Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

Hi everybody.  Thanks for the kind emails and messages while I've been away.  Here's a bit of an update for you:

Shortly after my last post, I was put on a trial team (my favorite type of assignment!!) for a case that was supposed to go to trial less than a month later.  As you can imagine, life got extremely hectic very quickly.  I don't like to post on the blog while on trial, because I have to assume:  1) opposing counsel is crazy and has researched everyone on our side; 2) they have found my blog; 3) every post I make during trial prep and trial is a window into how busy or not busy we are, which in turn is a window into our strategy.

The trial was grueling, but I did have a weekend or two during which I got to enjoy the city of Boston (where the trial was taking place).  Neptune's Oyster?  Holy geez, that place was incredible.  Plus, we were staying at the Ritz, so it's hard to be too miserable (even when facing down your third 20+ hour day in a row) when you can go "home" to a fluffy bed, a whirlpool bath, and free room service.

Still "trying" to lose the trial weight, but it was totally worth it.

Our trial concluded at the end of April (we won!!).  I made my way back home almost reluctantly.  Over the course of the last year or so, my six-year relationship, which had typically been very loving/functional/rewarding, had become difficult, rocky, and downright painful.  The relationship needed to end, which as you can imagine was an extremely hard and fraught decision to make after being with someone for so long and developing a shared future with that person.  I still struggle with whether this was the correct decision, and I don't really know what to do or how to act going forward, or whether to give in to the desire to try again, hoping that things might be different after the self-improvement work we have both done in the months of separation.

The closest I've ever come to posting my ex's picture on this blog.  (Incidentally, I TOTALLY recommend this bobblehead company if you are looking for an awesome gift for someone.  They were incredible to work with.)

Those of you who have ended long relationships with the person you thought was "The One*", how did you know it was time?  Did you ever try again with the same person?  How did that work out?  Was the other person able to change?  Were you?  Have you found new love since then?  How is it different?  Do you have some kind of clarity regarding whether you made the right or wrong decision in ending that previous relationship?  Basically, what do I need to hear, being in the place I am now?

*  I don't actually believe in the concept of "The One."  I don't think there is only one person who is the perfect end-all-be-all fit for us.  I think there are many people with whom any given person could have a happy and loving life.  I use "The One" here really to mean "[One of] The One[s]."

Despite the whirlwind incredible trial experience at my firm, I'd been feeling a growing dissatisfaction with the work since last summer.  See, I love trials.  Trials are the driving force that pumps my lifeblood and gives my work-life meaning.  And although my firm is notoriously awesome at giving attorneys trial experience (and indeed, I was on five trial teams, saw four jury selections, and three winning verdicts in my three years + one summer at the firm), the problem with a big firm is that you are never going to be the person giving the opening and closing argument in a big trial.  And even more, the hierarchical structure of a big firm means that for your first five or six years, you don't really get close to talking in court on a paying matter.  There's something about that process, in which the work you do is just pieces of a whole that were divided up and doled out by something else, that makes you start to atrophy in some ways.  You learn a TON by watching more experienced attorneys run these trial teams, but you start to lose that ability to see the whole forest, to think ten steps ahead, and to look at the bigger picture, because your more immediate job is on the smaller scale.

I have always wanted to be an Assistant U.S. Attorney ("AUSA").  It has been my dream job since at least the ninth grade --- or whenever I learned that the job existed.  AUSAs represent the United States, prosecuting federal criminals or defending U.S. agencies when they are sued.  AUSAs get to run their own cases, try their own trials, and enjoy all of the perks of federal employment.  These jobs are notoriously difficult to get, and for the past several years, a hiring freeze has been in place that made it nearly impossible to find an open position.  In fact, many districts began hiring Special AUSAs to work FOR FREE, and PEOPLE ARE STILL TAKING THOSE JOBS.

The hiring freeze lifted in December, and around February I started throwing out a few applications to various districts in which I could see myself living.  (Maryland, Virginia, Florida, Chicago, California...I almost threw my hat in the ring for the Virgin Islands but that just seemed way too extreme of a change.)  I didn't expect to get anything, since I'm still relatively junior and I lack some of the credentials I'm told are important for a position like this.

But sure enough, in March, I got an interview in Baltimore.  Everything about the position was perfect.  The position was in the civil division --- so I would get to practice the type of civil defense law I'd come to love at my firm (for example, civil division attorneys do a lot of medical malpractice defense and employment discrimination defense) --- but civil division attorneys are permitted to take small criminal cases in addition to their civil caseload, so I would have a taste of both types of law.  (Plus, criminal cases typically involve more court time than civil cases.)  The division was small, like my old firm, and filled with incredibly friendly and non-competitive people who loved that I bake pies and play poker.  It is close to D.C., so even though I would get the fresh start I craved in a new city with a lot going on within its borders, I would be close enough to my old town (~30 miles, or 50 minutes by car) that I would not have to say goodbye to any of my friends.

After three rounds of interviews, I was offered the job after a particularly brutal day during our trial.  My tears of frustration with the case turned into tears of gratitude and happiness that I'd had such an amazing experience at my firm, without which I surely could not have made this next step so soon, and that I would soon be starting a new adventure in my dream job.

I cleared my security check at the end of July, moved to Baltimore at the beginning of August, and now I'm starting a new chapter here.  Not only am I in a new city, making new friends and exploring a new life, but I've also said goodbye to my lavish law firm salary (this job was a 60% pay cut) and all of the associated luxuries.  I'm living in a house with two other girls now.  I have a huge living space to myself (I have my own floor of the house, along with my own bedroom, living room, and bathroom), but I'm sharing a kitchen and facing the fact that I have two mid-twenty-somethings roommates at a point in my life when I figured I would be married or engaged.  Ahhh, life, how funny you can be.  Luckily, my roommates (random craigslist people) are lovely and my house is comfortable, and it's only a fifteen-minute walk to work.  It is also only a fifteen minute walk from the new casino opening up in downtown Baltimore, which makes me sad to have my lush salary no longer.

But my new job has been incredible --- pretty much everything I hoped it could be --- which at the very least makes me feel validated in the choices I have made to get me to this point.

Anyway, there's a lot to share and a lot to write about.  I haven't figured out whether I want to continue writing or not, though; again, I must assume all of my opposing counsel have found this blog now that I'm the lead counsel (!!!) opposite them.  While I have not posted anything on here that is personally embarrassing or that I would not be happy to talk about in person, I have to rethink my online presence a bit.  Out of curiosity, are there any AUSAs or trial attorneys out there amongst my readers?  Do you have any thoughts on this subject?  Are any of you my opposing counsel?  :-D

I'm sorry to have left without a word so many months back.  There were so many changes in my life all at once, and some of them I'm sure you can understand I do not want to talk about in great detail on the internet.  My domain name comes up for renewal in a few months, so I guess I will make a decision about whether to continue by then, but in the meantime:  Hello, and I hope you are all doing well!

The Zone of All Probability

Have you ever had one of those days that is so horrible --- just one bad thing after another --- that you arrive at a point when you think that nothing worse could possibly happen?  And then something worse happens?

Have you ever felt your tether to your own tragic reality break at that point, not in the sense of having a nervous breakdown or anything, but such that you no longer feel any sadness, fear, anxiety, or any other negative emotion, neither at the wreckage of the day already laid waste in front of you nor the possibility of yet another bad thing improbably finding its way into your universe?  You go from panicked and depressed to completely calm in a blink.

I have days like that periodically, and I had one of them yesterday. I felt that little "snip" in my brain when my thoughts go from "ACK THIS IS A TERRIBLE DAY" to "Of course this other terrible thing has happened, how entertaining."

Every time that happens to me, I think about this passage from A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which just so perfectly captures that feeling:

I pull up to a light, next to a bunch of young black kids.* Maybe they’ll shoot me. I’m in the zone of all probability. I cannot be surprised. Earthquakes, locusts, poison rain would not impress me. Visits from God, unicorns, bat-people with torches and scepters–it’s all plausible. If these kids happen to be bad kids, and have guns, and want to shoot people like me, it will be me, the glass will break and the bullet will come through and I will not be surprised. With the bullet in my head, I will drive my car into a tree, and as I am waiting to be pulled from the wreck, nearly dead, I will not panic or yell. I will think only: Weird, this is exactly what I expected.

Here's to a new day.


*  ETA, in response comments expressing alarm at this passage: To be clear, this passage is a piece of literature.  In the context of the book, the passage is discussing completely crazy and improbable things happening.  As the author describes it, the likelihood of kids shooting him in the head just because they are black is crazy and improbable, and in the broader context of the book is not a statement on race (i.e., it is not a commentary that young black kids shoot white people), but is rather sort of a tongue-in-cheek jab at perceptions of race.  I encourage you to read more about the book, the author (who does an impressive amount of work with youth in under-served communities), or to read the book itself (not an affiliate link).  It is a fantastic piece of storytelling and one of my favorite books.  If you're upset (or not upset) by the passage, I encourage you to discuss it in the comments.  Hopefully folks who have actually read the book will chime in as well on either side of that spectrum.

Online Dating, Pickup Artistry, and an offer from Match.com

This is a sponsored post.

I know very few people who have a "meh" attitude towards online dating.  In my experience, you are either pro or VERY con.

I am currently not on the market, but back in the day when I was, I maintained a free online dating account at (where else?) Jdate.com.  (Hey, I AM a Jewish Girl.)  I thought online dating was a nice way to supplement my social schedule.  Have some dates with guys met at parties, have some dates with guys met online.  Online dating for women is a pretty decent proposition, actually:  insist your dates pay for your drink or dinner, and at worst you have a funny/awkward story to tell at the end of the night.  Plus, based on what my Jdates seemed to tell me, 90% of women who date online are psychotic, so if you are normal, your dates will immediately be impressed and interested.

True story:  for a while there, I studied pick-up artistry!  This was around the time the reality show The Pickup Artist aired on VH1.  Do you remember that show?  It was about a bunch of professional pick-up artists who taught nerds how to become cool and intriguing to women.

I LOVED that show, mostly because the method advertised was so manipulative but seemed SO effective.  I wanted to learn more about it so that I would know when someone was using those methods on me, and in fact a month or two later someone tried to pick me up according to that strategy and I was able to see it coming and bust them on it!  (True caveat:  I was on a Jdate with someone else at the time the pick-up artist tried to pick me up!)

Part of pick-up artistry is a step called "demonstrating higher value" (a "DHV," for short).  In this stage, you do some kind of trick or tell some kind of story to establish that you are interesting and worth your target's time.  Here's one of the best DHVs I learned, which I still pull out from time to time whenever cocktail parties get too dull:

• Start with some kind of story about how mind-reading isn't all that difficult, it's just about tapping into the common consciousness.  I like to cite a study I once read about in undergrad that found that people completed yesterday's crossword puzzle significantly faster than today's, and the theory behind that was that the answers to yesterday's puzzle were floating in the universe for people to access.
• Tell your target that you think they could read your mind, too.  If you're on a date and you like the person, maybe add something about how you feel a connection to your date that you think they might be able to get in your head better than others.
• Tell your target that you are going to write down a number.  Write down the number "7" on a piece of paper and fold it up.  Do NOT show this number to your target or let them see what you wrote.
• Tell your target to clear their mind and after you give them the prompt just to say the very first number that comes into his/her head.  Then say to your target, "Pick the first number that you can think of between one and ten.  GO."  The key is to do this quickly so that your target goes with their first instinct.  
• 70% of the time, people will pick 7.  You can increase their likelihood of picking seven by using hand gestures when you tell your target to pick a number between one and ten.  Imagine a number line in front of you that goes from one to ten.  When you say "one," gesture with your hand where the number one would fall, and when you say the word "ten," gesture with your hand where the number ten would fall.  When you say "GO", gesture with your hand where seven would fall.
• After the person guesses seven, hand them the piece of paper with the number "7" written on it.  Bask in the glow of how awesome you are.
• If the person doesn't guess seven, run.*

*  I haven't found a smooth way to recover when this trick fails.

Now get out there and pick up some people!

Onto the sponsored stuff.  Here's what Match.Com wants you to know:

• Match.com's peak season, the site's busiest time of year, kicked off New Year's Day and spans all the way through Valentine's Day, where Match will see a 25-30% increase in registrations to the site. 





• Why the rush to log in online in the new year?  In a recent poll, Match.com found that 51% of singles' New Year's resolutions will be to socialize more and focus on finding that special someone, making the desire to connect with someone a driving force for singles' to get online after the holidays. 


• To get you online during prime time, Match.com is offering a 3-days free "date pass" for singles! Simply log on to claim your 3-days free offer. 


• Who knows, you could get lucky in love like this Match.com couple— have you seen their proposal? 

Match.com sponsored this post.  I received monetary compensation in exchange for publishing this.  I'm totally gonna use that sweet dough to pay for the speeding ticket I think I got yesterday.  Damn traffic cameras.

Friday Funday: Nice Jewish Guys Calendar Review and Giveaway!

I get a decent number of emails each week from advertisers asking me to blog about their website or their product.  Almost all of these requests I turn down.  (See, e.g., a series of websites offering me free money to buy whatever I wanted, but with absolutely horrific clothing and jewelry for sale, including items with names resembling, "Rasta harem dropcrotch pant crop hippie boho patterned bottoms.")  Some of these requests, I wish I'd turned down.  (I'm currently staring at a packet of gummy vitamins (I love gummy vitamins) that, based on the information on the package, I fear will give me explosive poops.  But I'm morally bound to try them and perhaps endure explosive poops for you, my readers.)

However, I recently received a product review request that sent me over the moon with happiness.

Remember three years ago, I told you guys about a "Nice Jewish Guys" calendar featuring --- you guessed it --- nice Jewish guys gracing each month's pages?  Back then, I thought the idea of a calendar featuring nebbishy Jewish men was an absolutely hilarious idea and a great gift for Jewish girls (or other Jewish boy-loving people) on your list.

Well, the people in charge of marketing this calendar contacted me last month and offered me a 2014 Nice Jewish Guys calendar of my very own!  Now THIS is right up my alley.

Having carefully reviewed this calendar, I can now give it my hearty endorsement.  The calendar is chock-full of awesome photos of very Jewish-looking guys, some of whom are doing very Jewishy things.

Kristopher is responsibly paying for his parking!

Roe is holding a mother-flipping CHALLAH!

Brendan is making matzo brie like your dad used to make during Channukah!

Jason is --- posed in a very unfortunate manner, but WHO DOESN'T LOVE KOSHER HOT DOGS IN NEW YORK?

I brought this thing to my weekly poker night and it garnered rave reviews from the guys in attendance:

"Those are some Jewish-looking dudes."

"Yes, they are very Jewy."

"That's a great-looking challah."

"I can't take my eyes off that challah."

"Saddle up, Jewish ladies!  This guy likes knish."

This calendar is a laugh a minute (or, more accurately, a month), and even includes all of the Jewish holidays.  Even the obscure ones that nobody celebrates!  ("Fast of the 17th of Tammuz," anyone?)  

I even had the chance to interview one of the JDate.com-sponsored Jewish guys featured at the back of the calendar, Sam.

Here are some highlights:

How did you become involved in the Nice Jewish Guys Calendar?  What was your first thought upon learning about the calendar?

I saw the contest on JDate and talked about it with my sister and a female friend of mine.  After some encouragement from them and reading some of the other entries, I decided to submit an entry for fun.  After I was told I was selected as one of the Nice Jewish Guys of JDate, I didn’t really know what form my inclusion in the calendar would take until a friend of mine called from work saying, “I’m looking at the Nice Jewish Guys calendar with you in it!”

What makes you a "nice" Jewish guy?

Living with values and morals adopted and refined from my Jewish upbringing and military service is why those in my life consider me a “Nice Jewish Guy.”  I see myself as someone who lives a life of integrity, candor, selfless service, respect and courage – all qualities which make me stand out in the crowd.

What is your favorite Jewish food?

This question is like asking a parent to admit which child is their favorite.  Pastrami, knishes, matzoh ball soup, cholent, challah, Israeli salad and falafel are all great. However, I think that the true mark of Jewish food is the effort we put in to getting it right. I come from a family of kosher butchers so it’s no surprise that while I was stationed overseas I had hard salami and beef frye sent to me regularly. The greatest effort I’ve exerted so far was for great kosher dill pickles.  Earlier this year I tore out four trees (roots and all) from my father's backyard so that I could grow cucumbers and dill to make my own homemade dill pickles. They were not only my favorite, but the favorites of everyone who tried them.

Best Jew-y childhood memory?

I think my best Jew-y childhood memories all stem from being invited over to friends’ houses for Shabbos. Even though most of them were observant, which meant no TV and going to more services than I may have liked, I associate those memories of Shabbos with great food, acceptance and warmness, which I consider true characteristics of Judaism.

Describe your ideal woman.

My ideal woman would come in part from my interpretation of Immanuel Kant's Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and Sublime. I am in pursuit of the sublime over the beautiful. To me the sublime encompasses the truly important, lasting things such as genuine kindness, sweetness, smarts, critical thinking, affection, a nurturing demeanor and natural beauty over fleeting and superficial beauty.

What do you most wish you could change about Jewish girls?

I'd first like to say that I would never want to change anybody.  Everybody has the right to live their life the way they see fit as long it doesn't infringe on those rights of others.  In love, the right person is going to be perfect, flaws and all. 

That being said the thing I don't like about Jewish girls, or guys for that matter, are those who live up to negative Jewish stereotypes.  Despite my name, many people are surprised to find out that I'm Jewish.  I think the reason is that I don't fit many of the typical Jewish stereotypes. When a girl lives up to the negative stereotypes such as being whiny, overbearing and having a sense of entitlement like the clichés of a Jewish-American princess, I am immediately turned off.

Has your recent calendar celebrity yielded any interesting romantic offers?

Not yet.  I think the Shiksas in my life love the "celebrity" status the most.  The calendar has been a hit with family, friends, army buddies and people at the gym. When I walk into the gym I am greeted as the “Nice Jewish Guy.”  Friends have jokingly wondered how long it would take for me to be a pinup.  Every time I go to an LA Galaxy game,my season ticket holder neighbor requests a signed copy of the calendar. However, I would be surprised if the calendar "notoriety" would lead to any “interesting romantic offers,” even if it was posted at every synagogue and sent to every Jewish mother and grandmother.

What's your best Nice Jewish Guy advice for winning over Jewish mothers? 

Just be genuine and honest in addition to all the other qualities of being a nice guy.  If you have to be flashy or go on a charm offensive, it's probably not worth the effort for a number of reasons.  I have had a few instances where the parents were more charmed by me than the girl I was courting.  

I mean, TAKE A NUMBER!  AMIRIGHT, LADIES?  

Don't you just wish you could have a calendar of your very own, to love and cherish for as long as you both shall live?  (i.e., for the duration of 2014?)

Well, you CAN, because I have an extra copy to give away!

To win, leave a comment on this entry with your funniest story about dating a Nice Jewish Guy.  (You can fictionalize an account if you have no real-life experience on which to base this.)  You can also tweet about this giveaway for an extra entry.  One winner will be randomly selected, although I will post the best stories when I announce the winner next week!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday Link Roundup!

I notice a lot of my favorite blogs post weekly compilations of interesting links they've found around the internet.  It seems like a great idea to me, so why don't we give it a try just for today?

*  How can you tell if you are selling yourself short in the workplace?

(image source)

*  When is it time to walk away from an important relationship?

*  I love this outfit's combination of purple and yellow.  Somehow, she pulled it off without looking like a Muppet (see here)!

*  New study establishes that singing at the top of your lungs in the shower can be an effective treatment for mild down-in-the-dumps-ness.

(image source)

*  Eeep, a talking bunny that says the word "Mama"!  How is that possible??

*  OMG, I am absolutely drooling over this healthy dessert recipe.  Yes, please!

*  Some would say it's time to give in and dance.

Happy April 1st!  ;-)


(See also:  here at 1:52 ("2006 called; it wants its punchline back."))

I would be lying if I said I didn't sort of feel like this:

My emotions, in a nutshell:


In fact, I am SUPER embarassed about how invested I feel in this RPatz/KStew trainwreck.  I realize I SHOULD care more about Mitt Romney's running mate or universal access to clean water, but really what I want to know is whether Rob really has been drunk dialing Kristen.

Please tell me I'm not the only one...

...Or just leave me to wallow in my own shame. Whatevs.

(Happy Saturday!)

Friday Funday: Frighteningly Sexy

What is it about Halloween that inspires so many "sexy" costumes for women?  While most male costumes seem either funny or scary, female costumes skew decisively towards the revealing.

My favorite part about shopping for Halloween costumes each year is viewing a fresh crop of Sexy-Gone-Wild outfits.  By this I don't mean the costumes that are particularly titillating, but rather the pieces that make you think, "Really?  Are we calling this sexy now?"

Here are a few of my favorites this year:

1.  Sexy Unsexy Animals

Sexy Shark

I fail to even see the innuendo here.  Sure, a shark will "eat" you, but they will literally tear you into shreds and devour you.  Moreover, sharks have very sharp teeth and probably smell fishy.  Someone help me on this one?  Or am I over-thinking this and we're just supposed to focus on her butt?

Sexy Skunk

Again, color me confused.  Sexy = spraying a stinky liquid and running away?  Do we have such an accurate a low opinion of one night stands?

2.  Sexy Disturbed Entities

Sexy Zombie

This feels like an affront to the entire Zombie industry.

Sexy Texas Chainsaw Massacre-er

I think the only thing sexier than painful dismemberment is anything except painful dismemberment.

Sexy Mental Inmate

This costume is called "Anita Sedative."  Get it?  Yes, involuntary sedation of the mentally ill is pun-worthy now.

Sexy Rambo

Who doesn't love a bit of military-sponsored genocide?  What's that you say?  Nobody likes that?  You are correct.  

(Thanks for the joke structure, Tina Fey)

3.  Sexy Food Products
(do men dress up as anything but bananas and beers?)

Sexy Pineapple

Sexy Bag of Skittles

Sexy Piece of Partially-Eaten Watermelon

4.  Miscellaneous Sexy Inanimate Objects

Sexy Credit Card

Because there's NOTHING sexier than a 17% interest rate!  She's a grower, not a shower!  ...Wait a minute.

Sexy Martini

Extra filthy dirty.

Sexy Snowman

Every caption I came up with for this costume was horrifically inappropriate and involved variations of "frigid," "wet," and "orifice."  Mix and match these terms to make your own description and save me the hate mail!

Sexy Chinese Takeout Box

Sure, hook up with her, but you're just going to be horny again an hour later.

Have you spotted any completely off-the-wall "sexy" costumes this year? 

On that note, what are you dressing up as this Halloween?  Anything from the list above?  I think I'll be a sexy roulette table!

Guest Post: Journey of my Nose, by Gayle Kirschenbaum

Gayle Kirschenbaum is an Emmy award-winning filmmaker and TV producer.  You may have seen her work on HBO, the Discovery Channel, or in the international Jewish film festival of your choosing (namely in Toronto, DC, and the UK).  Gayle explores her relationship with her Jewish nose, a topic close to my heart, in this guest post.

According to my mother my nose was too big, my breasts were too small and my hair was too wild. In fact, there wasn’t much about me that she thought didn’t need fixing. I used to have dreams when I was a little girl that I’d wake up and my hair would be straight. I was sure God punished me by giving me curly, frizzy hair.

The pressures of growing up in an upwardly mobile neighborhood in the 60s and 70s and my mom’s strong conviction to control me and make me her “perfect” daughter were not a happy combo. I was born an artist, an individual thinker and was more interested in making macramé belts, embroidering on work shirts and hanging out at the free school. Not exactly a match for my mom’s desires for me.

My junior high school yearbook and high school yearbook were before and after pictures for nose jobs. I didn’t see anything wrong with having one, if that’s what you wanted but it wasn’t what I wanted. However, after enough comments from my mom about my growing bump, I did become self-conscious if I knew someone was able to view my profile.

Then there was the rest of my body. I was a late developer and barely had breasts and mom was convinced that falsies were the way to go. The day that they came floating out in the swimming pool when I was getting a scuba diving lesson was most memorable and horrific. Nothing like being “found out”.

And my hair, huge fights over my hair. By the time I was in fourth grade they were having my hair professionally straightened. Soon thereafter, they switched to the home product, Curl Free. When that wore off, I was left spending hours straightening my hair using gigantic rollers and sitting under the bonnet hair dryer for hours with the tube burning my neck.

The summer I went to Europe to study art, I stopped straightening my hair. It was impossible to do it there. When I returned home with my long, thick curly hair you would have thought by my parents’ reaction that I was doing this to “put my father in his grave,” an expression he often used. Until the day he died, he was convinced that no man would marry me because of my unruly hair.

By junior year in high school, all I wanted was out, out of the house, away from the neighborhood and to be among like-minded people. At the end of my sixteenth year, I got into university and moved 200 miles away. I no longer had to come home to hear the criticism and be controlled and punished for being me. What a relief! Now, I needed to build my confidence, find out who I was and seek my own path.

Being an art major in a hippie school, which was a state university, I flourished and my friends and teachers all embraced my hair, my looks, my personality and my talents. I spent years, decades trying to figure out my mother and work on our relationship. There were many bumps in the road.

Eventually, I became a television producer and filmmaker and I turned the cameras on me. First, with my dog in the film A DOG’S LIFE: A DOGAMENTARY and then with my mother in MY NOSE, a short, funny film about her quest to get me to have a nose job. Based on the overwhelming response to the film, I realized I was dealing with a universal subject; that I had something to share that would help others -- learning how to accept and love a critical parent. I developed “The Seven Healing Tools” which I now teach in seminars (click here for more information).

I also realized that MY NOSE only scratched the surface of the highly complex and charged relationship between mother and daughter and I needed to go deeper. We are now completing the feature documentary, MY NOSE: THE BIGGER VERSION, which follows the evolution of my relationship with my mother from Mommie Dearest to Dear Mom, from hatred to love.

To learn more about the feature documentary please visit our Kickstarter campaign where we are raising our finishing funds.

Watch videos, read the story and join our community by becoming a backer.

LINKS:
Purchase MY NOSE
MY NOSE on Facebook

A Brief Ode to the Grasby Gardens Dress

I'm taking the last final exam of my law school career today.  It's probably the last academic exam I will ever take in my life, not including the bar exam this July.  I expect it will be outrageously difficult and I don't have high hopes that I will do well.  Still, I will plow through and I will finish it.  And tomorrow you will hear all about how things finished up with the 30 Day Shred Challenge, results which will inevitably be better than my exam results (did you send in your celebrations??).

But until then, in the midst of my stress, I wanted to share something lovely with you (via the miracle of auto-posting an entry I wrote several days ago, of course).  I quietly purchased Anthropologie's Grasby Gardens dress from Roxy's Anthropologie Trade Market before I left for Israel (well, mostly quietly).

It has since proved itself a rock star, appropriate for almost every occasion calling for a dress.  This includes cocktail parties, weddings (as in the photos below), and daily life.  This is one of those rare wardrobe pieces that makes me happy just to think about!  Thank you so much for selling it to me, Shannon!

I recently wore it to the beautiful wedding of a friend of mine, and the amazing photographer (here) not only snapped gorgeous photos of the bride and groom---who looked utterly happy and in love (CONGRATULATIONS YOU TWO!!!)....................but he also nabbed a few great ones of my dress and of course I am compelled to share.  (As usual, BF wants to stay anonymous, so I've hidden his identity in these photos.)

I love that ruffle on the shoulder!  It creates such an interesting silhouette, both from the front and from the side.

Can you see why this dress makes me want to jump for joy?

Guest Post: A Girly Blog Kind of Guy

You should meet my friend Rex.  He is, as we say in the biz, "a character."  Rex is the type of person who finds himself in outrageous situations with a frequency few can understand.  He's a law student, an entrepreneur, a techno musical artist/DJ, and a bodybuilder.  Also, he has a degree in English literature.

Recently, Rex stumbled upon a job as a blog copy editor after he emailed the authors with several grammatical errors they made in their posts.  The blog, you may be interested to hear, is called The Gloss.  This is a girly blog.  Rex, my muscle-bound, body-builder, techno-mixing, champagne-case-buying law school friend prowls girly blogs and now works for one.

Of course, I had some questions.

Of course, I have a final exam tomorrow and can't write a whole post by myself.

See?  Perfect!


Rex, what appeals to you about "girly blogs"?

They're unrelated to the law, for one. Fashion interests me. It's art just the same as paintings or sculptures, but it innovates at a faster rate. Sometimes for the better, sometimes not. It's just also just fun to look at all the pretty pictures. The dating advice is sometimes good and sometimes hilarious. I enjoy laughter.


As a copy editor for a girly blog, you've heard and read lots of girl-to-girl conversations about what girls think about what guys think about girls. Are we right about guys?

What girls think about what guys think about girls? Tricky. And it's tough to say. A lot of dating advice comes off as platitude because it's so divorced from the inherent subjectivity of interpersonal relationships. It's toxic to think in terms of "men" and "women" and better to think in terms of "him" or "her." An article by a woman might say something like "men think women who wear a lot of lip gloss will put out more easily." This woman is right about some men and wrong about other men. Some men think that, other men don't think that, and still other men don't even know what lip gloss is. So, when parsing this advice, think about into which category the man you're thinking of falls. Women's dating advice pieces are no better than men's (the book The Game comes to mind) when they purport to treat everyone the same. "Getting it right," to me, means focusing less on what makes the guy the same as all other guys and focusing more on what makes him different. It's a waste of time to try and figure out the secret to all men or all women. It's much more worthwhile to try to figure out the secret to who you're with.


How can a girl interest her boyfriend in girly topics like shopping and clothing? Is there any way to discuss what we're wearing (not lingerie) or the deals we're getting (not on lingerie) in a way that will be interesting to him?

You cannot.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

I think it's bad to try and force people to be interested in things they wouldn't ordinarily be interested in. It puts unnecessary strains on people and relationships that usually end up doing more harm than good. If he likes art, maybe he can grow to see the artistic aspect of fashion? I don't know. That's why I like it, but see above about how everybody's different. I also love saving money, which is why deals--whether they're for Chanel or for corn dogs--excite me. But I think if everything else is working right, it's okay if he doesn't understand fashion or shopping deals. No?


What do you think of maxi skirts/dresses?

I'm not crazy about them. I wouldn't say they're horrible but I think it's also hard for them to be great. Doesn't all that fabric get annoying? I'd imagine it gets caught in car doors a lot.


On a related note, what do you think is the most ridiculous trend you've seen in women's clothing lately?

Gladiator sandals.

I also really do not like boots, be they men's or women's, that have laces all the way up the front but then a zipper down the side. It's lazy and a little poseur.

Middle East Recap: Days 7 and 8

[Catch up: Days 1 & 2, Day 3, Days 4 & 5, Day 6]

March 15, 2011: In Which We're Reminded How Awesome Life Is After All

Yesterday could not have been a more marked contrast from the sad solemnity of Yad Vashem the day before.  After breakfast at our hostel yesterday morning, we hiked Nachal Jilabun, a canyon in the Golan region of Israel (the light blue region in the upper right corner of the map below).

Nahal Jilabun was the most fantastic hike I've ever been on in my life.  Okay, in fairness, I don't go on many hikes.  But truly, this hike was the kind of experience that makes me want to buy some hiking shoes and take up the hobby.  The canyon vistas were gorgeous, featuring lushly rolling green hills and steep cliff faces.  We heard the story of an Israeli spy who went undercover with the Syrian army in this area.  The Golan area borders Syria, and this chunk of land used to belong to them.  In fact, it may still be disputed territory.

A Syrian army building.

Close-up of the bullet holes in the building.

We observed the wreckage of the Syrian army buildings, which were all surrounded by eucalyptus trees.  The trees owe their lives to this Israeli spy, who convinced the Syrians to plant the trees to shade their military buildings, in the process tipping off the Israeli forces to the location of the army (Eucalyptus marked the spot).

In a eucalyptus.  Photo courtesy of Sara.

Amazingly, while we listened to this story, we watched as first a few birds, then a flock, then almost a thousand flew in front of us and then just stopped midair.  A thermal patch had formed right in front of us over the canyon, and the migratory birds were riding the warm air to greater heights, floating and looping and crisscrossing in tired, loping lines, eventually reaching the top of the patch and flying onwards, continuing their long journey.

The rest of the hike did not disappoint from there.  We crossed creeks by carefully stepping on wet stones and swinging from tree branches; we used both hands to climb up and down the rocks; we jumped and climbed.  It was difficult and tested my agility, but it was such a fun time.  It made me resolve to spend more time exploring the outdoors in the future.  When we finished, the group agreed that it was one of the best things we've done on this entire trip.

The hike itself was pretty strenuous, and it ended with a ten minute climb up a steep hill that spilled out into the parking area.  It will come as no surprise, then, that this enterprising ice cream man who parked himself next to our tour bus made a killing when we reached the top of the hill.  Photo courtesy of Donnie.

After the hike, we had lunch and explored the nearby area via a "scavenger hunt."  I actually hated this activity; we had to run around asking people to dance the hora with us or let us take pictures with their kids.  I felt like the very definition of an obnoxious American.

Scavenger hunt item.  Bottom row: Jared, Sara, Ross.  Top: Laura, Becky.  Photo courtesy of Ross.

Fortunately, the scavenger hunt was just a blip on the radar of an otherwise perfect day.  From there, we proceeded to the Golan Heights Winery where we toured the facilities and sampled three different wines.  I didn't like any of them---the chardonnay and merlot were to acidic and the muscat was far too sweet.

Free wine + fun photo op = I don't care whether the wine is good or bad.

Just when I thought my wallet was safe from indulgent foodstuffs, we crossed the street and entered an olive press, where they make olive oil and olive oil-based products from olive trees grown along the Jordan river.  We learned a bit about how the oil is made and then got to sample several kinds.  Capernaum's olive oil is unfiltered, which is delicious and better for your health, but it somewhat difficult/expensive to find in the states since it has a worse shelf life.  I love olive oil, and I was happy to support a local business, so I absolutely stocked up!  I even bought a wonderful body scrub made from crushed olive pits, olive oil, and lemongrass.  We tried some on our tour---it goes on with the consistency of muddy jelly and leaves your skin feeling soft and smooth.  (Prices were cheaper over there.)

Inside the olive press.

With my several pounds of olive oil safely stored on the bus, we drove to Hamei Tveria, where we relaxed in a natural salt water hot spring.

By the end of this decadent, wonderful day, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in the middle of an Israeli cultural music activity!  I went straight to bed afterwards, even though there were some after-hours festivities occurring.  I needed my full eight hours!

It was pretty clear at breakfast this morning---at 7:15am---which of us had gotten sleep and which of us had more fun. :-D

We spent the first half of today in the town of Tsfat (also spelled Safed), which is one of four holy Jewish cities in Israel.  Tsfat is the birthplace of Jewish mysticism and the study of Kabbalah is still much practiced there.  (See here.)

We spoke with two American ex-pats who now live and study in Tsfat, one of whom discovered Kabbalah as a college student at U.Mich and has been in Tsfat for the last fifteen years.  He now works as a graphic artist, and most of his work is an interpretation of various Kabbalic teachings.  Each piece comes with a page that explains the symbolism and significance of the piece.

I bought a print depicting the dual nature of humanity, as well as the competing forces within ourselves to give and to take; the message of the image, as well as of Kabbalah, is to elevate our selfish selves into a more selfless self.

Tashuv-Hey, by Avraham Lowenthal.  Courtesy of Avraham Lowenthal, here.

Something about this message really resonated with me.  Interestingly, the Kabbalistic interpretation of my Hebrew name---your given name carries a great deal of importance in Kabbalah---mentions this conflict within me.  I think the struggle to be less selfish and to do for others is probably a universal quest, but I felt particularly vindicated in my purchase after reading that.

The artist himself was quite a character:

The artist, Avraham Lowenthal.  Image courtesy Avraham Lowenthal, here.

This guy was, literally, high on life.  He explained, simplifying, of course, that the main message of Kabbalah is that all beings should ultimately give and receive infinite happiness---or as he put it---to "toooottalllly bliiiisssss ouuuuuuttttt!"  Kabbalah implicates interesting questions of the interplay between predestination and free will, and basically asks people to move from the physical desire to get to the spiritual desire to give.  Certainly something many religions value, and it's nice to find it in Judaism, too.

We had some time to go shopping.  I bought a few trinkets, including a hamsa and a dreidel.  The dreidel purchase was inspired by the revelation that dreidels are different in Israel than in the US.  Let me back up---for those who don't know, a dreidel is the spinning top we play with on Channukah.  We wager candy coins on each spin, and the amount of candy you win depends on which letter lands face-up.  One of the first things Jewish children learn to do is probably to play dreidel.  On the four sides of the dreidel are four Hebrew letters---nun, gimmel, hay, shin---which represent the words "nes gadol haya sham," or "a great miracle happened there." The miracle being that the little bit of lamp oil lasted the Maccabees for eight nights (hence the eight nights of Channukah).  (For a catchy musical retelling of the Channukah story, watch the adorable Yeshiva University's Maccabeats video here.)

A typical dreidel.  The letters showing are hay (on top) and shin (on the bottom; the one that looks like a "w").  You may recognize this image as my default user picture for those of you who comment without a Disqus account :-D

But in Jerusalem, the dreidels have a pay instead of a shin---"nes gadol haya poh"---"a great miracle happened HERE," in the land of Israel.  Of course I needed one!

Hay-Pay ("Haya Poh") instead of Hay-Shin ("Haya Sham").

Hamsa.

I also bought a bunch of Shabbat candles, an embellished matchbox, and some Channukah candles to go inside the menorah I bought a few days ago:

Channukah candles.

Shabbat candles.

Matchbox.

One of the things I've been trying to feel out on this trip is the role I want my religion to play in my life in the future.  This is a very difficult and complicated question for me.  I was raised "Jew-ish," in which I learned Hebrew prayers and customs in Sunday school, went to temple twice a year for high holy days, and was Bat Mitzvah-ed.  Each generation of my family has seemingly become less and less religiously observant.  I am now dating an ex-Catholic agnostic and don't feel much connection to the religious rituals of Judaism.

This trip made me wonder a bit how to feel more Jewish when all I really do is eat bagels and maintain this domain name.  I'd like to do a little more.  While some Jewish services feel a bit formalistic and culty for me, and I haven't quite found a Jewish community I feel comfortable with, I think it might be nice to take a few moments to light Shabbat candles and reflect a bit---perhaps be a bit more meditative on Shabbat (Saturday pre-sundown).  I don't know.  I'll experiment and see what feels comfortable.  Suddenly though, the idea of being a totally nonobservant Jew doesn't particularly appeal to me.  At least not right now.

In any case, the candles are my commitment to attempt to figure it out.

The candle shop, incidentally, was amazing.  The artists in the store hand-sculpted amazing "candles."  I put the word in quotes since, even though these pieces were made of wax and had wicks in them, I can't imagine anyone ever lighting one up!

Samson candle.

Noah's Ark candle.  ALL WAX!

We finished the afternoon with a lovely nature walk around Mount Meiron, where we could see for many miles around the Israel-Lebanon border.

The border between the countries was easy to distinguish; the INF (Israel National Fund) is diligent about planting trees throughout the country, but obviously do not plant anything in other countries.  You can clearly make out the border because the Israeli trees come to an abrupt end!

Can you see where the green ends and the brown begins?