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Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Time for bed.

I haven’t been writing. Mainly because I can’t get my nose out of the six books on judaism I am reading. I am constantly thinking about being jewish, reading, and if people would let me–I’d be talking. But some of the things are so private, that I can barely allow myself to think them–let alone write them or speak them. And soon I’ll have to have the conversations out loud with the rabbi.

Right now I’m focused on learning as much as I can and trying to start being jewish. Trying it on, as the rabbi said. Tonight I bought flour, sugar, eggs, and yeast. On Thursday night I am going to bake Challah bread for shabbat on Friday and Saturday. Now, having never had challah–I won’t know if I did it right or not, but I’m excited to be thinking about baking it for the first time.

I also experience an odd feeling on New Year’s Eve. I was at a party of all improv comics. Most of whom were men and jewish. I actually felt a little tingle, bubbly. This is who I’ll be looking for in a year. Next year I’ll be jewish and I’ll be looking for a jewish husband. My thought today is that I’m not going to be a jew-by-choice and then have an interfaith marraige. It doesn’t make sense to me.

I’m also lucky to have had my dating-ish thingamajiggie situation with Jason turn into a friendship. I found out on Christmas that he is jewish and he is willing to take my 2AM phone calls and listen to me talk crazy about jewish stuff. He’s not practicing, but he is willing to put on a jersey (or yamaka) from time to time to come with me to shul or a shabbat dinner. He even offered to host a shabbat dinner for/with me.

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