Latkes and old friends

Latkes are potato pancakes fried in oil, a traditional Hanukkah dish. Best when eaten fresh from the frying pan with the smell of frying oil still in the air and covering every inch of the kitchen and your clothing.

Yesterday on our way to the annual Hanukkah party of certain friends of ours, I was in a rotten mood and honestly didn't want to go - annoyed at the late departure from home, suffering from almost chronic heartburn, not delighted at having to drive into San Francisco for the second time in one day, having taken Avi to his best friend Asher's overnight birthday party.

As soon as I entered Joel and Juliette's house and smelled that familiar cooking oil everywhere my mood lightened considerably, and things improved rapidly for me. There's something about being with my old friends from my shul (synagogue) in the City that relaxes me, I don't know quite how to put it. As the evening progressed and folks with little kids left, it was just the few of us that I knew well who were hanging out together, talking, laughing, eating, reminiscing . . . and I knew I could just be me.

Many years ago when we were living in the City and saw these folks all the time, I came to the conclusion that the reason we all fit together so nicely is because all of us are delighted not to 'fit in' with the larger mold, the expectations of others. In other words, we're all a little bit odd and proud of it. And we all love each other for our unusual parts and for the fact that we don't really WANT to fit in.

It takes years to develop these kinds of friendships, so we're just getting started on new ones in Oakland. It's the older friends I saw yesterday who encourage me to be me, just strange, irreverent, potty-mouthed Judith. As I hugged each one goodbye and repeated the 'great to see you' to each one, I felt so happy and relaxed and comforted and loved.

And I only ate two latkes, imagine that!