Dry foods are more than just that 3 letter word, dry. I mean be it saltines (eat 6 within one minute- you will not be able to!) or krumbly challah that will turn crunchy if left exposed to the open air for over 5 minutes, or uncooked pasta, the way that my mouth responds in the similar way that it does to the suction-y dentist tool that is meant to suck our all your saliva. No, even more than that. Because the small pieces that

You know what? How can I finish writing of the sensations felt in my mouth on my grated tongue when I bear direct witness to my uncle plotting different ways to enhance the mood of the shiva house through rude comical signs and items to serve as reminders of our own mortality. For example: My grandpa, being what i presume is completely normal for a later octogenarian, has a bit of trouble getting to the bathroom on time. So in preparation for whatever post- funeral festivities occur at this suburban Philly moderno- turned self- inflicted pigsty, (read: house) a sign was pasted on the powder room door, the only place on the ground level floor to let out urine in a socially respectable manner. The sign reads "Please use upstairs toilet if able- bodied enough to walk up the stairs."

This anarchist with side flavors of Breslov Hasidut, militant weapons, outright racism against all non- whites and non- Jews. My uncle, once a pot- smoking deadhead who embodied the unlikely blend of two stereotypes: the aforementioned, and the Arab and Muslim hating, gun and hunting loving militant with a severe case of both pre and post traumatic stress disorder constantly brewing under his taut skin stretched over decades of hard fat buildup.
A direct quote:"Oh here we go- for the treatment of chronic idiopathic constipation- Go Upstairs." He hastily flips the pages of JAMA magazines (Journal of American medical Assoc), and other such obscure pamphlets of medical literaure searching for relevant or not_ so relevant ads that might relate vaguely to my ailing grandpa. To accomplish what? Stir up an already simmering kettle of distraught, anxious women with rapidly graying hair, secretly angsty teens, and the absence of traditional familial stability?