The Stars and the Cookie Jar

So this year, I get to do Birthright. Got the email today. I was probably a) the oldest applicant and b) the only applicant living in AL so they figured c) what the hell.

My mother is furious. As for my grandfather? "You'll make the aliya! Or get killed!" (both equally negative, to him, but he was a hardcore Litvak before he was a hardcore... organic market farmer.)

And Sonya wrote me a poem.

Been driving poor Kraada crazy, because he gets to deal with me when I can't be still in my head. I'm not troubled or unhappy, I'm just tired of stasis, and I am damn tired of my job; so I get to thinking on things like travel, and beating against the cage bars, and running away. If I was a falcon, I'd strain at the jesses; if I was a horse, I'd buck and balk. I do this, from time to time, and usually I end up calling my friends/grandparents from Dublin, or Liepaja, or Novosibirsk, or Chicago  two days later.

This time, I think I'll stay put, though the urge to bolt is strong; because I have to have plane-ticket money for May, and the Birthright trip deposit, and all.

Ah, the things that keep us grounded and sane.