My worldview is changing so much that, at this rate, I’m going to be a spectator sports loving fanatic within five years.
Some people are just scary and terrifying and we should never, ever, ever try to talk to them. That is not at all what this post is about.
I had only published a handful controversial articles, but the ones I had published seemed to elicit such huge and negative responses that I wanted out.
Potash Feldspar woke up and looked at the time. There, glowing brighter as the day progressed, the information projected on the closed drapes read 8:01AM. 58 degrees Fahrenheit. Hanetz at 8:45AM. His tired old eyes widened slowly and he rolled over to see his wife lying next to him, still sound asleep. Mr. Feldspar got dressed and put on his watch, which synced effortlessly to the drapes and his vitals came on screen. “Modeh Ani L’fanechah” he began to recite to himself.
I am eight years old, lying in my parents bed. In another room, my parents are arguing. I drift away feeling this was all my fault. That somehow, I am responsible for the pain and rage around me. That somehow, I have to fix things. That somehow, I am only lovable if I am perfect. It's a heavy, heavy burden to bear. And now I am a mother of four, still bearing this weight.
I know Gershon Legman held the opinion that limericks were not meant to be clean, but this is a family post, so, sorry! Or, you're welcome!
I did not have a good run up to, or a good time during, the High Holidays. The rain and the mosquitoes made hanging out in a sukkah a lot less fun than it was supposed to be.
There is no path. The path is many paths. It is an empty field. It is an entire twelve lane highway.
I hesitate to affiliate with any group, but somehow, Jews keep finding and charming me, probably because I'm one of them.