I am such a weenie...

I made an appointment for next Locks of Love donation. This will be the 3rd time in less than 5 years that I've donated my hair. I should be somewhat used to this. There is no reason to feel any trepidation about having my hair cut.

Can you tell I'm trying to convince myself?

I know it's a mitzvah. I know that some little girl needs my long curly locks more than I do. I know that my hair will grow back, and relatively quickly. After all, if I'll be hacking off at least 10 inches of hair for the third time since November 2002, then my hair has grown over 30 inches in 55 months, so I'm growing at least half an inch per month. As I've said before, I'm kinda like a Chia Pet- water me and watch my hair grow.

And yet, despite all of this, I am a total weenie about having my hair cut. And msot of it is sheer vanity. I like my hair long. The uber-long, uber-curls are like my signature look. And I do not like my hair short. The first time I donated my hair, the only person who liked the result was my mother. Probably because I looked like a six year old (from the neck up, that is), and she could relive the memories of Wee Little Cara. The second haircut was actually really good (which is why I'm going back to the same salon- Tres Ambiance, on Lincoln. Insert plug here). So I know it's possible for me to look good with short hair.

And yet, as soon as I hung up the phone after making my appointment, I was visited by the Ghosts of Bad Haircuts Past (and Future), and now have visions of all the many ways I might emerge next Wednesday.

Maybe I should drink heavily beforehand. That way, if the haircut turns out awful, I can somehow blame it all on some stupid drunken escapade, and it will go down in Cara history as another funny drunk story. Or maybe if I get a little teary-eyed, they'll give me a lollipop for being such a good girl.

Carasworld: The Book?

There's this girl that I know from college- she was a year or so behind me, but we shared a lot of the same drinking buddies and Jew pals. We grew apart as we grew up, especially after I graduated and was no longer on 'the scene'. I have no idea if we'd have anything to really talk about anymore, other than college memories and people we know.

I randomly discovered that she has a blog now, one that she hopes to use (according to the blog itself) as a jumping off point for a book about being a twenty-something in the twenty-first century. The idea is intriguing. Gain a following, write a book. I've often thought that it would be fun to write a book about life through my eyes (particularly if I include some of the thoughts and escapades that don't make it onto this blog).

There's only one problem...who cares? Seriously. No matter how funny, witty, poignant, insert-PR-word-here such a book had the potential to be, it would never really be about life as a twenty-something. It would be about life as this twenty-something. And I'm just not certain what the mass appeal would be.

Unless you turn it into a screenplay for a farcical comedy about single life. Considering the weirdos that get sucked in by my gravitational pull, that might not be such a bad idea...

(Management Update: I'm completely joking. I have no interest in writing a book or screenplay about my tiny little world. I'm not quite that ego-centric)

I am a Killer Squirrel

As alluded to in my previous post, I have joined a softball team this summer (part of the same Federation league I played in several years ago). It's co-ed, 16" softball, with some of the screwiest rules you can imagine.

We're the Killer Snayim (translation: Killer Squirrels). There's no real story behind the name. We just thought it was funny. The other two options were Kadurim ("Balls") of Steel, and Machbet ("Bat") Out of Hell.

We're now two weeks into the season. Our Stats so far: 0-2. Based on our record, you might be able to surmise that we are not, in fact, very good.

Our first game was a disaster. We lost by slaughter rule, 14-1. 8 of those runs were given up in the first inning. Our one run was a lead-off homer in the 1st inning. Half of our team had never met before gameday. I did manage to get a base hit.

This week's game wasn't as big a disaster. We lost 9-4. Six of those runs were given up in the first inning (I'm noticing a pattern...) by a new team member who really wanted to be pitcher. He loaded the bases on walks, and then gave up a triple. Then walked some more players. Then gave up more hits. I think one of those runs was walked in. It was painful.

I played horribly. I did hit a single, but it was such a weak hit that I'm still not sure how I got on base. And I had a sacrifice RBI. But I can hit much better. (Solution: get to the field early enough for batting practice before the game starts.) My fielding was also sub-par, by my own standards. I, literally, dropped the ball with a force at 2nd. Had I held on, it would have been the 3rd out. (Turns out, no harm done. We got the next batter. Still, Big Brother taught me better than that)

Stayed tuned for more updates on the Killer Snayim.

Hello, My Name is Cara...

...and I'm a Bookaholic.

(Your cue: "Hi, Cara.")

I accidently slipped into my "curl up with a good book" winter mode this weekend, and completely missed out on some of my favorite Summer-In-Chicago events (i.e. Blues Festival, Printers Row Book Fair, Old Town Art Fair). I don't really have a good excuse. I was just lazy.

I exerted myself enough motzei shabbat to send out a couple of text messages to see what people were up to. One friend wrote back, suggesting we go to the Blues Festival. I wrote back that I would be interested...and then curled up with a good book, and neglected to make any phone calls or pursue fun Saturday night activities. (I was saved from total lame-ness by a midnight phone call from a friend in need of tomfoolery...so I got off the sofa, quickly made myself presentable, and hit the bars.)

Sunday started off well enough- I was up bright and early for a softball game, and then we went out for lunch afterwards. (Mmmm....shwarma at 11:00am) My Sunday afternoon plans were canceled, so I sent a text message to a friend, went home...and curled up with a good book.

Five hours later, my friend called, having only just received my text. Had I exerted myself enough to actually call, I might have joined him at the Old Town Art Fair (where, incidently, he ran into an old summer camp friend that I had been trying to track down for ages). Or, I could have just gone to the Art Fair by myself. Or gone to the Book Fair by myself. Or done anything to take advantage of a beautiful summer day in a fabulous city.

Now, I could probably blame technology, for making it so easy to send a text message, thus saving me the effort of having a phone conversation. Or I could blame books, for being good and luring me onto the sofa for hours. I could also blame my friends, for not calling me and staging a Bookaholics intervention.

But, the sad truth is that I'm lazy, and far too comfortable staying home with a good book. This contradicts everything I have promised myself about taking advantage of summer, and having adventures. Maybe this is my wake-up call. No more wasted weekends. Books are for rainy days and Saturdays (and somehow, I feel like I'm quoting song lyrics, but I cannot for the life of me remember what song it is), or weeknights when I get home too late (and have to be awake too early) to responsibly go out and adventurize.

So maybe it's a good thing I missed the Book Fair. It would have been like buying drugs to feed my habit.

Yet Another Reason for Cara to Make Aliyah

How many times have my friends heard me say, "If only Israel had baseball..."?

In 15 days, Israel will.

With the creation of the IBL, I can now realistically dream about marrying a professional baseball player. (Obviously, I don't much care how good they are. I'm a Cub fan, after all.) Some of them are pretty cute, too.

I think I may actually know one of the players on the Modi'in Miracle. Now I have to decide if that's reason enough to be a Modi'in fan, or if I should wait until the season starts before choosing an allegiance.

End of an Era

Now that I'm all growed up, special Daddy-Daughter time has lately taken the form of watching The Sopranos together on Sunday evenings. (Surprisingly, we also used to watch Sex and the City together as well...it was only awkward 10% of the time).

This Sunday, however, is the final episode, and my father and I spent a good hour last night speculating on possibilities for that last hour. Those of you who do not watch the show will find this post boring. Those that do...your opinions are welcome.

Some possibilities include:
1) AJ gets killed (though this may be wishful thinking), probably through some stupid mistake of his own doing. Tony comes out of hiding to attend the funeral of his only son. Showdown between Tony and Phil Leotardo.
2) Phil Leotardo approaches Paulie about turning on Tony. Paulie proves his loyalty by offing Leotardo.
3) Phil Leotardo is so consumed by his hatred of Tony that he miscalculates and leaves himself vulnerable.
4) Little Carmine emerges as Leotardo's successor.

These are merely speculation, of course. My personal favorites are possibilities #1 and #3.

Oh, the Irony...

Palestinians Throw Rocks At Peace Now Bus.

As they say, with friends like these, who needs enemies?

German Youths Pay To Treat Impotent Ostrich

If anyone can explain to me why this article is currently a headline on Jpost.com, I would be very appreciative.

An Omen?

I woke up suddenly at 1:30 last night, convinced that I'd felt a spider fall from my ceiling right onto my head. I do not like spiders. They freak me out. It's all those legs. *shudder*

Half awake and horrifed, I turned on the light, and searched my bed, determined to ruthlessly crush the unwelcome intruder. There was nothing there. Then I suddenly realized what happened.

I tickled myself with my hair while sleeping.

I haven't cut my hair in just under 2 years. I knew that it was coming close to Locks of Love time again, but I've been putting it off, simply because I hate having my hair cut. Apparently, it's now so long that I roll over it in my sleep, and the ends tickle my face. Which creates the illusion, to my sleeping brain, that spiders are dropping from the ceiling onto my head.

I think *sniff!* that it's time to cut my hair.

The Embroidery Workout

I spent about two hours last night cutting fabric and creating a template for Bryan and Sarah's gift. It didn't seem like particularly strenuous activity...probably because it's not.

So why did I wake up this morning feeling sore? I can understand (somewhat) feeling a bit sore in my shoulders, as I doubt I have very good posture while bent over my work surface (aka, coffee table). But why the hell are my legs so sore?

No one ever warned me that stretching before and after was a part of taking up embroidery as a hobby.

The One Year Rule

Supposedly, we're given one year to get a new bride and groom their wedding gift. I'm not sure where this rule came from. Maybe it's linked to the notion that wedding gifts are for newlyweds, and the new couple gets to refer to themselves as newlyweds all throughout that first year. Maybe it's because it takes a new couple a whole year to get around to writing thank you notes. Regardless, I tend to take full advantage of the One Year Rule (just as I tend not to mail in my RSVP until the date by which the family wants to receive it).

My very dear friend Uri got married last Memorial Day weekend. Going to his wedding was important enough to me that it influenced my returning to the States in May, even though my ticket could have extended until mid-June. I just wouldn't have been able to forgive myself for missing his wedding by only a few weeks. I even thought out the gift beforehand, and starting making it during my last month in Jerusalem. Then again, I had no TV in that apartment, so working on his gift also served as a functional way to pass my spare time. And, since I returned to Chicago with no job, I was optimistic that I would have the present finished by the end of the summer. Three cheers for the One Year Rule!

I finished the present yesterday (now I just need to have it framed, and shipped). I've now violated the One Year Rule. And then I realized that the delay in finishing Uri's gift has also created a delay in starting Bryan and Sarah's. I have a month to go before their year is up. So I guess I better use my quiet time wisely, and get started. Since it took me approximately 48 hours worth of designing, preparation, and embroidery, I may not be very social during the next few weeks. Not counting weekends- weekends are for tomfoolery.

I may try to post a picture of the framed final product. I'm really proud of it. Now I just hope that Uri and Deb like it.

Into The (J)Dating Pool

Summer always holds the promise of new adventures. I'm not sure why that is. I associate winter with quiet walks through thick, slow-falling snowflakes, hot cocoa, and quiet Cara time. Summer, on the other hand, is for Cub games, summer sports, cute shoes, wild n'crazy Saturday nights, and general tomfoolery. When I got back from Israel last summer, I was really looking forward to those adventures, and making all sorts of new friends with whom to engage in said tomfoolery. It didn't quite happen the way I'd planned. Yet here I am, a whole year later, expecting this summer to be what last year wasn't.

So, in typical Cara-fashion, I decided to do something differently, following the age-old logic that you can't do the same thing over and over again and expect to get different results. (Sidebar: this piece of wisdom has been attributed to Mark Twain, Ben Franklin, and Albert Einstein. There's no proof that any of them ever said it, in any form.) What is this radical new change, you ask? Brace yourself...I joined JDate.

If that sound I just heard was you falling off your chair laughing, I can't be surprised. I've held out for years, adamantly refusing to join the ranks of the JDaters. I caved. Sort of- I'm not expecting to find true love over the internet. I'm really just hoping to meet people that I wouldn't have otherwise met. Maybe a few of them will turn out to be cool people. If not, bad dates make great stories, and my married/committed friends do look to me to provide them with entertaining stories of Singledom. Besides, if nothing pans out with any of the other JDaters, I at least know that I tried something new, and didn't sit at home twiddling my thumbs (or, more likely, wielding an embroidery needle, reading a book, or watching a movie. Or 2 out of 3 simultaneously) waiting for that one nice Jewish boy to realize how fabulous I am and sweep me off my feet.

I don't know if this signals the start of a cynical phase, a realistic phase, or a "I save my romanticism for special occassions" phase. Regardless, the water wings have come off, and I've dived into the pool. Good thing I know how to dog paddle.

Hello?

I don't know if anyone (except perhaps Jon and Veronica) actually read this anymore. I've been debating just deleting it from the blogosphere entirely, but then I realize how much I enjoy knowing that it's there, waiting for me. Besides, I find it informative to go back and read old posts. I've never been consistent about keeping a diary, so it's not really a surprise that I've been so inconsistent about blogging.

But, here I am. It's summer now, and I've finished my first year of graduate school. I've now been back in America for over one full year, and I have trouble believing how quickly it went by. So much has changed, and so much has really stayed the same. Or, rather, has gone back to what it was before I left for Israel.

My career path has gone in a very different direction that I ever thought it would. Instead of working in geriatrics, and helping families adjust to their loved ones' deteriorating memories, I've instead decided to specialize in child and adolescent mental health. For the remainder of the summer, I'm a full-time behavior therapist. And I love it. I never saw myself working with children, but I love it. And not just because I get to play with bubbles and play dough in my down time.

One year ago, I was living with my brother and future sister-in-law. Now I have my own apartment (and my brother is a married man), and it's simply beautiful to have my own space. I can't say that either the apartment or building is particularly noteworthy, but that one bedroom space is all mine. I have yet to get lonely living alone.

School has been great. I've made some fantastic friends, and met people that I never would have had a chance to speak to otherwise. Immigrants, Iraq vets, Irish, Greek, Italian, Mexican, Southern, Yankee, you name it and we've got it. Sometimes I feel like the token Jewish kid (although there are 2 other Jewish girls, I'm the only frum one, so I get to field all the Jewish questions), but I also get to ask questions about other cultures and religions. It's nice to leave the Jewish bubble every now and then.

So, work is great, school is great, my apt is great. It's been a wonderful year in so many ways. I still miss Israel daily, but I've adjusted to the necessity of putting my dreams of aliyah on a backburner. And I may not quite have the super-spectacular social life that I'd hoped for, but summer always brings its own adventures. And I'm hoping to use this blog more often over the summer, to record those adventures.

So, if you're still out there...I'm back. I think.

Mama, I'm Comin' Home!

Ah, the joys of having winter break. The fine people at UIC give me an entire month free from school. Where shall Cara spend this time? Someplace warmer than Chicago...sure. Someplace where she has friends to visit...of course. Someplace like...Israel? Perfect! That's right, folks. Cara is going back to the HL this winter break. And the best part is that her trans-Atlantic flight is being paid for by someone else.

Okay, enough third person. I've been accepted to a program called Leading Up North. It's a 10-day volunteer program being run by several different Jewish organizations. I think about 500 young Jews are going in all. I'm going through Hillel (I am really loving this whole being-a-student thing!), which is taking about 150 of those young Jews. During those 10 days, I'll be up in the north, helping to repair damage from this summer's war with Lebanon. I don't know yet exactly where or what I'll be doing. But it will be in Israel.

After those 10 days, I'll be staying around in Israel for another week or so. I'll most likely be bouncing between Tel Aviv and the J'lem area, because that's where most of my friends are located. So if you happen to be one of those friends, and you want to see me during that week, drop me a line.

Sittin' By The Dock of the...Printer?

Here I am, sitting in the computer lab of the one building on campus that I know very well, waiting for someone who works here to actually show up and start working here. The printer needs reloading, and the paper tray is locked (!), so I'm stuck here until some TA reloads it for me. Otherwise, I have no class notes, and no midterm study guide. That, and I already paid for the printing, so I want my documents. With nothing to do but wait, I figured that now would be a good time to catch up on some blogging. Luckily, I have a whole hour until my next class.

"How's life, Cara?" some of you may ask. Others may phrase it differently. "Where have you been?" "Did you forget about us?" "What is the air speed velocity of a coconut-laden swallow?" To you, I will answer: life is pretty good, I've been buried under textbooks and lesson plans, I did not forget about you, and it depends on whether the swallow is African or European. But you probably could have guessed all of those.

Honestly, life is good. I just don't have much time for blogging. That, and my paternal unit reads this occassionally, so I'm a bit reluctant to post some of the more amusing episodes of my life.

Ah, the TA finally arrived. Actually, he walked in, roamed around the room, ignored the blinking red light on the printer, roamed some more, and then went into his office. At which point I drew his attention to the blinking red light. This means that I can now go get my documents and start studying.

So much for my update. If you really want to know how I'm doing, I suggest emailing or calling. For my friends in the Holy Land, particularly those who have called in the past few weeks, I'll call as soon as I buy myself a decent phone card. For my friends in the States...well...I guess I'm just lame like that.