No politics. Pass all the food. And tell us your life story.
Ask me about my favorite Shabbat experience and this might just be my answer.
It's too cold for anything longer than seventeen syllables.
I spend the whole week living like a pinball; bouncing and ricocheting through life. By the week’s end, the last thing I need is someone telling me how to relax.
There's something about the way Shabbat is Shabbat wherever I go.
Here's how to dish out the real soul food.
The struggle of having opinions and hating politics wholeheartedly at the same time.
How can a day that seems so hostile to creativity be the wellspring from which all creativity flows?
A stranger on a rooftop teaches Elizabeth how to keep Shabbat and keep her sanity.
A poem:
"You pray for silkworms and butterflies.
Dance, and your twisting wrists chafe against shackles.
Sing, and grey moths escape your open throat."