Word: fretfulness
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...worried. Eliezer Schach, one of Israel's leading ultra-Orthodox rabbis, has publicly called Schneerson "insane," an "infidel" and "a false Messiah." The local papers carried Schach's outrageous charge that Schneerson's followers are "eaters of trayf," food such as pork that is forbidden to Jews. Other detractors fret that Habad's Messianic passions will provoke a schism in Judaism or lead to mass disillusionment, driving believers from the fold. Says philosopher Rabbi David Hartman: "The outpouring of Messianic fervor is always a very disturbing development...
...Purists fret that such derring-do will squeeze out artistry now that Soviet skaters -- like amateur athletes the world over -- must go begging for dollars. Tamara Moskvina, who coached the two top Unified Team pairs, counters that her former nation's tradition of excellence will persist because "it's in our blood and our culture." After spending 4 1/2 enchanting minutes with Mishkutienok and Dmitriev, enthusiasts of the sport must hope that she is right...
LIFE IS SWEET. Another brisk, weeny English comedy, and welcome as well. In a family out of a skewed sitcom, Mum and Dad try not to fret while their 21- year-old twin daughters offer up fun-house images of 21st century Britain: stoic and efficient or raging and aimless. Somehow, Mike Leigh's movie is hopeful. It says the nation will always survive adversity in the old-fashioned way: with a smile and a shrug...
Wondering where you can take a class with this cool guy? Fret not. Rueckner is a teaching assistant for Science A-26, "Waves, Particles, and the Structure of Matter." He is also in charge of facilitating the hands-on laboratory experiments conducted in the Science Center, though he gets help from four technicians in the daily running of the labs...
...turned it into a sordid relationship involving sex. My first recollections of our interaction, when I was three, involve me sitting happily between her legs in a bathtub, both of us naked. I also remember her standing in front of me rubbing her breasts. At other times, she would fret over whether my bowels were all right. A regular ritual was a cleansing enema of sudsy water made with laundry detergent. I still recall the feel of the tile bathroom floor as I lay there on my left side while she administered the preparation. "Breathe deeply," she said while...