tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117261452011-04-21T11:37:05.196-07:00rashi's daughterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416160231174047163noreply@blogger.comBlogger41100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11726145.post-1165535465447798572006-12-07T15:50:00.000-08:002006-12-07T15:51:05.456-08:00is <a href="http://tech.groups.yahoo.com/group/PartnersInKindness/"><i>amazing</i></a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11726145-116553546544779857?l=makomkavua.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rashi's daughterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416160231174047163noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11726145.post-1164037805015016282006-11-20T07:48:00.000-08:002006-11-20T07:50:05.036-08:00At work, round two corners from my office, there is an old Poems on the Underground poster with this poem printed in a brilliant bumpy font. It makes me smile every time I walk past.<br /><br />Don't Call Alligator Long-Mouth till You crossed River<br /><br />Call alligator long-mouth<br />call alligator saw-mouth<br />call alligator pushy-mouth<br />call alligator raggedy-mouth<br />call alligator bumby-bum<br />call alligator all dem rude word<br /><br />but better wait<br />till you cross river.<br /><br />By John Agard (b . 1949)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11726145-116403780501501628?l=makomkavua.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rashi's daughterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416160231174047163noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11726145.post-1111918747580173472005-03-27T02:17:00.000-08:002005-03-27T02:19:07.580-08:00...decided that blogging was just too much of a bitul zman.<br /><br />Lehitraot.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11726145-111191874758017347?l=makomkavua.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rashi's daughterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416160231174047163noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11726145.post-1112122418861157012004-10-31T20:36:00.000-08:002005-03-29T10:53:38.863-08:00I know that we're a wandering tribe, but sometimes things get out of hand. 7 mailing addresses and three cities later, I realise that the only constants in my address over the past two years have been my mobile phone number and my yahoo account. We twenty-somethings have long since been priced out of the housing market - no danger there of being tied to a particular piece of real estate. The crunch came this Shabbos though, when I moved across to the RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE SEATING AREA for the first time EVER (gasp!) and saw my makom kavua disappear in front of my very eyes. Just like that. <br /><br />Now, don't get me wrong. I feel as little tied to a particular plastic chair in shul than I feel likely to 'settle down' geographically during the near future: Postmodern Diasporic Girl mocks spatio-centricism, preferring to emulate the Lekh-Lekha mentality of her forebears. Only with wireless networking, of course. With a powerbook and a cup of coffee, one can be at home at the flick of a switch. <br /><br />Nevertheless, as a kind of spatial insurance policy, I'm staking out my corner of the blogosphere. <br /><br />A place to call my makom kavua.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11726145-111212241886115701?l=makomkavua.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>rashi's daughterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416160231174047163noreply@blogger.com1