Comfort Zones

In which our heroine lights the menorah and shakes her butt to Sean Paul.

One of the times I went home this year, I made the conscious effort to bring back the menorah I made as a preschooler. We had this fancy gold one in the house, but we never used it–we always used this one, the one from preschool with the little tiles in a barrage of colors stuck on a wooden slab, hexagonal nuts in a row to hold the candles. When Hanukka…