The first ornament is broken.
It was bound to happen, but I was really hoping it wouldn't be the one that broke. The one my uncle made. Out of glass. Back in the day when he did such things.
The roommate who looked up guiltily from the pile of blue-green shards said quietly, "At least I'm preparing you for having kids."
I guess that's true. Better a safety-conscious adult than a drooly child. Good thing I had a container of nanaimo bars to comfort me while I checked the floor for leftover glass. (Le sigh!)
Otherwise, the tree looks beautiful. It sits in the same room as my menorah, and BH and I have dutifully been lighting the candles and saying the prayers almost every night. Unfortunately the grocery store ran out of Hannukah candles, so we have been using sparkly birthday candles that snap and pop as they burn. Probably not the holiest thing we could have picked, but then we are not the most holy of people. This is the first time I've attempted the prayers without my folks to join me, and I'm impressed that I still remember the words.*
It's that time of year when the influx begins. Old friends come back to visit their folks, and family members come to town. Sometimes the sheer volume of visiting leaves me spinning, and this year will be no different. My sister got back from Peter-boring yesterday, and I'm hoping that we will actually have some down time together. My old friend Shawna will be swooping in from T.O., and my dear and wonderful friend Kate is also back from her long stay in Scotland. There are birthdays, dinners, rehearsals, studio sessions and many other enjoyable things to take care of. But what the hell, I'm down with it, and I'm happy to say that I've even got most of my gifts wrapped. Yeah. You heard me. WRAPPED. Woot!
Hope to see some of you at the Zaphod's show tonight (free!), and if not, perhaps at Barrymore's this Friday. They should be solid and entertaining shows, but for those of you looking to douse yourselves in holiday spirit, Friday's gig will be a seasonal extravaganza like no other. I will be singing the only Jewish song during an entire night of Christmas carols à-la-rock. That's what I get for bitching to my producer that his band isn't playing anything non-Christmassy. I only meant to tease him, and yet, here I am. Singing Hava Nagila. With a rock band.
*Or the version of the words as I know them. They are, after all, in Hebrew and my grasp of the language is (cough cough) limited. Although I still know how to say "crazy" and "shut up" thanks to my beloved Jewish overnight camp.