I was encouraged to keep a journal during this parsha. For reflection, assessment and clarity. Or as my sisters thank me for- for stamm entertainment, after all it's always nice to learn through someone else's story. And apparently I wanted stories. A trilogy even. “Adventures in Shidduchim” volumes 1,2 and 3.  

InItially I flip through the pages and it’s with an underlying calm, content glow- but as I  sit in the basement, in the same chair that I penned many a “Dear Esther Date #4 Yerachmiel G…” the emotions return. Some of these are of sheer relief, intermingled with the joy of clarity.  Like how could I of thought he was shayich? We were completely incompatible, now even more so when you see who we are each engaged to, respectively. I flip a few more pages and come to Pinny M., wow he was a really great guy, wasn't shayich, but maybe he’d be good for… I make a mental note to call the shadchan who redt it, and suggest Pinny for my friend Fraidy, they would be very “the type”, interesting how I didnt think of this before…?

True Colors: A Journey from Brunette to Blondeish and Back Again

Life is a journey of self-discovery, where we navigate through various phases and experiments. I remember the impulsive yet calculated decision to color my hair like it was yesterday, while in Aruba with my mother and sister, a colorist pointed to my mothers honey hues and stressed that her colors would be well suited on me.

I figured when in Aruba…plus the vibrancy of the blue ocean left me pining for my own take home souvenir of color. This hair transformation would lead me on a profound path of self-reflection, ultimately taking me back to my roots - both literally and figuratively.

Focus is finite; when a person talks on the phone while driving, they lose 37% motor focus.

My mechanic recently asked me (all life lessons happen in the auto shop) how my radio is doing, “because that’s all you need, a good engine and a great playlist, but don’t be busy switching songs constantly: it’s not good for the nerves, and even worse for the road, let the songs play out and get lost in the tune.”

The word potent itself is robust, full overflowing, almost phonesthemic.

Its infinite potential is dual. Anything can or can’t happen. And by anything, toss a coin in the air, while it's midair the outcome you subconsciously want can be equated to your anything.

Sure thing, is not my go-to line when it hits home. ראש השנה evokes every feeling. Fear, hope, gratitude, angst, pain, confusion, hope again. It's crazy to think that our stories were carefully crafted and intertwined with those who would play leading roles last year when we were all davening.

Those walks, at first, my primary form of pound the pavement solace, because they provided a semblance of "the way we were" (there were days I'd walk to and from work)…were now making me dizzy. The mask, I've come to realize is a basic form of common respect, it shows that you are mature and don a sense of achrayis for the current climate. But the mask was making it hard to breathe.

I find the drive is smoother on cruise control when life is going as planned, seamless.

The roads are clear and a minor swerve just keeps things interesting. But when life comes to a shortstop? Do you still have faith in the elusive cruise control?

There’s something tangible and intangible about January; it follows New Year’s, yes, but the season has something unique to it. Snowflakes. Shoveling snow and complaining even though secretly this is the most fun you’ve had all Fall long J

It’s not about clothes, mint- the ice princess vibes.

Winter is a Wonderland. The nights are long, as they are cozy.

Certain clothes/dinner/activity excursions could've been toned down. The WSJ isn't setting you back, and neither is the minute pitching in for the household. If you watch a little, you'll see it balance out. It's all a matter of priority.

How you choose to spend your time and who you decided to share it with.

There are friends we tell ourselves it's the "long-distance"/ different stages, so we lost touch. 

I tell myself I want certain things for fear of always looking over my shoulder and finding that pursuit "elsewhere."

That game at carnivals? Where you hit as hard as you can, and the pinger levels up to a measly midpoint? But you win a stuffed animal either way…you get my point.

Home= Content. Confident. Cozy.

Home is something we create within ourselves.