Come join us as we try to sink a basket, cross the goal line, and satisfy our need to make bad puns through the world of professional sports

We Stark Sisters share loads of things in common: our wonderful parents a”h; early school day memories; a love for friends, books, and bad puns. A passion for swimming and all things watery. A deep, abiding, ever-growing desire to schmooze, in print or in person.

And one more thing we share: Zero interest in professional sports.

Why watch a ball game when we could be reading a good book... or yapping on the phone… or trying to come up with a Schmooze topic?

Which is precisely why we thought it would be a fun challenge to try our hands at a Sports Schmooze. If we don’t care to watch sports, maybe we could write sports.

Come join us as we try to sink a basket, score a hit, cross the goal line, and satisfy our need to make bad puns through the world of professional sports.

The Schmoozing Sisters as sportswriters…who’d’ve thunk it?

Emmy Leah Remembers... Tackling Shanah Rishonah

My first year of marriage, some time ago. (Actually, so long ago it wasn’t even called shanah rishonah; in those days, we were simply newlyweds.) So much to learn…

Cooking, for example. Take my memorable first lasagna. Noodles on bottom, add sauce and cheeses, carefully place noodles on top… hey, nobody told me to add layers of noodles in middle, too.

Lasagna soup, anyone?

And then there was the Great Tzimmes Debacle of my first married Rosh Hashanah. Did you know honey should be stirred occasionally when cooked so it doesn’t burn? Neither did I, but apparently my husband’s grandmother, our first Rosh Hashanah guest, knew. As she ate the singed carrots, she knew, too, that her grandson, whom she looked at pityingly, would starve if his wife didn’t figure out cooking fast.

And let’s talk laundry. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t convince my new husband that a slight shade of pink in his formerly white shirts would set a new fashion trend in shul…

Basic cooking skills, separating white shirts from red blouses — standard lessons for new kallahs to figure out.

And then there was the less standard lesson I learned that first year: Football.

When my husband told me we should go visit his grandmother every Monday night, I wondered at the timing.

We got married the end of July. Sometime in September that question got answered.

Monday night football.