Rebecca moves across the world. She's a sirocco on the sand.
Today is the last Friday before Mardi Gras, but while driving down the main street this afternoon en route to the bank, I still wondered why all the stores and businesses were putting barriers up in their parking lots. It didn't click until I was sitting in temple, and the lay leader announced that we would have an abbreviated service (Yeah right. Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve were supposed to be abbreviated services, too. I'm beginning to suspect there is no such thing at that temple.) so we could get out before the parade started. As Enzo says in The Art of Racing in the Rain -- a book I just finished, told from the point-of-view of a dog about as old and decrepit as Sable -- "The light switch! It's either on or it's off."
I was a little late to services this evening. We usually start when we hear the cathedral bells tolling six, and I arrived after the bells rang. We happened to be working off programs instead of the siddur, and this was the exchange when I walked in:
Karen: Sees me walking in. "Michael, we have a guest. Give her a program."
Michael: Looks around, sees me, is confused. "What guest?"
Someone: "Rebecca."
Michael: "Rebecca is not a guest."
Me: Crushed :(
Michael: "She is family. Paul!"
Paul: Jumps a little.
Michael: "Scoot over so Rebecca can sit down!"
Me: Well, aww :)
The temple gates. I walk through these every Friday to put my bike in the back. I'm still working on getting that background blurry.