Pressing my luck.

Here’s the thing: The thing? On the doorpost? I think it’s working. After a fashion, at any rate.

Because…. Ever since I put it up, and it’s been greeting me when I go to my room in all it’s clunkiness and prayer,  I’ve been feeling luckier. Or, as I said, better. About stuff.

Little stuff, mostly.  Sometimes big stuff, too (more on that, later).  Who knows about big stuff, though.  You have to be careful with that–longer lifespan and all.  Little stuff, I suppose, is different

For instance, the woman at the dry cleaner’s.

I brought in my clothes to be cleaned–light starch on the shirts, please–no creases on the pants.

After having been caught in the rain, there were all sorts of weird marks on my favorite shirt. So, of course, I showed them to the dry cleaning woman and all but begged her to see if they could be removed; I really like that shirt.

She had her processing plant get them out.

But that’s not the point. It’s how she had them get the marks out. She told them that it was for one of her “very good customers,” and that it must be one of my favorite shirts because I bring it in all the time. See? She knows me. This is a gift. There can be an intimacy within commercial transactions. Go figure.

Requisite Habibi story for today:

Today, we went to the zoo with Grandpa and Grandma B and two Big Cousins.  Then to pizza. Pizza is key. The pizza guys know us.  We are regulars, Habibi and me, and we don’t have to mess around with such pedestrian foolishness as menus.  Or ordering.  The pizza guys know what we want.  The pizza guys like Habibi.  Today, while we were waiting, Habibi crawled up onto my lap, put his thumb in his mouth, his head on his shoulder and played with my hair with his free hand. 

As we were driving home the following interaction occured:

Habibi: Why is Grandpa B your daddy and Grandma B not your mommy?

Me: Because Grandma J is my mommy. But Grandpa B is my daddy, just like I’m your daddy.

Habibi: I’m glad you’re my daddy.

Me: Oh, Habibi, I’m so glad you’re my boy.

Here’s something interesting (it’s about JDate):

Really it’s about unintended consequences.  There are so many where the Internet is concerned, but this one is sort of the second best unintended consequence from JDate, of late.

I have a friend who has recently gone back on JDate and has begun to use it in earnest, as have I (earnest being a strange choice of words, as I have no idea what I am looking for…), at any rate, our shared e-daing experience has returned a closeness to us–one that we haven’t felt in years, since a cruel trick of geography was played on us.

Oh. Wait. I forgot to give my Minyan review. I’ll do it next time–I promise.  Suffice to say, even the Glare of Welcome was not enough to ruin my Shabbat Morning experience.