That's how the rabbi described the 4000 people gathered for Kol Nidre services at the Javitz Center last night.  She welcomed us all — gay, transgender, straight, Jewish, and not Jewish.  I hadn't been to CBST services in years, but their open door policy, and truly welcoming attitude, brought me back this year.  I was lucky enough to touch base with Joe & Elliot, friends from my days doing the AIDS rides, and joined them for services.  The rabbi went on to welcome even those who don't believe in God — she said that her God was okay with that.  Works for me.  The only people she wasn't sure she'd welcome, she joked, were those who believed in creationism rather than evolution.  She offered to hook them up with her marine biologist neice for a dialogue.

Yom Kippur is a holiday that involves atoning for your sins of the past year.  We all have them.  Reading the traditional list of sins, one that struck me had to do with sinning by being resistant to change (forgive me, I'm fasting, so my brain is at half-mast today).  It takes me a long time to change and often this is detrimental to me.  Another thing about the service that struck me was that the congregation had submitted their own list of sins for which we collectively atoned — they included taking one's body for granted, having unprotected sex, drinking too much alcohol, and my personal favorite, being too lazy to recycle.  Together with 4000 voices, we atoned for each other.

As you may know, I'm not particularly religious, but I'm glad I went to Kol Nidre last night.  Today, in addition to thinking about how hungry I am, I'm thinking about the loved ones I've lost, and the changes I want to make in my life for the new year.  I'll be breaking the fast at the New York Wine and Food Festival tonight, although I might sneak in a bagel and lox before that.

 . . . can you have an in-depth conversation with your aesthetician about interfaith marriage — while you're getting a bikini wax.

It's time!  And what perfect timing it is.  I am in dire need of this and ready to make some major changes.  So please forgive me in advance because I hope to be a little anti-social this time around so I actually make some progress.  There have already been some big changes since last time, with plenty more to come.

Yes, I'm finally posting.  I got my apartment painted this spring and I also finally started to hang a few things on the wall, including this sign for the kitchen, which goes perfectly with my red side walls.  It's also doing a semi-decent job of concealing the outlet that is stupidly placed in the middle of the back wall.  Who puts an outlet there!?

Light posting means that I'm over-busy, which I am.  Work is bustling as it's new associate season, and I've been a busy bee on the social front as well.  This week is Rosh Hashana, followed by Yom Kippur next week.  I'm going to use this time to slow down a bit, focus, and do a little work on my apartment, purging some of my "stuff."  And I'm going to temple this year.  So there.

Sorry for the light posting — busy week.  Dinner turned out great this weekend (will post recipes), and had a great time at the Bon Appetit awards on Monday night.  Last night was Peruvian food and tonight is the Swell Season at Rumsey Playfield.  Details later!

"The day the world changed."

I started to write about my morning, then trailed off.  I couldn't do it.  The entry is still merely a few sentences that don't go anywhere.  Once I got there, I spent the entire day in my office, listening to the radio, getting in touch with friends and family, crying, feeling like the safety I had always taken for granted was gone.  When I finally decided to leave, and I turned down 6th Avenue, I was struck by the absence of the towers, now reduced to smoke.  When I got to 5th Avenue, and saw the familiar arch in Washington Square Park, no longer with the towers peeking behind them, I started to cry again.  The drastic change in the familiar view hit me hard in that moment; I knew then that the world had indeed changed.

Like the rest of the world, I grieved.  I thought about all the lives lost.  I worried about my friends who worked nearby who weren't yet accounted for.  I sat for days, glued to the television.  Then I joined the legal community and got to work, and started to heal.  To this day, it is still the work of which I am the most proud.  I still notice the view.

No time for commentary at the moment, although I've got plenty to say.

The updated singles map (things start to really suck in NYC after I hit 39, apparently); here's the old one for your reference.

The "Guyland" phenomenon and where it leaves women.