I dressed as a crossword puzzle for Halloween

When I got to the party, literally there was silence. The music stopped, all conversation halted, and everyone looked at me. It was like something out of an '80s teen movie. On the other hand, there were cute dogs and chocolate-chip pumpkin cake and fancy coffee drinks. And nice people dressed as animals. So, good times.

Yet another reason to appreciate President Obama

The White House seder is now an annual tradition. Hard to imagine Dubya sitting down to one of these.

"Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!"

May your holiday be peaceful and bright.

Letting go of Christmas

Even though I'm the child of two Jewish parents, I grew up celebrating Christmas. My father's first wife wasn't Jewish, so they raised their three children with both Jewish and Christian holidays. When my mom and dad met, he wasn't willing to give up Christmas, so I was raised with it, too. I believed in Santa and could hardly get to sleep on Christmas Eve, the night our family traditionally sang carols with two other families -- one Jew-ish, one non-Jewish. Our house was adorned with a fully decorated Christmas tree, stockings by the chimney, and angel chimes, and I left cookies and milk for St. Nick even after I was pretty sure he didn't exist. (They were usually sugar-free cookies, since my father was diabetic.) I didn't know of too many other Jewish families who celebrated Christmas, but our Reconstructionist congregation was offbeat enough that I doubt it caused a scandal when certain members found out that we did. When I was young, Christmas was to me what it is to countless other kids: the most magical day of the year.

I mention all of this because, like Jew-ish.com editor Leyna Krow, I find Jewish anti-Christmas sentiment tiresome at best. Yes, we're a group that's been oppressed for millennia, and yes, Christians have often been our oppressors, but whinging about the ubiquity of Christmas is like traveling to Hawaii and complaining about the heat. We live in a country that's religiously neutral on a political level but extremely Christian on a cultural level, and it's likely always to be that way. Leyna's comment that saying "Actually, I'm Jewish" when someone wishes you a merry Christmas only makes things more awkward is true, and though some Jewish activists may interpret identity politics as a way to make non-Jews feel awkward, I don't find this constructive. Pride in one's own heritage, practices, and beliefs always outshines insecurity, and many Jewish people's reactions to Christmas smack of the latter. Maybe some Jews hate Christmas because they envied their non-Jewish peers when they were little, and what they really hate is having been in such an uncomfortable position all those years. I occasionally try to shock Jews I know by telling them that I go to St. Mark's every Christmas Eve for services, and I guess that's a reactionary response to reactionary anti-Christmas grouchiness.

That said, I find myself drifting away from most of my personal Christmas customs. This is the second year in a row that I haven't bought a tree, nominally because of the cost but actually because I live at the Ravenna Kibbutz, where displaying a Christmas tree in the living room would be too much even for a liberal Jewish community to handle. Having a small tree in my room might have been nice, but I prefer a larger tree in a more public space, so halfway through December I decided to let it go. I've watched It's a Wonderful Life at the Grand Illusion every Christmastime since 2002, but I may not go this year. I know the movie practically by heart, and seeing it for the ninth time doesn't really appeal to me (though I'm still awfully fond of it). I went to a caroling party a week ago, but I barely knew anyone there, and I focused more on the food than the singing. When I observe Christmas in Seattle, even in a limited way, I'm doing so mostly to honor my father's memory. He believed that winter holidays were about warmth, light, and common humanity, and he didn't see why Jews couldn't enjoy two instead of just one. (As an adult, I've added Solstice to the lineup, too.)

My Christmas customs also have a tinge of desperation about them, because I'm still grasping at a golden past -- the near-perfection of childhood Christmas -- that I can't return to. In much the same way that New Year's Eve almost always feels anticlimactic to me, Christmas has become a source of muted sadness. I want to feel connected to my father, and to the magical feeling of Christmases past, yet both of these things remain beyond my reach. Finding a vibrant Jewish community has helped me expect less from Christmas -- any kind of social support makes the winter holidays less melancholy -- but I may never get excited about Latkepalooza and other Jewish Christmas events. To me, they seem transparently like distractions, attempts to stay entertained during a day that has negative, even hurtful connotations for many Jews.

Of course, that's precisely what these events are, and there's nothing wrong with that, even if I sometimes feel that their organizers and participants doth protest too much. I don't get jazzed about The Hebrew Hammer screenings and Chinese food feasts on Christmas because I don't want to be distracted -- I want to carry my father's idiosyncratic love and observance of Christmas into the future. Whether or not to raise my own children with Christmas, especially if I marry Jewish, may prove to be a thorny question, but there's no need to resolve it yet. I was heartened to learn recently that an outspoken Jewish activist I know, someone whose personal philosophy is steeped in identity politics, plans to be at St. Mark's tomorrow night as well. A comment she made implied that she's half-Jewish, and that she goes to church on Christmas Eve to honor the non-Jewish part of her heritage.

Since I'll be writing an article soon for Jew-ish.com on the subject of half-Jewish identity, I was both intrigued and comforted to hear that she, too, would be attending midnight mass. Christmas Eve services may hit more of a nerve than other Jewish cultural and spiritual dabblings -- in Buddhism, say, or Eastern medicine -- but sitting in a pew on Dec. 24 doesn't have to be more sinister than going to meditation class. I visit St. Mark's for what my friend Sarah calls the "smells and bells" -- the beautiful pageantry, the breathtaking music, and the sense of universal goodwill. Though I'm not sure how I'll mark Christmas as the years pass, I agree with my father that any ceremony or gathering that helps dispel the winter blues -- especially in Seattle -- isn't likely to do any harm.

Sen. Orrin Hatch thinks we're the Chosen People

He seems like a sweet man. I hope the Kibbutz gives his new Hanukkah song a whirl this month. So what if his affection for us verges on the apocalyptic-creepy? Said the senator to The New York Times:

“Anything I can do for the Jewish people, I will do,” Mr. Hatch said in an interview before heading to the Senate floor to debate an abortion amendment. “Mormons believe the Jewish people are the chosen people, just like the Old Testament says.”

Also:

At one point, Mr. Hatch unbuttons his white dress shirt to expose the golden mezuzah necklace he wears every day. Mezuzahs also adorn the doorways of his homes in Washington and Utah. Mr. Hatch keeps a Torah in his Senate office.

“Not a real Torah, but sort of a mock Torah,” he said. “I feel sorry I’m not Jewish sometimes.”

We may be Chosen, but who knew we'd get this lucky? We now have Mormons writing us music free of charge. It's a beautiful world we live in, people. Check it out:

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Compared to the epically overplayed "Chanukah Song," Adam Sandler's "Thanksgiving Song" (originally a duet with Kevin Nealon, as you'll soon see) is pretty damn underrated. Enjoy it as it was surely meant to be enjoyed: preceded by an irritating 30-second ad. And may you all have the merriest Turkey Day imaginable!

Kelly carves a mean cat-o'-lantern

She and I turned our Jubilee Farm pumpkins into characters tonight. I went with the classic, albeit with a Sloth twist:


Whereas Kelly created a lovingly detailed portrait of her feline housemate, Maggie:


We also drank hot spiced cider and roasted the pumpkins seeds with olive oil and salt. They're delicious.

"That's low, JDate. That's low."

Blogger Sasha Pasulka, aka Evil Beet, whom I've known since our teenage years, got attention from Gawker for this Yom Kippur-themed beauty:


As if there weren't already enough reasons to wonder about JDate. In other Sasha news, she gave a shout-out to the Kibbutz in her Yom Kippur post, where she links to this blog and my housemate Steven Blum's. It's always impressive when people as successful as Sasha remain so grounded and generous.

President Obama's holiday greeting

Anyone who can call Kanye West a jackass one day and issue a heartfelt message like this the next is my kind of leader. L'shanah tovah, Mr. President.

My childhood shul rules

I think this is a great campaign, both from an advertising perspective and in terms of the principle involved. (West Seattle's Kol HaNeshamah is similarly inclusive, which I've always appreciated.) Well done, T'chiyah!

Holy crap

I'm hoping 6:30 p.m. is early enough to arrive at Gas Works in light of the demise of Fourth of Jul-Ivar's.

Update, July 6: It totally was.

Sorry, I can't not love him

I mean, look what he does. What other president has risked protracted constipation to eat matzoh along with America's Jews? None that I recall. You rule, Barack.

Facebook Haggadah

This year's big Passover meme is pretty great, even though the "Facebook version of [fill in the blank]" metameme is kind of played out. As is the phrase "played out." But I digress.

The LOLcat Passover story

Thanks to Debs, I'm able to share with you the most kittentastic holiday tale of them all:

TEH PASSOFUR STORI (lolcat version)

Oh hai! Teh Jooz and teh kittehs were lived in Egypts. Lifes were gud. Josiph had cote of mani of colorses and every kitteh listened to teh Andrew Lloyed Webers all teh day. Every kitteh wuz liek Happy Cat and tehre wuz cheezburgers.

But tehn Pharo wuz died. Oh noes! New Pharoz iz liek doggeh or Basement Cat. Maded Jooz and kittehs slaves. Sed DO NOT WANT! But wuz. Jooz sed, "Im in ur Egypts bilding ur piramids." Wuz not like piramid scheem u seez on nooz but like aktual piramid. Lifes are not gud. No nappings. No cheezburgers.

Pharaoh sez to Jooz: Babehs u no can haz. Kittehs secretly pleezed about teh nooz. Babehs are teh loud and taek attenshun away from kittehs so kittehs do not want. Pharaoh says kittehs can still has kittenses.

Mozis borned anyweh, adding to spekulashun taht Mozis wuz akshually a kitteh. Because of Mirium, who is speshul hoomin femunists liek, Pharo's dautur sees babeh Mozis in bullrushes, which iz plants kittehs eat when want to throw up on teh carpit latur. Dautur says, "WANT!" Kittehs think she mean teh bullrushes but means babeh. Silleh hoomin.

When Mozis no longer babeh but is hoomin, sed to Pharo: We can haz eggsodus? Pharo sed no can haz.

Ceiling Cat sended playgs to Egyptshuns. Wuz bad. Egyptshuns sai, "Oh noes!" Iz teh bluds, teh frogs, teh vermins, teh darknesses, teh boylz, teh hayl, teh beests, teh locusts, teh bugs, and teh striking of teh furst babehs.

Jooz puts lamb on door and kittehs eated it. Jooz and kittehs are spared from playgs. Kittehs espeshully spared cuz can see in teh darknesses and can chase teh frogs and teh locusts and teh mouses and eated tehm and maded cheezburgers out of teh cattle diseezed. Hoomans do not want, sez cheezburgers not koshur and from teh cattle diseez u will catch ur death. Kittehs ignore hoomins liek usual. Kittehs think playgs not so bad akshually. Is teh fud to nom and iz fewur babehs. Except teh hails, teh hailz iz bad for kittehs.

When Pharo's babeh was striked, Pharo sayed, "Do not want! Ok u can goes nao. Kthxbye." Teh Jooz and tehir kittehs packed stuffs quickly, teh kitteh toys and teh kitteh fud and teh kitteh brushes. No packeded litterbox because was going to desert wich is liek one giant litterbox. Hoomins had to bake teh breds quickli because spent time packing kittehs posesshuns. Maded matza out of cardboards. Matza does not has a flavur.

Indecisive Pharo is... indecisive. Changes his minds. Oh noes! Sends Egyptshuns after teh Jooz and teh kittehs, but is ok cuz kittehs run fast. Reach red seas which are not red. Hoomans willing to go into watur but kittehs no like water.

Charltun Hestun imitashun: Mozis is doing it pretti well akshually. With miteh and outstretchd paw, Ceiling Cat maded teh sea partz. Kittehs and hoomins walk through dry because kittehs do not liek watur.

Teh waturs close on teh Egyptshuns. Teh angels tehy are singing (angels are pretteh mean, akshually) but Ceiling Cat asks tehm to stop because angels tehy also can't sing veri well, like kittehs.

Teh Mirium and teh hoomins danced teh hole nite long but teh kittehs sleeped.

Kthxbye.

Purim madness

I'm not often found at a Tia Lou's, the popular Belltown club where flirting, "macking," hair-twirling, and various other mating rituals are known to occur with some regularity. However, you'll find me there the night of Monday, March 9, because I'm co-organizing a gigantic Purim party with folks from Jconnect and other Jewish organizations. Which means: You should come, too. The theme is '80s Bar Mitzvah, I'll be working the door for an hour, and the incomparable Leyna Krow will be hiding behind her camera (I mean, serving as unofficial party photographer). C'mon -- you know you wanna don a costume, drink margaritas, and engage in coquetry on a school night. You know you do.

Merry Pugsmas, everybody!

"Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!"

May your holidays be peaceful and bright.

This is how I roll

Thanks to Sarah for letting me know about a Slate article that captures my experience of Christmas uncannily well. Especially this:

My father was raised in a devoutly Jewish home, but he always adored Christmas.

And this:

My father passed away when I was young, but my family's holidays remained much the same. We focused on the togetherness and celebrating my father's memory on his favorite holiday. The miracle of Jesus' birth was far from our minds.

Get ready for a tall glass of Chanukah

It's not a Photoshop prank, kids -- it's the real deal. Drink up!

My dad's explanation of "Wxmas"

From an e-mail sent Dec. 15, 1998:

Shortly after Jesus' birth, a group of Jews (the original Jews for Jesus) made the decision to follow him and form a new religion. The day of his birth was celebrated as Christmas. The letter X soon became a symbol for the name "Christ" and was often used as a replacement for the word, so that Xmas became the name of the holiday. In the meantime, the other Jews, who remained authentic Jews, liked to celebrate Xmas, when they would decorate a fir tree by hanging potato latkes and gold and silver coins from the branches. So as to maintain and proclaim their religious differences from the new Christians, they called the holiday "Wxmas." The "X" remained in this new form to remind all that Jesus was a Jew (Orthodox, yet) but partly hidden by the "W," which is the last letter of the word "Jew."

And so it goes.