Happy thanksgiving, tes kislev, you know

You know how they say that the things that are hardest for you to do are usually the right decisions to make?

Well, they forgot to mention one small part: it hurts.

Why do I find myself alone in the car at 1 am, cruising the now silent streets? As the last party-goers are leaving, drunk, from their thanksgiving dinners, and the last of the homeless are finding places to sleep for the night, I'm roaming the city. Because I did something that was hard for me to do.

You know what? It felt good. Yes. But the after part is always hard, and leaves me thinking, now what?

Today I had a thanksgiving dinner with my friends. Ya ya, I know it's not our holiday, as little brother pointed out. 'Why are you celebrating a goyish holiday?' So I told him, we are not really celebrating, we are just eating turkey. What's wrong with that?

Okay, we cheated. The turkey was expensive, so instead we had sliced turkey breast, the deli kind. We had sweet potatoes, and regular potatoes, and salad and green beans and cranberry sauce, and compote, and pumpkin pie, and I brought the chips. Ya, kind of a stupid thing to bring, but my friend told me to, and I can take orders if I have to.

It was fun. So much fun. Just chilling with friends, drinking Smirnoff ice, which tastes exactly like soda, except if you have a few of them you get a happy light feeling. Which I never get from diet coke, no.

Which got me thinking: today was Tes kislev. Okay, DON'T ask me what special thing happened today, cuz I'd have to get up and check the calendar. (Okay just checked it. It's the Mitiler Rebbe's birthday and yartzeit, and tomorrow is his celebration of release from prison. I thought it had something to do with him. Not bad)

So why am I having a thanksgiving meal when I should be having a farbrengin? Even though our get together could have passed as a farbrengin, and we even said a lechaim. But am I that out of touch with my Jewish side that I forget the days in chabad?

I had an interview today for a job in Manhattan, great location. But the job itself is even greater. It is working for a Rabbi, being his assistant. In a Chabad house, called Chabad loft. It is an awesome place, really big and airy, with couches, and paintings on the walls. And a big picture of the Rebbe. I want the job, I think I would be good for it, and it will be good for me.

As I told my mother, maybe Chabad will mikarev me. (That was a joke.)

And yes, I made a decision, a good decision, that I hope with all my heart that I will stick to, and not break my resolve like I usually do. And I hope that G-d sees my efforts, and helps me out a bit, cuz not to place the blame or anything, but He put the stumbling blocks in front of me in the first place.

Oh ya, in 10 years from now, I will look back on this and laugh. And I will be grateful that I went through everything I did, because it will have made me a stronger person.

But right now, I'm not laughing, and I need to take my contacts out cuz my eyes are dry.

As Charley always says, 'Merry Shabbos!!'