... to the Bar Mitzvah.
The boy knows his parshah and haftorah, and has written his dvar torah, thank Gd.
The Birchon/Birkon is complete, and at the printer. We've already found five errors, but it's too late now.
The name of said Birchon/Birkon is זמורתא תהא; like it?
The plans for Friday airport pickups are more-or-less set, until the inevitable delays throw everything off.
Hosting is all set; people here have been wonderfully generous with their homes, I'm glad to say.
My suit is home from the shaatnez-checker at last, all clean.
I have moved the dozens of sefarim which reside on various pieces of furniture [because they are too restless for our ubiquitous bookcases, apparently] to an undisclosed location to ride out the storm.
The esteemed Rebbetzin is juggling the table assignments for meals.
I've been having a hard time with liquor selection for the kiddush. I'm against the whole idea of a shul drinking culture in the first place, but the point of a kiddush is to celebrate with the community, and this is the community's practice, so I'm going with it. But I really dislike the whole drinking culture. We're also putting out a lot of grape juice.
I'm thrilled that we have quite a few friends from our Allentown and Rhode Island communities coming in; for this alone, any tircha is worthwhile.
T minus 3 days...