It's been months and who knows if anyone still looks at this. I can hardly believe how time has passed. I moved out of my parent's house finally. Becky, my former college roommate was kind enough to let me stay ar her house until I ever make enough money to move out on my own. Dad called me the day after I moved out and asked when I was coming home. He missed me. I miss them. We started having Sunday dinner together. I wonder if it will ever stop hurting being together. Being together is just a glaring reminder of Michael's absense. I just can't help thinking about Michael missing and then my eyes well up and my throat clenches and.. well, you get the idea. We will never be whole. This wasn't supposed to be a sad blog, but who cares cause no one is really reading these.
on other fronts, i am enjoying my writing class. Here is a piece that I wrote about my great grandmother:

Yetta the Yenta

She was a tough old-bird Yetta Mudrich, and she had a business to run. There were no mistaken hook-ups, no two-bit, cross-your-fingers personal ads. She was careful when selecting families. She considered financial compatibility. She asked all the right questions about the bedroom, weeded out the perverts. Matched the timid with the loud-mouths, and the homely with the plain Janes. She was thorough and had a near perfect record.
“Three vedding matches guarantees you a place in heaven,” she boasted over and over again at each ceremony, “vich means I have 100 places to rent out.”
Her reputation as a matchmaker was well known throughout Jewish Philadelphia until the 1960’s when she passed away. She guaranteed a match made in heaven but if you crossed her watch out.
Bernard Kaplan, a balding pharmacist and a forty something bachelor found this out the hard way. Still living with his mother, her constant nagging for grandchildren brought Bernie begging at Yetta’s door.
“I’ll see vat I can do!” she crossed her arms and sat down at kitchen table pulling out a well-thumbed black book. She squinted into the book, eyeing the selections. “Mertle Cohen, no too thin. Sheila Gross, no, cross-eyed with bad teeth. Ah, yes, Shana Rosen, thirty, not too pretty, but --oy-- a little desperate.”
Bernie sat slumped down in a plastic covered chair across the table. He sighed. Suddenly Yetta slapped the table, jerking Bernie’s head to attention.
“You vatch Mister Kaplan. I vill get fat eating cake at your vedding!”
Sure enough Bernie Kaplan called Shana Rosen and sure enough they fell in love or liked each other enough to get married. The whole neighborhood was invited but somehow Yetta’s name did not make the list. Neither did Yetta receive payment for the match. She was livid and everyone in town knew.
“Zat Kaplan,” she barked at the butcher Mr. Schwartz, “zat ungrateful rat. I make his happiness. I find him his wife and he doesn’t even invite me to ze vedding. May he trip and fall down ze aisle and be too veak to break ze glass.” She spat on the ground making the curse complete.