Frum N' Flipping

The seats are all taken. I stand next to TCO, both of us clutching the hand rail. Through the front window we see old ladies leaving the Shuk with their shopping trolleys and cutting in front of the traffic. The bus crawls along Aggripas street, the driver trying not to run over any of the old ladies. Now before I continue, I better clarify one thing. I'm skinny. That's my body build, and even 6 months of no exercise hasn't changed that. We're on our way back from a lunch date, so I'm wearing a new tunic top from my TJmaxx spree in the US, My shoes and hat also match, and I'm feeling pretty fashionable. Then a middle aged woman makes eye contact with me. She's sitting in a single seat by the door. She asks me I want to take her chair. I shake my head. "I'm fine." I say. I wonder why she's asking. She's older than me by at least two decades. She stands up, and gestures to her seat . "Maybe she's getting off the bu

"I wear a hat at night." She says it matter-of-factly. "You wear a hat to bed?" I try not to sound shocked. She's not Chasidic, she's not even Chareidi. It seems rather extreme to me. "Yes, I decided to keep my hair covered at all times." That's the point when naughty questions pop into my head, like when exactly does she show her hair, but I bite them back, being the nice frum girl/woman I am. "Oh." I say instead. "I don't cover my hair at home." "Unless we have guests of course." I add. I've got my reputation to mantain. "Of course" She says. "I mean it's a good thing, covering your hair all the time, I guess… There's that story with the woman who merited torah scholar sons because the walls of her house never saw her hair…" It's a Bais Yaacov classic. I always hated it, but that part I leave out. The conversation leaves me thinking. I don't cover my h

I'm suffering from a dreadful case of writer's block. Well maybe it's more like newly-married-and-haven't-blogged-for-six-months block. But in any case I really want to get back to blogging, since as I revert into a 9-6 working gal who cooks supper and does laundry on the side, I feel like I'm losing a part of myself, a very precious part, that I was rather proud of. So my half year anniversary resolution is that I'm going to blog again. I won't write , that's too scary now, the blank white word documents stare back at me when I try to write . Instead I'll simply share the things I'm thinking, and hopefully, one day, this will be the blog it used to be. Or in other words – Hi readers, I'm still alive, please come back. Anyone? One thing I still haven't gotten used to is my new "title". "Gveret" Is he speaking to me? I'm not a "gveret", a lady. I'm a "bachura", a girl. (That'