…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…