But we've still got something left to give, to live for
Because neither of the next two nights works for everyone in my family to get together, we celebrated Erev Rosh Hashanah with apples and honey, roast chicken, challah, zucchini (accidental gourd!), and the honeycake my mother and I spent yesterday afternoon baking. I lit candles. I said the blessings. This year it looks like the Shehecheyanu is the important one. Here we still are to see this season in, bitter or sweet, but may it be sweet. May it be sweet. May the writing of our lives be nothing to atone for. L'shanah tovah, all.
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I've been reading your posts lately and not commenting, but. I think this is a good time to say I like and admire you, and your writing means a great deal to me. And your poems speak to my heart.
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May it be filled with success and good health for all of us, and the victory of the ethical artichoke at all levels.
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I am curious about the honeycake, but don't want to be demanding secret family recipes or anything of that sort. I used to make a honeycake from a Hungarian cookbook that was extremely good, but it didn't have any whiskey in it.
P.
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Nine
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And I'm very jealous of your homemade honeycake.
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I don't know from Jewish rituals, but I needed to read this line today. Thank you.
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