A few weeks ago, I finally saw "Juno," a movie I'd been told was "uber-cute," "amazing" and just "soooo good." And I've become one of many Juno-obsessed. But unlike others who are doting mostly on the movie's dialogue, soundtrack and sweatbands, the movie got me pondering about who really makes a good parent. And when.
The oddly idyllic portrait of teenage pregnancy -- which began with a cartoon sketch, a hamburger phone and a big orange jug of Sunny D -- introduced a smart-ass 16-year-old Juno (Ellen Page), who makes a very grown up decision. The perpetually tomboyish, ironic, T-shirt-clad kid realizes that she is not ready to be a mom. Instead, she'll find the perfect parents to raise it.
He saved a stub from Dec. 24.
I know this because I saw it on his desk.
After we'd broken up; when we shouldn't have been talking, and when I certainly shouldn't have been in his home.
My poor handwriting quickly morphed into a sans serif, size-10 font and postage became obsolete. What had gone into my diary, I started blogging; what I used to hold inside, I'm e-mailing; and when I used to call to say "hi" and plan, I'm texting. Enter the almighty Smartphone and high-speed Internet and suddenly, I'm compelled to my QWERTY.
To me, mere satisfaction -- in job or life -- has always meant stagnancy. But, as we all know, the interview process is exhausting. Besides being on your best behavior, you're subject to constant judgment. Confidence is imperative, and things are often not as they seem.
Affairs of the heart are a big investment for this conservative, long-term investor.
A short time ago, in a galaxy all too familiar, a smart, adorable guy I'd been chatting with for months faded -- like one too many others -- into oblivion. The red flags were raised from day one.
Having celebrated Shabbat around the world, Elie Wiesel conveyed the novelty of Sinai's Friday Night Live service, which invites singles to stick around for socializing.
According to some once-doting men, I'm terrific. I'm also beautiful, talented, smart, sassy, funny, dynamic, cute and sweet. To make matters worse, I'd make a fantastic mother. And the final blow? Apparently ... I'm a catch. I listen intently to my lover-gone-evil dumper's compliments -- and cringe. Somehow my fairy tale has gone awry.
Summer's over, and I just got round 10 of Beth's camp pictures. She's made new friends, and seems to be learning a ton. She has that youthful exuberance. Adorable, no? Well, sort of.
It's almost 2006, and I'm almost proud of myself. Almost. I've accomplished most of my 2005 New Year's resolutions: Been a devoted daughter/aunt/sister/friend, got a new job, got into grad school and bought a new, sumptuously soft forest green couch, complete with a plush, inviting ottoman.