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Dec. 23rd, 2005 09:03 amMy sister's coming! My sister's coming! My sister's coming!
Happy dance happening.
Happy dance happening.
Dec. 23rd, 2005
(no subject)
Dec. 23rd, 2005 10:28 pmMy sister is here! My siser is here! My sister is here! (sorry, it was entirely irresistible)
The five of us sat round on a hot Canberra afternoon, producing suprise after surprise for each other as if we had not planned anything or thought anything through. My biggest and bestest surprise (apart from the family themselves) was hidden in the Chanukah stuff.
My sister and my mother had consulted and decided that Chanukah in Canberra needed a little enriching. I had asked for candles and so candles were procuced with a lovely flourish. Chocolate coins were added to the stash we will use for gambling on the night. My sister also produced (unexpectedly) a kosher menorah. I thought we had agreed to improvise. She explained "I just saw it and it fell into my shopping basket." Dredels also somehow fell into her shopping basket. My sister sensibly decided that gambling with someone else's dredels wasn't nearly as much fun as gambling with your own, so thanks to her shopping basket, everyone who comes to the party will get their their own morsel of luminous plastic. She bought lots of lovely origami paper and my niece has already started making origami decorations in my chosen theme. Anyone who hints or asks or begs will get to take these beauties home, too. Worth coming, just for the origami and the dredel. (If any of you haven't seen my niece's origami, let me just say that it left the paper crane stage a long, long while ago).
Towards the end of our various "I brought this" and "Try this on", my sister produced one more thing from a bag. Another menorah.
"Mum said you needed it," she told me.
"You take it back to her afterwards?" I asked.
I asked the logical question. What she had pulled out of a bag was the family menorah. A copy of one of my favourite ninteenth century designs, it houses all the memories of Chanukah at home. Not commercially valuable, but full of histories.
"No, she thinks you need it." It is mine. Forever. And she and my brother-in-law and my nieces just stood there and smiled at the look on my face. It was a healing moment.
I am in a strange and lovely zone of emotional astonishment. I am a middle child. To be given something of such great sentimental value without anyone being jealous and with everyone being pleased as punch that I have the menorah, is astonishing. It is special beyond words.
Didn't I say this would be the best season ever?
The five of us sat round on a hot Canberra afternoon, producing suprise after surprise for each other as if we had not planned anything or thought anything through. My biggest and bestest surprise (apart from the family themselves) was hidden in the Chanukah stuff.
My sister and my mother had consulted and decided that Chanukah in Canberra needed a little enriching. I had asked for candles and so candles were procuced with a lovely flourish. Chocolate coins were added to the stash we will use for gambling on the night. My sister also produced (unexpectedly) a kosher menorah. I thought we had agreed to improvise. She explained "I just saw it and it fell into my shopping basket." Dredels also somehow fell into her shopping basket. My sister sensibly decided that gambling with someone else's dredels wasn't nearly as much fun as gambling with your own, so thanks to her shopping basket, everyone who comes to the party will get their their own morsel of luminous plastic. She bought lots of lovely origami paper and my niece has already started making origami decorations in my chosen theme. Anyone who hints or asks or begs will get to take these beauties home, too. Worth coming, just for the origami and the dredel. (If any of you haven't seen my niece's origami, let me just say that it left the paper crane stage a long, long while ago).
Towards the end of our various "I brought this" and "Try this on", my sister produced one more thing from a bag. Another menorah.
"Mum said you needed it," she told me.
"You take it back to her afterwards?" I asked.
I asked the logical question. What she had pulled out of a bag was the family menorah. A copy of one of my favourite ninteenth century designs, it houses all the memories of Chanukah at home. Not commercially valuable, but full of histories.
"No, she thinks you need it." It is mine. Forever. And she and my brother-in-law and my nieces just stood there and smiled at the look on my face. It was a healing moment.
I am in a strange and lovely zone of emotional astonishment. I am a middle child. To be given something of such great sentimental value without anyone being jealous and with everyone being pleased as punch that I have the menorah, is astonishing. It is special beyond words.
Didn't I say this would be the best season ever?