PA is a Long F'ing State


This is exciting. I'm not really good at it, but I can do it. I drove about half the way home, on and off with Byron. I learned you aren't supposed to shift from first gear to fifth. The hard way.

The bris was great; the Moyl was very sweet, and he did a special ceremony where the baby was passed to all the relatives and friends, sort of "giving love" to the little guy. The snipping was quick, and the baby didn't fuss too much. They gave him sugar water in a bottle right after, and than they dripped red wine into his mouth. Crazy Jews.

I'll cry at anything; weddings, funerals... apparently bris' get me emotional, too. Byron's Aunt Sarah (the maybe lesbian, definitely nudist, certainly very kind aunt) saw me crying and passed me a tissue while she was dabbing her own eyes, and told me she felt better that she wasn't the only one crying. Byron's family is "special". Very sweet; I liked his Grandma, too. I got a lot of, "Oh, you're the girl that lives in the basement! How nice!"

Pennsylvania is a long fucking state. I should know, I drove through most of it. I'm from New England; I'm used to getting into and out of one state fairly quickly, so just going on and on in one state was killing me. It's boring. It goes like this: Farm, farm, farm, Arby's, gas station. Farm, farm, farm, Arby's, gas station. Farm, farm, farm...

We're finally home, safe. There was lots of singing, too, thank Apple. We listened to really good music (Ben Folds, with spontaneous outbursts of singing from me and Rachel) really bad music (Thompson Twins...) and everything in between.