I actually managed to wake up on time. By 7:50 I was ready to go. So, I did. At the shul I got right to work setting up ‘my table’ (the dessert table) In general I am NEVER pleased with the results that I achieve but it did look pretty nice. The center of the table was a cascading mountain of chocolate crinkle cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies and chocolate chip cookies flanked the pile on both sides while platters of delicate (and delicious) cinnamon snail cookies decorated the table.
Needless to say – even though I was IN the building, I still got to Davening late. (Another one of the stories of my life.) Right before I started P’sukei D’zimrah I realized that Eli still wasn’t in Shul, so I ran Home to wake him up. He made it to Shul in time for his Aliya (B”H!) Then I went with Ora to get the fruit platters from her fridge. Finally I got some time to Pray so, I did.
After Shul came – THE KIDDUSH! In my own twisted little mind I like to imagine that people were honestly impressed by what they saw. In reality, I find it difficult to imagine that anyone actually spared a thought for how much effort went into this affair. Considering that we made ALL of the food (by food I mean, confections and concoctions – NOT the actual stuff – for example, yes - we bought the potatoes and the onions but we concocted and cooked the Kugel!) Whatever, I really shouldn’t let it get to me. I just have to keep reminding myself how callous and cruel people are, and that I can’t stand them in general. On a different note, it was nice to sit with the ‘young people’ and shmooze a little. (Every once in a while it is nice to pretend to feel like you actually belong somewhere to a particular group of people. And even more so, to pretend or try to imagine what it would be like if you had friends that you could spend your time with in a similar manner.)
After Shul, we cleaned up headed Home ate lunch, schmoozed and learned how to play Huggermugger. Rather Sammy and Chaim decided to play and Eliyahu and I sort of joined in. We decided that you need to be very lucky and that alphabet soup is a pain in the butt.
All too quickly Shabbos was over. We made Havdala and Shosh and I decided to head back to Jeru. So we packed and headed out to the bus. After ten minutes a Sheirut (full of Reishit guys) stopped in front of us and the guy in the front said “you want a ride to Jerusalem?” – well, suffice it to say that we declined the offer – but fifteen minutes later still waiting for the bus I was ready to kick myself for turning him down. Then I was thinking to myself, “Double shoot! He was cute too (and probably 2 years younger than me and rich to boot!)!” As if on cue - the cherry on the whole horrible episode… Who should come sauntering down the hill to the bus-stop but Mr. Pompous himself. Mr. Pompous (as he shall be called until he can prove himself to be something else – although he is unaware of this proviso as well as the nickname) showed up and immediately began being himself. Now, personally I have nothing against him. Truth of the matter is he’s a nice guy and he’s even got a brain (that is in working order) but sometimes, I just want to whack him in the head with a 2x4 or something. Most of all, I can’t believe he said that I talk a lot. (I have been accused of talking quickly, but never of talking a lot. Usually people want to know why I don’t talk at all, and there he is saying to me, “You do talk a lot, and you talk very fast…”) Arg! Stupid boy.
Back in my apartment, I got ready for bed and now – am going to sleep…