Forgive me, friends, for the dwindling frequency of posting. Today, however, when I thought I might toast my tush on the beach while drinking a few beers for the first and last time this summer, our Creator has chosen to station a giant dumping weather system over the entire Southeast and so provide me with some time to catch y’all up on the Yenta. While I usually loathe blogs that detail the reasons for why its author hasn’t been around, I’m going to indulge in some boring self-referentia just this once:

Last weekend, the whole family attended a family bar mitzvah in Raleigh, NC, at Congregation Beth Meyer. Forrest the BM boy delivered his Torah portion perfectly, mazel tov!, and I was totally blown away by Rabbi Eric Solomon. He’s a young hip guy from Brooklyn with little kids, and his wife — also ordained — shares in the cantor duties for the congregation. Together they bring such an invigorating combination of tradition and presence to the bima; it was like having the cool kids teach Torah. Reb Eric made a point to explain each prayer and go over the melodies as part of the service, which those of us who didn’t go to yeshiva really appreciated.

Even my father-in-law noticed. “He didn’t try to make anyone feel bad that they didn’t know the Hebrew,” he said, and I know he was thinking back to his own childhood when reiterating the chants perfectly was more important than understanding what they meant. Reb Eric brought a relevance to Saturday services that felt almost shocking, but it’s something we could sure get used to ’round here.

At the sports-themed party that evening, Forrest got the requisite chair ride to the DJ’s truly awful “Yiddish medley” that might have downloaded from the Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack, but it was a special simcha nonetheless. Of course, my mother-in-law and I tore up the dance floor to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.”

So then it was back to work, which I’m still just loving. My second issue just came out and I’m really pleased with the final product; the sales staff and our new graphic designer are such fine women. Putting together a magazine, interviewing subjects, hiring photographer and choosing products from businesses that I want to give a little free publicity feels like the role I’ve been working towards ever since I got my first editorial assistant job and realized that having a bachelor’s degree in creative writing might not mean I was doomed to wait tables for the rest of my life. Last week I served on a panel with a few other editors on “How to Write for Magazines,” and the journalism professor from Savannah State University has invited me to come speak to her classes this semester — it’s almost like I know what I’m doing. Almost. Sometimes, though, I still feel like the girl with the shaved head and hairy armpits living in her VW van armed with nothing but her journal and a chamsa for good luck.

I’ve been stressing out a little about my lesson plans for Shalom School, which begins next week. We had a staff meeting last week, and I was the only teacher whose classroom materials hadn’t arrived – I panicked at the thought of my charges blinking vacantly at me while I tried to teach them the “David Melech Yisrael” hand jive a cappella for two straight hours. But then there was talk about combining my kindergarten class with Wendy Cohen’s pre-K group, which would not only solve space issues but create a fun synergy, since Wendy’s just super cool and we’d have a big raucous group who could create a thunderous “Hinei Mah Tov.” So no worries, though I was firm that I still want my holiday rug.

And wait, the commitments keep on coming: By far, the most exciting thing I’ve been invited to be a part of lately is Do You Hallelu? in Atlanta, an interactive concert presented by Synagogue 3000 starring legendary Jewish musicians Debbie Friedman, Theodore Bikel, kosher gospel singer Joshua Nelson and Neshama Carlebach. The brain child of Craig Taubman, this veritable Jewlapalooza will be huge – 3500 people! I’m going to be doing some “live blogging,” which I thought entailed me sitting in the audience quietly recording my thoughts, but I found out last week that they want me onstage. I can’t imagine why me at my laptop would be that compelling, especially if I’m sitting in my underwear and one of my husband’s tattered fraternity shirts like I am now, but I’m sure the brilliant folk of Craig N Co have something in mind.

I’ve also been distributing the latest issue of American Jewish Life to Savannah’s synagogues and the JEA as a favor to editor Benyamin Cohen. I’ve got one for you in the trunk of the minivan (along with the current issue of skirt!) or, if you’re not on my route, check out the online version.

Let’s see, what else? The JEA has asked me to teach a “Klezmercize” exercise class to the seniors, and as much I would love to, I can’t find a spare hour once a week during the day to do it. It’s a shame, ’cause I have some Jewish music that’ll kick those yentas tushies (Hip Hop Hoodios, anyone?) and my mother-in-law would absolutely love it (Come to think of it, maybe all the dancing we’ve been doing ’caused the rain?) I haven’t said “no” yet, but I only have 24/6 like everyone else, y’know?

There are also the matters of both children starting school this week, our new mostly well-behaved dog Clarabell (she looks a lot like this. Cute, cute, cute), Thursday’s deadline for the October issue and the upcoming Holy days. There’s always more to do (I just remembered El Yenta Boy needs a new tie for synagogue) but while earlier in life I might’ve collapsed under the weight of so many responsibilities, opportunities and activities, mostly I’m just so grateful for such a crowded plate. (Except when I’m not, and then no one better ask me to so much as tie their shoes for them.)

So this rainy day of “nothing to do” can’t be perceived as anything but yet another blessing. Hope your Labor Day weekend is as blissfully un-laborious.