For those of you who don't know, Passover is a pretty major holiday. I tend to think it's the second most important, after Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur, since it was that whole exodus out of Egypt thing that led to the Ten Commandments, which are kind of like the foundation of Judeo-Christianity. (I'm pretty sure I just made that word up. No matter.) Anyways, this year, the first night of Passover happened to fall on a Saturday night, and the first day of spring break (woo!), which was cool since I would be able to go to a seder (even though I didn't the first night) without worrying about having to get up to go to school or translation meetings in the morning. But the first night of Passover being a Saturday is actually quite problematic. You see, Shabbat starts on Friday night, which means that every week, Jewish stores close early on Friday and don't open again until Sunday; on Passover, you're not supposed to work the first two and last two days of Passover. So, this week, stores closed early on Friday and wouldn't open again until Monday or Tuesday morning. What does this all mean? A huge clusterfuck in the Marais on Friday, hoards of people trying to prepare for Shabbat AND Passover at the same time, stocking up on hametz-free goods like they were getting ready for nuclear winter and needed to clog up their systems waiting for the fallout to dissipate because they wouldn't have access to a decent bathroom. There were lines out of the butcher shops half an hour long, and don't even get me started on the Finkelsteins'. The yellow Finkelstein's is always crazy, so Friday was like giving out Brad Pitt's sperm or something (definitely not kosher for Passover), and the blue Finkelstein's was about the same as any Friday morning. The crowds were, of course, exacerbated by the veritable walls of matzo boxes outside the stores, inside the stores, being delivered to the stores, etc. If there had been any sort of attack, we all would have been fine, surrounded by kilo after kilo of hardened paste. I'm sure it would provide more than ample shock cushioning.
Passover is also a very social holiday. It's kind of like our Christmas. I know, we have Channukah, but Channukah doesn't really count because it's kind of a bullshit holiday, as fun as it is. Don't get me wrong - there's substance to it, and I don't want to belittle it, but as importance of holidays in the Jewish faith goes, and their correlation to families sitting down to scrumptious three-hour long dinners, you can't really beat Passover. It means something AND there's brisket. And popovers. God, do I miss popovers. Anyways... What I'm trying to say is that Passover is the time when families get together and play catch up. My family sees each other about once a day, so it doesn't really apply to us, but I get the feeling that after Channukah, Passover is one of the only other times whole families get together and are Jewish - I mean, actively Jewish. Because even if you rush through a 20-minute seder to get to that delicious, joyous feast, you're still actively participating. And with Channukah - who are we kidding? - the only reason anyone really comes is to get presents. With Passover, there are no presents! Ok, well there's the getting money for finding the afikomen (or even just looking), which was always my favorite part as a kid, but still... I'm rambling. The point I'm trying to make is that Passover is a cool holiday and social in its very nature. And that kids will go wherever the free shit is. Always.
So that whole thing was just to preface the story about the seder I went to tonight, which isn't much of a story at all, really. I was expecting it to be more fun, or for there to be more people our age, but it was just a whole bunch of French-American families from the bilingual congregation. Actually, I didn't know what to expect, because I'd never been to one of these communal seder things before, and I didn't know how conservative the congregation was. But I knew I should wear a dress, or at least a skirt or a nice pair of pants. So, I decided this was as good a time as any to finally shave my legs so I could wear my footless tights - it is spring, after all. (Before you go all "eww" on me, let me briefly explain: you can barely turn around in my shower, so shaving my legs is a HUGE pain in the ass, and usually a pain in my back as I tend to hit the water knob on my way back up. Consequentially, I kind of turned into Chewbacca below the knee area [alright, to be fair, that IS gross] and was saving my leg shaving for a special occasion that merited such effort. Shut up, I know there are a lot of you out there that do that, too.) ANYWAYS. I ended up not wearing the tights - ok, this is getting boring. Interesting people at the seder: very few. There was a French guy there with his wife and their daughter, and he was fun. He kept joking about the food (which was pretty bad and totally tasteless), saying he'd try it first and if he was still breathing in five minutes, it was safe to eat. There was a younger girl who was thinking about going to Smith, so of course I went off on how great it was. The rabbi's French accent was pretty much incomprehensible. You know how we make fun of people that can't speak French by saying everything in French without making any effort whatsoever? Yeah, it was like that. How can you LIVE IN FRANCE and have such a shitty accent? Seriously. Most of the seder was pretty chaotic, with little kids running around and people trying to find their places in the prayer books - the rabbi skipping sections did not help. It was an experience, one that I'm glad I had, but that I don't ever need to have again.
Even so, it was nice to feel like part of a community again, even though I felt like a horrible Jew because I couldn't follow along with most of the seder. I blame the haggadah - it was not the Maxwell House edition and therefore I had no idea what was going on. Yes, I only do Passover with the best of materials - prayer books made by instant coffee companies.
In other news, I'm still thinking about things I need to apologize for, and while I can't think of any funny, trivial things that probably didn't cause any real damage, I've got some others that I'd like to get off my proverbial chest.
1. A certain Smithie, you know who you are - My being a bitch to you last year for no real reason? Well, that was just... bitchy. And I'm sorry. You didn't do anything to deserve it, and I should have been more mature about the whole thing and not averted my eyes in the hall, and the fact that you STILL let me borrow your car after the way I treated you just proves even more that you didn't deserve it. I'm glad we didn't leave on horrible terms, but it could have been better had I not been such a big douche.
2. Brother - I am still SO sorry about that scar on your arm. I don't know what could have made me think a cigar box would fit over your head, and every time I think about it I feel really bad and get a little knot in my stomach, and I don't think I've ever really properly apologized for it. I mean, I was, like, seven, and I didn't disfigure your face or anything, but there's a little white line on your arm where no hair grows and it's my fault. I'm sorry and I love you. And I promise never to try to trap you in a cigar box ever again.
It's finally spring break, and where am I going tomorrow? To the library. Oh grad school, how I love thee.
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