The timing couldn\’t have been worse. I was happily toting a batch of homemade bread and a broccoli quiche to a pot-luck birthday party, eager for some good fun and good eats. But I had barely crossed the threshold, when Sandy, the hostess and erstwhile birthday girl, announced that she had lost another 10 pounds on the Atkins plan.
Post-Bar Mitzvah Stress Disorder (PBMSD) usually follows a case of Pre-Bar Mitzvah Stress Disorder. This is characterized by speed-dialing your caterer several times daily until you actually hear him chewing antacids while you speak; zipping around so frantically from errand to errand that you have no time to eat anything other than large brownies in the car (perversely, this still causes weight gain), and bursting into tears with no warning because your little boy is no longer a little boy but a newly minted teen who has the audacity to catapult into puberty before your very eyes.
As the owner of Studio 613 — located on South Robertson Boulevard, between Olympic and Pico boulevards — Friedman has found her niche. Her women-only Pilates venue is providing a safe space for Jews and others to get in shape while maintaining their modesty.
On the holiday of Sukkot, it is customary to read Kohelet, the Book of Ecclesiastes, written by King Solomon. The following \”updated\” version of Kohelet is written by Judy Gruen, with major apologies to King Solomon.
As a city woman whose family is unaccustomed to \”roughing it,\” I planned our family vacation to involve a lot of nature but no sleeping on hard ground. That\’s what made El Capitan Canyon in Santa Barbara the perfect place for us: It\’s camping for people who like staying in Hiltons.
A two-hour drive north of Los Angeles, El Capitan Canyon is a former private campground that was transformed five years ago into a plush nature resort on 65 acres heavily populated with oak and sycamore trees. It allows guests to savor a rustic environment, but with down duvets and gourmet coffee for the coffeemaker.
My friend Rhonda asked me nonchalantly, \”Where are you going for Pesach this year?\”
Envisioning the whirlwind travels ahead, my head began to spin. \”I\’ll begin at Target for new shelf paper, sponges, paper goods, cleansers and a new broom. Then I\’ll dock briefly at Ralphs for the special deal on shmura matzah and whatever else they\’ve got for Pesach that\’s on sale. Next I\’ll bully my way in to the kosher market for meat, wine and enough matzah meal to plug up the Hoover Dam. Then I\’ll get over to Stan\’s Produce for fruits and vegetables. By that time, I\’ll have thought of dozens of other things I need, and start the whole thing over again. How about you?\”
When my friend, Debra, learned that a young man she knew had been in a tragic accident and was comatose, she went to the hospital to visit him every day for three months. No one knew if the man would emerge from his deep, distant sleep, but Debra believed that he would.
Recently, I found myself spellbound while watching \”Girl With a Pearl Earring.\” This film, based on the excellent Tracy Chevalier novel, is a fictional account of the history behind Vermeer\’s famous painting of the same name. The novel revolves around a servant girl, Grete, who became a secret assistant to the painter in his studio. In one scene, Vermeer accidentally glimpses Grete with her hair uncovered. The moment is electric. Grete, like all women of her social station, covered her hair at all times. It was as if Vermeer had caught her unclothed.
I should have known better than to forward an e-mail recommending a boycott of French products for France\’s anti-Israel stance and willingness to tend to Yasser Arafat on his deathbed.
A few weeks ago I found myself spellbound while watching \”Girl With a Pearl Earring.\” This film, based on the excellent Tracy Chevalier novel, is a fictional account of the history behind Vermeer\’s famous painting of the same name.
The novel revolves around a servant girl, Grete, who became a secret assistant to the painter in his studio. In one scene, Vermeer accidentally glimpses Grete with her hair uncovered. The moment is electric. Grete, like all women of her social station, covered her hair at all times. It was as if Vermeer had caught her unclothed.
It was odd to feel such a kinship with a fictional character, and one who lived in the 17th century at that. But, like Grete, I also keep my hair covered in front of all but family members.
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