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I wrote this little story a year or so ago...It was on my other blog, but I thought this viewing audience may appreciate it: Morning In Jerusalem It is a little past four in the morning and I cannot sleep. My internal clock is screaming at me, so is the baby. I'm not sure who built this house, but I'm starting to think Jesus may have turned water into wine next door. I think I watched a chunk of the wall fall to the ground. I thought that I knew Jerusalem, but I'm confused. I got lost like three times walking to that playgroup. I don't understand why my sister felt the need to live close to so many relics. I'm frightened of falling in a large hole. I'll open my eyes and find a small group of smelly, teva-clad Brown students trying to figure out what archeological pile I fit into. Then they'll find little Jacob tipped over in his bugaboo stroller. They'll decide that the Bal Shem Tov really is the Moshiach and he's come back as an Israeli child stuffe...