May we be inscribed in the book of life.

It’s been a whirlwind week. I drove to Curvy Con – experienced an amazing 2 days with 1,000 of the coolest women on the planet – and then head to NJ to spend Rosh Hashanah with my parents. We didn’t do services this year. To the contrary, mom gets her chemo on Mondays so we spent the day with the oncologist and then at chemo. I stayed for a few hours, and then dad came up to relieve me, so I went back to their place and took a very deep sleep nap. I drove back to MA last night, stopped off at Mr. T’s place for dinner, and then slept in my own bed for the first time in what felt like weeks.

My dad had some “Jewish guilt” about skipping services at his synagogue, but he didn’t want to leave my mom alone, and he said he has a hard time hearing anyhow. I told him that going to services doesn’t make him Jewish. I reminded him that caring for his ailing wife was mitzvah enough. We had some brisket and kugel – provided by a lovely friend of theirs – and we celebrated with an episode of a travel show on Netflix. It felt like the most appropriate way to spend Rosh Hashanah this year.

We started talking about Thanksgiving. Mom said, “I can’t go anywhere.” So I suggested we bring Thanksgiving to her. I think Mr. T will join me in NJ and he even offered to make the turkey! He’s the best.

Talk later!



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