>"Hey, you Jewish?" a homeless man with approximately four teeth asked Husband as we waited with Dr. H at the bust stop last night. He blew cigarette smoke in Husband's direction for emphasis.
"Why yes I am," Husband answered, to my surprise. It wasn't that I was surprised that he admitted he was Jewish; it was that he didn't realize that by answering in the affirmative, he invited a life story saga from the guy that would eventually end in a request for money. Dr. H and I looked at each other the man went on to ask Husband if he's ever been to Atlantic City ("Yes," Husband nodded) and then said something about being the homeless Jewish comedian of the Boardwalk.
"Um, I don't like the cigarette smoke, so I am going to move," Husband finally choked out. The man frowned and tried to dissuade him, promising to stop blowing smoke in his face, but we were already walking away.
"Why did you tell him you are Jewish?" I asked Husband when we got farther away.
"He was wearing a weird little Yarmulke thing," he replied.
And that, folks, is why I love Husband. Wednesday is our eight year wedding anniversary. I'll be in Chicago, visiting my family, and Husband will be in New York, working, so that is a bit of a bummer. But he'll meet me in Chicago on Thursday, so we can celebrate then. Lots of exciting things coming up this week, plus guaranteed Reisman wackiness.