Thursday, January 29, 2009
Guide to the best journalism in Boston... coming soon
Other than the horrid weather (this last one was: snow, rain, freezing temperatures, in that order), Boston is great! So far I've been to a handful of restaurants, some great delis, and in and out of some really architecturally impressive old downtown buildings.
Somerville, where I live, is great from my impressions so far. There's Porter Square down one street and Davis Square down another. Both have some great bars, coffee shops, stores (Pier1, Poor Little Rich Girl) and gyms (Healthworks). There are these indoor shops at the Porter Exchange that mostly seem to be Japanese-owned. I ate some great sushi there and bought some of those doughy little treats from the Japanese supermarket.
Even with a severe flu clouding my head, I'm still impressed with the city and I'm glad I made the move.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Guide to the best journalism in the Bay
Ballonatics has been inflating for 25 years [The Campbell Reporter, Aug. 17, 2007]
Middle-schoolers are rockin' the house [The Campbell Reporter, Aug. 10, 2007]
Next Door Solutions fundraiser uses hands to heal, not hurt [The Willow Glen Resident, Aug. 10, 2007]
Life will be made in the shade for San Jose Day Nursery kids [The Willow Glen Resident, Aug. 3, 2007]
Links to my articles printed in The Jerusalem Post:
Paz unveils US-style retail centers [
Teva gets tentative approval for generic Viagra [Monday,
Negev 'laboratory' offers hope to other nations in battle against desertification [Friday,
And the winners are... [
Israel to dot borders with millions of olive trees. Peace project will conserve soil, provide oil, agricultural minister tells Jerusalem parley [Tuesday,
Researchers using forests to stop desert from spreading [
Women live large in biotech sector [Thursday, April 5, 2007]
Chinese industrial park to open special site for Israeli businesses [Thursday,
Changing times calls for more attention to investments [Friday,
Protesters try to take bloom off UK's love affair with Israeli Valentine's Day flowers [Tuesday,
Early stage VC financing strong in '06 [Sunday,
Start-ups worry about funding cuts [Friday,
BioLineRx raises $50m. in TASE's largest biomedical IPO [Thursday,
GlassHouse buys MBI Group [Thursday,
US news media reject ad campaign against anti-Semitism. CNN calls Jewish Agency ad 'political' [Monday,
Agriculture looks for innovative ways to sell the seven species [Thursday,
Actelis, IncrediTrade, Wikkio, Yoggie Systems get cash infusions [Friday,
Early stage VC financing strong in '06 [Tuesday,
The passionate, indomitable activist [Wednesday,
Mercury News, you love me!
Enough hype, here 'tis:
MediaNews
There is a distinct lack of graffiti in Saratoga Creek Park thanks to Cupertino resident Sandra Yeaton, who has been volunteering her time and energy to clean up the park for almost 15 years.
Armed with a bucket of paint and a chemical graffiti eraser, Yeaton removes unwanted decor by painting over or erasing graffiti that pops up in the park, which is nestled in West San Jose near Cupertino, along Lawrence Expressway. Yeaton says the graffiti she cleans up often includes tagging, lewd pictures and foul language.
"We like our parks without a lot of graffiti, and she is doing a wonderful job," says Vicki Poulos, a Lassen Street resident and Yeaton's friend, noting that graffiti in the park has been reduced by about 85 percent.
"Graffiti has always been a big part of the city's fight," says Manny Perez, interim program coordinator for the city of San Jose's Adopt-a-Park program. Graffiti is an eyesore and a huge problem, he says.
"The parks maintenance system right now is undermanned, so the volunteers are a big part of keeping the parks clean," he says, adding that the city considers graffiti removal to be of the utmost importance.
The city of San Jose has an anti-graffiti department that cleans up graffiti on public and private property, but because parks often require different treatment, such as dealing with graffiti-resistant coating, the Parks, Recreation and Neighborhood Services department takes care of any graffiti in the city's parks. In the Adopt-a-Park program, the city handles major work but supplies volunteers such as Yeaton with paint and a graffiti eraser for daily graffiti maintenance. But the Adopt-a-Park program is going through a transition; Clifton Gold, the former program coordinator, stopped running the program on Aug. 15, and it is currently being managed by two interim coordinators, both of whom have other responsibilities. After three months of waiting for new supplies, Yeaton finally bought her own paintbrushes, but still hopes the city will provide her with paint. Perez cited proper paperwork and backlogged tasks in the PRNS department as reasons why volunteers might not get a prompt response. Regardless of whether the city hands out supplies, Yeaton is committed to the park's maintenance. She checks for graffiti at least weekly, and paints over or removes it as needed. She has noticed "outbreaks" of graffiti, usually when school starts, but in general the park is free of unwanted tagging. "Her work is important not only because of the beauty of our community, but because it also stops the graffiti from happening," Poulos says. "She goes a little deeper to show children how to be members of the community." "It's probably the teacher in me," jokes Yeaton, 65, a retired substitute middle and high school teacher. Yeaton joined the city's Adopt-a-Park program in the mid-1990s after she had already been frequenting the park for some 10 years. "One day, I went walking through there and it was a big mess. I couldn't believe it," Yeaton recalls. "There was never any graffiti in the park until then. I decided to devote myself and clean this up." As time went on, she found that just being a presence in the park helped to deter people from leaving their mark in spray paint. By now, loitering teenagers know she's there with a sharp eye, she says. Her work doesn't stop in the Saratoga Creek Park; she also volunteers in John Mise Park in San Jose and along the Cupertino part of the Saratoga Creek Trail. Most of her efforts benefit the Saratoga Creek Park, which is situated just a mile from Yeaton's house, because she uses the park as often as three times per week. Yeaton has observed all types of graffiti, but one common theme resounds: "a cry for attention" is what Yeaton calls it, and she says it could be remedied by giving teenagers something better to do. "I've never caught anyone actually [spraying graffiti]," she says, but if she did, she would want them to have to clean it up themselves. "It's art when they do it at home, but it's vandalism when it's on someone else's property."
It's a wonder!
A simple Google search showed me that there exists a Jewish Diabetes Association, based in Brooklyn and in Jerusalem's Har Nof neighborhood. According to their site, the JDA's staff of professionals gives lectures on diabetes prevention in both Eretz Yisrael and in America.
Which means... it's aimed at type 2 diabetics. Normally I'd be apathetic to an organization that caters to "diabesity" as I bitterly call it, but it being a Jewish gig, I'll make a grudging exception. If I sound like I'm dripping with disdain, it's because I am. It rubs me the wrong way to have a condition that shares the same name with a self-induced vegetative state.
About the JDA, from the site www.jewishdiabetes.org
"The JDA (Jewish Diabetes Association) is the nation's first and leading Jewish non-profit, non-sectarian health organization devoted to diabetes education and advocacy. Founded in 1985, the JDA has various projects reaching hundreds of communities both in the United States and internationally. We are the only organization offering all our services (website, magazine, contact persons etc) in Both English and Hebrew. We hope to be adding four additional languages in the near future.
The mission of the Association is to spread the awareness of the need and possibility of the prevention and optimal control of diabetes and to help improve the lives of all people affected by diabetes. We have a strong focus on the correlation between obesity, diabetes and other diabetes health related issues."
Check out my diabetes blog: http://thediabeticwonder.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Articles guide
By Laura Rheinheimer, Campbell Reporter, Friday, Aug. 17, 2007
Middle-schoolers are rockin' the house
By Laura Rheinheimer, Campbell Reporter, Friday, Aug. 17, 2007
Series on Jewish Literature starts Aug. 26 at West Valley libraryBy Laura Rheinheimer, Campbell Reporter, Friday, Aug. 17, 2007
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Hot politicians, athletes, among top reasons not to exclusively date Jews
I found myself today at the 49ers training camp today, invited by an Israeli friend of mine with a built-in magnet for trouble. Just as she and I were chatting a bit, not paying attention to the football being practiced on the field, some yells vocalized and a ball landed on my friend’s face, and bounced onto my shoulder. Within minutes, the paramedics were examining her slightly wounded face, and the incident eventually led the whole group of us (five women in total) to the special VIP section set up for friends and family of the players. We had one PR person at our disposal, and as I was going through the roster, deciding which players I wanted an autographUnfortunately, the NFL doesn’t require players disclose that sort of information, but I’m determined to find out. In the meantime, I got an autograph from 49ers QB hunk Alex Smith, who I will add to my list of “Boy, I wish these hot politicians athletes were Jewish.”
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Another J-Life from New Hampshire?
Hat tip to Jarrett.I love that bloggers have nothing better to do than peruse the Internet and find random eclecticisms. I was wandering this life thinking myself the only "J-Lifer" from the small state of New Hampshire, whereas all this time, right out of Conway, NH, there is another.
J-Life International. Grrrrrr. Now I can NEVER have that domain. You'd think the letter J a bit less common, and perhaps it is when you don't so closely identify yourself with this 10th letter of the English alphabet. Damn this pride! Why must I let an online Japanese goods site knock me off my high?
Well, J-Life, beat this: I am a Jewish journalist residing in Jerusalem. My favorite food is Jell-O and I love jade stones. I can jiggle and jive, and I love jelly and jam. Of the favorite cartoon TV duo, Jerry's my favorite, and I jam to Janet Jackson.
All you do is sell delectable treats and hard-to-find necessities from Japan.
www.jlifeinternational.com
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
What a Croc!
Caught in the mesmerizing haze of the current fugly footwear trend, today I finally broke down and bought a pair of Crocs. I swore I wouldn't, but in my defense, I bought them as a gift for my my mother's upcoming birthday, and I know she'll find good use for them in the garden. (They are, after all, glorified, cheap plastic clogs.) The only credit I will give them is comfort; but I remain bitterly opposed to the inappropriateness in which the Chosen People choose to don their Crocs.Israelis (in either their incredibly innovative and creative sense of fashion, as my boyfriend would describe, or extreme oblivion, as I prefer to explain it) absolutely LOVE their Crocs-- er, Fraucs. They wear them with business attire (Israeli woman: nice black dress suit, royal blue Crocs); they wear their Crocs with socks (young girl on Emek Rafaim: white Crocs with white socks); they dress the entire family in chromological chronological order (family on the bus: baby wears blue, tot wears green, young'un wears yellow, teenager wears orange, and Ima boasts bright red Crocs). I'm shocked and amazed that the religious faction hasn't taken to wearing Crocs with their black suits and tzit-tzit.

Inspiration for the hideously ugly shoes come from the age-old housewife's special gardenwork footwear, and Scandinavian dancing attire: the traditional wooden clog.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Salsa nights!

There's a salsa club in the basement of a building at 42 King George St. in Jerusalem called Mirage. They offer lessons every Thursday, so a group of went last night! Even with my two left feet, it was a blast. They had beginning to advanced lessons, and trust me, there are some very talented salsa dancers in Israel, including my own beloved teachers, an Argentinian couple who live in my apartment complex.
I'm continually impressed by the variety of activities here in Jerusalem. It may have taken me a good four months to find all of these hidden treasures, but at least I've found them and can share them with the world.
Here are some more random eclecticisms in the Ir HaKodesh:
Soup in the Gan: A friend and I chanced upon this home-made backyard soup event in the German Colony. You enter this person's apartment, go directly to the kitchen and sample the soups. There was a spicy Thai soup, lentil, leek and potato, minestrone and some creamy squash soup. We chose the lentil and Thai, and took a seat at a little bistro table set up in the garden behind the building, where there were string lights, tables, couches and chairs set out to seat around 30 people. It was brilliant, not to mention packed with people. The meal included fresh bread and butter, lemonana, and two huge bowls of soup for 50 shekels (around $12).
Smadar Theatre: On Lloyd George St. off of Emek Rafaim. It's a bar/restaurant/movie house. Open on Shabbat, if that's your thing. The last time I went there, I saw "Other People's Lives," a movie about Communist East Berlin right before the wall fell. An awesome artsy movie. And "La Vie en Rose" showed there-- the brilliant biography of Edith Piaf, the little French sparrow who let her incredible talent get stumped by drugs and partying.
Link Bar and Restaurant: OK, I have to include my all-time favorite place, Link. Right off of King George, where the Maalot parking lot is. There's always a good atmosphere, good wine. good company.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Khamoula-violence on Lake Kineret
Wait, I'll start the story earlier... Some friends and I packed up our camping gear and headed to Lake Kineret. We chose a private beach along the eastern shore, and set up our tents in the thick of it, among the arsim and frechot listening to their Mizrahi music and chewing on sunflower seeds. There were campfires and people smoking narghile, there were loud teenage girls screaming until all hours of the morning.
Speaking of the morning, after a few hours of interrupted sleep, my tent-mate and I were awoken by noisy stirrings outside of our tent at six A.M.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"There's a fight," he told me after peaking his head outside. "I think it's between some Arabs."
We stayed inside the tent as the shouting got louder and closer; "Blah blah blah, bin sharmouta!" The fighting was right nearby, I heard a bang! against the pole next to our tent.
The fighting waned, and when we felt it was safe, we went outside. After about three minutes, a whole gang of young Arab men, teenagers from the looks of it, came stomping back into tent city, armed with bottles, poles-- anything they could find, really. One guy had a tambourine as a weapon.
They chased another group of young guys, who fled to their SUV, and peeled out of the place, not without having bottles and musical instruments flung at their windows.
My camping fellows explained to me that the groups were probably from different local family gangs, called khamoulas. They probably had a long-standing fight stemming from who-knows-what that played out on our campground of all places.
After the gang dispersed, the National Guard showed up, asking all kinds of questions, but none of the other campers had gotten involved and nobody could say who the fighting hooligans were.
A teenager from the next-door parley said, "Well, if it weren't for the Arabs, we would have never woken up!"
Monday, May 07, 2007
Let's go to the settlements!
That's what my Sunday promised to be, and in the end, that's what it was. I showed up at eight in the morning and boarded the bullet-proof bus ("for precautions") and wondered why nobody was packing a gun. (I later was informed that settlers are a million times as scary as the IDF.)
I've never been so far into the West Bank. It was easy to go in and out, and from what I could see, nobody else was having any delay or problems at the crossings either. (I'm convinced there's a huge overstatement about checkpoints, I have yet to see anything but smooth sailing.)
We drove about an hour and a half north of J'lem, to a place on the map that bears the warning: "Because of changing circumstances, kindly check with the authorities before entering Judea and Sumeria." What a nice way to put it.
Our friendly settler guide, a rabbi to boot, met us at the bottom of the hiking trail and kindly explained his view on the Arab settlement of the traditionally Jewish city of Shechem, the first place the Jews entered after 39 years in the desert. It's deemed too dangerous for Jews to enter, even to see the grave of Joseph, which has been vandalized and burned time and time again, he explained. He told us that some 100 teenage boys, accompanied by one rabbi with chutzpah, sneaked into the town in the middle of the night to say a bracha at the grave. Apparently, the army caught word of it beforehand and showed up, surrounded the group with tanks and the whole lot, and saw to it that they left safely. This ain't your typical brand of Jews, folks.
We hiked to a sheep farm run by three or so families, where we barbecued and ate in one of the families' homes. (They weren't home, so that rabbi called them up and asked if we could take refuge inside their house. "Sure!" they told him. "What's ours is yours!") On the way home, I was more afraid of the bus tumbling over the guard rail to our deaths than the fact that we were driving through the heart of the West Bank.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
If it's not Scottish, it's crap!
I'm not saying I would write favorable articles if bribed (read: if you are interested in bribery rates, click here), but I certainly won't decline a night at a five-star resort on Lake Kineret.
PR people: "Laura, you want to come stay at a five-star hotel, get a professional massage, eat gourmet food and wine to your heart's content, and not pay a pretty penny for it?"
Laura: "Sure."
(Journalist's instincts: "Yeah, normally I'd kick in right now with questions like: What's it really going to cost? and Is this completely kosher? but I could really use the massage.)
Who: A group of business journalists from all major Israeli newspapers, around 20 women, 1 man.
What: Bused to Lake Kineret for a luxurious stay at a fabulous hotel.
Where: Scot's Hotel, Lake Kineret.
When: Arrived Monday afternoon, left late Tuesday morning.
Why: Not available.
Check out the Scot's Hotel here, run by the Scottish church. It used to be a hospital, but was transformed into a island of calm on the edge of town in Tiberias. I got a half-hour massage in my suite, complete with oils and aromas, then headed off to the non-kosher meal (I managed to kashrut it to my own standard).
Menu:
Nine-grain bread. Raw ahi tuna seasoned generously with garlic and parsley. Little fried breaded things filled with mushroom concoction. Ravioli with cream sauce. Red wine from the private Yarden collection. After the milky stuff (and washing my mouth out) I had spit-fire lamb shanks.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Don't touch me with that burger!
Finally, my adreneline pumping, I stood up, went over to the man and got in his face. "Listen," I bellowed with my index finger in his face, "what you're doing is very rude. Very rude! It's a Jewish holiday where we don't eat bread, so stop swinging your damn burger around." He looked shocked.
"But I am hungry," he protested.
"Fine, you have every right to eat your hametz but just do it somewhere else," I pointed to a seat behind me. "Go sit there and eat your burger. Sit down right there. Go!" He hesitated, and started inching toward the seat, and I went back to mine. ("Kol hakavod!" someone yelled.)
With his tail between his legs, but indignant nonetheless, he looked back at the girls and then at me, "What, is she your mother?"
"Yeah, that's right, I'm their mother," I mumbled, and got off at my stop.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Pesach!
Pesach! What a time to be in Israel. In the United States you have a limited number of options for students and travelers away from home: there's the Chabad religious seder, the Hillel reform/borderline non-religious seder, some random family (awk-ward!) or, my personal favorite, the guilty Jewish college student seder where you and a friend get together the essentials, put on the 60-second Haggadah from YouTube and then you can tell Mom you celebrated Pesach.Last year I did a mix: first night college style, second night with a friend's family, then some random night with a reform family who celebrated in the Reform method, and a new-age Catholic/Jewish outreach Seder with the local Parish.
One thing I can say about Pesach in the US: the dessert is always the same-- Manishevitz macaroons, plain and chocolate.
Let me intro my Pesach experience by saying that I just finished eating a chocolate macaroon with white chocolate fudge inside, dipped in chocolate. Yum.
Pesach isn't just one or two seders, it's not even eight days. It's a whole holiday experience that starts shortly after Purim when the signs appear on bus stops for knowledgeable Yeshiva boys available for Pesach cleaning. The days wear on, and more and more trash starts to appear in the garbage bins. Special kosher-for-Pesach nosh-noshin are produced by the classic companies like Bamba and Cocacola. The big grocery store across the street from my work started cleaning its shelves of hametz in order to make the entire operation certified leavened-food free, while the smaller operations simply sectioned off their hametz to receive a lesser certification, but one nonetheless.
This year the Hag landed on a Monday evening. The Sabbath finished on Saturday evening, leaving Sunday with a big trashy burden. Some scrambled while others sailed, having finished with all the cleaning and shopping even before Shabbat. Sunday night on Emek Rafaim was full to the brim with people cruisin' for a last minute hot dog in a normal bread bun, or falafel. The more serious restaurants already had special Pesach menus, and people seemed not to mind that they wouldn't get a last-minute fix afterall.
Monday was an eerie still as the Hag haze was on the horizon. My friend came over to my apartment and we had a bite to eat, realizing that the religious-style Old City Seder we were attending probably wouldn't start until midnight.
I walked in the late afternoon to the Old City and headed to a packed Kotel plaza, where I prayed at the Wall.
The Seder: I can't say I've ever heard the entire Haggadah read before, and I still can't exactly say it. Under the auspices of 'feeling sick' I reclined on the couch and slept through most of the Seder. (A credit to my gracious hostess and enthusiastic host: I'd rather be sleeping through a lengthy and heartfelt Seder than sit through a secular "where's the meal" deal.)
Waking only to take part in the mitzvot of drinking wine (and by wine I mean grape juice) and eating special EREV PESACH matza, I was content with my level of participation in the whole thing. When the guys finally stopped pounding on the table and bellowing out "Echad: Mi yodea?" it was five in the morning and they went off to pray morning prayers.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Power play
OK, I may have already alienated half my audience here, but I'm trying to describe the awesomeness of watching a live "kaduregel" match between Israel and Estonia. Sunday, January 21, 2007
Jew-nalists! Jew-nalism!

Today I went to a press conference at the Intel site in Kiryat Gat. Before I describe the day's events, I'll say this: The whole thing has resulted in a tentative retraction of my previous statement about Israelis not giving a gosh-darn about public relations. They were excellent to the whole seedy lot of us!
There was a press bus that took people from a central location to the Kiryat Gat site an hour south. There was rugelah and chocolate milk (!) and lots of warnings about safety. Okay, I get it! "Stay together and don't jump off the building." But then later, after we put on shit-kickers, construction helmets, gloves and goggles and were clambering up rickety metal staircases, I understood. This is Israel baby! Where the children's science museum boasts a device that reads "touch this" and sends electric shocks through poor unsuspecting kids' hands and delivers the lesson: "That was electricity." I fared well both in the science museum and Intel tour, but some seemed a bit nervous about the whole "grab onto the rail for your dear life" thing.
The press conference was all cookies and apple pie as far as I was concerned. B'emet, it was all in Hebrew. I asked the PR people for a copy in English, and they told me such a thing didn't exist. Later in the day, I thought they redeemed themselves by sending an English version to me by e-mail, but alas, no. They sent the Hebrew one. Bleh. Two steps forward, one step back on the PR front folks.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Diva International!
Last night I went to Teatron in Yaffo (south of Tel Aviv) with some friends to a private party of some production big-wig.Wednesday, January 17, 2007
You want pictures?!?
It was an amazing program all in all. The fact that there were 30 women all on a spiritual quest or looking for a free trip to Israel (as with the incognito Christian girls in the group) said something for the group dynamic. There were some GREAT conversations. And little clusters of us skeptics would separate ourselves and talk about all the contradictions stated. But the dedication to Judaism was strong (except for the Christians) and I learned more than I ever wanted to about those strange black-coat men in the contest for the longest, sleekest, curliest pe'ahs known to Abraham.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
J'lem joy!
You can't hear the sarcasm in my voice. I would like to say that's because it doesn't exist, but sadly, if I were to vocalize "Jerusalem joy!" it would likely come out very sarcastic. Rah rah Jerusalem and all that, but truth be told, I don't really like the place. I mean Jerusalem is not to be blamed. The poor city is the victim of countless fanatics and other crazies.
The first reason: cold. It's an interesting place though. Everyone told me it's tough to live in Israel and it's true. Especially as a non-citizen. I was sitting on a bus yesterday with the butt of a gun in my face and yet I'm not bothered because I don't think it's loaded and the nice redhead holding it is donning a kippah. All this while "Georgia on my Mind" played on the radio in between all the Arab stations.
The stark reality is that I'm still an Anglo living an Anglo life. I don't want to be one of those Americans living here 10 years and barely fumbling through Hebrew with the thickest "um-um" American accent. "B-SAAAY-der!"
I had a close call with religion: I was almost ready to sign on for another three-week brainwashing session with Aish HaTorah when the skeptic in me finally got through.
Lesson One, straight from the Housekeeping Monthly's May 1955 "The Good Wife's Guide:"
"A good wife always knows her place."
Lesson Two: yeshiva boys aren't that scary. Neither are wigs, long skirts, hordes of babies and enslavement in the kitchen.
I can get with one thing and one thing only: religion is there for a reason. Rules are for people who don't have the common sense to figure things out for themselves. But the point is to better oneself! To constantly evaluate one's life. To find meaning and integrity in all of life's moments.
I can't say with certainty that J'lem'sters hit the mark on that one, though.