Dear Brother Pete,
It has been a long few days for Sister Jenny. This year Passover fell out in such a way that we had two days of unplugged-on-account-of-Passover backing up against a day of unplugged-on-account-of-Shabbat. It's the Perfect Storm of Orthodoxy, and it doesn't happen very often. The end result was that I went so long without watching TV or surfing the Web that I think I might be Amish now. When I finally could turn the TV back on, it was like I'd forgotten how to watch it, and chose precisely the sort of shows you'd pick if you had no cultural capital. You're so excited just to see the miraculous! moving! pictures! that you'll watch anything, and I did: a documentary about the Big Brother mentoring organization, American Iron Chef, and Suze Orman. Go figure.
So I missed What About Brian? I share your affection for Barry Watson, though, and hope to catch the premierquel, or whatever it is that hasn't aired yet. At one point he became the only reason I was watching Seventh Heaven, and often fantasized that I myself was the headstrong Jewess Matt Camden chose for his bride.
I didn't get your book recommendations until just now. Here's what I read instead:
Joy Comes in the Morning by Jonathan Rosen: I liked it but I'm guessing a novel about a sexy lady rabbi isn't your thing.
Epileptic by David B.: I read this on your earlier recommendation and liked it. It's very Spieglman-y, I thought. What was weird was that I'd actually been to some of the macribiotic stores and restaurants he writes about. That one time we went to Paris when I was crazy? We ate macrobiotic because my parents thought I was less likely to spazz out over the food. Vegetarian, oui; delicieux, non.
Rose of No Man's Land by Michelle Tea: So good. Just so unbelievably good. Go get it right now. I've actually been to some of these restaurants, too, and so have you, on Route One outside Boston, that strip of weird kitschy neon theme restaurants. They're so weird, those restaurants: like Chuck E. Cheese for grown-ups, with luridly colored margaritas and fajita poppers and pizzatizers, and I'm so happy MT has chosen that as her locale. Because this was a favorite place for family meals I've been casting the book with family members. Read it and let's compare notes.
Osem Kosher for Passover Brownies: Not actually a book, but I feel compelled to review them anyway. These are just horrible. I thought they tasted like chocolate mashed potatoes. Amie detected a note of Crayola. What's worst is the betrayal of it -- they look so fudgy and delicious that it's such a letdown when they turn out to taste like bathtub grout. They're so bad that I keep eating them, because I just cannot believe the next bite will taste as bad as the last, but it does, it does.
I'm off to churn butter. There's a barn-raising today, and the menfolk will be hungry.
Love,
Jenny
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