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This thread is now open for kvetching that there’s not much to do and nothing’s open. (Actually, everything’s open in Istanbul, but I’m a stickler for tradition.)
I haven’t seen my daughters in years, and it has not been for any lack of trying on my part. The mistake I made has worked assiduously at keeping them from establishing a relationship with me. So, here’s the point: it doesn’t matter what’s open on Christmas Day if your heart is closed. Merry Christmas to all, it really is a very, very good day.
I sometimes feel the urge to bark.
Well, I’m still up.
That’s a statement of fact, not a kvetch.
Sigh. I’m up, but I should be in bed, though I’m not really tired, but I should do my rehab exercises, but I’m too tired for that, and I don’t want to eat, but I am kind of hungry, but, gah, the grocery stores are closed, what are the fasting rules again between Christmas Eve and Christmas? Is there an exclusionary clause? Relevant constitutional amendment? Label warning?
You’re getting there, but you have to hint that whatever it is, it might be cancer.
I had cysts removed from my scalp last week.
Perhaps they were listening devices?
There you go. Now you need to insist that no one should worry and you don’t want to be a nuisance to your family.
Yes, of course. Despite the copious bleeding, light headedness, and potential traffic accidents as I pass in and out of consciousness on the New Jersey turnpike, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Forget I said anything. Enjoy the veal.
Oy. Way too heavy-handed. Here’s how you do it: ”The doctor says it’s probably just allergies.”
Gotcha.Went a little too Pee Wee Herman Toe Walking there:
They usually call back in a week to clear the cysts. Its been two and I haven’t heard anything. Probably nothing.
It’s nothing, I promise. Get some sleep.
Oy! The crowds at the mall gave me a headache! At least I think it was the crowds, though they say that cell phones are giving us all brain cancer, so maybe it’s a tumor. That would be great, I just paid for a new gym membership and now I maybe have cancer? Who cares how good my muscles are if I don’t have any hair, and then I get sores. My aunt got sores, you should have seen her! And with maybe cancer I have to stand in line at all the stores now? What’s with the [gentiles], they don’t know what date is their Christmas? They can’t maybe shop in advance or order online? Although this Interweb is so complicated, who can figure out how to place an order, my uncle Saul thought he was ordering a book and they showed up at his house with a refrigerator. A refrigerator, can you imagine? So he calls my cousin Finkel, you know, the one with the limp, he’s a lawyer, and asks him what to do, and Finkel says you think I want to do this on my day off? And then …
This time of the year always makes me so confused! Every place I go, people are planting trees in the middle of their houses! I ask them “Why is there a tree in the middle of your house? Who do you think you are, Paul Bunyan or something? Tarzan maybe?”. They just ask me if I’m stupid or something, and never invite me back.
Are people like this in Turkey, also? There’s just got to be a better way.
Ignorant in Indianapolis
Well, Claire, it’s so nice you’d organize something like this for your little Internet friends. I mean, since you came home to your family and all.
You’re still in Turkey.
That’s really nice, too. Or so I hear from your mother, since the Turkish Post Office must be losing your letters to me. That must be a hardship for you.
Your brother is in Haiti, still, why I do not know. But what a beautiful child he has. Children are such a blessing.
Your father I saw on the C-SPAN. Maybe I’ll see him around again before they put me in the ground, not that I want anyone to come for my funeral. People can just remember me as I am. Which isn’t so good, but don’t you worry. These doctors they just rob you and lie to you.
Anyone else think this chicken is a little stringy? No, don’t complain. You don’t know what they’ll do to the food.
I had some delicious Chinese last night, and saw True Grit. True Grit was excellent.
In typical, for him, spirit my very Jewish Dad insists on throwing a yearly Christmas party for the non-Jews in the family. The boyfriends, in-laws & the closest friends. It’s the works, tree, presents, turkey, little glass balls & enough fruit cake to put you in a diabetic coma. But no traife. It’s kind of a Jewish Christmas with Nana fussing & over-feeding & Zaide cracking jokes. It all goes swimmingly until one of the little kids in a frenzy of present unwrapping yells out ‘This is better than Chanukah!!’ Silence. All eyes on Zaide because no one wants to see the old guy unhappy. My non-Jewish cousin, the forensic dentist, calls out ‘A hearty Mazel Tov to Christmas and a big Lechaim to Zaide!’ & it works. Dad says my cousin’s Yiddish could use a little improving but not bad.
That’s my Jewish Christmas.
Anyone else think this chicken is a little stringy? No, don’t complain. You don’t know what they’ll do to the food. · Dec 24 at 10:36pm
Is there no one who isn’t listening to my phone calls?
Is there no one who isn’t listening to my phone calls? · Dec 24 at 11:09pm
My guy at MİT just e-mails me the transcripts. He said to say thanks for upgrading your DSL—a lot less interference on their end now.
Ho ho ho.