I'm too tired for a real post

Want to know how tired I am? I think I'm seeing things.

Click on this link and stare at the +.

Sushi doesn't suck

  
Babycakes encouraged me to join her and our friends tonight for sushi at Maido.

As many of you know, sushi is not my favorite food. I don't think my polish or anglo-saxon ancestors ate it, so why should I? But I enjoyed some of what we ate tonight (but not the stuff in the middle row of this picture).

Happy Pesach

Last night was the first night of Passover (remember in The Ten Commandments when they had to put the lamb's blood over the doorpost and the sky turned all scary?).

In my family (recovering Jew, Shiksa princess, teen Jew poser and Catholic schoolboy) we celebrate whatever damn holiday we want to. The Matzoh Ball soup from Whole Foods was delicious. Babycakes ate gefilte fish too but the rest of us averted our eyes.

And I had four glasses of wine just because.

Hot! Flashes!

Last night I was among the 800 women (and two men, maybe) who attended the Kentucky Author Forum where we were treated to a conversation between Sue Monk Kidd and Jean Shinoda Bolin.

At the lovely wine and cheese reception I experienced an incredible hot flash -- it started at my knees (just above the cowgirl boots) and crept up my thighs, hips, torso, neck, ears and face. Then two minutes later I felt the unmistakable whoosh of uterine blood following the inevitable path of gravity.

I made it to the ladies room just in time to prevent an embarrassing stain on the lobby carpet (lucky for me I was wearing a long black skirt).

Babycakes suggested that I stay out of women-filled auditoriums again until after menopause is over.