and another thing

You know that I love each and every one of you. But I have to admit that I have a very special place in my heart for the thoughtful, generous, but, alas, anonymous person who sent me the set of ten plague finger puppets.*

You're one of the few people who truly understands me. Make of that what you will.

Anyway, in the spirit of "let all who are hungry, come and eat," next Passover (April 18, 2011, in case you're wondering) you're all invited to my place for the first seder. See you then!


*eta: And, because I'm sure it's not exactly clear, this is a *second* set of finger puppets, which my anonymous benefactor must have ordered even before I posted about the set I'd bought for myself. Two minds with but a single thought...

ten

Tonight is the first night of Passover and, thanks to the helpful links supplied by Which Box, my seder will be truly complete, featuring ten nightmare-inducing finger puppets depicting the ten plagues visited upon the Egyptians (which, in case you've misplaced a plague or two, were: blood, frogs, lice, wild animals*, pestilence, boils, hail, locusts, darkness and the death of the firstborn)

You can see a picture of all ten of the creepy little puppets here. Hail is incongruously cheery and the Lion (the token wild animal) is actually kind of cute. Darkness is a frowny-faced house, a marked improvement over its prior incarnation, which resembled nothing so much as a racist cartoon.

But the pockmarked Boils puppet is pretty nasty and the color and shape of Blood look like a used feminine hygiene product. And (the title of this blog notwithstanding) let's not even get into the macabre dead baby puppet.

In fact, there's apparently a whole cottage industry of plague-themed toys. Like these plague masks (check out the Xs for eyes on the Firstborn mask) and this bag of plagues ("After the ten plagues, Pharoah never learns. But after the bag o' plagues your children will never forget your "special" seder.")

Plus, the admittedly rather adorable ten plague bowling set whose description encourages you to just try to pick up (and I only wish I were kidding) a "hail/death of the firstborn split."

The traditional thing to say at the end of the seder is Next year in Jerusalem! However, this year, mine is going to end with Next year, the ten plagues in delicious Kosher (and parve!) dark chocolate! Although pricy, they look rather tasty. Well, except maybe the Boils.





*Or perhaps insects. Depending on how you translate arov

half and half

As it happens, today is my half-birthday. At least according to some calculations. Because, while you wouldn't think it should be all that difficult to figure out when your half-birthday is (take your birthday, add six months and voilà!), counting by calendar months does leave some people, say, those born at the very end of August, without any half- birthday at all.

So, since there's no need to make life any more unfair than it already is, let's agree that those unlucky folks can count half a year from their actual birthday (182.5 or 183 days, depending on whether it's a leap year or not -- use this handy half-birthday calculator), allowing everyone to have the opportunity to bask in the unadulterated joy that is a half-birthday. Which is even better than an actual birthday because you don't have to get all philosophical contemplating the deep, deep meaning of turning a year older.

On your half birthday, be sure to tell your friends to send you one of these half birthday cards. Bake or buy half a cake and decorate it with half the usual number or candles or, if you prefer, candles cut in half. If you blow them out, exactly half your wishes will come true*



*Of course, à la Half Magic, you could try wishing for twice as much or twice as many as you actually want. But that strikes me as, well, cheating.

even a watched pot boils eventually

So, I took a screen shot of the ticker from Trish's blog and I was, like, gulp. Because, even though it says there are about 25 days left, in fact, there are considerably fewer. As in, say, 20. Maximum.

I've been pretty thoroughly in denial for months, but I suppose I need to make travel plans.

Can I start panicking yet?

sign of the times

Via the billboard at the local liquor store: A wee little tip that just might come in handy this St. Patrick's Day.

Or, indeed, pretty much any day.

everything has an end and pudding has two

remained my favorite proverb even after I came to the sad realization that it had nothing to do with the kind of pudding pictured above.*



*referring, instead to this rather less tasty-looking  (to me, anyway) variety.

i'm lovin it

I'm what you might call a "tardy adopter" --someone who never quite manages to be on the cutting edge of, well, just about anything. Which is why I was thrilled to see yesterday's Wall Street Journal article about the newfound popularity of macarons, a treat I've been touting on this blog for a long, long time.

Upon reading more closely, however, I learned that macarons have already plummeted all the way from très chic to totalement déclassé especially since they're now selling them (quelle horreur!) at McDonald's in Paris.

Still, on balance, this is a good thing. On the negative side, I'm going to have to find some way (brain bleach?) to suppress this image of a macaron looking for all the world like a tiny hamburger. But it's awfully nice to know that next time I get a big mac(aron) attack while strolling in the general vicinity of the Paris Opera House, I'll be covered.

What are you craving today?

blame it on betty m

The Tragic Tale of Kaspar

                                                     

The Sad Story of Pauline
                                                      

                                                      

Because, in her comment to the last post, Betty M reminded me of Strewwelpeter, that whimsically gruesome collection of cautionary tales for 19th century children. As you'll see in the before-and-after pictures above (labeled for your convenience)(click to enlarge) it's the macabre details that give the book its distinctive, um, charm.

Chubby Kaspar refuses to eat his soup and, shortly thereafter, starves to death, leaving behind only a little grave festooned with an oversized soup tureen.

Pauline, ignoring the sage warnings of her talking cats, plays with matches and is, alas, reduced to a heap of ashes. However, her shiny red shoes (apparently made of asbestos) manage to survive the conflagration in remarkably good shape.

Though the book is wildly inappropriate for children, I have to admit that, as a timid child, I loved it. Because -- and it's not hard to understand why -- just about the only things that didn't terrify me were the ones I should have been afraid of.

the lonely doll

I was taking pictures of the toys on Cole's shelves, when déjà vu gave me a nudge like a tiny stilleto between the ribs,reminding me of a book from my childhood called, yes, " The Lonely Doll

It was a big hardcover book with a pretty pink gingham cover, but when I opened it up it was filled with black and white photos of a world strangely shrunken to exactly the right size for a doll and two teddy bears.

At the beginning, Edith the Doll was lonely. At the end, the bears told Edith she would never be lonely again. Which somehow never struck me as exactly comforting. In fact, quite the reverse.

What books terrified you when you were a child?