Zen aftermath

Everything turned out okay; I turned stuff in on time and for those of you who weren’t there, the 3 Voices reading kicked ass. We’ve got some seriously talented people in this program.

I was complaining to my mom on Thursday that I was freaked out and had no time to bake challah for the holiday, and was resigning myself to getting some at Whole Foods (for those of you who are not related to me, my Mom’s recipe for challah is denser, richer and sweeter than store-bought; it’s like the difference between pound cake and angel food cake). I come home from school on Friday and discover that my mom has FedExed me a package of homemade challah. Slathered it with butter and orange blossom honey, and wow. Wow. Taste overload, like the best cake in the universe. And my new taste of the year was a pluot, which turns out to be pure candy goodness disguised as fruit.

Services were great; the new rabbis are a husband and wife, both ordained, who play well together. Very Renewal/Reconstructionist.

So I’m teaching this week, and getting workshopped, and generally bailing out the canoe as fast as it fills, but it’s back to regular graduate school panic instead of real panic.

Freaking out

Almost nothing written for the 20-page story due tomorrow.

Nothing at all ready for the lesson plan due tomorrow.

Haven’t read the chapter due tomorrow.

Writing Center shift tonight.

Rosh Hashanah Friday night, no challah baked, no meditation on the new year, hell, I haven’t even vacuumed my floor.

Mental breakdown, line one, please hold…