All the way home: How I spent my Rosh Hashanah

I decorated our door for the occasion
(I knew someday my college Hebrew would pay off)

Happy Rosh Hashanah!! Working for a Jewish company and all, I got Thursday and Friday off. And since the Jewish people are smart enough to start their holidays at sunset, we even got to leave two hours early from work Wednesday. I was planning on going to an off-Broadway show with my free time, but since none of them had Wednesday evening shows, I decided to walk all the way home instead. You know, just to see if I could do it and how long it would take. But I'm embarrassed to admit that it took about 3 1/2 hours to walk the almost 10 miles home. I'm glad to know I can do it (even in just ballet flats) and it was fun. And walking through the entire upper west side reminded me that I'm not the only blonde in Manhattan (you just don't see many in Washington Heights or in the non-profit sector) and that there ARE white children here.

Thursday and Friday were days of wonderful laziness and recuperation. It was so nice to relax.

Friday night, I finally got to fulfill a life-long dream of hosting a Jewish celebration. I had a lot of fun preparing traditional Rosh Hashanah foods and having friends over. I prepared apples and honey (according to the Jewish ladies at work, this is hands down the most important thing for Rosh Hashanah--to celebrate the sweetness of the new year), an apple pie, and challah. I bought a jar of gefilte fish, lots of grape juice, and a large chocolate bar (to complement the sweetness theme).




A documenting-worthy apple with the side coming out of the bottom. I put it in the pie.

I am so proud of my challah!!! I had to learn how to braid four pieces. No prob!

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Here is a picture of me with the final spead in my Russian Jew-looking head scarf that is actually from Indonesia

Freak Show and free hats

Who among us hasn't been to a singles ward that has warranted the title "Freak Show." Well, I'm sure all of you will be relieved to know that this great nation of ours does still have one official bona fide freak show left. It's in Coney Island and I've been.

(in case you're wondering, the girl in the picture is not me, but my friend Corina. I know it's hard to tell in the hat, we'll talk about that later)

For a mere six dollars, Corina and I were able to see ten acts of various levels of freakiness. My favorite was the heavily tattooed fire-eating freak show diva having a tantrum and storming off in the middle of her act. Other favorites include the incredibly hairy man, the sword swallower, and the man who put a nail into his forehead. Least favorite was the snake charmer AKA animal fornicator right there on stage. There were others that don't warrant remembering (it has been almost a month).

But previous to the freak show, we enjoyed a lovely day at Coney Island and Brighton Beach (AKA Little Russia) where we enjoyed yummy Russian food and perfect beach weather. Corina was also able to flirt us some free hats from a street vendor. And may I add that they are ideal beach hats.

Just another day at work

No, we don't keep razors here. You can't get a picture ID in this building. I will not get you a watch...... If you just had a nervous breakdown and shaved your head, you cannot have an appointment here. I don't care if you have more psychotic diagnosis then I can write down, that isn't helping your case..... Even if the magazine DID say that, I cannot teach you how to embezzle money..... The new intern is not a spy..... Do you have any plans to hurt yourself?..... I understand, obviously it didn't count as a psychiatric hospitalization if your mother signed you in while you were unconscious..... I cannot help you get your sex tapes back from your landlord.....I can understand wanting to kill yourself, and i can even understand self-cutting, but I cannot understand trying to kill yourself by swallowing broken glass. I don't think the beginning DBT group is going to get the job done for you...... Ma'am, it's not my fault you still have a penis..... I just need to know how many Lamictal she took.....And did you win the lawsuit against your last therapist?..... I'm sorry that your dead sister keeps talking to you, but will you please just sign this consent form?......