We have officially decided to do NOTHING for Valentine's Day. I love nothing. That really is all I want. It's too dang cold right now to do anything other than huddle up with a book/interesting documentary film or maybe look at stupid stuff on Imgur. I have a friend whose birthday is on Valentine's Day, so there will be cake tonight, but it won't be Valentine cake. It will be Birthday cake, which is obviously better.
After bragging about my health last week, of course I caught a cold. Not a terrible cold (I'm over it already) but enough to keep me away from my cousin's baby's bris. For those of you who are not familiar with the term, a bris is a Jewish ritual circumcision. This would have been the first one for me. I can't say that I was looking forward to it.
When a baby boy is 8 days old, he is held by his grandfather (or other honoured family member) while prayers are said and then a mohel (trained specially for this ritual) performs the deed. If you want to learn a little more and are not too squeamish, click on this link. The grandfather who held the baby was steady throughout. The other grandfather had to turn away and looked like he might faint. This was all reported back to me faithfully by my mother.
Apparently when the attendees entered the little chapel within the synagogue, there was fierce competition for the seats at the back of the room. No one wanted to sit close enough to see anything that might make them turn pale. However, my uncle very assertively insisted that my mother and the other close family members sit right up at the front. Some of them stared at their shoes so that they could pretend they weren't so close to the action.
When I still thought that I would be attending, I psyched myself for the event by thinking of it like a piercing. For some reason, my brain thinks of piercings and tattoos in a separate category from medical procedures, making them more tolerable to observe. It's all over very quickly, and the baby is given a few drops of wine as a mild sedative. Still, I probably would have been staring at my shoes along with the other sensitive flowers.
Have you ever attended a bris? How do you expect that you would manage it?