This morning my son was an usher in a wedding. His Hebrew school class was enacting various events in the Jewish life cycle -- I'm so glad he was on wedding detail and not brit milah! The kids playing the bride and groom were very sweet about it given the embarrassment of doing anything of the sort at that age, the kids playing the parents of the bride and groom were adorable and the rabbi was very funny ("according to the customs of our people and of Mrs. Lieberman's fifth grade class").
Afterward I swooned in exhaustion through the session on kids and mourning -- a result of having been up too late last night. Because of my depletion and general frame of mind, I unexpectedly burst into tears when someone brought up the Columbia astronauts, and was quite embarrassed really, as crying about public tragedies is not something I ever do. I get angry and get political and demand changes in whatever system I blame for the tragedy; I'm probably the only kid who walked out of Bambi
not sniffling but wanting to write to my congressman about hunting restrictions.
Anyway, I actually did fall asleep for a few minutes during the heavily accented lecture by a mohel who obviously doesn't know crap about how Muslim circumcision is practiced throughout most of the U.S., the sort of stuff that gives Jewish attitudes toward Islam a bad name. Then we ate mini-bagels (we'd already had wedding cake!) and met the teachers to discuss the curriculum. And I now have an utterly terrifying piece of information: my son's Bar Mitzvah date in 2006.
This evening we are going to the annual Superbowl party at the home of my very oldest friend, whom I have known since 1973. Am very much feeling the need for longtime friends so this is an enormous blessing, even though she and I have become old friends at some point as opposed to "best friends" as we were all through college. Mostly what we have in common these days is having children the same age, but you know, a 30-year history with someone really counts for a lot. Am rooting for the Patriots but in the grand scheme of things, I don't really give a rat's ass who wins.
Aragorn cleans Boromir's feet.( Collapse )