Happy New Year!

   I had the lovliest time spending Rosh Hashanah with a few of my housemates at Yael's home.  I realize what a comfort it is to be mothered.  As independent as I consider myself and as much autonomy I have increasingly demanded from my parents, sometimes it's nice to give up and admit that I'm still a little kid who wants to come home, hug a conveniently located woman with a charmingly aged face, sigh, and then be given a cookie.  This wasn't exactly my experience of the weekend, but it hit the mark nonetheless.
   Yael's family lives about an hour outside the city.  Our drive down was closer to 2 hours and peppered with stress-filled snaps about driving capabilities and the traffic.  But we made it.  Sort of.  We arrived at services 1.5 hours late, so we were entertained only by the concluding melodies of the very operatic cantor.  After, Yael's mom hurried us out (as quickly as one is able to be hurried out of a synagogue on Friday night) pressing that we were all so hungry! 
   We were treated that night, the following morning (thanks to our gracious hostess Yael!) and Saturday evening to a series of delectable dishes.  Challah, salads, soups, fishes, meats, and desserts paraded past hands and across the table.  Oh contentment.  We decided to drive back Saturday night and miraculously made it home in only an hour. 
   Sunday, the lovely ladies at the other house invited us all over for yet another R.H. meal filled with sweet honeyed goodness.  Again, everything was spectacularly presented and a treat for the mouth.  Special thanks go out to whomever divined that a goat cheese and beet salad would be the best thing in the world.  It was.
   We walked, partially in the rain, to the marina for Tashlich.  Becca V-H (to distinguish between the 3 Beccas in the program) had made what would have otherwise been 3 delicious and substantive challah loaves.  Unfortuantely, the yeast was feeling particularly frisky and the dough fermented.  Fortunately, this proffered the perfect bread to symbolically harbor our sins.  We created a war zone between the ducks and geese, although I anticipate that the fermentation got them drunk enough to forget it all and become placid cohabitants of Montrose beach yet again.
   Most of my thoughts while tossing the ladened bread into the water regarded my problems with judging others.  I feel like I've been a pretty good girl--others may feel free to disagree--over the course of this past year.  What I know is an issue that hampers how I act towards others is letting preconceived notions based on little merit weigh so heavily.  I tend to make assumptions about who people are or where they came from or what their goals and values and morals are based on few encounters with those issues at hand.  I think it's valuable that this year my work is to talk to people.  I'm not just chatting about trivialities with those I run into, but I need to find out who people are, where they came from and what their goals, values, and morals are.  I'm eager to let this year of intentional meetings evolve my current framework for getting to know others.  I think it will be a great learning experience and I hope next fall, if I'm lucky enough to be near a body of water, I will not be throwing away judgmental behaviors but something else...there will always be something else.