We interrupt this war

Even in the middle of war normal life goes on, especially when you're far (at least an hour) from the battlefront.

Tomorrow is a crucial day in the Moze household. The Oldest Teen is taking a day off of his first aid course to interview for an ROTC program with the army, the Middle Teen is taking her driving test, and the Youngest Teen has a slew of doctors' appointments. I don't know how any of these things will go: the prep course which Oldest took told him he's ready to go and has a good shot, as long as the army will accept people from our area. He has no police record (I taught him long before last year to pretend to be a tourist when picked up at a demonstration), has good grades, his hearing problem is unnoticable in an interview situation, he's personable and has leadership qualities. Really, the only reason I could see him being rejected is his address, which just--let's call things as they are--sucks. And not in a good way.

The Middle Teen--well, she drives well. Too well. She's just an accident waiting to happen with her over confidence, but when she had to do a lesson with a substitute driving teacher on Sunday she said her legs turned to jelly, so we'll have to see what side of the bed she (and the tester, for that matter) wake up on tomorrow.

The Youngest Teen? Well, no one will listen to me, so she's been going for tests on her achy stomach for nearly a year. Clues? The ache gets worse when both The Spouse and I are out of the country. The giorl could live on corn schnitzels and pasta. Mom's diagnosis? Missing her parents and bad nutrition when on her own. But will the doctors listen to me? Ha!

Wednesday the Middle Teen has an interview in what I assume will be her new school. Officially she hasn't been told which city she'll be volunteering/living in, but since the high school in Hadera called her in for an interview and we've heard nothing from Beit Shemesh, I'm assuming Hadera's the choice. Now if only Nassrallah would go away...