Honeycombs and principles

I am returned from New London. It was—is—a very good Rosh Hashanah. I made honeycake; I heard my dear friend who does not have a livejournal and I had good conversations with the rabbi and his wife, who are awesome, even if they believe that cauliflower and brussels sprouts are edible; I sang Yiddish for a ninety-five-year-old rabbi and slept very little. My mother made me chicken soup with knaidlach when I got back, and I saw A Fish Called Wanda (1988) last night. My poem "The Devourer" (dedicated to watermelontail) has been accepted by Mythic Delirium, and I have a lot of unrelated paperwork to deal with. This is an all right in-between time.