Three rabbis walk into a coffee shop. No, it’s not a joke. Three rabbis are sitting at the table next to me discussing a problem at the synagogue. Judy Feinstein has done something wrong. It seems to be a problem of paperwork. Where did she get the information to fill out that form? one asks. And the young one says let’s just cut through the mustard.
Hey. I’m trying to write here. I’ve got my laptop charged up and I was about to unleash some edgy dialogue. I resent the distraction, but only mildly. Mostly I’m interested.
I wasn’t going to put it off anymore. For weeks, I’d told myself I would call in to Alan Cohen’s Hay House radio program, Get Real. He’s one of my favorite authors, and I wanted his advice on a rift that had occurred between me and a family member that was causing me a lot of sadness and confusion. So before I could chicken out, I dialed the number and within seconds was talking to the call screener.
The first day of school holds a lot of significance– new friends, new experiences, new shoes (and new undies too!). Even if you don’t have kids, you probably feel that brisk energy and resolve to get ‘er done that comes back around each fall.
What you don’t need stuffed into that new backpack or purse is a sense of helplessness.
That’s what I felt when my oldest son told me about his first day as a high school junior.
The story on my lips all week was how I was sick with the flu for 11. Whole. Days. This was so blatantly unfair, especially since I was hit during spring break, when I was supposed to be enjoying a vacation and some eagerly awaited alone time while my kids sailed the Caribbean with their dad. My plan was to treat myself to a 3-night getaway at a Bed & Breakfast. I made it there only to spend the whole time in bed (in what was, admittedly, a much nicer set of sheets than what I have at home).