Thanksgiving, Black Friday, Long Week(end) Re-cap
I obviously failed at writing every day. So shoot me.
Word of the Week: Purchase
Speficially the following meanings:
1. The act or process of seeking and obtaining something (e.g. property, etc.)
2. An individual item one has purchased.
8. The amount of hold one has from an individual foothold or ledge.
Used in the last sense most often this week, by arrogant deans with poor pronunciation, academic wanna-be's (most amusingly in the same sentence as masturbation).
Most amusing sober sentence: Can't sleep; must make pie.
The long weekend began on Friday. Mega-Shabbat with the faculty. Intern 6 (in my head we all have numbers. I am 4, she is 6) packed up all of the boxes to go to the student/convention building-without thinking what it would be like to carry these boxes up the stairs, out to the car, load the car, unload the car, and walk through double doors that would not stay open and into the dining room. And why should she? She wasn't pulling a second shift so Intern 1 could go to Nah-linz (go on, say it out loud). But I was. Raif, in his infinite forsight and mercy does not like us to work long shifts-my longest is 6 hours but that Friday I pulled 9. 3 hours might not seem like a lot, but I am usually shattered after my 6.
Intern 6 also failed to pack extras, which I did with gusto. Any dinner actually requires at least twice as many forks as you think it should. So after inventory check and loading the station wagon, I got to walk to the Cloister Club, my seat having been taken by 60 cupcakes in 3 boxes. Ater unloading the car, we set to make up the room-which was supposed to be set for us. The food arrived and as we ushered, ran and dripped the food into the warmers (look like fridges with several shelves, made of metal, like a mini stove with only a warm setting), we realized that we did not have enough food. Rather like those damn emergency rafts on the Titanic, not enough by half. 20 minutes until sundown (caterer was not only light in food but late in delivery) and there would be no way to find any other food to serve and still call it kosher (food cannot be purchased, carried, cooked, prepared, of finished on shabbat.
Back to Hillel to set up for regular services with limited time. The sun sets early here so "evening" services start at 4:15, which gave me about 10 minutes to set up the chairs and very heavy mechitzot (room dividers used to keep women in their place). Services started even later than usual for both the orthodox and the egalitarian tribes-neither are known for punctuality. In this time when I should rest, I could not. Bandana Bitch is back in town and horror of horrors, I think we are friends. How did this happen? Aside from me being nice, I don't think we have anything to agree upon. Oh, and it seems that Bandana Bitch (and Jay) are now heses not sheses. At the very least, that clears up some ambiguity I had about the Bitches gender and sex. I'm glad she is aware of the same ambiguity. Speaking of, it turns out sweet, sidelocked and fringed Josh is straight. When I get a chance, I plan to remonstrate him for hanging a purple hankie out of his pocket like an outmoded homosexual booty-calling-card.
Anyhow, most of my relax-and-find-caffeine time was actually spent preparing the hundreds of letters asking for donations that were due to go out before and arrive just after the Latke-Hamentash Debate. This work unfortunately has to mostly be done by hand because the electronic paper folder gets a little cranky-I never knew such wonders existed and I am already complaining about its ineffeciency<-clearly I am human.
Then at 6:30 on the nose, I went up to the top floor to scuddle out the egal minyan and get them going to dinner. I was of course the last to arrive because I had to lock up, covertly blow out the shabbos candles, look after the two frat boys finishing a bottle of wine together, and grab all those last minute things. I literally ran to the Cloister Club (henceforth the CC). In a rush we set up two extra tables-sweltering hell 120 people and food for less than 50 college students. Bandana Bitch offered to help me swap out the handwashing stations for ice buckets and soda after Kiddish. I was lucky enough to be a server at the vegan table, which means I ate and ate heartily-few who attended can say that. I am glad I have learned to love tofu.
We were then "serenaded" by the universities premier a capella jewish group, Rhythm and Jews. It was not so great and I could understand Josh's (Intern 3 in my mind)complaints-he works during their 3 hours weekly rehearsals. I could sing better than them. Anyone who has heard my tone-deaf warbling out to grimace. Then speeches and do-gooder shit. Clean-up which was divided for me by going back to Hillel, unlocking it, tidying up a little, and setting things up for Rabbi Dan to . . . what? lecture? preach? chat? Whatever he calls it, it seems to always boil down to upsetting the ladies. He is my least favorite Rabbi. The Orthodox rabbi from Chabad causes less problem and actually sometimes helps me out with things. Anyhow, once everyone arrived, I left the building in the hands of this dubious Rabbi Dan and was escorted back to the CC by Josh. More cleaning. Then somehow, I was supposed to carry the leftover food back to Hillel. There were two cars and the soggy left over veggie stir fry was wrapped in two layers of garbage bag. Why that couldn't go in a car, I cannot fathom. But I carried it home, walking alongside Hillel employee lovely Leah and her amusing husband Darell who looks like an umpire. Naturally, the aluminum foil folded part way home and i was left to carry collapsed trays of soggy food with a layer of food juice collecting in the garbage bag smacking me in the stomach and nethers as it swayed like a pendulum and gathered more liquid. Injury to Insult, I had to walk home because my usual ride was heading back next door to the CC for swing dancing.
Saturday. Oh, Saturday. It was not the hell of weeks prior. The children behaved and left me alone. 9am starts after closing are still hard. But my work, though tedious, did not require heavy lifting and pointless trips to and fro.
I am almost certain that Sunday happened. I most likely made a loaf of bread as is my MO. What else, I simply cannot recall.
Monday, psychiatrist, up the uppers, double them. I feel a little like a heart attack. I forgot that these one make me sweat more, an already sweating person with an increase in perspirant. Good thing I am already married. I'd never catch a mate with these damp pits and clamy hands.
Tuesday, and let the maddness begin. Latke-Hamentash, 63rd annual, work at noon, not noon-thirty which I had assumed for half of the morning. A little rush to return my due library book, still earlier than Intern 3, and far ahead of interns 1,2,5&6. More boxes, cataloguing, broken internets and Macintosh iritation. Eventually, never rushing, it came around. Josh and I on rotation up and down the windy staircases and blind corners carrying boxes and beverages and flags, books, and t-shirts, signs, and wooden structures, pan after pan after pan of hamentashen. I loaded dollies, while the men folk-blessed be men- carried them to the van and packed it. At some point I ran to get kosher sandwiches, relieving the store of their entire stock, and had lunch. Was it 1, was it 4? Then to the other student center to haul the sundries up this flight, then those steps, then these steps. Who the hell designed these buildings, Escher?
Then move the tables, tables, tables. Wiggle, finegal, then stacking chairs. I cannot completely recall all that happened there. I hauled boxes in the rain. I moved the traffic barracades after the truck left (also in the rain). I made centerpieces. I confettied. I plastic wrapped tray after tray of those hamentashen. I mixed some, I rolled some, I filled some, I pinched some, I baked some, I froze some, I carried them, I laid some out on trays, and I wrapped them. But damnit if I did not taste a single one of those 1,300+ cookies. Alex arrived and helped and we had pizza and after back breaking, feet aching, cannot bend elbows type of work, it was finally time (though josh disappeared early) to watch the debate.
Slipping from Hutch to Mandel, i wished the debators and my boss-boss Dan luck. And there were no seats. The reserved seating which I had counted on was full. We stood at the back, first by the coat rack with the impossibly loud metal hangers that danced and clanged, with the people who obviously came here to talk and not to listen. Fed up, we switched sides, to where the orthodox/frat boys were talking, and rotating, some shoeless, with the raining-street breaze blowing in and people walking to and from the bathrooms, and with the boy whose laughter sounded like a projected goose's mating song. Standing we were cranky and i could barely and rarely see the projector screen. Soft-spoken third rounder did not talk in to the microphone and his slides were obsurred. We left before the food, cranky and wet with pained legs, walked the mile home, in the dark, late and wet again. However, the rain afforded me the opportunity to rescue dozens of earthworms who were driven out by the soggy soil and wandered onto the sidewalks. Anytime I saw one, I would scoop him/her up and remove him/her back to the grass. Possibly the best part of my day.
Wednesday, glory be! the Derrida teacher has observed the unspoken Thanksgiving rites and cancelled class. Only my morning class, which turned out well-Rembrant and Freida Kahlo portraits, read as literature. A depresseing endeavor with these overerudite morons-clear that they do not immediately recognize and resonate with Ms Kahlo. Must be a white, or all one race, kind of thing. But surrealism always makes me feel more at home in reality. I may have even spoken but the Dean still does not know my name.
The f key is being lazy, which makes it rather difficult to write, especially the following:
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
No real reason, just frustrated the fuck with this f.
There was napping and cooking on Wendesday, more on Thursday. It came out alright, except the pie-I fear I forgot one of my four eggs. I find it off-putting the way Kiwi's snub their nose at Thanksgiving. In fact, it down right pisses me off. Furthermore, even if you don't get what the fuss is about, can't you still appreciate the amount of work that goes into making stuffing, shoving up a bird, cooking it and then pulling it all out again while keeping everything looking pretty? And it is good food. I managed an almost from scratch thanksgiving (used canned cranberry sauce and added to it). Everything else was made by hand and grit (and my awesome new standing mixer-thanks mom, banana, and grandma!).
I hardly ate, as per usual, and then crashed face down into the spare bed. I ate more later, rather pot-induced. Oh, a while back I finally managed to hallucinate-not like a tonne, but I can understand now why people make marijuana use look a certain way. I had something else pretty awesome this last time but I can't remember what. I did however make some whipped cream to eat on top of the homemade pie. Sometime between eating and inhaling, I talked to my mom and bought some stuff online. Time was not terribly linear on Thursday. There was white wine, whiskey, and enough bowls to render me incapable of smoking anymore. I am a terrible glutton and cannot seem to stop myself.
Friday. The Wreckage. Woke up late. Best sleep I have had in a long time-coma white. Gorged myself at Mellow Yellow-Alex was dainty with his chocolate-banana crepe with ice cream on top. Alex, bless him, spent most of Friday washing dishes, waiting for them to dry, putting them away, and washing again. I am amazed at how much there was left to wash since I had been washing as I went along-but that is Thanksgiving. We watched Observe and Report, which I had mistaken for Stand and Deliver. It was painful. And then awesome. Oh Seth Rogen.
Saturday: downtown, where all the lights are bright. Strange things down town, post Thanksgiving. Stopped in to our bank and (finally) got our checking and my savings account conntected. Went to look at shoes. Ate Panda (god I miss fast food, accessible with a car). A whole lot of looking for Alex. I went to Old Navy to try on some skinny jeans-and amazing! I found some that I look good in. This fat-bottomed girl is going to make the rocking world go round. I also bought their Ugg knock-offs-soft faux furry heaven. There was an enormous crowd?line? in front of Macys. We speculated a lot as to what it could be: people looking at the storefront decorations-people didn't seem to be moving. Everyone decided to see Santa-hardly any small children, no strollers. We moved on.
There were some religious crazies out. Crazy 1-saying something about foreskin being a mark of . . . something positive? Worst streetside crazy I have ever heard. He ummed and paused-I think he even had a coach. Who knew these nutbags had training? Crazy 2-cheater. Roaming around in a van with pre-recorded lectures and one-liners blaring out of megaphones. Crazy 3-got some r-e-s-p-e-c-t. He was at least real. Had his own portable megaphone dealy, set up outside of Old Navy, spouting his crazy to the sale-shocked boyfriends waiting outside for their womenfolk.
Eventually we got to Bed Bath and Beyond. Purchased: silicon baking mat (I will never over-flour again); veggie scrubber; mandolin; pie bag; bath pillow. Then straight home and into the bathtub for me!
Saturday-Sunday: An Aria
Poor sleep has led me to get a head start on my Literature and Religion paper. In the style of criticism conducted by Auerbach, I will analyze the style and recreation of reality of a text whose style I believe to break from the mold in order to represent reality more fully or truthfully. Naturally, my text is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Gonzo Journalism.
Sunday: Weekly Loaf. I did not bake today, despite my custom. The Thanksgiving bread is still enormous. I cannot truthfully say what I have done today. Read. Cleaned a little. Ate. Watching an episode of Planet Earth. I did quite a bit of unsatisfied internet shopping-a baker's rack for me, gifts for my sisters. And I blogged an obscene amount.
Amazing Race Finale soon. Must have dinner first.
Edit: was not finale. Finale next week. Really starting to hate those gay brothers. Yeah, it starts with an f, and it ends with ucking douche.
Word of the Week: Purchase
Speficially the following meanings:
1. The act or process of seeking and obtaining something (e.g. property, etc.)
2. An individual item one has purchased.
8. The amount of hold one has from an individual foothold or ledge.
Used in the last sense most often this week, by arrogant deans with poor pronunciation, academic wanna-be's (most amusingly in the same sentence as masturbation).
Most amusing sober sentence: Can't sleep; must make pie.
The long weekend began on Friday. Mega-Shabbat with the faculty. Intern 6 (in my head we all have numbers. I am 4, she is 6) packed up all of the boxes to go to the student/convention building-without thinking what it would be like to carry these boxes up the stairs, out to the car, load the car, unload the car, and walk through double doors that would not stay open and into the dining room. And why should she? She wasn't pulling a second shift so Intern 1 could go to Nah-linz (go on, say it out loud). But I was. Raif, in his infinite forsight and mercy does not like us to work long shifts-my longest is 6 hours but that Friday I pulled 9. 3 hours might not seem like a lot, but I am usually shattered after my 6.
Intern 6 also failed to pack extras, which I did with gusto. Any dinner actually requires at least twice as many forks as you think it should. So after inventory check and loading the station wagon, I got to walk to the Cloister Club, my seat having been taken by 60 cupcakes in 3 boxes. Ater unloading the car, we set to make up the room-which was supposed to be set for us. The food arrived and as we ushered, ran and dripped the food into the warmers (look like fridges with several shelves, made of metal, like a mini stove with only a warm setting), we realized that we did not have enough food. Rather like those damn emergency rafts on the Titanic, not enough by half. 20 minutes until sundown (caterer was not only light in food but late in delivery) and there would be no way to find any other food to serve and still call it kosher (food cannot be purchased, carried, cooked, prepared, of finished on shabbat.
Back to Hillel to set up for regular services with limited time. The sun sets early here so "evening" services start at 4:15, which gave me about 10 minutes to set up the chairs and very heavy mechitzot (room dividers used to keep women in their place). Services started even later than usual for both the orthodox and the egalitarian tribes-neither are known for punctuality. In this time when I should rest, I could not. Bandana Bitch is back in town and horror of horrors, I think we are friends. How did this happen? Aside from me being nice, I don't think we have anything to agree upon. Oh, and it seems that Bandana Bitch (and Jay) are now heses not sheses. At the very least, that clears up some ambiguity I had about the Bitches gender and sex. I'm glad she is aware of the same ambiguity. Speaking of, it turns out sweet, sidelocked and fringed Josh is straight. When I get a chance, I plan to remonstrate him for hanging a purple hankie out of his pocket like an outmoded homosexual booty-calling-card.
Anyhow, most of my relax-and-find-caffeine time was actually spent preparing the hundreds of letters asking for donations that were due to go out before and arrive just after the Latke-Hamentash Debate. This work unfortunately has to mostly be done by hand because the electronic paper folder gets a little cranky-I never knew such wonders existed and I am already complaining about its ineffeciency<-clearly I am human.
Then at 6:30 on the nose, I went up to the top floor to scuddle out the egal minyan and get them going to dinner. I was of course the last to arrive because I had to lock up, covertly blow out the shabbos candles, look after the two frat boys finishing a bottle of wine together, and grab all those last minute things. I literally ran to the Cloister Club (henceforth the CC). In a rush we set up two extra tables-sweltering hell 120 people and food for less than 50 college students. Bandana Bitch offered to help me swap out the handwashing stations for ice buckets and soda after Kiddish. I was lucky enough to be a server at the vegan table, which means I ate and ate heartily-few who attended can say that. I am glad I have learned to love tofu.
We were then "serenaded" by the universities premier a capella jewish group, Rhythm and Jews. It was not so great and I could understand Josh's (Intern 3 in my mind)complaints-he works during their 3 hours weekly rehearsals. I could sing better than them. Anyone who has heard my tone-deaf warbling out to grimace. Then speeches and do-gooder shit. Clean-up which was divided for me by going back to Hillel, unlocking it, tidying up a little, and setting things up for Rabbi Dan to . . . what? lecture? preach? chat? Whatever he calls it, it seems to always boil down to upsetting the ladies. He is my least favorite Rabbi. The Orthodox rabbi from Chabad causes less problem and actually sometimes helps me out with things. Anyhow, once everyone arrived, I left the building in the hands of this dubious Rabbi Dan and was escorted back to the CC by Josh. More cleaning. Then somehow, I was supposed to carry the leftover food back to Hillel. There were two cars and the soggy left over veggie stir fry was wrapped in two layers of garbage bag. Why that couldn't go in a car, I cannot fathom. But I carried it home, walking alongside Hillel employee lovely Leah and her amusing husband Darell who looks like an umpire. Naturally, the aluminum foil folded part way home and i was left to carry collapsed trays of soggy food with a layer of food juice collecting in the garbage bag smacking me in the stomach and nethers as it swayed like a pendulum and gathered more liquid. Injury to Insult, I had to walk home because my usual ride was heading back next door to the CC for swing dancing.
Saturday. Oh, Saturday. It was not the hell of weeks prior. The children behaved and left me alone. 9am starts after closing are still hard. But my work, though tedious, did not require heavy lifting and pointless trips to and fro.
I am almost certain that Sunday happened. I most likely made a loaf of bread as is my MO. What else, I simply cannot recall.
Monday, psychiatrist, up the uppers, double them. I feel a little like a heart attack. I forgot that these one make me sweat more, an already sweating person with an increase in perspirant. Good thing I am already married. I'd never catch a mate with these damp pits and clamy hands.
Tuesday, and let the maddness begin. Latke-Hamentash, 63rd annual, work at noon, not noon-thirty which I had assumed for half of the morning. A little rush to return my due library book, still earlier than Intern 3, and far ahead of interns 1,2,5&6. More boxes, cataloguing, broken internets and Macintosh iritation. Eventually, never rushing, it came around. Josh and I on rotation up and down the windy staircases and blind corners carrying boxes and beverages and flags, books, and t-shirts, signs, and wooden structures, pan after pan after pan of hamentashen. I loaded dollies, while the men folk-blessed be men- carried them to the van and packed it. At some point I ran to get kosher sandwiches, relieving the store of their entire stock, and had lunch. Was it 1, was it 4? Then to the other student center to haul the sundries up this flight, then those steps, then these steps. Who the hell designed these buildings, Escher?
Then move the tables, tables, tables. Wiggle, finegal, then stacking chairs. I cannot completely recall all that happened there. I hauled boxes in the rain. I moved the traffic barracades after the truck left (also in the rain). I made centerpieces. I confettied. I plastic wrapped tray after tray of those hamentashen. I mixed some, I rolled some, I filled some, I pinched some, I baked some, I froze some, I carried them, I laid some out on trays, and I wrapped them. But damnit if I did not taste a single one of those 1,300+ cookies. Alex arrived and helped and we had pizza and after back breaking, feet aching, cannot bend elbows type of work, it was finally time (though josh disappeared early) to watch the debate.
Slipping from Hutch to Mandel, i wished the debators and my boss-boss Dan luck. And there were no seats. The reserved seating which I had counted on was full. We stood at the back, first by the coat rack with the impossibly loud metal hangers that danced and clanged, with the people who obviously came here to talk and not to listen. Fed up, we switched sides, to where the orthodox/frat boys were talking, and rotating, some shoeless, with the raining-street breaze blowing in and people walking to and from the bathrooms, and with the boy whose laughter sounded like a projected goose's mating song. Standing we were cranky and i could barely and rarely see the projector screen. Soft-spoken third rounder did not talk in to the microphone and his slides were obsurred. We left before the food, cranky and wet with pained legs, walked the mile home, in the dark, late and wet again. However, the rain afforded me the opportunity to rescue dozens of earthworms who were driven out by the soggy soil and wandered onto the sidewalks. Anytime I saw one, I would scoop him/her up and remove him/her back to the grass. Possibly the best part of my day.
Wednesday, glory be! the Derrida teacher has observed the unspoken Thanksgiving rites and cancelled class. Only my morning class, which turned out well-Rembrant and Freida Kahlo portraits, read as literature. A depresseing endeavor with these overerudite morons-clear that they do not immediately recognize and resonate with Ms Kahlo. Must be a white, or all one race, kind of thing. But surrealism always makes me feel more at home in reality. I may have even spoken but the Dean still does not know my name.
The f key is being lazy, which makes it rather difficult to write, especially the following:
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
No real reason, just frustrated the fuck with this f.
There was napping and cooking on Wendesday, more on Thursday. It came out alright, except the pie-I fear I forgot one of my four eggs. I find it off-putting the way Kiwi's snub their nose at Thanksgiving. In fact, it down right pisses me off. Furthermore, even if you don't get what the fuss is about, can't you still appreciate the amount of work that goes into making stuffing, shoving up a bird, cooking it and then pulling it all out again while keeping everything looking pretty? And it is good food. I managed an almost from scratch thanksgiving (used canned cranberry sauce and added to it). Everything else was made by hand and grit (and my awesome new standing mixer-thanks mom, banana, and grandma!).
I hardly ate, as per usual, and then crashed face down into the spare bed. I ate more later, rather pot-induced. Oh, a while back I finally managed to hallucinate-not like a tonne, but I can understand now why people make marijuana use look a certain way. I had something else pretty awesome this last time but I can't remember what. I did however make some whipped cream to eat on top of the homemade pie. Sometime between eating and inhaling, I talked to my mom and bought some stuff online. Time was not terribly linear on Thursday. There was white wine, whiskey, and enough bowls to render me incapable of smoking anymore. I am a terrible glutton and cannot seem to stop myself.
Friday. The Wreckage. Woke up late. Best sleep I have had in a long time-coma white. Gorged myself at Mellow Yellow-Alex was dainty with his chocolate-banana crepe with ice cream on top. Alex, bless him, spent most of Friday washing dishes, waiting for them to dry, putting them away, and washing again. I am amazed at how much there was left to wash since I had been washing as I went along-but that is Thanksgiving. We watched Observe and Report, which I had mistaken for Stand and Deliver. It was painful. And then awesome. Oh Seth Rogen.
Saturday: downtown, where all the lights are bright. Strange things down town, post Thanksgiving. Stopped in to our bank and (finally) got our checking and my savings account conntected. Went to look at shoes. Ate Panda (god I miss fast food, accessible with a car). A whole lot of looking for Alex. I went to Old Navy to try on some skinny jeans-and amazing! I found some that I look good in. This fat-bottomed girl is going to make the rocking world go round. I also bought their Ugg knock-offs-soft faux furry heaven. There was an enormous crowd?line? in front of Macys. We speculated a lot as to what it could be: people looking at the storefront decorations-people didn't seem to be moving. Everyone decided to see Santa-hardly any small children, no strollers. We moved on.
There were some religious crazies out. Crazy 1-saying something about foreskin being a mark of . . . something positive? Worst streetside crazy I have ever heard. He ummed and paused-I think he even had a coach. Who knew these nutbags had training? Crazy 2-cheater. Roaming around in a van with pre-recorded lectures and one-liners blaring out of megaphones. Crazy 3-got some r-e-s-p-e-c-t. He was at least real. Had his own portable megaphone dealy, set up outside of Old Navy, spouting his crazy to the sale-shocked boyfriends waiting outside for their womenfolk.
Eventually we got to Bed Bath and Beyond. Purchased: silicon baking mat (I will never over-flour again); veggie scrubber; mandolin; pie bag; bath pillow. Then straight home and into the bathtub for me!
Saturday-Sunday: An Aria
Poor sleep has led me to get a head start on my Literature and Religion paper. In the style of criticism conducted by Auerbach, I will analyze the style and recreation of reality of a text whose style I believe to break from the mold in order to represent reality more fully or truthfully. Naturally, my text is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Gonzo Journalism.
Sunday: Weekly Loaf. I did not bake today, despite my custom. The Thanksgiving bread is still enormous. I cannot truthfully say what I have done today. Read. Cleaned a little. Ate. Watching an episode of Planet Earth. I did quite a bit of unsatisfied internet shopping-a baker's rack for me, gifts for my sisters. And I blogged an obscene amount.
Amazing Race Finale soon. Must have dinner first.
Edit: was not finale. Finale next week. Really starting to hate those gay brothers. Yeah, it starts with an f, and it ends with ucking douche.