It was a nice Purim. Last night I listened to my friend read part of Megillat Esther at a reading in a private home, and this morning I read chapters 5 and 6 at a local women’s reading. Chapters 5 and 6 are my favorites to read, because I really have the chance to ... ummm, you should pardon the expression ... ham it up.
Then I went to a friend of mine for the festive Purim meal. Wonderful news: she and her husband are expecting a new addition to their family at around this time next month. Be-sha’ah tovah!
The only wrench in the works was that I started to come down with a migraine as the meal was ending. But thanks to some painkillers and the twenty-minute nap I took on my friends’ sofa, I dodged the worst of it. That’ll teach me to be lax about drinking (water) on Purim.
(Side note: I don’t get drunk, ever. I’ve been tipsy occasionally, but never more than that, since I have a low tolerance threshold and too much alcohol puts me into terrible pain. Specifically, it makes me feel as though my heart and lungs have been set on fire, and to put it very mildly, when I am in pain I am no pleasure to be around. So no drinking for me on Purim or Simhat Torah. An occasional glass of wine with Shabbat dinner, and that’s it.)
Here is what I saw on the way home. They’re called common grape hyacinths, according to the lovely flower guide that friends of mine gave me for my birthday a while back.