The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Now, it had been my intent to not-get-out-of-bed today, but something has stirred me, and not just the very appealing fact that hey, people read these things! (One loves having a readership, even for one's inane little scribblings.)

The weather here is peach-perfect. My drink this morning was decent, and free. The only other Jewish Starbucks employee in the city is ringingly hung-over and that's amusing.
So why am I up and typing at such an hour on Sunday morning, when everyone knows Sundays when I don't have to open do not start until noon?

See, I was standing at the counter at Bux (one at which I do not work) talking to aforementioned hung-over Yidele; I suppose I used words like 'hamantaschen', 'chazzan', and 'megilla' in addition to 'plastered'. Girl On Bar whips her head around and says, "Jewish people are so insular."

I did not go for Girl On Bar's eyes (respect and dignity, respect and dignity!) but it got me thinking. And I realised, yikes, maybe I am insular. Maybe I am.
Most of my friends are Jewish. My social conscience is certainly Jewishly-informed. If I'm drawn into speaking about God for some reason at work, I do it without trying to connect to familiar places in the Christian soul. I quite often bring Der Vorwart to work with me.

Does this make me a religio-snob? Eeesh. Until this morning, I hadn't thought.