I decided to put my money where my mouth is and host my first grown up Shabbat. I emailed everyone and presented a few possible dates. My Shabbat dream team got back to me and the date was set! Then about a week before my Shabbat, I decided not to hire a girl (decidedly very un-Jewish of me) and do the dishes. It was a Tuesday night, no big thing. I thought I’d be done in a few and on the couch with Will & Grace reruns in no time. Well as I picked up my last dish, a very innocent looking target bowl, it slipped out of my hand and as I went to grab it, it breaks and slices my right wrist open! Blood was everywhere!

A frantic call to a neighbor (I live alone, yes I am a single Jewish girl living in Los Angeles, very original), a trip to the ER and seven stitches later I was home and on Vicodin. The worst part? I would have to postpone Shabbat. I was really disappointed, but like my mother said, it could have been worse. But as Allen pointed out “Really? How could you hurt yourself worse with a bowl?”

Well six weeks later I’m almost fully recovered (minus a scary I-swear-I-did–not-try-to kill-myself scar). It’s going to be about six months to a year before I’m 100%, but Shabbat was back on!

I had seven people over, five Jews, and two Jew lovers. I spent the day preparing, visiting a kosher bakery, deli and butcher. I set the table with white linins and Manashevitz was my centerpiece. My guests came and it was a huge hit! My chicken and vegetables were delicious and everyone raved about my homemade rugaluch.

But then…After dinner we were all sitting back and relaxing, drinking wine and talking. “You get really flush when you drink!” my friend Adam said. “I know!” I lied. I don’t get flush at all when I drink, I’m not friggin’ Irish. But I figured I was tonight and it was a little warm in the apartment. Well a few minutes pass and Adam says “Go look in the mirror.”

I had completely broken out in some sort of allergic rash all over my face, neck and hands. I’M NOT ALERGIC TO ANYTHING! I was obviously freaking out, but it didn’t itch and I felt fine so we all surmised I was not going to die, but a Benadryl would probably be necessary.

What can I say? Never a dull moment. And if there is, you’ve probably taken communion your life.