#AtoZ: Names

"I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page. If my name is not on it, I get up." ~Benjamin Franklin

My name wasn't in the paper, so I survived after the "M" post. Are you ready for N? 

When it comes to "Names," I've had a few. Growing up as the youngest of four children, my mother called me, "Ed, I mean Bar, I mean Be, I mean Joyce!" Good thing the dog's name didn't come before mine. 

Then there was dinner time when I wanted to know my Hebrew name. My parents might have given me one at birth but couldn't remember it multi-years later, so my brother told me my name was, "Boris." 

"No! What is my Hebrew name?" I'd ask.

He repeated, "Boris!"

Finally, I got married and had to know my Hebrew name. As it turns out, I don't actually have one because my name is Yiddish. "Sheindel." At least it's better than Boris.

"One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is."  ~Erma Bombeck

#AtoZ : Melting

I grew up in a Reform Jewish family in a secular community of St. Louis, yet someone near and dear to me has made the shift to Orthodoxy. During his transition to the religious life style, I flew into an airport on a Friday night, which is our Sabbath. He who shall not be named drove his car to the airport and picked me up. When we reached our destination, an ice cream cake was waiting for the birthday boy who had just driven a car. He refused to blow out the candles on his cake because it was the Sabbath, so we watched the cake melt all over the table.

 

To make matters worse, I'm posting about this on a Saturday, our Sabbath. If you don't see my post on Monday, you can assume God struck me dead from  a bolt of lightning.

I close with a re-post of one of my faves.

#AtoZ : My Lansky Love

Today, Friday the thirteenth is a lucky day for my husband who turns 47--he counts his years backwards ever since his fiftieth birthday. I'd love to get him a scrumptious cake, but it's Passover, so I'll have to figure out something else to make his birthday special. How about a post devoted just to him?

Although Mr. Lansky's first name is Mitchell, I refer to him as Superman. He's run seven or so marathons and has participated in too many triathalons to count. Last fall, Superman trained 150 people to bike 100 miles. Of course his unfit wife freaks on the major streets.

Not only is Lansky a super athlete but also a super husband as well. Superman does dishes, which every woman knows is highly sexy.

Furthermore, if I need something, be it feminine products or whatever, he will race out the door for me... and as an athlete, he's fast too. Also, Superman is highly intelligent. Not only did he get through law school and has been practicing for many years (still hasn't gotten it right since he practices), he also had the good sense to marry me.

In case that's not enough, my husband has been an outstanding father who has guided our three children into adulthood with patience and understanding. He knows how to talk to people whether its telling the kids what to do or negotiating million dollar deals. 

So, Happy Birthday, my Lansky Love!