Dangerous Tuna Cans
There were 17 little Bartsies running around. One took off, and then there were 16. There were 16 little Bartsies running around. One took off, and then there were 15. (Rinse and repeat until there are only 4 little Bartsies.)
I spent so many muches of time with my fam jam this week. We were all together for the wedding, and then gradually some left until there were just a few of us still in Richmond. My two oldest sisters and their kids came down to spend some time with us, so I got a lot of bonding time with my niephews. And no, I did not spell that wrong and you did not read that wrong. I am outraged that there is no one word for nieces and nephews. Let's just pull a frindle now. The new word is bloofs. Yeah, I hung out with my bloofs this week. I like this word. Anywho, my bloofs are adorable and I can't even deal with their cuteness and with Yitzy's haircut and Reuvy's voice and Binyomin's cough-laugh and Ahuva's bangs and Dovy's smile.
So, the fam jam is good. We had a lot of fun together, lounging around in the playroom talking of drama and dating and more drama and shidduchim and more drama and...no, that's about it. We did have a fascinating, very intelligent conservation at the dinner table about ice cream. Pretty much, one sister who will not be named digs through caramel ice cream and steals all the caramel chocolate balls. So we all asked why she doesn't just get caramel chocolate. That's makes sense, right? So my psychologist brother-in-law thought about this deeply and concluded that it's the digging deep and the effort that really counts to my sister. Having a brother-in-law who psychoanalyzes all the weird things you do makes you wonder about yourself.
And then, someone found one lone caramel chocolate ball that my sister missed, and we all laughed hysterically about it for a few good moments. We are so mature.
Besides for hanging out with my family, I also saw a friend. Devorah M. and her family were vacationing in Montrose, Virginia. Who even knows what that county is? So, we met up halfway at a random park in a county whose population is probably pushing 300 people. We spoke for awhile about life and dating and other random things, and it was all super cutesy.
Friday, the Kallah Hakedoisha and her Chosson Hakadoish came down for Sheva Brachos, and Netama and I got even more chances to annoy Malta.
Sheva Brachos were very nice. I was super social, which was gross, but I got to see a lot of people I actually like. And the food was amazing.
This week, something very exciting happened: my dad started his new job! I am officially the daughter of a Rosh Kollel. Wow. So what if it's a one-man Kollel, and technically his title is "director of RJLE", which sounds super reform? I am still proudly walking around like a puffed peacock, for my father is a Rosh Kollel.
So, I am in the airport at this moment in time. I'm flying to Paris shortly, and then from there to the Holy Land. And once again, this blog's name will be true. Hudi will be in the Holy Land.
My first flight was from Richmond to JFK. Richmond's "International" airport is a joke. There were like twice as many TSA peeps as passengers, and they still took forever with security. Both of my bags got stopped, one because of the dangerous tuna cans I was armed with, the other because of the deadly coins I was planning on bombing the plane with. Like, come on? Seriously? We love airport security.
So, I'm kind of tired now, partly because of the mono and partly because travelling is exhausting. So I'm gonna bow out, even though this post is pretty short. Hope you enjoyed. And if you didn't, you're wrong.
Toodles from Hoodles!
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