The Real Things

Hi, guys. Rachel here.

I’m sorry for taking so long to post, but I have been very busy eating my weight in Chanukah gelt. It’s been a busy week! I went to visit my friend Carol from college. Carol is a very interesting woman. She converted to Judaism for her girlfriend while we were still college freshman. You think you’re the kind of person who jumps into things and makes commitments until you meet someone like Carol. She really takes the potato pancake.

She converted from Protestantism a la Charlotte from SATC. Come to think of it, she and Charlotte would be best friends. Or maybe worst enemies as they passive-agressively fought for the crown of “Premier Princess of the Upper East Side.”

Carol went to Nightingale, so you would think she had plenty of opportunities to express her Sapphic tendencies at the high school parties where everyone made out with everyone. But I guess fear that anything would get back to her father was enough to dissuade her.

Carol’s dad was a sweet man. He held onto his cowboy accent and conservatism even though he moved to the city years before we were born. The story goes that Carol’s mom was on tour performing “Crazy For You” and that when he saw her tap-dancing in the chorus, he fell head over boots and stirrups in love with the East Coaster.

Have you ever seen “Bus Stop,” with Marilyn Monroe and Don Murray? If you haven’t, do it. Now. It’s free on Netflix and she is oh-so charming. It’s fun to feel the prickle of feminist indigence and be reminded of why its so much better to live today than back then. Even if they were free from the tyranny of low-rise jeans.

This was basically the opposite of that: the cowboy went back to the city with the worldly damsel.



That corset!

That corset!

Free on Netflix!

Free on Netflix!

Sorry. Pictures of Miss Norma Jean are like schnecken from Zabars: you can’t have just one. Or two. Or three. Ok, maybe three. If you want to be a masochist.

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda I’m getting into the whole backstory here where basically I was trying to tell you about last weekend. What happened with Carol was she converted to Judasim for her first-ever lesbian lover long before gay marriage was legal.

Luckily for Carol, her impulsive commitment went much better than mine, and while my ex-husband is now halfway across the world eating macaroons with Marco in Morocco, I am going to Coda meetings and getting that “why-don’t-you-have-kids-yet” look from my family.

It was a pleasure to visit them. Carol and her wife, Jessie, live in P-Town. Carol inherited her mother’s musical theater talents, and now leads a congregation of LGBTQJs as the lead cantor. I wish I could sing like that! Maybe I’ll take up some lessons in 2016.

I went to a service and heard her sing. It was amazing. My heart felt so full to ring in Chanukah with old friends, especially surrounded by so much music.

I’ll pop off before I bore you. It’s time to roast a chicken.


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