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Writer's pictureLeah Jones

There were some things, there were some other things.

It’s been one of those weeks, folks, one of those weeks. Tuesday night was beyond wonderful, I had a house full of people for the last night of Hanukah. Since it was an Itza Mitzva, I even had my rabbi over. Friends from shul and my extended Jewish life came over. I fried latkes for the first time and the men spent about 5 minutes trying to get the smoke detector to stop ringing.

I’ve been on and off the phone a few times with a certain man in the UK. He sounds better than he has in months and to that I say, “Hooray!” I’m always happy when I can reallocate my worries from a friend to the world at large.

I’m supposed to go to a Twitter brunch tomorrow, but realized tonight at services that it is my grandmother’s yarzheit. It is the third anniversary of my Grandma’s passing, so I should probably go to shul instead of Over Easy. I’m not saying I’m completely out of the brunch, just that I’m leaning that way.

After I got the latkes taken care of and a explained mysterious text message, my big stress became work. Well… work and the meaning of life. Or the meaning in my life and how much of it should be met at work. I think in about a week, I’ll be able to tell the full story.

“Hey Leah, all this Vague McVaguebergenstein isn’t any fun! Tell us what the hell is going on!”

Soon, my dears, soon. Until then, shabbat shalom… stuff.

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