Pass the matzo balls, y'all.

L’shana tovah — and happy 5772 — from your pals at the Howdygram! We may not be wearing stupid hats and dancing to Guy Lombardo, but we’re celebrating the new year with a nice pot of homemade chicken soup and a couple of Charlton Heston movies. Nothing says Rosh Hashana like Charlton Heston, the most inspiring faux-Jew EVER, who definitely knew how to turn an ordinary high holiday into a Cecil B. DeMille production.

I can’t sleep. I thought I was tired when I went to bed at 12:15 with Sam, but I woke up about 90 minutes later and still can’t figure out WHY. My bladder is empty, I’m not hungry, nothing hurts, I don’t especially want to watch TV, I’ve already done more than my share of online shopping and there aren’t any socks to fold. I suppose if I get desperate enough I can always eat cheese and watch a few “Millionaire Matchmaker” reruns; I wonder if Bravo knows this is the best sedative on earth.

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