So Queen Esther was there--I saw her walk in wearing a pretty pink dress and, of course, a crown--and Haman undoubtedly lurked behind a door. Today's group of screamers was not quite so, shall we say, screamy as yesterday's. Yesterday they were wearing lots of green as they screamed. So does this prove that Jewish kids are quieter than Gentile kids? Perhaps.
Yesterday I was at a St. Paddy's day event. My host served corned beef, a brisket that he corned in brine for some seven or eight days. He also served this tidbit: that corned beef as a tradition of St. Patrick's Day is as Irish as the Pope. Seems the Lower East Side Irish immigrants borrowed the corning of a beef brisket from their Lower East Side Jewish neighbors. The Irish saw it as a cheap substitute for ham; the Jews, well, the Jews just liked the taste. Or maybe there's another fanciful story to go with it, but my host, who is a Yiddish-speaking Scotsman didn't say. He also made, from scratch, some Irish soda bread. It was--firm. I brought the cheese. In that family, they call me the Queen of Cheese because, I dunno, I buy good cheeses. But then I'm a Jewish girl and if there's one thing they say we know how to do, it's shop.
Today's event was a Purim party of sorts. An ad went out in the Sac Bee last week, kind of a Calling All Jews who are interested in having some sort of Jewish community in Elk Grove. I responded, of course, because--gee, I can't imagine that there's more than me here. But guess what! The room was full. (Yes, Virginia, we are everywhere--and we vote.) I got so excited, I forgot to eat my hamantashen. That's a lie. I don't like hamantashen; that's why I didn't eat it.
So I was hungry when I got to Trader Joe's and looking for something nice, you know nice, for my dinner. But there was an abundance of ham and pork in various forms and formats and having just left the company of a rabbi, I couldn't stoop to such tref. Instead I had a salad, and then ate all the candy that was in my Purim giveaway bag