Thursday, December 02, 2010
One year for Christmas my husband bought me a lovely chanukiah. It lives in a green velvet case lined with red cushions. It also lives, for 11 1/2 months of the year, in a storage space in Ridgewood, nestled amongst the Christmas ornaments and ski boots. While I knew the holiday was early this year, I didn't properly plan the outing to Ridgewood for the annual retrieval of holiday crap.
My first thought was that I would skip lighting the candles this year. It's not as though I do anything else jewish any other time, so who would notice? God, no, sorry don't believe in that. But recently I've been going through the mantra of "this is the last time we're going to do xyz together as a family" since the little boy will be off to college come next Fall. As the chant in my head "this is your last Chanukah together" got louder and louder, it was 12:45 am, technically past the first night of candle lighting festivities, and I was hunting around looking for something I could stick little candles in. Nothing was making the grade, until the husband offered to drill holes in a piece of wood. I covered it with tin foil just in case that little candle could ignite that dense wood, and voila, we're in business. We light, we sing, we go to sleep.
Let the shopping begin.