Pesach 5765 notes

( or, how the seder weekend went )

One of the things I always enjoy hearing new people say about Tremont Street is "If only I could pick this place up and move it to [wherever they come from]!" Of course, I prefer to think it could never be quite the same place if it didn't also have that earthy-crunchy-geeky Cambridge thing going on. But it's still a gratifying sentiment. We have our struggles, but on the whole it appears that we are still managing to do something right, something that people respond to.

I take some personal pride in that quality, as well as institutional.

And now... to the salad bar, Batman.

Ze angst, she weighs heavily on me tonight.

All I want is... ( everything that seems so close and yet so far out of my reach. )

Is that so wrong?

... Is this PMS? Pesach-induced blood sugar swings? Post-[seder] letdown? Work stress? Shul stress? Vicarious prod-week stress? Loneliness? Plain old out-of-sorts?

Nothing that a hot bath and an early bedtime couldn't fix, I suppose. At least, except for the part where I failed to send my mom even a birthday card on time (for today), but it's too late to worry about that for now. All I can do is call her up.