Hands of Manos

Still recovering from post-Purim cleanup: One would think, wouldn't one, that there should be some kind of balance in the mishloach manot universe (for all the goyim out there: mishloach manot, or shalach manos, are gifts of food that Jews go around giving each other, often delivered by children in costume... think of it as trick-or-treating in reverse). For each gift received, you give one back, and so, on balance, you should have as much food left (with perhaps some variety) as you started with. But this never happens. Looking at my living room table, I see enough candy to warrant a 50-foot "no diabetic" zone, sufficient chocolate to keep a teenager in acne for months, and a tottering mess of baskets, tins, plates, and creative containers. There's also a snack box of some health drink which scares the daylights out of me (I'm not really sure what "soy complex" is, and I don't really wanna know). I would guess that, to balance this, someone on the mishloach manot circuit is now looking at a bare room, wondering how come nobody loves him/her.

Full-fledged "head go 'splodey" feeling yesterday, after five hours in the library covering about 25 pages of aldol reactions and their variants. This class is not turning out to be all fun and games. You'd think that a course entitled "Organic Synthesis" would be an easy, lah-dee-dah class, wouldn't you? Urgh.