Last week I finally got around to getting properly bat mitzvahed. I had been taking an adult class every Tuesday for the past few years, and last Saturday I and 12 of my classmates were called to the Torah. For those who are fuzzy on the rules, once a Jewish kid turns 13 they are old enough to be considered an adult by the community and are permitted to chant from the Torah. Most folks get this done right when they turn 13, but the rule is that you can do it any time after that point. I thought I waited a good long time by holding out for another 13 years, but I was by far the youngest in the class. A lot of the women (and they were mostly women) belonged to conservative synagogues growing up, where girls were generally not bat mitzvahed. The oldest one in the class was a widow in her 70s.

It was a lovely, if lengthy, service and I was pleased that some of my nearest and dearest stuck it out to come down to DC on a Saturday morning to watch us all read. I daresay if was a moving occasion, and I'm very glad that I went through with it.

I'm not altogether glad I celebrated that night by getting hammered into oblivion on whiskey, Jaeger and car bombs at a bar called the Big Hunt (Get it? No? It's probably better that way), but I suppose that's the benfit/consequence of becoming a woman after passing the legal drinking age.

Another, comparatively less profound, milestone was reached last week -- at least it's a milestone as a DC citizen. I finally saw the Prez and First Lady in person at a speech about foreign assistance. The speech was unremarkable, save for some climate change stuff that really got the environmental folks all worked up. I learned that these events are entertaining primariliy for seeing who's there, and what faces they make at certain points of the speech. Otherwise they're pretty underwhelming. Except when it's Bono. That was fly.

I did get a picture or two of Homedude. Check it:

Scintillating, ain't it? The last time I saw W was when he was campaigning at Letterman and he wiped his glasses on the producers shawl. Hail to the dude.
Robyn