My lovely future daughter-in-law
On the day of Rosh Hashanah eve, the fiancee visa got stamped in Paris with the sweetest of words: Approved. On the day of Yom Kippur eve, the fiancee herself, scheduled to arrive on Wednesday, but delayed because the fiancee visa hadn't arrived yet -- God forbid they should hand it to you upon approval, but no, they must prolong the agony and mail it to you -- arrived at Tom Bradley International. Under normal cinematic circumstances, she'd be greeted by her future hubby with flowers and a marching band. But normal doesn't apply here. The eldest had every intention of making the pilgrimage to LAX, if it hadn't been for the long-planned bachelor weekend in Palm Springs. "Don't worry, sweetheart, Mother is here," I said. So, hubby and I made the trek on his behalf, crossing mountains, streams and freeways. More or less on time, we stood at the ramp, viewing the vast array of arrivees, our heads turning, our necks craning, as though watching a tennis match. "That's her!" "That's not her!" "Oh wait, I think that's... no, it's not." At last, she appeared, a vision of extreme gorgeousness. There were hugs and I-can't-believe-you're-heres. And then, the cross-town journey to her new apartment, carefully selected by her future groomy, somewhat furnished by, who else? Her future in-laws. And now, a pre-or-post atonement giggle for you, courtesy of my brother John:
Yea, the SJG is getting a daughter! I hope you forgot that fasting business and stuffed her to the gills with the food of our people (because, let’s face it, nothing says I love you like a noodle kugel!).
ReplyDeleteWe took her out to dinner but have yet to introduce her to kugel. One bagel at a time, Alice. One bagel at a time xo Happy New Year
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