We normally get to the States once a year, and although I used to be a self-confessed shopaholic who admittedly spent her entire wages in those glorious single days on buying clothes from Zara, what really gets me excited nowadays when we travel to the US is not the prospect of H&M and Banana Republic, but rather THE FOOD.

I don't buy into the promises that scream out in large bold letters from the packaging - no-fat, no cholesterol, no trans-fatty acids - you only need to look at the obese people wheeling around the even more obese people in wheelchairs in Disney World to realize that there is something essentially flawed about eating zero fat snacks all day long.

That being said, hailing from England where the choice of Kosher products was painfully slim, and ending up in Israel where low-fat snacks are hardly in abundance, I feel like Alice in Wonderland each time we find ourselves in ShopRite. The aisles are so wide that you could bring your entire extended family along for a shopping trip - uncles, aunts, cousins twice removed - and you could still stand side-by-side. The choice of food is just mind-blowing. I really don't know how the average shopping trip in the US can last any less than 3 hours. I don't. When I go food shopping, it is a totally new and alien cultural experience. It feels almost futuristic.

The only thing I really miss about Israel, and find myself hankering for, when I am in the States is decent vegetables. The vegetables are SO tasteless that I am surprised that they are not automatically sold together with salad dressing as a package. It is no surprise, therefore, that according to this article, "fruit consumption amongst Americans is holding steady, but that vegetable consumption is heading down, even if you include French Fries."

Gee, I wonder why.

Less than 24 hours after my scathing attack against 93.6 RAM FM on this blog, a crime occurred that will prevent me from bad-mouthing or commenting on this radio station for a long time to come...

We were about to put our kids into their respective car seats this morning when I did a double take. I was groggy and tired after having been up with the kids since 6am, so I wasn't sure if I was seeing things, but soon enough confirmation came through: there were shards of glass covering the ground - our car window had been smashed and our car radio had been stolen. It only occurred to me much later on that in our now radio-less state, I would have little opportunity to ridicule John Berks and his co-hosts. Hey, maybe it was even John himself who made the trip from the West Bank to avenge my attack. Well, John, if you are reading this: it won't work.

Joking aside, it was a pretty nasty thing to wake up to in the morning. The thief didn't share our taste in music - he (or she, you never know) overlooked the CD case filled with close to 50 CDs that was on the passenger seat - it may as well have said on it: TAKE ME. But instead the thief opted for our cheap car radio. Well, no one said that car thieves are the brightest bulbs in the box.

My sister is turning 40 today. It is so difficult for me to think of my sister who used to braid my hair as a child as being 40 years old. The phrase "over the hill" comes to mind.

In a year and a half from now, I will be turning 30. My in-laws both turned 60 last summer. My dad turned 70 last December.

Obsession with age is central to so many people's lives in Western society that it makes me wonder what kind of world it would be if a person's age was unknown and irrelevant. I can only imagine that it would be a vastly improved world. So much of our opinions about other people, and ourselves, are based on age.

You can be the smartest, most capable, person in the world for a job - but you're over 65? Sorry, we are looking for someone younger (who is more exploitable and doesn't demand such a high salary). Statistics reveal that US firms are 40% more likely to interview a younger job applicant than an older job applicant. It doesn't matter that your intelligence and vast experience makes you a far superior candidate. Age rears its ugly head on your resume, and you're suddenly rendered useless and irrelevant.

Another scenario: You're a beautiful woman, you're vivacious, you're smart and perceptive - you're over 30? No can do. I'm looking for a woman in her twenties. Yes, I know that you and I would make a great couple, but you are older than me, and I really can't date a woman in her thirties.

Superficial judgements such as the ones described above sound so pathetic and lame that it is hard to believe that society attaches such importance to a number. But it does. We all do.

A member of my extended family - who shall remain nameless if I value my life - is convinced that now she has turned 60, she may as well start preparing her last will and testament. She is too old to look after her grandchildren, too old to have fun, too old to have dreams.... And why? Because two digits are controlling her life.

We live out our fears, and as a result, age defines us. I really believe that if we were unaware of our age, we would live longer, we would look better, we would be HAPPIER, and we would be free from the shackles of prejudice and discrimination. The mind is extremely powerful and our deep-seated fears about our age color our perception about our abilities. Age makes us think old, act old, and diminishes our pleasure. How many times have we heard doctors tell older patients, "What can you expect at your age"? I rest my case. Old age becomes a curse rather than a blessing.

Adultism, jeunism, aldutocracy, gerontocracy, chronocentrism, pedophobia, ephebiphobia (try wrapping your tongue around that one on a Monday morning), gerentophobia - these are all terms that have seeped into the English language as a way to describe the many different types of discrimination towards age.

The answer? I'm not sure. But it wouldn't be such a bad thing if we were to revert to the customs of biblical times when not only were the elders tolerated, but revered.