Happy Chanukah! May the Miracles Commence!

My Dear Sillies,
   I haven't been in the holiday spirit, but after Al Penwasser (Psst, he's back!) wished me a Happy Hanukah, I dug up my Hanukah miscellany. Tonight's the first night. 
   Fire feels incredibly ugly, though, being as it murdered Paradise. The thought of creating it did not sit well. 
   As I went through the motions, though, I was calmed by the flame's beauty (on a small, non-inferno scale, of course). 
   This holiday marks a celebration of miracles, of good conquering evil, of lights, of all that shines with resilience and optimism. There's no shortage of miracles surrounding me/us. So yeah, it was important and even healing to light the candles tonight.
   Let the miracles commence!    
   Happy Hanukah! Spell it any which way; you can't go wrong unless you double up on vowels. 
   May you savor at least one precious miracle in the week ahead.
Love and light to you and yours. 

PS Have you had potato latkes? Mmmm, so good!

 
   
   

Pre-Pubescent Machismo

 Dear Sillies,

   I hope your week is going well. I posted this nearly six years ago. I got exactly zero comments, no more and no less. [That was before I met Alex and the rest of you.]

   This post reminds me of my friend, Al Penwasser. Not sure why. But I hope you like it. 

   Be well, and keep a smile. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Duh!” 

“As if!” 

“Loser!” 

 

Their tongues hanging out of their mouths, freckle sprinkled cheeks, jagged bangs, eyes poised to express control, a mad crush on Suzie Jay, and an ounce of testosterone between them, they ran the show. They had it all. Rulers of the universe and buds for a lifetime.
 

They hit the playground, yanking the pink velvet ribbon from Betsy’s hair. Her long red braid unraveled by the time they invaded the dodge ball game across the yard. Betsy flopped onto the black top, screaming for her daddy, the Principal. He dashed out to console her, but was never able to pin down those nasty culprits.
 

Life could not get sweeter! Those were the days to diss the teacher, aim a paper airplane at her butt when she turned to write on the chalkboard, switch names for the substitutes, compete in belching contests during the Pledge of Allegiance, give the class nerd a Melvin or Nelson or Wedgie or whatever those boogers called it when they pulled the poor soul’s underwear so tight above his head that it cut off all blood circulation and he could barely breathe.
  

It was time to get real. When you stepped on a crack, you broke your mama’s back. When you stepped on a line, you were Frankenstein. Your best buddy told you to “Look over there.” When you turned your head, he said smugly, “Monkeys always look!”
 

Good times! You cut the cheese to clear the room. You’d make crank calls to the grocery store manager and ask, “Do you have pigs' feet?...Then how can you walk?” Mom said, “Don’t stick your tongue out like that, it’ll stay that way. You’ll go blind if you cross your eyes.” So you kept trying that one, because you thought it’d be super cool to have a seeing-eye dog.
 

Those were the days! Boys would be boys, will be boys. They rule. They’re cool. Too cool for school. Question that, you’re a fool.
 

Those were the days. Machismo was in full fruition. 

 

As if!