This weekend Chris built the Muskoka chair while I kinda offered to sand (the electric sander is cool!). Photo forthcoming. Eventually I made lemonade and did laundry. Gender stereotypes be damned.
I can't even begin to tell you how gorgeous it was to watch the chair being built. Seeing it all come together was work of art. Also, Chris is very cute. So watching him do anything is awesome.
I went to synagogue last night with my mom, and I got completely anxious and claustrophobic. It was weird. I felt as though I was breathing in 5000 years of collective hallitosis. Just when I thought I was zenning out and getting into the whole prayer thing, someone farted so bad, I had to put my nose right into the musty spine of the machzor (prayer book).
I guess folks ate a lot before shul so that they could brace themselves for the fast. These are my peeps, and I don't mean to slag them, but dude, eat a mint, or something. I don't know if I will make it to back today.
Looking around, I realized that I have spent my entire life trying to *feel* something when I go to synagogue. But I am getting more and more uncomfortable in religious scenarios. I guess I have forgotten what it is all about. Or what I was trying to make it about. Apathy. Should I keep trying to feel something or should I let it go?
