“hi Rodica Iova are you an auother”
“Yes, I am:)
Did you read some of my books?”
“i think we got one or 2 of your books we got one called Pepper and the open gat and the one with the wagon i loved those books they were so cut i really loved pepper and the open gate”
“Oh, thank you! Yes, Pepper is a darling. Still around here, at one of my friend’s house.”
“Yeap! I wrote another book about her: Pepper and the man with a shack – mysteryyyyy:)”
“oh than i might have to ask my mom to order that one.pepper and the open gate left of at a good part!”
“Haha, I knew my readers would like to read the next book:)”
“it gets me pumped up to think about the ending of Pepper and the open gate!
now its my little brothers turn to read it !”
“I’m glad you are a team there.”
“i bet he’ll love it!”
“You have to tell me what he thought:)”
are you writing a new book yet?”
“Oh, yes:) A few:)”
“i wanted to ask if you could wright a book about fairies?”
“Fairies? Oh, that would be something new for me.”
“oh im gonna go now i want to play with my brothers..”
Pepper and the Open Gate
Pepper and the Man with the Shack
We were in the Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv some years ago coming home from a long and amazing camp.
One fun thing of that trip was that after only one day of walking in Jerusalem, my favorite pair of sandals gave up. I had to put them in the trash and cared for the biggest blister I’ve ever owned.
Adults and children, the seventeen of us, were worn out from the intense travel in the past weeks and barely could standing on our two feet to go through the security check. I saw the security guard asking my youngest daughter to take off her shoes, and they searched them manually. I’d been in other airports before, but this was one very well watched. And that was good.
One of my friends and I were a little worried about the bag of dirt each of us had in our luggage, ( I like to bring dirt from where I go abroad, I brought some from China and they didn’t mind it.) We successfully passed the “dirt test” in Tel Aviv and went to the gate. They validated our tickets and showed us to the bus.
Here comes the mystery.
Everybody in the bus had a carryon, a bag, or something.
I watched that woman. Tall, thin, dark, curly hair, dark eyes with a pretty masculine forehead, her entire attitude was suspicious. My detective intelligence got alerted and I was Agatha Christie’s best friend. What was extremely suspicious for me was the fact that she didn’t carry a bag.
I looked at my friends, but I couldn’t share with them my discovery for the sake of keeping them at peace. I chose to bear this terror on my own shoulders, alone. I was terrified. I knew inside me that this woman was there to blow up the plane. People who know me have no doubt that I am a woman of action. That time, right there in the heart of our beloved Israel I was ready to step in and uncover the enemy’s plans.
We get on the plane and yes, I call the flight attendant and show her the questionable person on board.
“I watched her since we got on the bus. She doesn’t have a carryon, she is so serious.Please, search her. I’m sure she is up to something.”
I knew that my professional information along with my deep wisdom were rescuing a full plane of passengers from certain death.
“No, no, you don’t have to thank me,” I was ready to reply to the flight attendant who was staring at me with open mouth.
“This is an Israeli diplomat working for the Israeli Embassy in Bucharest, ma’am. She is just fine.”
I needed a glass of water.
When I woke up to make my coffee this morning it was pitch dark inside the house. Sometimes I wake up early. I didn’t want to go for a walk today, I just wanted to take in the stillness and wait. Nothing magical happened, but the familiar sounds of the clock on the wall, and the coffee brewing. Then the kitchen window grew wider under the first signs of light. I didn’t have to do anything to make it come inside. I only had to wait and see.
There are things we think we are in charge to make them happen, when in fact it’s jus a matter of time. We can’t force them, but if we do they are not ready for us or we are not ready for them. Stillness. Stay in peace.
If I say I’ve self published 8 children’s books( google my name on Amazon in books) and did a 50,000 word novel (still in work) in the past 18 weeks, you’ll label me as crazy. And that’s correct.
If I’d say sometimes I’m tired, you might believe me. But there is a fantastic spring of stories in my pockets and when they well up, I get on my laptop to collect the juice- it’s that easy.
There are days when I don’t get out of the house, but only to pick up the daily paper from the driveway. And there are mornings when I take a tour of our neighborhood in SoCal in my slippers, talking to the dog walkers, greeting people while passing by their house, praying loudly in my native Romanian language and picking up oranges I find on the sidewalk from the orange trees around.
This brings me back when I was little and used to collect walnuts wherever these trees were on my strolls. I would stop and crack them with a rock right there under the tempting tree.
What was I saying? Dang!
I don’t know about you, guys, but the morning after Thanksgiving is even better for me then the Day itself. And why is that? Because you find yourself with a pile of food for a week, your kids and grandkids walking around in their pajamas early in the morning, coffee, kids food in your coffee, toys, grumpy adult kids who try to sleep in, cats waiting for their treat, and an urgent need : we are out of milk.
So, my daughter-in-love, my granddaughter and I in pajamas strolled our flip-flops to the car in the drive way on a torrential rain. But who cared? Rain in SoCal is like first snow in Europe, and we loved to get in the crazy water up to our ankles. I got to comb my hair before leaving and that was good. People at Von’s here know me, some of them are good friends I made during the years, and I wanted them to be able to recognize me. First thing I saw: the pineapples were almost for free. We got two. And by the time we were checking out, we forgot to get milk.
The sky was falling down outside, the drops of rain were big like cherries, and we were completly soaked when we reached our car in the parking lot. But we didn’t mind it. We laughed until we got home.
Now the breakfast party is going to start. I have to go.