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Being A Bee
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And no, I'm not talking about the "b-word" here. I'm talking about that fat little strippy bug that flys around, going flower to flower collecting pollen. I am that bee. And just like a bee goes flower to flower and only takes the best with it (the pollen), so too I go from place to place and from person to person and only take the best with me.
It's Been A Long Time My Friend
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How bad is it that I totally forgot I had a blog??? I mean, I wan't a constant blogger, but GEEZ!!! So Anyways, let me just highlight some of the pertinent highlights to catch alone up to date... On July 10, 2017 my oldest daughter had her first baby. She and her husband are adjusting well. I am heading down in September to spend 12 days with them in Texas. I competed in April 2017 for California Plus America and placed 1st runner up and Miss Congeniality in my division. I became the Activity Coordinator at work (senior living) in 2012 and got my administrator certification in 2016. The Israeli radio show I produced and co-hosted ended in 2013, but I have been thinking lately of revising it a bit and making it a podcast. Yeah ... sadly, these are the main highlights. Apparently I have no life ... I am hooking this blog into my laptop and into my phone so that I can update more often.
These Small Lights
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We have polished the silver menorahs until they gleam. My bubbe’s menorah is tall and majestic with wide branches spreading out of a silver trunk, the holder filled with pools of golden oil. The children’s are homemade of clay, and tile with colorful candles. We hang the crayon sketches of draidels and latkes, and gold coins. We display all of this proudly in the front window where those who know can look and see. My children beam with pride and anticipation. But the whole scene isn’t very big. You have to look for it to know that it is there. And who will look for it? The season outside is so very big, so exaggerated and all encompassing. Their holiday has music and peppermints and men standing outside of stores ringing bells. They have emails and catalogues and matching striped pajamas. And we have these small silver lights. I think of this as I stop myself from humming in the car along with songs that are not my own. I think of how it must seem to our children. H
Life Lessons from Full House
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Nostalgia is a funny thing. Everyone has memories, special recollections from the past. But it takes a special memory to make something nostalgic. I think the difference is that nostalgia is the intangible way that you miss something - the way that sometimes, often unexpectedly, a memory pulls at your heart strings and in my case usually triggers uncontrollable misty eyes. On a vacation about three years ago, I experienced a surprising longing for the past and found myself reliving flashes of vivid memories that rolled through my mind like a movie reel. On this trip, I visited San Francisco with my Sorority Sister. Both of us are products of the mid-eighties and fondly remember the sitcom, "Full House." We wanted to see the memorable “painted ladies,” a row of Victorian homes that are featured in the picnic scene in the opening credits of each episode. This was easier said than done. I guess we both assumed that there would be signs posted all over the
Being Bridget Jones
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Love. There are a million blog posts which can be written about love. It's a four letter word which can either make you cringe, go all mushy, cry (post break-up) or think of the "Big Day". It's perhaps the only word which can bring every emotion known to mankind alive. And its a pain. The problem is simple. Ladies, we all seem to fall very easy. The issue, the guys generally don't. Now it would be fabulous to pin point the exact reason for this. Simply so we could have something to go by. Or a guidebook - that would have its uses too. Sadly, these resources are not currently on the market so we have to figure out the male brain for ourselves. The majority of men have the beautiful ability to be emotionally unavailable, and the good ones we rarely find and are usually taken. It's enough to drive any self respecting girl to that tub of Ben and Jerrys. (Or 5) Whilst growing up, my experience of boys went a little like this: W