Anyway, aside from that remarkable conversation with a newly minted barrister, my Passover included the following:
Was good-naturally accused of loving Mini Me sooo much more than Mini Not Me; accusation based on the amount of corresponding pictures I have posted in FaceBook. In defense, had to inform my friend that I love them both to pieces; the disparity in the quantity of pictures comes from the simple fact of Mini Me enjoying Sunday outings with her Papi, as opposed to her brother, who would have social services on my head way before we would reach Manhattan with his pitiful demands of "Mommy." My brother had to add his two cents to the story by pointing out that it would probably be FBI, and not social services, since Mini Not Me is, well, mini not me, so I would probably be accused of kidnapping, and not just child abuse. Just imagine the announcements on the Subway!
It also became apparent that I am not alone in my desire to deal a crushing, but well deserved blow to our thoroughly corrupt school system by starting to home school our kids. One of my friends even had a very practical plan of how to do it (unfortunately, it usually stops at our necessity to work for a living).
At both Sedarim, I was treated to different, but equally gory and imaginative descriptions of what was going on in the Temple when people were bringing their Passover sacrifices en mass. What is it with men and blood and gore?
Contained myself in the face of extreme provocation offered by one of my very good friends, who, due to a probable early mid-life crisis, became a fervent Obama supported and honorary black dude.
Was further entertained in a different household by a tale offered by one of their daughters. She (the daughter) is working in some kind of administrative capacity in a nursing home. Apparently, she had an immigrant co-worker, who, being a very good seamstress, was offered a much better paying position in one of the couture houses. However, the poor woman would rather go back to being an underpaid administrative worker, since dealing with mercurial moods of the people who are able to afford that couture is very wearing on the nerves. One example given was some kind of famous lady named Jennifer Lopez (you got to love the immigrants ignorant of our idiotic fascination with celebrities) who insisted on having a gown cut (despite the gently offered advise), and then wanted to lengthen it again.
Got into a discussion with a young father, who thought that it's a hoot to suggest that it would be better for his daughter to have a permanent diaper rush, because, according to his calculations, Desitin is cheaper than Huggies. Not the first time did I observe that fatherhood does not necessarily mature the male of the species.
Tried to explain to a nice Ashkenazi girl my reasoning for my family not belonging to either Ashkenazim or Sephardim (which, by the way, requires a rudimentary knowledge of Jewish history). "So, how would you classify yourself?" was her slightly annoyed question (I guess my accent was grading on her nerves). "Well, we just call ourselves Jews." "What?" Sheesh! You know those strange people who annoy everyone? Yes, those!
Brought a bottle of wine to my other friend, which resulted in his corkscrew breaking. In situation like this I would just make a joke and put the bottle away till I can lay my hands on another corkscrew. Well, I am a girl, so that do I know. To him it became a test of manhood, and he spent more than an hour (although he insisted on it being only twenty six minutes) trying to open a blessed bottle while using a variety of very inventive techniques. Eventually, the bottle surrendered! At least everyone liked the wine:)
I was also accused by him in liking Earl Grey tea only because I am a Trekki.