I've been so busy talking about paint colors, and Irish Christmas music, and Christmas preparations (or my lack thereof), you would think that I had forgotten my roots.
Nope. Much as Christians this time of year become embroiled in discussions of the true meaning of Christmas (when they aren't trampling each other in an attempt to get those Black Friday specials at WalMart), Jewish people spend December arguing (because that's what we do best) over the proper spelling of Chanukah/Hanukah/Hanukkah/Chanukka. It's an age-old question that has stumped the best minds of our (Chosen) People. I'm sure even Maimonides spent his Decembers scratching his head in puzzlement over the orthography of our Festival of Lights. Let's face it - you can't be called the People of the Book and not even know how to spell your own holidays.
I'm babbling here.
We're celebrating Chanukah here this Sunday. What? It ends this Saturday? Darn. It seems that 8 days was not enough for me to be able to make those latkes (or as John Oliver calls them, hash browns) on time. 8 days, 10 days - when your religion is over 3000 years old, do a couple of days more or less really matter?
Oh, and here is what I am not doing this year...
Anyone who can rhyme "Rosh Hashana" and "Arizona" is all right in my book - and I don't care how he spells it.