Grief is so physically exhausting.
So true. Sending comforting vibes to your uncle. My step-dad has aged decades since my mom died. It is so hard. Losing your mate is like an amputation.
'Sleeper'
Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Grief is so physically exhausting.
So true. Sending comforting vibes to your uncle. My step-dad has aged decades since my mom died. It is so hard. Losing your mate is like an amputation.
My MiL's ability to cope with ANYTHING (already not her strength) has gone to hell since my FiL died in February. They'd been together since she was 14.
Hil, my bus goes by a temple and the other morning I noticed some cloth on a frame out in front. I was confused for a moment and then I noticed the branches over the top and realized what it was.
Grief is so physically exhausting.
I truly is. I'm sorry, Steph. Comfort to your family.
I'd thought I wouldn't get to visit a sukkah this year, because between my schedule this week, and a bunch of sukkahs in inaccessible places, it just wouldn't work out, but Chabad set up a mini sukkah on campus, near my office, so I went to that one, which was nice.
One of my fondest memories of the All of a Kind Family books was the sukkah they built.
I actually do have room on my back porch to build a small sukkah, I think. I wasn't organized enough for it this year, but maybe next year. They sell sukkah kits that work kind of like those pop-up tents.
Four of the rabbi's sons (the oldest maybe 10 or so) were at the sukkah. One of them, a boy who looked about five, asked if he could lead me in the blessings. I didn't need the help -- I know the blessings -- but he looked so proud of being able to do it, so I let him tell me the words one at a time and I repeated each one, and told him he did a very good job. Then his older brother criticized my lulav-shaking technique.
I remember years ago reading about a man who grew perfect citrons for this. He'd baby them and get them to grow very large and PERFECT. He would have his workers put in a little note saying, "this citron picked especially for you by (name)". Until he started getting a lot of migrant workers and realized that having the note signed "Jesus" might not be the best idea for his Jewish customers.
One of them, a boy who looked about five, asked if he could lead me in the blessings. I didn't need the help -- I know the blessings -- but he looked so proud of being able to do it, so I let him tell me the words one at a time and I repeated each one, and told him he did a very good job. Then his older brother criticized my lulav-shaking technique.
That's the most adorable thing I've heard all week.