Welcome Home

I wrote this in early September but for some reason it never got posted. Stumbled across it yesterday while cleaning all the files labeled “blog post” off my desktop.

Notes from my day:

Just off the phone with Grandmother #1 to tell her I’m back in town. She asks about my plans for the year. I say I’ll be finishing my degree at the end. She says that in addition to my degree I should finish the year with a license. A marriage license.

Just off the phone with Grandmother #2 to tell her I’m back in town. She provides a truckload of advice on guy-snagging and finishes by wishing me married by the end of the year.

Mother wants to know if I can go out with a guy tomorrow. Frowns. No, I need a haircut. How about the day after tomorrow? I ask if I can maybe have time to unpack my clothing and evaluate what’s left.

Good4 informs me that I have two months to get engaged before she starts dating.

Three children dating! No wonder someone’s been reading the Kupat Ha’ir booklet. This is the kind of situation that drives people to drink. Or chase segulos.

Good4 points out that I’m kinda old and maybe it’s time that I started a davening campaign for my zivug.

Good4 complains that the entire summer nobody spoke about shidduchim at all, and now that I’m home it won’t go away. I point out that, coincidentally, my summer had also been free of shidduch-talk, but now that I was home, nobody can stop talking about it. She has the good grace to blush.

Then, just to be annoying, I stick out my cup and ask her to fill it with water. “It’s good for shidduchim,” I say. She glares.

Honestly, people. I know you mean well and all that, but do you seriously think you’re doing anything constructive at all?

Wait, that’s a dumb question. I know you all do. I’ll just have to regrow the calluses that I shed over the summer so I can listen to you tell me how much I want to get married without feeling this powerful urge to move very very far away to someplace without cell phone reception and only once-a-month mail service.



Drumroll, please

A bunch of us were sitting around yattering about dating when I got sick of it all. I asked if we could please proceed to have a conversation that had nothing to do with shidduchim.

I look around the group. One friend is looking wide-eyed and scared, like I asked her to chop off her right arm. Another is looking startled, like I’d just asked her to stop breathing. Another raised an eyebrow and said, “What else is there to talk about?”

“The weather,” I said. “It’s always changing, for a reason. So we can talk about it.”

“It’s usually a bad sign if you’re talking about the weather,” another friend put in.

Well guess what – we started discussing that, and we managed to pull off another hour without ever once mentioning shidduchim.

So it can be done. Congrats and many more.