Don't leave a voicemail, seriously.

Wait, Joy Behar's name is not spelled Bejar and she's not Jewish? My world is fucking rocked, I will tell you. I wish I had never found that out.

I'm drinking a cup of coffee, sharing a piece of schnecken (delectable pastry item of much deliciousness obtained at great effort from a local bakery as they sell the fuck out of them whip-quick around here in December as everyone here is either German or Jewish or both) with my cat considering getting dressed. No family sighting yet, which is a damned shock.

Something happened with our plans (we never have them) where-by we forgot to make dinner plans tonight. Yeah, I'm not sure what happened there, but it revolved mostly around one of my cousin's Machiavellian scheme to minimize her time with us and maximize it with her boyfriend (basically she played my aunt and I off against each other until we were both too confused and then struck and we didn't realize we were fucked until last night).

Anyway, looks like in a shocking turn of events, we're playing mah jongg and eating latkes tonight. Crazy times!

( Latke recipe )

Turns out those people who I hate so much in the self-check line at the grocery? It's my mother. Why I am not surprised.

Happy Hanukkah!