Once, I had the notion on a Sunday afternoon that baking abatch of chocolate chip cookies would be a cathartic experience. Iwent to Ralphs, I bought the ingredients, I read the directions onthe back of the chips. But as I stirred the batter in a huge bowl, Iknew something wasn\’t right.
Single and stuck in evening rush-hour traffic onthe 405 Freeway on the last Friday of the month? Instead of leaningon the horn and screaming at the driver in the next lane, you mightconsider pulling over and dropping in at one of nine Reform andConservative synagogues that have joined the new 405 Jewish SinglesShabbat services circuit.
I am standing in the doorway looking at my first blind date, I\’mthinking: somebody could have said something about — how do I saythis tactfully — his face.
These are more stories of beshert, of relationships that are \”meant to be,\” with a little help from The Jewish Journal. Over the past year, at least five couples have called us to announce their personal-ad-inspired nuptials. And, no, they weren\’t ashamed to admit how they met. Gone is the stigma that ads are for people who are really desperate, they insist.\n
I love basketball. Not as in, I love Neil Diamond,I hum along when he\’s on the radio. No.
I remember coming home from my first date witha boy.
You read me! You really read me!
When I perused the stack of letters in response to my recent column on the difficulty of finding friends in a new city, I not only felt less like a huge loser, but I was reminded what it means to have a community. When I question why being Jewish is important, I will look at those letters and know.
\”Don\’t you want to play with the other little girls?\” my grandmother asked me one summer, while the two of us sat on a park bench near a pack of screaming children.
I buried my head deeper into my book.
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