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This year, I decide, for Shavuos night, we’re going to have a meal centered around Torah

e eternal words of Rus the Moavis reached down through centuries of mother-in-law/ daughter-in-law dynamics to guide me

“Your task is to write a poem. The title is: A Thing of Beauty”

Try as I might, I still harbor that childish conviction that Rus and I are one and the same, that the megillah is referencing me in its depiction of dedication and complete subservience to the ultimate King

It doesn’t help that I have an irritating anthropomorphic attitude toward inanimate objects, worried that they will “be sad” to be abandoned and alone in the world

If someone asks me what I do all day, I tell them that finding every occasion I can to celebrate is becoming my full-time job