A Prayer For Passover

"I heard her brisket was decent." - Elijah, the ultimate Pop-In

Oy, math, how you mock me. Suddenly, it hit me like a ton of ancient mud bricks my Israelite ancestors produced while enslaved by that biblical baddie, you know the one, Pharaoh. (Nice Passover reference or what?) Friday morn, I popped the two briskets in a 275 oven thinking a six-pounder and a five-pounder would take... at an hour per pound... 11 hours to cook. Uh, duh. No one said to add the two together. No one but... me? Let's face it, I'm brisket-challenged. Somewhere mid-afternoon, as the scent of brisket wafted through the palatial estate, I realized in horror that, oh @#$%!!! I better check, they've been in there too long, and sure enough, they were done, and God willing, I didn't overcook them. If I did, I'll certainly blame my mother-in-law, who told me, and I quote, "You can cook brisket forever." So tonight, when you're reclining at your first or second seder, depending how you roll, please find a place in the Haggadah to squeeze in a prayer for me, as in... Baruch Ata Adonay Elohenu Melech Ha-olam... may the SJG's briskets melt like butter and not bring shame to her mispocha.