Yom Yerushalayim

Big thanks to Jacob da Jew for the first post on the day!

Yom Yerushalayim is always a big day for me, and I'll let you know why. I know I've said on this blog that I'm probably a little more Zionist than I am frummy Jewish girl and that's due in large part to good ol' IDF. I haven't written about him in a while, but that doesn't mean that I don't think about him everyday -- it's impossible when so much of my Judaism is tied up in him. Anyway, I was always convinced that he was put on this earth to be Super Zionist Jew because he was born on Yom Yerushalayim. It makes it very, very easy to remember, which isn't so great when you are trying to forget.

In ironically related news, the current boyfriend casually mentioned that the Israeli police (translation: "watchers") were out in front of his yeshiva last night. I didn't have the heart to tell him that IDF knows all those guys. And that IDF probably knows The Boy is there. And that IDF is most likely watching him. I did ask him nonchalantly if he'd seen them around a lot, or if he's noticed maybe the same few faces in different places -- he said no. He said no, but truth be told I'm still a little nervous and it's not all selfless concern, either: I'm going to be there in a few weeks and I'd really not like to be telephoto lens-ed this time.

And for the record, I'm not calling or emailing or contacting IDF at all to say "happy birthday" or "how's everything been?" even though he did the same for me on my birthday. Even though I have this bizarre compulsion to be polite and cordial and proper. I'm learning to be okay with leaving some pleasantries in the past because -- while I absolutely still care for him on some level -- there has to be something, some noticeable difference in our interactions. That's okay, right? Is the intentional oversight any better because I'm calling it growth?