Raising the bar

I popped my bar mitzvah cherry (such a bad sentence on so many levels). As an event planner, the suburban trifecta is weddings, bar/bat mitzvahs and ruby anniversaries. Or some other third one.

Last weekend was my first bar mitzvah. It was quite an eye-opening experience. There are so many rules. So many! And this was my first time in a synagogue. Was I even allowed to wear jeans in there? Make-up? Hip flask?

I got a brief overview of the yays and nays and had to change my entire plan. Say goodbye to the bacon sandwich pressed between two pieces of ham. Au revoir to switching on a light - oh I was in the dark alright! Sayonara to drinking my latte on the meat side of the kitchen. The ovens had to be left on all night as they were not permitted to turn them on the day of the event.

We weren't allowed to bring anything in or out after sundown and no, we didn't not smuggle last minute items in under our shirts. No. We did not.

Grape products made by non-Jews may not be consumed. What? I'll admit I left very curious and planned on learning more. I'll get around to it, just after I finish my kebab wrapped in cheese. Mmm.