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rebecca_in_blueI'm almost done with The Help, and it's so good that this evening, I was tempted to bring it to temple with me and read it behind my prayerbook during services. Don't worry, I didn't. I'm sure all my Sassy Jewish Grandparents would've caught me at it and been horrified. I sat in front of a relatively new young couple, and when Mr. D invited them to the Tu Bish'vat seder next week, I was able to explain what it is to them. (I'm pretty sure “Tu Bish'vat” and “seder” sounded like made-up gibberish to them.) It was nice, because all too often, I still feel like the most clueless person there.
We had such a small attendance tonight that I felt like I could hear the individual voices of everyone there, rather than just one big voice for the collective congregation. The weather was warm for most of the day, but by the time we got out of temple, it was cool. The sky was perfectly clear while I was bike riding home, and all the night stars put the sun to shame.
On Sara's art calendar, I'm looking at Tennis at Newport, a 1919 oil painting by George Bellows. The players are lifting their racquets in volley, and the afternoon sun is slanting across the lawn.
We had such a small attendance tonight that I felt like I could hear the individual voices of everyone there, rather than just one big voice for the collective congregation. The weather was warm for most of the day, but by the time we got out of temple, it was cool. The sky was perfectly clear while I was bike riding home, and all the night stars put the sun to shame.
On Sara's art calendar, I'm looking at Tennis at Newport, a 1919 oil painting by George Bellows. The players are lifting their racquets in volley, and the afternoon sun is slanting across the lawn.
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Date: 2012-01-28 08:11 am (UTC)And, I like the art.