israel, rent for a year. Make sure it’s the right community, yada yada. Which was great advise for us. But Brandon did just the opposite. I’m not going to keep moving my family. We’re landing and we’re staying put. Plus, with our money situation, if we rent for a year, we’ll never be able to buy. So they bought their place in Efrat straightaway and everyone is happy. But that had nothing to do with the vicissitudes of Power Coffeeworks, the home-away-from-home for Israel’s most discerning clientele.

While our move around the corner was to down-size, moving into an apartment that was more manageable, Power Coffeeworks, if anything, needed to up-size.  Their new premises (around their corner), besides being a lot classier, is much bigger with a lot of potential. But there was one problem, which Brandon calls ‘workflow’ or the lack thereof. Before they opened their first store, Brandon and Stephanie were able to sit down and figure out where everything would go, so they could almost always(!) find what they needed. That didn’t happen now, as they had to make the move lickety-split.  And so, where is whatever? Someone is asking for a cold brew to go, but the large plastic cups have disappeared. Brandon knows where he put them, but somebody else had a ‘better’ idea where they ought to be. It’s a truism that if you’re not spending most of your time wondering where things are, you’d have plenty of time to figure out where you’d want them to be. In a word, workflow.

I remember those days. It wasn’t that long ago when Barbara and I had no idea where anything was in our new apartment, let alone where we’d want them to be. Now that we’re settled in, I was hoping to forget our troubled past and move on. But easier said than done. Stress and trauma are harder to dispose of than coffee grinds. Not being in control is very frustrating, and so I commiserate with Brandon and Stephanie. But I did leave the new iteration of Power Coffeeworks with a bag of their Sumatran light roast, which, mixed together with whatever was in the green bag, proved quite tasty. Proving that there’s always hope.