Hudi's Home!

There were 17 little Bartsies running around. One took off, and then there were 16. There were 16 little Bartsies running around. One took off, and then there were 15. (Rinse and repeat until there are only 4 little Bartsies.) I spent so many muches of time with my fam jam this week. We were all together for the wedding, and then gradually some left until there were just a few of us still in Richmond. My two oldest sisters and their kids came down to spend some time with us, so I got a lot of bonding time with my niephews. And no, I did not spell that wrong and you did not read that wrong. I am outraged that there is no one word for nieces and nephews. Let's just pull a frindle now. The new word is bloofs. Yeah, I hung out with my bloofs this week. I like this word. Anywho, my bloofs are adorable and I can't even deal with their cuteness and with Yitzy's haircut and Reuvy's voice and Binyomin's cough-laugh and Ahuva's bangs and Dovy's smile. So, the fam jam ...

She's married!! I repeat, she is married. A married woman, she is. However you say it, it means the same thing. We've married her off, we did it, weee Tzvi is the one. And her life as a wife has finally begun! (If you got the HP reference, good for you. HP, obviously meaning Hashgacha Pratis and/or Hercule Poirot and/or Harry Potter and/or house pie and/or health point and/or happy place.)  But, for now, let us speak of times long ago, when my sister was still just a Bart. I speak, of course, of last week.  I was on vacation for the first time in a very long while, and it was glorious. Malta and I made pizza crusts for old times sake. It was very cute, but I was literally sore the next day from rolling out all of those pies.  A dear friend and mentor came over with her kids to see us. We hung out outside, ate cookies, and spoke. We were speaking of plays, and she said, "I didn't know there were frum girls who had bad voices until I came to Richmond." I burst out l...

The Dorky Daily by Judith Brett: Hudi was sitting on her bed, laughing that awful laugh of hers, the one that caused those around her to question if she were laughing or choking or snorting or perhaps breathing obnoxiously loudly.  When her snorting laughs wouldn't stop, her father looked quizzically at her. "Is everything all right, daughter?" "Yep, I'm fine," Hudi choked out in between bursts of laughter. "I'm just reading my old blog posts. I don't even remember writing half of this stuff. It's kinda funny." And she went right on, reading her blog posts. The ones that she wrote. She was, in essence, laughing at herself for a good 15 minutes. Can you imagine anything more... dorky?  There are many things that you can take out of the above story, the most obvious one being that I'm a loser with waaaay too much time on my hands. But also, if you read carefully, notice that my father is mentioned. No, he's not in Israel. I'm ...

Hullo, all. I am alive and kicking. I know I've been remiss in writing to you all. I am deeply, terribly sorry for it. Nah, I'm not. I'm busy. You all can deal with it.  Why have I been so busy, you may ask? Well, thanks for showing some interest in my life. I had finals for two months. No joke. It was quite an experience. I wish never to repeat said experience, ever, ever again in my entire life, however long that may be and however long my degree takes me (it might be a shtickle longer than the two years I had originally planned. So awkward for all those shadchanim and boys I told that I would be finished in two years.). But I don't really want to spend any more of my brain space (what's left of it) on speaking about finals. We should speak of better things, things that don't make me want to rip all of my hair out and consider being a hermit with a degree in building cardboard box houses.  Let's talk about more pleasant things, like the fact that I was sic...