-- Still progressing on the Passover preparation front. I did the big CVS run yesterday (though, as I could've predicted, forgot one thing, so I'll go back today for it), and tonight's tasks are numerous but not overwhelming. When
mabfan gets home from class, we'll do one or two last things, do
bedikat chametz, and then go to bed.
-- The confusing part of all of this is that, traditionally, we do the searching for the chametz the night before the night of the first
seder and the burning of the chametz found during the search on the morning before the night of the first seder. That morning is also the day of the
Fast of the First Born, traditionally. This year, however, with Passover starting on Saturday night, the Fast of the First Born is today (Thursday), we burn the chametz tomorrow morning, and then Saturday night is the first seder.
-- My plan is, as it has been past years, to head up to the fire station on Chestnut Hill Ave. in Brighton before work to burn the chametz, and then I'll head, smelling slightly of smoke, into work.
-- I will be dusting off the excellent, topical icon made for me by
madmadharri for the period of the Omer again this year.
-- In non-Pesach news, I used a line this past Shabbat that I haven't used since college: I said to one of the guests at the boisterous Shabbat gathering, the one who was not known to the rest of us, "Did they warn you about us?" I used that line a lot when my college friends brought someone new to meals, but I haven't really had to use it since then. But given that this was a largeish (11 people including the new guy) gathering of people who had a large number of random references peppered throughout their conversations, I thought a warning was in order.
-- I've been known to talk to inanimate objects (my father's philosophy on talking to oneself: "It ensures you of an interested and intelligent audience"). When we were in NYC for Shabbat a couple of weeks ago, I was digging through my luggage looking for my nylons (as I was changing into Shabbat clothes from my travel clothes). And they were nowhere to be found. So, I mumbled under my breath at them – "You can run, but you can't hide!" As it came out of my mouth, it occurred to me that, in fact, that was among the most appropriate things one could say to nylon stockings.