Although had she expressed a desire to become a professional cook, Fine is convinced that her mother \”would have freaked.\” Cooking was thought of as \”such an ordinary job, one that simply wasn\’t OK for nice Jewish girls,\” Fine said.
\”I\’m a colorful person,\” Tochterman said. \”I like color; I like texture; I like mixing things together. I think my customer is a sophisticated, ageless, confident woman.\”
Hila Plitmann is building a career based largely on new music by composers like David Del Tredici, John Corigliano, Roger Reynolds and Esa-Pekka Salonen, the latter the longtime music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic and something of a Plitmann champion.
What is a soul mate? Is it a New Age concept that defines true love? Is it a catchy phrase used by romance novelists and publishers to sell books? Or does it mean something deeper and more essential, a spiritual bond between two people that is essential to fulfilling our heart\’s destiny?
\”The Song of Hannah\” as imagined by Etzioni-Halevy, tells the story of two women — Hannah and Peninah, Elkanah\’s other wife — and its chapters alternate between their two voices.
My husband was called to the Torah as a bar mitzvah in 2001, more or less on the sixth anniversary of his conversion to Judaism. People started asking Spencer when he was going to have a bar mitzvah when his hair was barely dry from the mikvah.
Several years ago, my wife, Linda, and I attended a conference of psychotherapists and sat next to a recently divorced female therapist who said to us, \”Next time I\’m going to marry a Jewish man.\”
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.
I am completely frozen.
I have just walked out of a pitch meeting in Santa Monica. Wilshire Boulevard is breezy and gorgeous. It
is 4 p.m. I have been married for 17 years and now, it appears, I\’m not. For the last 17 years I had a wife, a family, a home, a dock in the open sea of the world.
Moreso, for the last 10 years, I\’ve had chubby, laughing babies to return to, who then morphed into muscled cyclones, ready to hurl themselves onto my back the moment I walked through the door, then preteens, eager to sing me their triumphs, real and imaginary, at school.
At the end of the day, I knew where to go — home.
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