The Clean-Up Crew

"There is a very good reason that I'm a writer," I find myself constantly saying to people, "and that is because I'm not a speaker."

I hate speaking--public speaking. I'll talk your ear off in private; that's not a problem. But ask me to get up in front of a group and talk? Turns my skin cold. I have a hard enough time doing it when I'm volunteering in Em's classroom. Turn those little hellions into adult hellions, and I'm outta there.

Tonight, my temple's sisterhood--of which I am a member--is putting together a potluck and a shabbat service. When I went to pick up Em at Hebrew school on Tuesday, I ran into the Siterhood President, who asked me if I'd be attending.

"Of course," I said. "In fact, I was going to drop you a line and see if I could do anything to help out."

"Well," she replied, "actually, I need some people to do some of the English readings during the service."

I laughed more than just a touch nervously. "Oh, god, no," I said. (I have no idea why it is, but I have a habit of 'taking God's name in vain' almost compulsively when I'm at temple. Or maybe I just notice it more when I'm there. One of these days, I'm simply going to be struck dead by some errant lightning bolt in retribution, and I'm totally going to have deserved it.) "You mean get up in front of the congregation? And speak? During services?"

She laughed. "Or, I could just put you on the clean-up crew."

And so, clean-up crew it is.

Phew. That was a close one.