The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Shall I, being fairly unfettered now, attempt to register for Birthright this year? I'm thinking so. Travelling alone has always been one of my chief pleasures -- backpacking spare and impromptu through strange countries is right up there with wine, women and song -- and these past months have been a time of enough personal reflection and change that I think a trip to Eretz Israel would be fitting.

Now to club my grandparents over the head before they die of panic.

You know something that strikes me deep? Birmingham has a Chabad House and a RAINN chapter. Not making any bitter jokes, not making any bitter jokes...

Oh yes I am. Any city that has one needs the other!

Down, yetzer harah. Down!

...I should be off the theme in about... two weeks. When the presentation is over and the piece of memoir read to a bunch of bag-lunchers, I can go back to not twitching.

Thought, memory and dream are my enemies sometimes, that's all.

That, and my paternal relatives have been calling me. Why can't some people just stay dead?