Here are more tips for the best Shavuos ever

Shavuos is the one Yom Tov where you might think the yetzer hara doesn’t have much chance of sowing discord or anxiety, but he’ll find a crack, sneaking in where it’s least expected. That’s why we need to arrange a preemptive attack, planning in advance what can go wrong. Last week, we asked you for your strategies, as well as comments on ours. Here are more tips for the best Shavuos ever.

A. I wanna meet the guy who’d rather eat feta rolls with chili honey than balsamic roast beef. Real men eat meat, that’s my mesorah. If the balsamic really gets to you, just wash it off and dowse it in ketchup.

B. Hi there. Mrs. Zellenberg here. Regarding last week’s debacle, where my guest showed up fleishigs to a delectable dairy cuisine because he’d pilfered some schnitzel a couple of hours before, I just wanted to let you in on some behind-the-scenes drama. I mentioned to my husband that I invited the Flauts for the second night and that I’d be making milchigs. “Milchigs?!” he laughed. “Flaut is a schnitzel machine. He hasn’t picked up a fork since his sheva brachos. Go schnitzel, Tziv. Trust me on this.” I held my ground and scolded my husband for being so judgmental. “Watch,” he said. “Flaut’s gonna show up fleishigs.” I ignored my husband because I really dislike when he gets like this. I went about cooking and, in the background, barely heard him say, “I’m making roast beef as a backup.” Chortle. “Flaut hates balsamic vinegar. Tziv, where’s the balsamic vinegar?”

C. If you’re a Kohein, and you have a crazy chavrusa, there’s something else to be concerned about. At some point during Shavuos night, you might mention to said crazy chavrusa that you’re exhausted, whereupon he’ll insist that you take your shoes and socks off and insert your feet into a negel vasser bowl of freezing water. This could theoretically work, except that the bowl tips over and soaks your socks. You sigh and put your shoes on — without socks, a reality you soon forget about. Until Bircas Kohanim comes along…

D. You aren’t learning well because you’re so, so tired. A battle rages in your mind: Should I go to sleep? Should I not go to sleep? The arguments back and forth grow increasingly more imaginative and it’s becoming abundantly clear that the “go to sleep” option is going to win. All you need is a reason. And you come up with the perfect one. It’s the day of Matan Torah, and it’s only right that you should be able to make your own birchos haTorah, free and clear of any safeik because you were up the night before. If you go to sleep, you’ll be granted that luxury. With this in mind, you head off to bed at two-thirty a.m.… and wake up at ten. You jump out of bed in a panic, with no idea where you’re gonna get a minyan. Your mouth starts mumbling davening as you run off toward the nearest minyan factory and you hear yourself saying Modim. “Modim? Huh? Oh, I must have said 'Hamachazir Shechinaso l’Tzion' instead of 'Hamachazir neshamos lifgarim meisim' and my mouth just ran with it. Ok, so now, where am I up to? Birchos haTorah? Huh? Did I say birchos haTorah? I have absolutely no idea…”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 913)