2003-12-12 | 7:00 p.m.
I just can't explain, so I won't even try to

For the past hour, I've been sitting on the floor in my kitchen painting a table pink. With the paint leftover from the bathroom. Dollie and I have decided that we need to play up the bachelorette nature of our home and make the living room a giant valentine. Because, clearly, what man would let us get away with that design scheme, eh?

Anyway, I'm painting away and the food channel is on in the next room and I can't see it, but who cares. Martha's making latkes and applesauce and then a woman who works for Martha brings in her family. Her husband, a cantor, tells the story of Hanukkah. And then he sings a candle-lighting prayer with his children and his voice is so beautiful and the prayer (though I clearly have no idea what is being said) is so moving and sounds, to me at least, so glorious (you know, as opposed to sorrowful). And so I cry and cry. And cry. Good crying, happy crying, thankful, overwhelmed, blessed crying. Like you do. Well, like I do, then.

Man, I love this time of year.

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