I have these little calluses on the tip of my left thumb and forefinger, and I have no idea why. I think I might have developed a habit of unconsciously biting them. The reason I deem this worth blogging about--not that it's a very high bar, as may be apparent--is that my husband has calluses like that on pretty much every fingertip, from biting them. I've always thought that was further evidence that he is crazy, and I don't mean crazy in love, although that is undoubtedly also true. I can't believe he's got me doing it. So maybe it is true that married people start to look and act like each other? That does not bode well for either of us. Compounding the crazy.
I recently put a statcounter on this blog (and got rid of my google ads, which were only there because they gave me a hit count) that allows me to see how people got here. Apparently using Shakespeare quotes as titles for every blog post is a good way to increase hits, because I get a lot of people linking from google searches for the language I nick from old Bill. But none of those people ever stick around to read my other posts, which is clearly their loss. Off hunting after more Shakespeare, no doubt. Fools!
We saw Noel Coward's Private Lives on Friday. Altough it was a very light comedy, there were a couple exchanges in it that touched on some very deep stuff, like the inherent loneliness of the human condition. I tried to find one of the lines for a dogeared but Google Books failed me. Damned intellectual property laws. Anyway it struck me as very interesting that there were those few little nuggets in a play that was mostly highly entertaining nonsense.
I went to my first bar mitzvah on Saturday and was struck by how meaningful the ceremony was. It seemed much more meaningful than Catholic Confirmation, and I thought in large part because the focus was on just the one kid, rather than a whole class together. He had to lead the congregation -- he was given the responsibility of adulthood. That strikes me as much more effective than anything I went through for Confirmation. The flip side, of course, is that I'm pretty sure the party cost more than my wedding, all in honor of a 13-year-old. I think the message that sends might cancel out the ceremony.