Rosh Hashanah

The days of awe are on us.

On Friday we ate challah and roast chicken and apples and honey and discussed things we might do differently come the new year, and on Saturday we threw our bread in the water (the Arkansas River, our usual venue -- a lovely evening, this year, not as blisteringly hot as usual, but my heavens were the mosquitoes vicious) and named our sins and regrets, things we'll change, things we're sorry we did over this past year, things we'll try to stop doing.

Then the kid and I did the winter dance at the top of the hill, by the scrappy remains of old Fort Smith, and we ran for the car before the mosquitoes could eat us to pieces, and went to the bookstore, and bought far too many books.

A good year to you!