Facebook acquired an Israeli company that specializes in facial recognition software.
It is already ugly out on the campaign trail, and reporters in the field are feeling the heat of the rising anger of a Republican base on the ropes.
But by and large, despite those enticing pitches, adulthood turns out to mean acceptance -- of how you played the hand you were dealt, of mortality, of beshert -- even if it sometimes includes flashes of 40-f---ing-8-like fury at the way the world turns out to work.
LimmudLA -- by the numbers.
New and better information is coming to light every day about ways to prevent this common disease. Since doctors are getting better at catching it early, fewer men are dying of prostate cancer. But one in six men will still develop the disease in their lifetime.
A 42-year-old Apache pilot, Zvika rose to the rank of colonel in the Israeli Air Force. He was, according to his peers, "professional and talented," and he did his job with diligence and dedication. Since he had enlisted in the air force at the age of 18, he was due to retire in a year.
Of all the May-to-December romances that were not meant to be, mine must top the list. For starters, I met Rick in a hot tub -- a cliché I was sure we could never get over.
Saul Kroll is a firm believer in yetzer hatov, and the 87-year-old Westside resident translates it into practice six days a week as an emergency room volunteer at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.
At first glance, 87-year-old Jack seror and his wife, Katy, are a kind, yet unassuming elderly couple, members of Sephardic Temple Tifereth Israel and loving grandparents. However, they are also leaders of the Greek Jewish community that resisted and survived the Nazis to build flourishing new families in America.
Ellen Bartel died July 10 at 89. She is survived by her husband, Nathan; and sons Marvin (Maria) and Alan (Lisa). Malinow and Silverman.
In a few weeks I'll turn 33 and, sadly, I realize I'm long past being anything "for my age." I'm no longer cute for my age, talented for my age, a good reader for my age. All qualifications and special considerations have long passed. There's nothing I can get away with now because, "After all, your honor, he's only 33."
You cannot spend time and energy wondering where the years went. They are finished.
Seniors must concentrate on now. Enjoy life now. Do what you can within your abilities. Life is precious and good. Tomorrow will come at its own speed.
It was the first day of preschool and 2-year-old Jessica didn't know any of other children in her new class at B'nai Tikvah Congregation Nursery School. But the child's anxiety paled in comparison that of her mother.
Do you remember what it's like to be in your 20s?
Few days have haunted me like April 15, 2002. It was the day Time magazine screamed out from its cover that women cannot have it all.
When she was in her 30s, Hansi Goetter developed a mysterious illness. Although her doctors couldn't determine the cause, they told her she had only a few months to live.
I can't explain it any better than this. I think I've lost my mojo.
My friend Lindsay's friend, Michelle, hosted a 30th birthday bash for her friend, Beth, last Saturday night. So of course I was there.
This is the American Jewish world, by the numbers, as revealed in the just-released National Jewish Population Survey 2000-2001 (NJPS):
No need to explain why I'm late, I realize. It's an Iranian party. You're not expected to be on time -- just to stay late and socialize.
At first glance, it would be hard to imagine two women with less in common than my mother and my husband's mother. You can begin with the obvious differences in cultural and religious background: my mother grew up Jewish in the Bronx, while my mother-in-law, a Presbyterian, has lived in Virginia all her life.
And while neither exactly bears out a stereotype, each carries somewhat predictable ethnic and regional markers. My mother, Lois, is voluble and huggy, a devotee of popular arts, an ace shopper. Lloyd (yes, Lloyd -- like many other Southern women, she was assigned a family surname as her given name) is much more reticent and reserved. To me, she seems very much the patrician Virginia gentlewoman, while my mother has a large measure of what one novelist once called the "yolky warmth" typical of many Jewish women.