Festival of Lights

Last night I went over to my aunt’s house for latkes. See, last night was the first night of Hanukkah (note: it doesn’t matter if you spell it Hanukkah, or Chanukah, or Hanuka, or whatever, because it’s a Hebrew word, so there’s no correct English spelling anyway). Latkes (pronounced LAHT-kis) are potato pancakes, really unhealthy because they’re fried in oil. They’re fried in oil in order to commemorate the Maccabees, who had only enough oil to light their lamps for one night; miraculously — so it is said — the oil wound up lasting eight nights. And so we have Hanukkah, really a minor Jewish holiday, one that’s not even Biblical but rather historical, one that nobody would even think about except that all the Jewish kids would get really jealous if all the Christian kids were getting presents and they weren’t getting any.

So last night we lit the menorah and had latkes and my three-and-a-half-year-old cousin opened lots of presents. My brother and I each got a check from our aunt, which is just fine by me… although I do kinda miss getting toys, ya know?

Okay, not really.

Okay, yes really.

I’m getting bogged down in The Power Broker. I still like it, but it’s getting a little repetitive, and I still have 400 pages to go. Yes, let’s say it again, Robert Moses has power and everyone’s in his pocket and he can ride roughshod over the little people and the city’s democratic system and build roads and bridges and housing projects wherever he wants and consequently can destroy old buildings wherever he wants. That’s the general theme. And Robert Caro’s sentences — well, they’re so crazy and long and meandering, filled with dependent clauses and lists of people or projects — and sometimes separated by dashes (and sometimes by parenthetical phrases) — and sometimes containing clauses that themselves are interrupted by other clauses — which, I suppose, he’s entitled to do, since his investigative reporting for the book is really first-rate, making up for his awkward writing style — that by the time he gets to completing the original clause that started the twisty, clumsy sentence, I can’t remember what it said.

Meanwhile, after a lull in my apartment organizing, I’m getting back into it again. I wound up staying over at my parents’ house last night, and on the living room table was this book. Rose Tarlow seems kinda pretentious. For instance, “if your bed doesn’t have a canopy, you should install a reading light,” and — my favorite — “few people can resist having at least one four-poster bed in their home.” Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got three of ’em.

The book is good, though. It’s rather slim and well-written, with pretty pictures throughout. Tarlow states some simple design principles, none of which I can remember now. But she got me motivated to rearrange some things in my apartment tonight and straighten up some things that I hadn’t yet gotten around to doing.

First off, as I was walking home from the PATH station after work, I found this pretty wicker chair sitting on the sidewalk, so I carried it home with me. It really adds a nice touch.

Then, when I got home, I got to work. I moved my bed into a more harmonious location so it makes better use of the space in my bedroom. I tucked away dangling wires or put things in front of them. I threw out old newspapers. I unpacked the rest of my CDs from their unsightly cardboard box. And then, in the evening, my parents came over. My mom had bought me these two little lamps at bargain-basement prices, and they brought them over along with a lasagna. (Wait, we’re Jewish, not Italian!) They also brought a carpet pad, so one of my rugs doesn’t slide around anymore.

I still need curtains for my bedroom windows, and blinds for my front windows, and some plants, and a small mirror, and some other things for my walls. Windows! I have seven windows in my apartment! There’s even a window over my kitchen sink. It’s like a little piece of the country. This is such a great place.

Oh, and if you don’t think I’ve been gay enough tonight, earlier I was watching “A Star is Born” with Judy Garland on Turner Classic Movies.

Meanwhile, I’m still taking antibiotics, and I can’t tell if they’re helping my ear or not. I don’t have a sore throat anymore, but my nasal passages feel slightly blocked still. At any rate, I’m only on Day 5 of a ten-day antibiotics regimen, so, as Rob suggested in his comment to my previous entry, I’m trying to be patient. (If that doesn’t work, maybe I’ll follow Tim’s advice and get a hypoallergenic mattress bag or something.)

Anyway, life is uneventful and good. Actually, someone replied to my PlanetOut personal ad recently — the first response I’ve had in months. He seems like a decent guy, so we’ll meet up soon, although to be honest, I don’t feel like I’m looking for anyone these days. Whatever happens, happens.
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