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Fifteen minutes left of 5777. This quarter of an hour has been planned, written in parchment, last Rosh Hashanah

It hovers around the room, this helplessness, this vulnerable, horrible loneliness that makes us all so human

I took a deep breath and said, “I noticed your maiden name is Fraiman. That’s also my mother’s maiden name”

Finally, my kids went back to school. Each wrote lovely compositions about what they did this summer. Here’s mine

Wow, I remember thinking. That’s so beautiful. She does that, like, every day?

It was for a great reason, but it sure was awkward. I had to reach out to my new mechutanim before my obstetrician