chicken little

With the bird flu in low swing in the Negev, my kid called me up frantic.

"No more chicken for me!" she claimed. Ah, another victory for the animal rights movement. Plus it will conveniently lower the costs of our hefty food bills.

What will I do with all the leftovers? Apparently it's ok to eat cooked chicken, not that I've ever served uncooked chicken.

Not to mention Hubby was totally antsy over the weekend.

"I had turkey all WEEK!!" he yelled at me - as if celebrating Purim by eating turkey was going to kill us all and, ironically, fulfill the wish of the evil Persian Haman.

He didn't even blast me for going to my friend's messianic congregation to hear the Megillah. I went out of sheer curiosity and thought, well, hell - how much can they figure Jesus into Purim? So I cringed a bit through some of the songs they sang before the Megillah reading which mentioned Yeshua the Messiah (as all traditional Jews do because it's, well, traditional to cringe) and sang along with them the Psalms and other stuff that stuck to the original text. They didn't read from a real parchment scroll but from xeroxed papers and it was more of a comedy show, which I really enjoyed rather than the more somber, traditional readings. The "3 Stooges" on stage who read this put on different hats to enact the various characters and everyone especially loved the Persian King Ahashverosh, who did a sephardic Marlon Brando-as-Godfather thing. Then they had a pot luck and I didn't eat much. I told my friend "I don't eat milk and meat together" (at least not in the same meal), because there was one dish with shredded cheese that I took.

Overhearing us was this Christian woman who immediately butted in "OH! That was a mistake. I'll take that cheese dish off right away.!"

She was truly upset at this mishap of the traditional Jewish way of not mixing meat and dairy dishes together. And I was touched by her sincerity.