On Yogurt and Life (or should it be “On Life and Yogurt?”)
As I opened up yet another cup of yogurt, a thought struck me: I’ve been having yogurt ever since we moved to America in ’89. I had a taste of the delicious liquidy convocation for the first time when we were staying in a small town just South of Rome en-route to Chicago.
I’d continue having yogurt: chocolate, banana, covered with whipped cream, cookie yogurt, etc, etc to the billionth dimension from then on.
The different types of yogurt I’d had have been a reflection of my life. When I made Aliya in ’01, I began my yogumance with new, Israeli yogurts. This lasted till I left Israel in ’06. The yogurts I had in Chicago from ’06 till my return to Israel a year and a half a go were uhm…OK just like everything else in America: Earth’s “only” bastion of freedom, the “last” Superpower. Whatever…
Anyhow, when I came home to Israel, my yogumance just kept on rolling. I took in ginormous (this term has existed since time immemorial but I bow to Ze’ev for re-introducing us) quantities of yogurt with a conviction I’d never had before. And I must admit: they were good!
In any case, I’ll wish y’all–whether you’re in Chi or in J’lem; Sin City (Tel-Aviv)–or somewhere out in the Northern burbs, a mighty good night and may the best team (Bulls) win!
Oh, and uh…no yogurt for you!
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