This is my Miri. This is my adorable daughter, my princess. She looks so good in Happy. Let’s do this, Mir, let’s do Happy all the time, life is so much sweeter this way.

The weather really was a dream.

“Ladies!” A woman wearing a green B’yachad cap stood up on a tree stump and clapped her hands. “Ladies, let’s go grab a bite up there, all right?”

She motioned up the hill to where Ruby was grilling. Leaving the kids to be shepherded up by the older sisters who were running a children’s program, the women walked up the path and approached the buffet.

Deena hesitated for a moment, then put some grilled asparagus on her plate. She listened to the women chatting around her. Did they all know each other? Was she the only newcomer here?

She glanced around. The crowd was a mix of types. Some were super young — how could they have already had the chance to get married and divorced? — and a few of them looked more established, like they were seasoned party goers. Young-ish, Hersko, definitely.

One of the young ones, sunglasses perched over her sweatband, squinted at Deena. “Nuts and Basil?”

Deena flashed her Instagram smile. “Yup, that’s me.”

“Coooool,” she said. Her voice tapered as her eyes probed Deena’s face. Deena read her mind: I didn’t know you’re divorced…

Because naturally she’d assume that Deena was divorced. Although this was a single-mom event, Deena guessed that widows were the minority here.

But the girl’s excitement won over her surprise, and after a moment, the fangirling started.

“OMG, you should totally publish a cookbook. Your stuff is next level sick.”

Deena grinned. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Baila Weisz.”

A woman holding a plate of salad came over to Baila. “Hey, Baila, you’re having kielbasa? Is it good?” Then she turned to Deena. “Hi! What’s your name?”

“Deena Lizman.”

“She’s Nuts and Basil!” Baila squealed.

A moment of surprise. The woman scrutinized Deena’s face. “Hey… that’s riiiiight. Oh, wow, I can’t believe I’m really bumping into you here!”

“Your posts are beyond creative,” Baila said. “And oh, my goodness, I loooved that reel with the 9-by-13 mysteries. So clever.”

The woman in the green cap walked over to them, gesturing. “Why don’t you guys come sit down to eat? We got the kids up here already, they’re having hot dogs and fries, Ruby’s gonna bring the steaks to the tables shortly.”

Deena stopped by the kids’ table. “Hey, Mir! Hey, Nechama! How’s it going?”

“Good,” Miri said.

Nechama held up her bun. “I want ketchup.”

Deena took the bun from her, wincing as she took note of her chalky hands. “Um, come here a sec, let’s just…” She reached for a bottle of water from the table and squirted it over Nechama’s hands. “Yeah.”

“Can we buy sidewalk chalk, Ma?” Miri asked.

Deena grinned. “Sure! Of course. Do you like it?”

“Uh-huh.” She placed a fry between her lips. Then she stuck her fingers into her ears, turned to the girl next to her and proceeded to turn her ears like a knob, slowly drawing the fry into her mouth. The girl giggled.

Morah Shiffy, do you see this?

When Deena returned to the women’s tables, she noticed that Ruthie had already taken a seat. Deena quickly slipped into a chair at the next table.

The woman in the short auburn wig was sharing some story. “So we sat in a pitch-dark dining room for the entire seudah. Then three minutes after our guests left, mazel tov, all the lights went on.”

Small talk, Deena. Go for it.

“Are you talking about Shabbos clocks?” she asked. “I had that with my cholent one week! I must’ve mixed up a.m. and p.m. So… deli. And deli.”

The women laughed.

A tall woman in a deliberately messy pony sheitel stuck a jalapeño into her mouth. “Guys, setting Shabbos clocks is a total man’s job. Which means that us single moms have to absorb an additional cost — lights that burn the entire Shabbos. Too bad.”

Deena nearly choked on her asparagus. The woman spoke with a breeziness, like she was talking about a product her grocery was out of.

“Don’t talk to me about doing the garbage. Just don’t.”

“Ooooh, you should’ve watched me change door hinges for my coat closet yesterday. I gave up begging my brother to come do it and guess who used a drill all on her own! Yay me!”

Is it me or is it them? How are they so open about this?

She looked around. Baila and her friends weren’t sitting at her table. The women she was sitting with were not Instagram types, none of them seemed to recognize her.

The woman at her right turned to Deena. “I find this independence rewarding,” she said quietly. “There’s something satisfying about handling things alone. I mean, it’s not typical, I know, but… I don’t know. Somehow, when I take care of the bills and I’m on top of stuff like getting the sewer cleaned, it gives me a push. Like I’m not this nincompoop mother. Does that make any sense?”

“Totally,” Deena said. And then she shared her laundry room flood saga. “Okay, at first I panicked, it wasn’t fun. But once I got the situation under control… I know what you mean. It’s empowering.”

The woman nodded.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

“Chana.”

Chana. No last name.

Ruby Blaine arrived with a groaning tray of steaks. The women made their way over to the buffet table.

Deena watched Baila Weisz and her crowd of youngies walk over with plates. “Ooooh, these look divine. I think I’ll do a cowboy steak,” Baila said.

Then she noticed Deena. “Hey, Ruby, you should totally team up with Deena here, do a show together.”

Deena’s cheeks turned hot. Ruby’s eyes were question marks.

“She’s like, the most talented blogger ever,” Baila explained.

Ruby grinned. “Nice. What’s your handle?”

“Nuts and Basil.”

As Ruby made her way over to other women, Baila turned to Deena. “So what are you up to these days? Any good shows coming up?”

Yessss. Yes, a major one, in Corvora in the Dolomites, Chol Hamoed Succos, will you come?

Deena looked around. There were quite a few women listening; Baila had done good PR work for her.

This was her opportunity. This was why she’d come.

But then she noticed Chana. The woman’s plate was still empty, and she was watching Deena closely.

Chana didn’t know her, and Deena had no reason to feel awkward. And yet, the woman’s simplicity, her authenticity, made the idea of using this event as a business opportunity feel… wrong.

Deena swallowed, then shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, you know, there’s always exciting stuff going on, right?”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 749)