Festival of Lights

In many ways, my mom’s side of the family is stereotypically Jewish. They all hold advanced academic degrees, my mom loves a good bargain more than anything in this world, and my grandma cannot look at my thin husband without practically weeping, then nagging me for not feeding him enough.

When it comes to Judaism, however, they are all relatively clueless. Because my grandparents and mother all grew up in the Soviet Union, you have to go back about a hundred years to find religious Jews on our family tree. Think Fiddler on the Roof.

But even though my grandparents are decidedly non-practicing and my parents’ family worships at an LDS church rather than a synagogue, we somehow feel the need to get in touch with our roots by celebrating Hanukkah every few years. This year my mom called me to see if Mike and I would be available on Sunday night, then followed that question up with a conversation that went something like this:

Mom: So what are we supposed to eat for dinner? I know you’re supposed to have latkes, but what else?
Me (after typing “traditional Hanukkah foods” into google): It says that most people have beef brisket.
Mom (who is a vegetarian): What? Biscuits?
Me: No, mom. BRISKET. It’s a cut of beef.
Mom: Oh. Well what should we have to drink? Aren’t we supposed to have grape juice or something? And isn’t one of the kids supposed to tell a story?
Me: You’re thinking of Passover.
Mom: Oh that’s right…

Despite the confusion regarding Jewish customs, my parents did end up hosting a Hanukkah feast last night. My mom even busted out the family menorah and dreidel, which proved to be kind of unnecessary since by the time dinner was over and we had listened to a condensed version of the Hanukkah story and heard my grandparents recall memories of Hanukkah celebrations in Israel, the gathering had dissolved into the kind of chaos typical of Preobrazhensky functions and all pretense of ritual was abandoned. I guess that’s just what happens when you have two languages and four generations (ranging from 6 months to 92 years old) present at one very crowded table.

Food-wise, we did have the aformentioned brisket and latkes for dinner. We also had these:
Yes, those are jello jigglers. Cut in the shape of a dreidel and Star of David (I found the cookie cutters at my parents’ house and couldn’t resist). This creation might strike some as slightly tacky, but is there anything more appropriate for a bunch of Mormon Jews to serve for dessert on a Jewish holiday? I think not.

And speaking of Mormons, who knew that Utah’s own conservative senator is a wannabe Jew? Strange.

Things-I-Love Thursday

During our freshman year of college my best friend Sara and I both worked at a jewelry stand in the Cottonwood Mall (may it rest in peace). This job was hellish on so many levels, but what really drove both Sara and I to the brink of insanity was the Christmas music the mall chose to play during the holiday season.

Man alive was it bad. One song that mall management seemed particularly fond of playing literally had no lyrics besides “Rock and Roll Christmas, Christmas Rock and Roll…” Over and over and over again. Another classic was a rendition of “Santa Baby” sung by a dude, with terms like “sable” and “decorations from Tiffany” replaced with more masculine items such as shotguns or guitars. To me it conjured up images of a wifebeater-clad man drunkenly singing karaoke on Christmas Eve. Not exactly festive.

There was one bright spot in the midst of this musical Christmas graveyard. Every once in a while the mall would bust out that guilt-inducing classic “Do they know it’s Christmastime?” (Sara and I always referred to it as “Feed the World”). I had never really cared for this song before, but that winter it became one of my favorites. After hearing “Have Yourself a Skanky Little Christmas” or whatever abomination was blasting through the mall speakers, it just felt good to hear something recognizable. Even if it did make me feel like kind of a jerk for not donating my paycheck to Africa.

A few days ago I found this video while browsing on YouTube:



It goes without saying that my Christmas is now complete. And can we all just agree on the fact that the ‘80s was a magical decade for men’s hair? Because that much is glaringly obvious. In this video I recognize Sting, Bono, and Boy George. If anyone could tell me who the rest of these peeps are I would greatly appreciate it.

Other things I am loving at the start of this holiday season:

Reading this book and laughing:

Reading this book and crying:

Sipping on this:


Topped with a scoop of this:

(And don’t tell me I could save myself the trouble and just drink mint-flavored cocoa. So not the same thing).

-Watching Mike put Christmas lights up and hearing him scheme about the Griswold-esque spectacle he is going to create next year (inflatable penguins are most likely going to be involved. Get excited).

-Opening a new window of our Advent calendars each night (one of my favorite traditions).

Now if it would only snow...