210. Remember that trust game where you fall back into your friend’s arms? Well if you try it with some people you’ll crack your skull.

I just got an email from David. He’s on another business trip.

It said :

“Just wrote you an email but deleted it before I pushed send. It was a

tasteless diatribe describing a plane load of blind people I just

observed getting off a plane. As you know I like to set the “what will

surely offend most people” bar pretty low. This one however on quick

reflection didn’t even come close.

As you pointed out with reference to my disdain of people pleasuring

themselves in public, I do have some standards.”

I can’t for the life of me figure what he could have written that finally touched his sensibility nerve, something I never thought he had, considering that the last email he sent me praising the efficiency of the guy cutting off people’s heads  didn’t bother him at all.

I cringe to think of what he might have said about the blind people.

Even though he assured Liz that he would no longer send me anything upsetting, when I get a web site from him telling me to check it out, I never never go to it.

I learned long ago that the word “trust” isn’t in his vocabulary.

When I was my most vulnerable, right after dave broke the news to me that he had a girlfriend, I found a disgusting letter from his inamorata that discussed in detail all the things she wanted to lick on him and vice versa .

I couldn’t read it but I showed it to Liz whose only advice was “Don’t let David see this. He’ll read it aloud and torture you with it.”

A few days later David spent the night in the hospital. I don’t remember if it was a broken foot or heart palpitations or what but whatever it was, he was looking very pale and pathetic in his bathrobe sitting in his living room.

Liz was at work and I was keeping him company.

Somehow the letter came up. He asked to see it.

“No” I said “Liz warned me that you would read it aloud and tease me about it. I don’t want to know the details of what it says”

He had a hurt look on his face and said “I would never do that. I know how hard this all is on you. I promise I’ll just read it and not discuss it.”

“I don’t believe you”

“I give you my word. You can trust me”

I kind of felt sorry for him because of what he had been through and I thought it would cheer him up so I finally got the letter and handed it to him, “Remember, you promised”

He took the letter and started reading it. At first he was silent then he burst out laughing and started reading it aloud.

“YOU PROMISED!” I screamed

Again he gave me a surprised look “Clearly I was lying”

When I told Liz on him all she said was ” What were you thinking?”

Beats me.

209. Liz, come home. Your baby is being a baby.

Liz better get back here fast.

First of all I miss her and I miss Rupie.

Second of all, I seem to have gotten custody of David who is acting out without Lizzie here to control him.

This morning I got a call from him at about 8 a.m. because he couldn’t find his keys. Since he used them to get in the house they must be there but he had to leave for Mexico and he couldn’t lock his door.

I told him to go. I’d lock his door and find his keys.

He must be bored and waiting for his plane to leave because I got 3 emails in a row from him. None of which would he dare be sending me if Liz were within smacking distance.

1.”Check out liveleak.com today. Video of a beheading in Saudi Arabia. Swordsman did it with only 1 hand! Did you read about the massacre yesterday in Mx City airport? On my way there this afternoon. I’ve always thought there’s a bullet out there somewhere with my name on it.

Any luck with the keys?”

2. Some stupid joke that his stupid friend sent to stupid him called “Liberal 101”.

3. A youtube thing that I have no intention of looking at since I learned my lesson early in our relationship that whatever he’s sent me has only one goal – to piss me off.

208 If only Gloria Steinem was a little older I wouldn’t be in this fix.

In last month’s AARP Bulletin they cite the fact that though since 1990 divorces as a whole have gone down in the United States, it has doubled for those over 50.

That’s a shocking thing in itself and they give lots of reasons why, none of which I care about.

What I’m thinking is that it is much more difficult for someone who got married  40 years ago to be left then it is for someone young mainly because when we entered into marriage the expectations were different.

Young women today are expected to work and have their own identity. Remember I’m coming from a very middle class place but when I got married, though I was working, my job was not expected to do anything to support the family and when it got in the way of traveling with my husband, I quit.

I  just thought of something. I am one of 4 daughters. My father and my uncles had a thriving business. There was only one son in our family, my cousin Matthew, and he automatically went into the business as did some of my brothers in law.

Except for my sister, Iris, who acted as a secretary for a period of time while her husband was overseas in the Army (when he came out he joined the business), none of us were even considered .

And it wasn’t a business of tugging and lifting. They sold the cloth that covers mattresses, mattress ticking.

We were 4 really smart women, as were my cousins Maxine and Barbara but we were passed over like bad fish. Not even bad fish. That suggests a negative. We were ignored.

I know I’ve said this before but every bit of creativity I had went into helping my husband succeed. This wasn’t his fault. I was happy to do it and I felt truly fulfilled. I’ve always said that some of my happiest times were when dave and I were working on a project together with him writing, arranging and producing and me doing the business and writing the lyrics.

Though my parents loved me, I had no doubt about that, I wasn’t valued . When I’d play the songs I wrote for my mother, almost immediately she would lose interest and start talking. I still remember dave playing them his jingle reel and my mother listened as though it were Beethoven.  She actually had tears in her eyes.

The final proof that we were only as valuable as the men we married came when my father’s will was read.

The executrixes were my sisters Iris, the oldest ,who was married to a lawyer, and my sister Marcia , #3, who was married to a pension planner. They passed over my sister Phyllis,the second oldest, a move that humiliated her in front of her sons.

They didn’t name her even though she was a stockbroker because her husband sold fork lifts and me because I was married to a musician who would later turn out to be a fuckwad (although they had no way of knowing this). Sorry, couldn’t resist.

This would never happen today. Women today marry later and have usually established their careers by the time they enter into that union so when they leave or are dumped they have something to fall back on.

If I were born later I’d have sold the cloth that covered the mattresses in my trundle bed that I bought at Sleepy’s and I could have gotten a bigger discount than $150.

207 Life sans Rupie or Freedom ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

My first day of freedom wasn’t all that I thought it would be.

I was the only one in the movie theatre.

I was wondering if that meant that I march to my own drummer or that only a lame-o like me had nothing better to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

My fear that someone would sneak up on me and bop me on the head kept me from totally enjoying the flick.

After the movie I made a few stops but I had nothing else to do until dinner with Julie and Violet at 6 so I went home.

During dinner Violet mentioned that a boy in her class named “Joey” asked that his nickname be “Jewie”. Taken aback I asked why he would pick that as a name and she answered with a look like “Duh!”,

“Because he’s Jewish”

All I could think of was that times have changed, If anyone called me Jewie when I was young it was never by my choice.

After dinner, it was 7: 30 or so, I was on the bus going home and I texted David to see if he still wanted to have a drink since he had sent his “Cocktails?” email to me while I was out. You see, the new me was a night owl. Hell I may even stay up until 9 or 10.

He answered

“Sure. Why not? Have had 2 Margaritas but I’m trying to get myself off this whole moderation thing!!”

We spent the rest of the evening on his terrace shootin’ the breeze.

When he isn’t rolling his eyes or screaming at me in German he can be quite the charming companion.

206. If you defy the sign saying “Don’t squeeze the mangos” you’ll have to answer to me.

Miss Liz came home for a few days but she’s gone back to Santa Fe and she took Rupert with her.

This is the first time since I don’t know when that I have nothing to be responsible for except myself.

It’s scary and freeing.

Today I am going to the movies.(I never would have left Rupert for something so frivolous.)

Later I’m going to not come home for dinner even if I have to hang out in Home Depot.

The world is my oyster. (what an icky thought)

Maybe I’ll do some sleuthing. I’d like to catch that guy who’s drawing swastikas on buildings in Brooklyn.

I guess I’m going to have to get me a big magnifying glass if I want to be effective in tracking down clues.

Then I can right a whole shitload of wrongs.

205. Boring post but a celebration of how far I’ve come.

I entertained people not in my family for the first time last night. I made a barbeque.

I almost had a whole band there, Jim Pugh, his wife Grace (I double love her) and their 2 year old son, Mattox, Sue and Allan Schwartzberg , Lew Soloff, Ronnie Taylor, Carol Fredette, Mary Moreno (Alan Rubin’s widow and a successful mystery writer) and David.

The evening started on a questionable note when Mattox refused to leave the elevator and showed it by lying on his back and kicking everyone who tried to entice him out.

He cheered up tremendously however when he saw that I had newly planted marigolds on my terrace just asking for their heads to be pulled off. And he capped off his delicious presence when it was time to leave and he gave everyone a big wet kiss on the lips. Mmm I can still feel it.

I was a bit nervous having David there because as he said when I invited him telling him he’d have to behave,

“Don’t worry. I know your friends are all left wing hippies”

The real surprise was that since everyone there had been reading my blog they were delighted to meet David. Plus he was at his most charming. I got a million calls this morning saying how warm, funny and nice he was. Go figure.

But he showed his true colors a few minutes ago when he emailed me a picture of a whole dead pig from the Big Apple BBQ Festival he was attending with his sons.

Like I said, the guy never disappoints. He could only spend so long being civilized.

204. Remember that village I said it takes? Add another village and a borough.

David dropped by this morning to tell me about his evening out with his two sons last night.

Those stories are never “Father Knows Best” moments. It’s more like three college kids looking for trouble.

He began by telling me that at dinner the waiter gave him a bottle of wine that he thought was $70 (he had requested a wine around that price) but was in fact $270.

He told me how he handled it.  I’ll spare you the details but it was at best elitist and at worst bigoted .  He then said “Feel free to quote me in your blog”.

This is where I explained to him that I have to protect him from himself. The things that he considers absolutely proper are anything but in civilized company.

One of the first things anyone who has read my blog asks me when they meet me  is “Is David really like that?”. If I were to answer honestly I would say “No, he’s much worse.”

It is my careful editing that has made him seem eccentric but still lovable.

And I do that because I do, in fact, love him.  He is frequently very good to me which is why I overlook his, what I would call failings but what he would call the musings of any “Good Republican gun owner from Texas who has relocated to the People’s Republic of New York”.

He followed up with a story his son told him about a guy jerking off in the steam room of his gym.

David, ever the understater, shook his head and said

“Jerking off in public? That’s just not right.”

See he does have standards of behavior.

203 Romance is in the air

I went swimming today.

I kind of had a moment with a guy there. Actually 2 moments.

The first was as I was getting off the elevator on the locker room floor.

A rather fat, but not unattractive  man was getting on.

Our eyes met as he got off and I got on.

He seemed very confident because he only wore his bathing suit, no cover up, and his bathing cap to go down to the pool. As I said before he was fat, in fact, pretty round but solid like a bowling ball.

I went on to dress for my swim and when I got down there he was already in the pool.

Our second moment came about 45 minutes later when I called the lifeguard over to check on him because he hadn’t moved from his spot hanging on to the side of the pool since I got there.

The lifeguard reassured me that the guy’s been coming here for years and all he does is stand at the side of the pool without moving until he decides to go home.

You know what this means? I’ll get another chance at him.

202. It takes a village

So last night at about 10:30 p.m.,  I’m relaxing in one of the two lounge chairs in front of my bed watching “The Real Housewives of Somewhere” when I get an email from Liz who’s in Santa Fe with her father.

“If you’re still up will you go over and fix the TV for David?”

I slip into something attractive, pants, and go over and ring the bell.

He lets me in with an exasperated sigh. He’s on the phone with Liz.

“She’s here, did you text her?”

I could hear Liz’s voice over the phone saying, “I’ve been trying to explain it to you over the phone and you just weren’t getting it.”

He hung up and said in a whiney voice “No matter what I do I can’t change the channel.”

I quickly figured out that the cable box needs to be rebooted and I do it.

The entire time he’s , I know I shouldn’t keep using the word “whine”  but nothing else will describe it, whining that “now you’ve really gone and done it. I won’t be able to watch anything. You really broke it now”

By the time it rebooted and became a functioning TV he was almost crying but he quickly pulls himself together and starts going through the channels happily.

This from a guy who only two weeks ago sent me a picture of himself in a gun store with a giant semi automatic rifle and a big smile on his face.

I personally can’t imagine him using an automatic anything even a semi one without shooting himself in the leg but according to him he’s a crack shot.

Of course according to him he knows how to work his TV.



201. What kind of snake is that?

My sister Marcia and I were talking this morning and I mentioned that my movements age me. For example when I get off a bus  , my new favorite mode of transportation, I hesitate before stepping down.

She was agreeing and saying that last night she watched the movie “Love Is A Many Splendored Thing”.  Two things became clear to her.

1. She was absorbed by them running up and down a long line of steps. All she could think of was how she could never do that.

I agreed. When I watch movies and see people running for long periods of time I say to myself that that’s why I decided not to become a famous movie star.

2. Although she remembered that movie as being good, it stunk.

This morning in the New York Times there was an article about Mystery Science Theatre that was on early cable. It was about a handyman and 2 robots that are trapped someplace and watch B movies and riff about them. I loved that show.

I know this seems like a non sequitur, but what I was thinking was that sometimes things that you remember as great still are or might not be.

Early cable was a mish mash of  good and bad.

Virtually anyone who wanted a show could have one.

One night dave and I were in bed watching two guys who thought they were interesting taking phone calls.

They had a guest who brought a fake tree with a big snake on it.

After long pauses and not much to say, to their delight someone finally called.

“What kind of snake is that?”

The snake guy was so happy that someone was showing interest in his snake that he went into a long discourse about his snake and those snakes in general.

The caller: “Why don’t you shove it up your ass?”

dave and I screamed with laughter. No thirty second delay in those days.

That reminds me. When we got engaged dave promised me a million laughs. Although in our early years it looked like he might deliver, I’d say for the last ten he’s fallen way short of his goal.

And in the last year he’s gone backwards.