I am always filled with a sense of renewal and excitement during the Days of Awe*. Granted, the High Holy Days* usually occur in early fall, when the temperatures are dropping, the rains are returning, and the leaves are beginning their transition. Considering Fall is my favorite season here in the Pacific Northwest, when it’s combined with the High Holy Days, it brings an unbeatable combination of rejuvenation, hope, and purpose into my life.
We discovered a minor leak inside the Winnebago the day after Thanksgiving. It’s in the spot where the coach and the cab meet and it’s midway down in a corner area. Since we’ve only owned it for a month, even though it’s 12 years old, I was fairly dramatic about it. (“I can’t believe she’s leaking! I hope it’s okay! What if they can’t fix it? What if we’re left with nothing but a pile of rust and mold? Did we buy a lemon?!”) Continue reading “Leaking roofs, leaking eyes, and Christmas annoyances”
I love the Jewish High Holy Days. While we have a lot of holidays on the calendar, I’ve been practicing Judaism long enough to know that Yom Kippur is my favorite holiday. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, is joyful and celebratory, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is serious, somber, and breathtakingly powerful. This year was especially poignant because I attended the Yizkor service, which honors those who have died during the previous year and comforts those who are mourning.
Yom Kippur is about ensuring that we have righted our wrongs so that our names are inscribed in the Book of Life for another year. Continue reading “It’s hard to say goodbye to the High Holy Days”
Lately, my conversations with my mom have gone a little like this:
Mom: “I sure would love to come out and visit again.”
Me: “I’d love for you to see western Washington in the fall.”
Mom: “I’d really love to come out and celebrate Christmas with you.”
Me: “No more Christmases for me, remember?”
Mom: *sounds of crying into her iPhone*
Mom: “I saw the cutest thing I wanted to buy you for Christmas, and then I remembered that I couldn’t…”
Me: “Hanukkah starts on Christmas Eve this year, Mom. You can buy gifts if you want.”
Mom: *cheerfully* Okay!
We got invited to a 4th of July picnic this afternoon and our host is diabetic, so I scrambled to come up with something that is both yummy, pretty diabetic-friendly, and doesn’t require me to turn on the oven. (We’re having a heat wave here in the northwest and, without air conditioning, it’s about 89 degrees in the house.)
I love ambrosia salad and, with a few modifications, I made it relatively diabetic-friendly.
Merry Christmas! To anyone that reads this, I hope that your Christmas (if you celebrate it) was beautiful and completely free of stress. As for us, we couldn’t have asked for a more low-key holiday. Honestly, as the sun slips away and darkness arrives once again, I find myself maudlin. Continue reading “Merry maudlin Christmas!”
I made these today and was instantly whisked back to my childhood. I was full of memories of watching my mother make these for the holidays, the scent filling first the kitchen and then the whole house. The rich smell of the nutmeg was a signal to me that Santa was coming soon!
I’m taking a break from dinner preparations to get this post up. I’m having a “Transplant to Seattle” Thanksgiving dinner today at my house, and I’m hosting a few of my co-workers and their spouses who also uprooted their lives this year and moved out here to join our team. Being two thousand miles from home means that, if we let ourselves, we can become very insulated out here. With no family and no “community” to speak of, it would be very easy to say that we live here, but do we live here? Continue reading “Christmas trees, musicals, and making a community”