…yesterday, I went in about noonish after Mass for two dozen bagels to feed the hungry mob at home.  I was really pleasantly supplied at how well-stocked they were with all our favorites– usually noon on a Sunday means pretty slim pickings at the bagel store.

But not yesterday.  Overflowing bins.

So I give the man my order, and as he finishes boxing it up, he asks if we’ve pre-ordered any challah bread.

Huh?  “No,” I say, “Just the bagels and a cup of coffee.”

“So,” he says, “These are for tomorrow?”

Double Huh?!??!?  “No,” I say, “they’re for my eight children sitting at home waiting for their lunch!”

Then, the light dawns, and I ask, “Is tomorrow Rosh Hashanah?”  Sure enough…

You know, I grew up in New York.  Time was, I would’ve figured out where this was all going as soon as the words “challah bread” left his mouth.  How California changes people…

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