This past week we had the honor of hosting the “Traveling Chassidim” (google them!) at our annual Jfx Shabbaton weekend retreat. 

Well, the bar mitzvah is over, and I‘ve noticed something weird. When I am hosting an event, I can’t eat. My adrenaline is sky-high and I’m consumed with thinking of my guests and if they are enjoying and comfortable. If you’re anything like me, you’ll recognize some of these obsessive thoughts:

Dear Christmas,

After so many years of competition, I think it’s time I come clean: I never thought we were rivals. You and me – we were created at different times in history. I was established in 165 BC and you, in 336 AD, 500 years later. I was established as eight days, and you, as one. I was made for gelt, and you for gifts. 

This week I had a slumber party. It was hosted by my friend Karyn from Baltimore, where I traveled for a speaking engagement, and we were joined by our two friends from Monsey, NY, who drove four hours each way to hear my talk and join the after-party. 

Our son’s bar mitzvah is coming up and we’ve been getting ready. It’s kind of crazy, though, to consider how different this one is from all our previous b’nei mitzvah.

This past week, I went on vacation with myself. Notice I say “with myself” and not “by myself” because the point was to spend time with myself, reacquaint me to myself, and listen to the sound of my own mind.

When you’re generally a pretty organized person who usually puts things back in the same places each time, and the night before your flight to Israel, Saturday night, you check your drawer for your passport and it’s not there, you’d be excused for freaking out. Which is what I did.