And that's the last of bottom we shall see this year
It is a light, clear, cool day; it feels like autumn, especially the way the sun fills the living room not quite colorlessly, but not with the hot pour of summer, either. The leaves are all sharp-lit beyond the balcony, restless in the wind; inside,
ratatosk's houseplants are green filters, rice-paper shadow screens. I still have, after too many years, the sense that I should be getting to classes: my finger will start to callus from handwriting, I'll walk a lot of the day. I don't know when that will fade. I don't think, right now, it hurts too much. That's fragile and I'll take it.
This is the first year since I was very small that I have not baked honeycakes, because of moving. It's no less the new year.
L'shanah tovah, all.
This is the first year since I was very small that I have not baked honeycakes, because of moving. It's no less the new year.
L'shanah tovah, all.

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This kind of weather and quality of light still makes me think of registration day, sprawling on the lawn in front of Kresge auditorium, filling in my schedule card to post on my fraternities' bulletin boards. It's been ten years since my last Reg Day at MIT. I don't know when those associations will fade.
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I think this was actually very useful for me to hear. Thank you for being a data point!
I hope the season is so far treating you well.
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Nine
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Though if you hang around long enough, you'll start doing things like reminding people when it's time to make eruv tavshilin, as
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Best wishes for a sweet new year.
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