Popped into Montreal for a bit. Border guard asked me what my license plate was. I honestly could only remember the first three letters – FJF (in my mind they stand for Foxy Jewish Female, and that’s the only way I remember it). I could not remember the numbers for the life of me. She asked a bunch of other questions and let us through.
What on earth does that prove, whether or not I know my license plate? She had a freaking mirror and that camera-thingamajig took a pic of it. Makes no sense….
Not the kids. Me. Well, it can’t really technically be back to school if I didn’t really go in the first place, right? But I sort of did…
I graduated high school at 17 and went straight to university. (Except, I went to a Polytechnic, but it’s all the same thing, so let’s just call it uni). I lasted 3 months, if that. I was not mature enough to be in university, I had no clue what I wanted to do, I had enrolled in classes that did nothing for me, I was miserable, so I left. I immersed myself in the working world and enjoyed various different jobs until I got married, and left London for Montreal.
Next year I turn 40. I know I have done a lot with my life – most of my accomplishments give me a tremendous sense of pride. (Four of them in particular). I have tried since the boys were very small to instill in them the idea of going to university (or trade school) and learning a profession. Something that will enable them to keep their own roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and the ability to support a future wife and children.
I am finally at the point that I know who I am and what I want to do with my life. Took almost four decades, but we are all a work in progress.
I will hopefully be enrolling soon at the local community college. However, not having a high school diploma in my possession is a bit of an issue. So I sent off my application yesterday to take a GED (high school equivalency) so that I can use that for my college application.
Once that’s done and I have been accepted to the course of study that I choose, I will share with you all the direction in which I am headed. I will always embrace social media, and will probably work part-time in social media while I attend classes. But – it’s all up in the air until I get an acceptance letter. And truth is, we can plan all we want, but at the end of the day, what’s meant to be will be.
It’s never too late to live the life that you dream of – you just have to work hard to make it happen.
Read: Fury at Hasidic dress codes.
Do you think store owners have the right to go above and beyond the standard “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service”? Or is it totally their call – if they don’t want business from people wearing clothes that do not adhere to their own modesty standards, should that be their choice?
Quote from article : Kosher Concubines
The Chief Judge of the Jerusalem Rabbinical Court, Rabbi Eliyahu Abergel, has ruled that in cases where a man has not fathered any children, and his wife cannot or does not want to bear children, the man may take a concubine.
Really? Suddenly it’s ok to have a mistress? And one that can bear babies legitimately? How many ways can this go wrong?
What are your thoughts?
Read this article about When Yeshiva Day School Is No Longer A Viable Option. Many people find themselves in a bind – they want to send their children to Jewish schools, but there is no money for the tuition. What are they then to do?
I stopped by the Dunkin Donuts yesterday, and an older gentleman was leaving as I was entering the store. His hands were full, so being a nice person I held the door open for him.
He thanked me. But he said “Thanks, Baby”.
Baby? I am not his Baby. I am no one’s “Baby”. If he called me “honey” or “hon” I would have probably been ok with it, but I figure “Baby” is way too personal to call anyone not married to you or not your progeny.
Or is this a cultural thing in the USA that I am not getting?
I had to make a quick trip to the local ER yesterday. Never-ending migraine plus dehydration from vomiting and not drinking enough due to the migraine. They pushed fluids into me, along with 4 different meds.
Feeling very shaky today, still nauseous, but there are less drums playing in the orchestra inside my head. This counts as progress. Sigh. I have stuff to do, darn it!
The hospital where I was treated, well, it was the hospital where my Dad died 19 years ago. I wonder if I will ever be able to enter that hospital and not think – this is where I last saw my father, this is where he died. I guess it’s all just part of life’s journey. I never thought in a million years I would end up living in Monsey – and here I am, raising my kids barely a couple of miles from where my Dad lived all those years ago.