Let there be light

Blessed art thou, o lord our god, king of the universe, who wrought miracles for our fathers in days of old at this season.

Beautiful words, regardless of faith.  Isn't it funny that it is a nearly universal symptom of humanity to celebrate light at the darkest time of the year?  Perhaps we are all the same inside.

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Note above my shot glass menorah.  You're a little bit embarrassed that you know me right now, even peripherally, aren't you?  It's okay.  I'm a little bit embarrassed that I know me.  I ordered an actual menorah for next year!

Blessed art thou, o lord our god, king of the universe, who has allowed us Crate & Barrel.

I'll miss the shot glass menorah in all honesty.  My favorite part of that picture is the larger than life Christmas tree advent calendar in the background that my converted-to-Judaism mother sent my children.  We are a freaking melting pot in this house, people.  (And that thing is the source of at least one screaming melt down per evening, Grandma.  There is one drawer to open.  I have four children.)

Christian Kindergarten meets Hanukkah.  And has a "blow out the candles" contest from across the room.  God didn't smite them, but I wanted to smite a few of them.

The challah riseth.

Holiday spirit, we have it.  (Saige and Quinn are absent from those last two spirit photos because there is not enough holiday cheer on earth to get me through the great advent calendar wars of 2010 without sending someone to their room.  Possibly permanently.  Never fear, I'll feed them gruel. Cold gruel. With lumps in it.  It's possible my heart will grow three sizes tomorrow or I'll let Hampton Noodle open the damn drawer.)