Some Monday mornings, I arrive at my office feeling like the previous Friday was a lifetime ago. This weekend seems to have had that effect on me (but in a good way).
Friday night, I attended a dinner and lecture event at a modern orthodox synagogue with a couple of friends. I went only because my friend Linda asked me to join her, and I was happy to have the excuse to catch up with her. My friend Howard came only because I asked him to, and because he's been looking for opportunities to reconnect with the Jewish community.
Not unexpectedly, walking into the orthodox shul felt a bit like entering a foreign country. Howard and I, reform Jews that we are, both felt a bit out of place, but we did our best to muddle along with the davening. And though I always feel like an outsider in an orthodox shul, I love watching the insiders. The scene is one of organized chaos, as part of the group earnestly speed-chants in Hebrew, another segment kibbitzes loudly, oblivious to the prayers, and the rest keep an eye on the kids that are constantly running in and out and around the room. And my feeling of otherness came only from within -- the rabbi and the regulars were warm and friendly, and brought a nice bottle of whiskey to our table of twenty- and thirty-something mostly-newcomers to make us feel welcome. The only Jewish events I've ever been to at which hard liquor flows freely are the orthodox ones!
I woke up on Saturday with a bit of pounding in my head from the few sips of Cutty Sark I'd foolishly ingested. After a much-needed pedicure, I spent a few hours roaming around downtown in search of the perfect presents for Steve's impending birthday.
I have a tendency to work myself into a tizzy over present shopping. I love buying things for people, but I'm never content to just buy some random nice thing. No, I always have to find the perfect gift; one that captures both the recipient's personality and interests and reflects my own connection to them. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my quest for the perfect present that I run out of time and energy and end up buying exactly the marketing-driven type of thing I so studiously try to avoid. But I did well on Saturday, finding almost everything I wanted. And no, Steve, you CANNOT take a peek in my closet . . . .
After sating my shopping urge, I was feeling domestic, so baked a big batch of chocolate chip cookies. I cranked up Billie Holiday on the kitchen CD player and danced around the kitchen with the mixing bowl, humming along to Lady Day's silken sounds. Baking always leaves me feeling calm and contented, and fills my little house with sweet smells. I sometimes bake just because the smell of fresh-baked goodies relaxes me (and my office is always happy to indulge this need). The cookies came out pretty well, too. They didn't have quite the chewy-gooey consistency I was shooting for, and I was afraid to let Steve try them since he'd assured me that no one can touch his mom's chocolate chip cookies. My efforts may not have rivaled Wisconsin's best, but Steve's eaten close to a dozen of them already, so I guess I did OK.
Perhaps it was the sugar high, but against our better judgment, we decided to brave the crust and crowds and GO SKIING yesterday. Despite the long lift lines, it was worth it. We were only on the slopes for a couple of hours (hooray for season passes), but got in five decent runs and had a great time. I'm always terrified when skiing in dense crowds because of my lack of peripheral vision, but I managed not to kill myself or anyone else, and was able to relax and even let my speed out in a few places. I can't wait for the "real" season to begin. I'm already dreaming of the powder days ahead!
So now it's Monday morning. I have briefs to write, a hearing to prepare for, and a death penalty case to review for a colleague in Wyoming. Some weeks, particularly when I've been working non-stop or am struggling with a case I can't stop thinking about, I lose all sense of time and the days blur together in a haze of sleep deprivation. Today, though, I feel like I've returned from a rejuvenating vacation. I'm full of energy, and eager to jump back into my cases.
The speaker on Friday night (who was too intense and judgmental for my taste) talked about making Friday night Shabbat. I had a hard time hearing him and never quite figured out how his actual speech related to the topic, but the concept of Shabbat as a separation between the mundane and the spiritual is valuable. While I'm not sure that "making Friday night Shabbat" is the key to my emotional well-being, making the weekend a separation from the hyper-scheduled intensity of the rest of my week very well may be.
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