The seders have come and gone, the company has returned to California and I am hoping to post a more detailed report tomorrow. I don't want to say that we're suffering from Family Togetherness Overload, but today when my Mom made a final trip over to my house to drop some things off and pick up a load of china and containers that needed to go back to her house, on her way out the door she stopped, smiled sweetly at me, then said, "Let's never talk again"
While my family has strayed from it's conservative Jewish roots a bit (what with the marrying of Hindus and all), Passover remains our biggest holiday. I have been with my family at Passover every single year of my life. For the most part, that meant traveling to Pittsburgh where our seders were held first at my grandmother's house, then at my aunt's. Each seder is a major event, lasting approximately 4 hours. Think pressed tablecloths, polished silver, gleaming crystal and more food than you can shake the rod of Moses at. During Passover, we commemorate the Jews escape from slavery in Egypt (they fled before there was time for their bread to rise) by taking all foods containing leavening out of our diet for a week. But, being Jews, we can't just eliminate foods. No, we must re-create them in ways that are kosher for Passover. If you have a grocery store with a Jewish section, go take a look: Passover pasta, Passover cookies, Passover stuffing mix. My cousin even makes "matzana" by layering matzah with ricotta cheese and tomato sauce.
So, let's say that for breakfast you generally eat scrambled eggs and fruit. During Passover, instead of continuing to eat that perfectly fine unleavened meal, you would replace it with: pancakes made from matzah meal, coffeecake made from matzah meal, and a nice crunchy slab of matzah slathered with butter and preserves. See? Isn't that better? In the story of Passover, matzah is referred to as "the bread of affliction". Let me assure you that if you eat too much of it, it soaks every bit of moisture from your digestive tract and you are afflicted with something only Matzahmucil can cure.
This past year, my mother moved from Pittsburgh to join us here in Oregon. Now, she and all three of her children and their families reside on the West Coast. As a result, we are having Passover here. And when I say "here", I mean HERE. At my house! What the hell was I thinking? I always thought I was making a sacrifice to uproot myself and travel to Pittsburgh for Passover, but now I see how good I had it. All I had to was pack, show up, and maybe help set the table. Voila! Out of thin air, the Magical Passover Fairies conjured up a fabulous dinner.
But this year, oh this year, I won't have to travel. How convenient! I just need to figure out how and what to feed 18 people for dinner. I have to polish everything I own that is silver. If I owned an ironing board, I might even have to iron tablecloths and napkins. I have to shop and clean and cook and bake. I have to get my house ready for houseguests AKA those ungrateful whores who just show up with their luggage and expect me to feed them.
Luckily, I have my mother to help me. We have had numerous "planning meetings", grocery runs, and cooking marathons. We've managed to pace ourselves pretty well and I already have a freezer full of Passover desserts, matzah ball soup, and matzah meal pancakes. But we're getting into crunch time. My paralysis this morning over the workload cause me to fall into an old habit. Obviously the time was right to rearrange the magnets and pictures on my refrigerator!
On Monday, my mother and I are going to attempt to make gefilte fish. This involves ten pounds of real live dead fish. Being chopped. And rolled into balls, And boiled. God help us. When searching for recipes, I found these helpful hints. Those definitely brought back memories of my grandmother, may she rest in peace. How I miss her this time of year. Especially since she used to do all the damn cooking.
If you haven't noticed, I've added some links to the sidebar. The Favorite Sites section links to some fantastically talented people who also happen to be my friends. Check them out! Mention my name and, um, they'll probably deny knowing me.
Also, here's something cool. My sister, Jennifer, wrote a book!
Let's see, optimization in an hour a day....twenty-four hours in a day...eight hours of sleep....yep, you'd better order sixteen copies.
My kids both love to listen to Radio Disney. It's one big product placement where you can hear songs from Disney movies, songs by artists signed to the Disney music label, remakes of songs from Disney movies by artists signed to the Disney music label, PLUS a Hilary Duff song every ten minutes! Also, there are adult DJs pretending to be school kids which, truthfully, freaks me the fuck out. If you listen to the station for about two hours, you will become familiar with their entire playlist. To give you a hint, Who Let The Dogs Out is still in heavy rotation. Despite all this, I don't mind it because it's NOT A CD. When my kids glom onto a CD, they want to listen to it over and over and over. Even The Best CD Ever cannot withstand this treatment. They demand repeated playings until I dream of sharpening the edge of the disc, then using it to slit my own wrists. At least with a radio station, there's that moment of anticipation as you wait to see what the next song will be. ("Oh, wow, Who Let The Dogs Out!")
Radio Disney is forever running contests. You can call in with the "word of the day" to register for a grand prize. Sometimes you can win a small prize when you get registered. To hear the callers shriek and carry on, I don't think they quite understand that they've only won a chance to win.
The other day, Juliana asked if we could call Radio Disney to enter a contest. Before I could even answer (NO!), David vetoed the idea:
David: I don't think we should call Radio Disney because they're not fair.
Me: Not fair in what way?
David: They never let boys win the contests.
Me (Thinking how most of the calls do involve screaming girls, but realizing that pre-adolecent boys sound a lot like girls): That's not true, honey, boys can win too, even thought it does seem like girls call a lot.
David: But Mom, at the end of every contest they say "Boys Are Prohibited"!
