Once the last guest had left, the family found themselves filled with excitement over the events of that evening. Before the dinner was over Elizabeth had obtained a new client, one of the sparrows who had been attacked by a non-binary seagull, but she had also against her better judgement, allowed Jeremey to escort her home, with the admonishment though of ‘keep your wings off my body.’

“What’s that doing on the table?” asked Sybil, her voice climbing as she pointed to a round glass container.

“What’s what doing on the table?” replied George pretending not to notice the small glass container in the centre of the table.

“That!” Sybil emphasised pointing even more determinedly with her wing.

“What should we feed them?”

“Matzo ball soup!”

“Pastrami on rye with mustard!”

“Spaghetti and meatballs!”

The suggestions stopped immediately, “spaghetti and meatballs?” Everyone except Rosa asked in unison as they looked at her as if she had two heads.

There was cause for much consternation in the Blau household.

It all began the day before when George in a panic flew up to his wife Sybil who after recovering from her prolonged illness, wished to make sure she left her impression on everything, including Julia’s cooking, much to the disappointment of the others in the Blau household.

“What’s that?”

“Matzo ball soup.”

“Who made it?”

“Rosa made it,” replied George trying to inject some humour into the situation, but as usual he miscalculated badly.

“Rosa!” shouted Sybil trying to sit up in bed and then collapsing. “Rosa,” she croaked her head splitting.

“How long have we been married?” George paused for a minute. However, Sybil believing he was playing for time wouldn’t let him off the hook. “20 years,” she reminded him, “and in all those years have you even listened to me once? Have you?” George was about to answer his wife, but again she felt he was playing for time and didn’t let him answer. “That’s right, not once. Not once have you listened to me.

Unlike most Jewish mothers, Sybil Blau is not a good cook. In fact, using the words good and cooking in the same sentence does immense disservice to the millions of Jewish mothers who are excellent cooks. Because of that, Julia became the cook of the Blau family. Luckily for everyone Julia loves to cook and is an excellent cook.

“What happened to you? You look like you were in the war.” A question directed to Max when Julia Timmy and Max came out of Chaim’s Jewish Deli and walked into the bright, warm sunshine, and had as suggested by Chaim turned left to the taxi stand.

“Well kind of,” replied Max, whose normally pristine feathers were somewhat ruffled.

As he had done every morning since arriving at his parent’s home the previous Sunday, Jason awoke well before the sun had decided to rise in that part of the world and got dressed. He walked out of the back of the house and began to climb a hill, and didn’t stop until he had reached the summit, where he spread out a sheet he had brought with him, and sat down facing East.

“Shalom!” The man behind the counter wearing a kipah continued, “are you new here? I’ve never seen any of you here before.”

“How did you know we were Jewish?” asked Julia not answering the question.

“Oh, that’s easy,” he replied laughing slightly, “only Jews come in here.”

“What about……” began Timmy turning slightly towards the door?

Kumar wasn’t sure of what to expect. He had never been to a bris in his life, let alone heard of one. When he returned to his apartment after dinner, a very long dinner at that, with Steven at Mykonos that Tuesday evening, he threw all the stuff he carried in his pockets on to his desk, changed his clothes and then pulled out his phone to get onto the internet.

“It’s like everything else in life,” thought Tom as he lowered his car window and called over to a man standing by the roadside. “It’s like everything else,” he continued talking to himself, “what you dream of being in life and what actually happens are generally two different things.”

“And now for something completely different,” John read the sign over the doorway a few times before entering the store. He had never been to Markham before, but had heard that the town of 5,000 inhabitants boasted having the most fish and chip shops per capita of any town in the country. And that this one, the one with a very strange name, was simply the best. John had arrived in town, which was located on the South Western shore of England, not too far from Land’s End, the night before on a business trip.

“Max!” shouted Timmy at the top of his little lungs as he raced across the sand and threw his wings around his best friend. Max for his part was somewhat embarrassed, but carefully wrapped his wings around Timmy as well. “I’m sorry for all the bad things I’ve ever said about you,” continued Timmy sounding as if he was about to cry.

“Am I reading that sign properly?” Steven asked the question of anyone and everyone who stopped to wonder why he was standing outside the large windows of the grocery store and not going inside. Needless to say, most thought him to be not quite there and kept their distance from him. But Steven was undeterred. He kept standing there, reading the large sign in the window over and over again. There were many advertisements displayed trying to lure prospective shoppers into their halls with the numerous sales. But those didn’t interest Steven.

It was a Tuesday night when Stanley met Kumar at ‘Mykonos,’ a Greek restaurant in midtown Manhattan. It was practically empty with the exception of the wait staff who were pleased to see Stanley, which made Kumar believe he was well known there, and he was. They were shown to a table in the back of the restaurant close to the kitchen and far enough away for any other patrons not to hear their conversation. After they had sat down, had been served a glass of wine and engaged in small talk for a couple of minutes, Stanley began.

Derek loved trains as a child. In fact, he had loved trains all of his life. As far back as he could remember he enjoyed watching trains, building toy trains, and playing with a train set when he was all of two years old, even though he didn’t understand what it was. He just enjoyed watching them go around and around on the tracks in his room.

Dawn hadn’t broken yet. The world outside Ethan’s window was still very dark. He lay in bed wondering if he had a moment to reflect on the day before and how he could improve upon his life.

Each day Ethan got up at approximately the same time and each morning he decided that wouldn’t do. His life was flying past at full speed, and he knew it. Ethan just wished he could get it to slow down.

Rosa hated eating eggs. She considered it murder.

“How can you eat eggs knowing that every time you do, you’re killing one of us?” Julia and the rest of the family who loved eggs and ate eggs every breakfast tried to plead with Rosa for some common sense.

“They aren’t Sandpiper eggs!” Julia tried to explain to her younger sister. “They are chicken eggs.”

There’s an old saying which goes, “if you don’t have your health, you have nothing!” And that is very true. One can have all the money in the world and all the status they could’ve wished for, but unless they’re in good shape physically and mentally then they really have nothing.

When Alice was told of this saying once, she really took it to heart. In fact, she went to the extreme.