The truth is, I did not have a shattering, paradigm-shifting Purim, as it's usually described in the brochure. I wandered town, ate meatballs, got wasted, gave some gifts to Rav Natan's wife and daughter*, jumped on a bus from the top of Bat Ayin to the middle, yelled at teenagers to be proud of their native-born Bat Ayin heritage, then stumbled back to the Yeshiva with Noam. Sometime after I induced vomiting and went to sleep around 7pm.
*The gifts, little plastic IKEA boxes with soy pudding and candy, are part of the Mitzvah called Mishloach Manot, which is found in the Book of Esther, and means literally, "Sending Portions," or sending gifts to friends. This morning I woke up, paranoid that I had forgotten to give my gifts during Purim, and had thereby missed one of the most important elements of the holiday. I seemed to have remembered leaving my bag of stuff at Rav Natan's house, because I had intended to give one Mishloach Manot to his son, Aryeh Nachman. I went over there and asked Ruti, Rav Natan's wife, if I had left a black plastic bag there. She said that nothing had been found. I looked across the table and saw one of my litle IKEA boxes. "There it is!!" I was about to hand it to Aryeh Nachman when Ruti told me that I had given it to her yesterday. One to her and one to R'ayah, their oldest daughter. So I ended up stiffing Aryeh Nachman, but I HAD in fact done the Mitzvah on the day of Purim itself, and even kept it in the family. Phew!
Here's the recovery photo:
1 comment:
Dude, that was a costume? :-)
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