L'shanah tova to my fellow tribespeople and their loyal canine companions. Madeleine's bark mitzvah isn't for another nine years, but she feels beholden to Jewish traditions nevertheless. She has been dutifully observing me eating an apple and organic clover honey for close to twenty minutes now. Don't waste your shekels on agave nectar. It's incredibly refined and its glycemic index is not remarkably lower than that of honey. Plus its astringent taste and thin consistency just doesn't call to me. Stick with the bee nectar and enjoy its purported antimicrobial and immunostimulating compounds, but easy with the squeeze, kids, #diabet-us is killing our healthcare system and our grandparents.
So it's a new year, a new day, and another day where I am not (yet) earning a dollar. Tonight, we migrate south to the promised land of Pinecrest to feast and celebrate Rosh Hashanah. My sassy sister and her ginger-zuelan (auburn hair and born in Venezuela) boyfriend will join us as we partake in the food and in each other's company, while Madeleine camps out at our feet blissfully unaware of her lucky station in life and extremely aware that my dad will inevitably provide her with pieces of brisket and the heme iron she requires.
Happily Ever After,
Mon and Mads
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