Short jewish gal december 2018 10 gases

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Inner beauty. They say it’s more important that outer beauty. But let’s face it. It’s nice to look good on the outside, too, or at least, arrive somewhere in the vicinity. To paraphrase the late great Leonard Cohen, something I’ve never done, but why should that stop me, in my nearly 61 years on Planet Panic, I’ve come so far for beauty. The lifelong, never-ending, pricey maintenance of my short Jewish personage. The haircare. The skincare. And now, in a starry alignment this former astrology columnist never could’ve foreseen, as of this week, the SJG Beauty Team, including Renee, commander in chief of my baby fine ka-ka hair, Lenny, commander in chief of my hair color, and Lynne, commander in chief of my punim, shall gather in one, that’s right, one locale. What I’m saying is the SJG Beauty Team is together at last. They can all consult with each other over what to do with me and all my beauty issues. electricity was invented in what year They can even hold secret conversations by the bowls in the back. Oh dear, I can hear them now:

(Sherman Oaks) Can you say Shandalabra! We’ve just learned, only moments ago, that the SJG’s trusted aide, Kissy Von Kreplach, has… brace yourself… skidaddled, leaving only a resignation letter that seemed a little harsh: "I can’t stand it another second. I’m out." MENSCH MAGAZINE has it on pretty good authority that Hanukkah was the last candle for Von Kreplach. gaslighting examples According to a person who just knows stuff, Kissy — aka Kissy-Face to her close friends — reached her tipping pointing after the SJG’s Faux Festival of Lights. "Kissy comes from a mispocha that embraces the menorah. Every night, a new candle. Every night, a little gift and a big one at the end. But the SJG only lit one candle on the first night, couldn’t even get through the blessing without Googling, and then didn’t light the candles until the last night, only because she was guilted into it by her eldest son, who wept a little at the sight of the candle-free menorah. Oh, and please, let’s not even get into the frozen faux latkes she served. And gifts? What gifts? Everyone got bupkis, unless you count the feeble attempt to pass off running shoes bought on Cyber Monday as ‘eight nights of gifts rolled into one.’ No one bought it, especially Kissy-Face, who was given a pair a size-and-a-half too big."

Hellody, Darkness, my old friend, how’s ba you? I’ve come to talk to you again about my latest obsession. Paris. Why am I obsessed with Paris? I’ll tell you why. Because soon we’re going there, at least, that’s the plan. We’re all, the mishpocha that is, flapping our wings and heading in a Frenchly direction. But, Darkness, are you still listening? Have you had your hearing checked? Pay attention, you. There’s a little problem. The City of Lights has gone dark. Everything is shut down. Paris is in lock down, but only for the fourth weekend in a row. gas dryer vs electric dryer operating cost There are people in yellow vests protesting pretty much everything. Can you blame them? There are police in riot gear. Tear gas. Water canons. Does this sound like a dream vacay to you, Darkness? Or do you just sit there and ponder what the heck happened to the world? If so, stop that, Darkness. No good can come from that. I refer you to myself. The last time I saw Paris was, what, 40 years ago. I was a student abroad, Darkness. I’ve been so many places in my life and times. These days, I mostly circle Sherman Oaks in a continuous loop. Gelson’s. Club Schvitz. gas in texas Gelson’s. Club… oh, you get the idea. But now I have a French daughter-in-law, a glamorous, wonderful human who can’t wait to show us the sights and her hometown and the place where she got her fancy degree. It’s my time to branch out, dammit. So of course, my destination should be in turmoil. And yet, longtime hubby, who’s never received Optimist of the Year, is shockingly optimistic about the whole situation. "It’ll be fine," he tells me. "How do you know?" "It’s just a feeling." "Okay, let’s go with that." But just between us, Darkness, I reserve the right to worry and obsess. In summation, as the Jewish proverb says:

I’m not sure what it is about this time of year that heralds grief. Hey, end of November into December, I’m asking you: What gives? Does the Universe shift from one extreme to the other just because it can? Lately, it’s been hard to keep track of all the cruelty, the shootings, the fires, the heartbreaking goodbyes. m gasbuddy And just like that, it’s coming on Hanukkah and Christmas and even with the good things and reasons to rejoice, some of us wish we had a river we could skate away on. I woke up yesterday, ready to greet the day with my usual blend of kvetchiness and gratitude, only to learn that the daughter of dear friends had died in a car accident. Only 19, a bright and beautiful gift to everyone lucky enough to know her. I can’t make any sense of this, or any of the other shocks life throws our way. All I can do is send my love and deepest condolences. I can say Kaddish. I can say this Jewish prayer: "As long as we live, they too will live; for they are now a part of us; as we remember them." And I can do one more thing. I can listen to Joni Mitchell’s "River."