Who's this Opinionated Mel Person, Anyway? 🦋

Hi! And Welcome!

Who am I? Let me paint you a picture.

A few years ago, I found my soulmate in the form of a middle-aged Palestinian taxi driver, who was trying his very best to get me to work during a major traffic jam on one of the busiest streets of Jerusalem, courtesy of Trump’s first presidential visit to Israel.

“I like New Zealand,” he told me.

“Okay,” I mumbled from the back seat, trying to figure out where that comment had come from. Naturally, I assumed that driving in traffic had messed with his head. I also assumed that he was going to start talking about something great that New Zealand has, like socialized medicine.

“I really like New Zealand,” he repeated.

“What do you like about it?” I reluctantly asked, nervous that I wasn’t going to make it to work on time.

“They have sheep there. So many sheep. Everywhere you look, sheep. And sheep, they are no problem. People, they are problems.”

I sat up straighter. “I love sheep!”

“Yes!” His eyes lit up. "Sheep. They are no problem. All day long they ‘baa, baa, baa.’ No problem. But people. . .”

Sheep. They are no problem. All day long they ‘baa, baa, baa.’ No problem. But people. . .

Oh, let me tell you how that was music to my ears.

You see, people are a species with which I cannot deal.

I bit my tongue while trying to find a more diplomatic way to say, “yeah, people suck.”

Finally, here was somebody I could talk to. Somebody who “got” me.

In my circles, of which you are now a part of, I’m known for my love of sheep. And goats. And donkeys.

I have strong beliefs about a lot of things, but my biggest is probably that animals are far superior to humans.

Donkeys don’t leave rambling voice texts at all hours of the day.

Goats don’t push you in line at the grocery store.

Even bees mind their own business as long as you leave them alone. And, as we’ve already established, sheep simply baa. No problem.

Really, I don’t understand my insistence on living in big cities. Truth be told, I probably belong on a farm, or on the top of a mountain, away from people.

But, until the day comes when I can have a bunch of farm animals and a few thousand bees to take care of, I’ll have to consider my household, which consists of me and two special needs, completely wild rescue dogs, enough.

Back to the taxi driver though. Over the blaring horns and the various sounds of road rage, we smiled and bonded over our belief in the superiority of sheep.

Here’s the thing. I’m Greek. And I’m Orthodox (Jewish). But I’m not Greek Orthodox.

Actually, in the words of my mother, I’m often the wrong kind of orthodox.

For Hanukkah, instead of the traditional sufganiyot, I make loukoumades, dripping with honey.

And I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do when I enter a Greek church, or what I'm supposed to do on my name day (hey-at least I know it's August 15th).

So you see? It’s true. I can’t win.

Here’s the second thing you should know.

People describe me as soft-spoken and sweet. I’m five feet tall (on days my hair is frizzy enough, that is) and I sound like Bernadette from The Big Bang Theory.

But, to paraphrase my mother yet again, I'm sweet, I have quite a stinger. (She gave me a name that means honeybee, so she thinks that’s awfully clever.)

I'm sweet, I have quite a stinger.

But, and I hate to say this, she’s right.

And the third thing I must tell you before we move on: I have many (in case you haven’t noticed).

Loads of them.

And many of them are unpopular.

So there you have it. And in case I haven't scared you off, here's a tiny bit more. Now you can’t say I didn’t warn you.

🐝