Saturday, September 14, 2013

The Last Ice Cream

Last day before yom kipper. Sitting at my computer again. Again. Again. Working hard, finishing a grant, proud of my work, tired butt from so many days of sitting. Finally completed. A sense of relief. I start a job application. Get partway through. Take a trip to Brooklyn Heights with Josh to deliver a bottle of Very Nice wine to someone who did us a Very Big favor. Take care of a little bit of unfinished business with a business, literally 4 minutes before they closed for the holiday. They are Jewish. They do the right thing, but only because they care what g-d thought—not because they care about us. That's OK; we take the cash. Pick up a challah on the way back. Looking for a very good ice cream. Just a little bit of very good ice cream, to transition out of the old year and into the new, sweet year. We don't manage to find good ice cream, but we stop for fine ice cream. Stand in the glorious Fall day, surrounded by brightly and florally colored 10-year-olds eating their ice cream, and say, "Yes. A big year. The last act of selfish joy of the year." But I'm not done with the day yet, and I dash back to complete the job application. I've never enjoyed a job app process as much as this one. I hope it's auspicious. I push the button. I take a shower. I make V-8 ish tomato vegetable juice in the Vitamix. We walk a block to Abigail's for pre-fast dinner with friends. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely.

I will write a summary of sorts. Probably soon. But not today.

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