343.There is no reason in the world to talk to strangers.

David says that I should try to make more friends.

He says he’s sick of hearing about the same old people over and over. He also thinks that the fact that I spend so much time with my family is pathetic.

I’ve been mulling this over. I do spend time with a limited amount of people but that’s because I only want to be with those people.

I can’t think of one person I’ve had lunch or dinner with in the past year that I didn’t really like and after one glass of wine you can include the waiters and waitresses in that.

I did have an epiphany the other day that even though I thought I really know people, clearly I don’t.

I used to worry about dying because I was afraid that dave would be devastated and couldn’t function without me.

We once had an argument about who loved the other one more. Both of us thought the other loved more. My theory at the time was that either we both felt very loved or neither of us loved the other one at all. Naturally I said that as a joke. Now I”m thinking hmmmmm.

I have a good day planned today. My sister is coming down and she, Julie, Violet and I will hang.

I wrote that yesterday. It was a good day and today will be even better. My sister is still here and we’re going to Costco to buy a vat of Advil, a barrel of olive oil and a crate of toothpicks.

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342. Nothing like a blast from the past to show you what a loser you are.

Yesterday Julie came over for lunch. I made a lovely salad.

We were sitting there chewing the fat (don’t all you young punks think that there was fat in my salad) when I suggested that we play cards.

About 15 years ago or more Julie  had graduated from NYU, with honors I might add, and had moved out of her parents home into a studio apartment. She worked for her dad for awhile and then took some time off to perfect her writing and  “find herself” which she did in my apartment every day .

She and her dog, Otto (a prince if ever I’ve seen one) would walk over to my house and we’d have lunch, play Spite and Malice,  walk our dogs, mine was Harry, play cards again with Judge Judy in the background until dave came home and he either took us out to dinner or I’d cook.

That was our week and I have to admit it was a golden time. But life got in the way. Julie got a job at Pop Up Video and met Paul and the only weekly visitor I had was Otto on Thursdays because Julie had mental patient after work and it was too long a time for him to be alone.

So when I suggested we play cards yesterday it was really a blast from the past.

When I dealt Julie said she wasn’t sure she even remembered how to play. Neither was I but as soon as we looked at the  cards not only did the game come back to us but all the things we did to irritate each other jumped in.

Julie, when she was winning burst out in Jim Carey’s voice “Somebody stop me now!” and when I was drawing from the pile I’d pray “Please God if you never grant me one more wish, let me pick a seven”

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We couldn’t help but talk about where we were in our lives when last we played that game.

I was happily married and knew I always would be plus dave and I were doing a lot of vocal records then so I was pretty successful at writing lyrics.

Julie was in limbo. She’d come to me every day for comfort because she had no idea where her life was going and she just wasn’t ready to start it. She wondered if she could ever make a living at writing and if she’d ever have a family.

When I see where we were then and where we are now I’m saying that that bitch better have me over to her house every day for lunch, dinner and Judge Judy.  And cards.

341. Oh Twitter, why have you forsaken me?

You’ll be relieved to know that I found my black pants.

They tried very hard not to be found, hiding in a part of my closet that I never look in. I know they were laughing at me when I emptied my drawers over and over again. But the last laugh was on them. I was too smart and they got careless.

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I was taking out the garbage and obviously they thought I was leaving for the day so when I came back in and I heard them ordering pizza from Patsy’s, they were as good as caught.

This taught me an excellent lesson about Twitter. You Twitter people listen to everyone but me.

My niece Julie was raving on Twitter about her Bissell machine that cleans dog piss. She had no ulterior motive. She just has three dogs that love to pee and this machine she got changed her life and she wrote about it.

So what happens? Bissell reads her tweet and sends her a vacuum. Ab-so-lute-ly free.

I write a whole blog about how much I love my Eileen Fisher pants and how I spent money I didn’t have to buy them and what did Eileen Fisher do? Nada.

Forget giving me new pants, did they even send me a discount coupon to replace the ones I lost a little cheaper?

Well since the pants were so stupid I got them back anyway no thanks to you Ms Fisher.

I’d start writing about how sad it is that I still have an ipad 1 and an iphone 4  but there’s no point.

Is there sweet Apple?

340. Ernest Hemingway could have learned a thing or two from me.

Nuthin much happenin’ here.

On my way home from Stephanie’s yesterday I did get stopped for speeding. Did you hear that Julie? Steph?

They’re always saying that I drive so slowly that if I ever hit someone with my car I’d just shove them down the block. Well you don’t get stopped for driving too slowly. Well maybe you do but I didn’t.

Nope, 45 in a 30 mile zone. That’s practically flying.

The officer was a sweet pretty woman who asked me why I was in Newtown since I my car was from NYC. I told her I was visiting my niece. She asked where she lived and I told her that.   I was trying to figure out a way to mention that my husband left me after 36 years of marriage, a sure fire get out of jail free card when she asked for my license and registration and went back to her car. She came back a little while later and said she only gave me a warning. Maybe all that flinging myself around and banging on my steering wheel while she was gone crying “Why me?” was unnecessary.

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Wait, did I say nothing much happened yesterday? I forgot that I was this close (-) to saving David’s life yesterday.

I was leaving my apartment at around 9 am when I noticed his newspapers still outside his door. That never happens. I looked at them for a minute and thought about ringing his bell but then good sense took over me. What if he was still sleeping? He’d really be mad if I woke him up and he never likes to see me in the morning.

Cocktail hour, maybe.

I stepped on the elevator and texted him ” r u ok?”

No answer.

The elevator reached the lobby and I was just about to step out and start my day when I said to myself “What if I leave and he is injured or sick? Liz would be so mad at me” so I went back up. When I got back to my floor I looked out and his newspapers were gone. He obviously wasn’t dead.

I got proof of that later when he texted me back “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Boaters always tell harrowing stories about being caught in a fog. dave and I used to say that all fog stories are the same. If you’re there to tell it then the story is, first you were lost in the fog and then you weren’t.

So to all you new writers out there, if you can’t think of anything to say you can always pull “first David was dead and then he wasn’t or I almost got a ticket and then I didn’t ” out of your ass.

339.Go ahead, knock this battery off my shoulder.

Stephanie’s dog, Duffy, fell through the ice on her pond the other night and her husband , Terry, jumped in and saved him.

That’s definitely a hero story but there is a part of this tale that got me steamed.

In a few weeks I’m staying at her house to mind her animals. If you recall I was uninvited on a fabulous spa weekend because she decided I’d have a much better time staying at her house in Nowheresville taking care of her dogs and cats. She has someone else minding the donkeys and horses because she said it would be “too hard for me”.

Aside from the fact that she has given me loads of rules about what I can and can’t do in her house (I accept this because I know her and I’ll do what I want anyway), she cut me to the quick when she told me the story about Duffy and added “Thank God that didn’t happen when we were away. You couldn’t have saved him”

“Are you crazy? Do you seriously think that I wouldn’t have run in the water and gotten him?”

“You’d want to but you wouldn’t be able to”

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Now I know I’m a little slower than I used to be but the fact that she thinks I’m not capable of pulling a dog out of a pond is a shock. I used to be the one she counted on. Now she treats me like a feeble old lady.

No words are going to convince her that I’m still a force to be reckoned with so I’ve decided that when I go up to mind her animals I’m going to rearrange her furniture.

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338. If your name isn’t Eileen Fisher with a free pair of pants don’t bother reading this.

I am taking to the airwaves to ask for help. Are these airwaves? Anyway you know what I mean.

My life before dave started dating frequently consisted of shopping with friends, Susan, Ronnie, my sister.

Since he left I only bought one item.  That’s ONE item in over a year.

It was a pair of Eileen Fisher pants. In black (surprise surprise). They were the perfect pants.(I keep wanting to call them slacks.)

They were more money than I could afford so I only wore them for good.

They were supposed to be the coup de something of my outfit the other night but when I got dressed they were no where to be found. I had to wear everyday black pants.  I know you’re saying big deal, black pants are black pants.

Well maybe to the untrained eye but take it from me. If I had worn the good ones my outfit would have been “off the hook” as the kids say. As it was I was only “attractive”.

All day yesterday I searched. Since every item in my closet is black that wasn’t easy. I emptied my drawers, I combed my closet. Nothing.

And don’t say I could have missed them in all that black. This is what I do. I know they couldn’t have walked off by themselves although they were so fine they might have.

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BTW don’t start bitching because this blog is boring. This is for the greater good. Mine. Would you call an Amber Alert boring? I didn’t think so.

337. Guess what time I had dinner last night.

Go ahead, guess. Never mind,  you won’t be able to.  It was nine thirty P. M. That’s right! NINE THIRTY P period M period!

We actually ate earlier than we were supposed to because we went to the Philharmonic and at half time or whatever they call it David decided to leave because he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

It was none too soon too. I had just finished mentally reorganizing my closet for the third time and the violins were beginning to look like turkey drum sticks.

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Let me start from the beginning.

I obviously took this as more of an occasion than David did. I curled my hair and tried on several different outfits before I finally decided on the black.

When we met in the hall at 7 he was wearing the same thing he wore to Home Depot earlier in the day to buy roach powder because he saw a bug in his kitchen. He had to go back twice because he had a tragedy. He sent me the following email at about 2 o’clock.

“I was fixing myself a sandwich and had flung a dish towel over my shoulder that I’d just used to dry my hands. Apparently hiding in the towel was a huge roach that crawled out onto the back of my neck. Screaming and cursing like a stevedore I quickly removed and sent him packing to roach hell.

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In response I’ve gone back to HD and have significantly dialed up the lethality of my efforts to kill these MF’s. I have some shit now that was developed in a government warfare lab that is capable of taking down an elephant !!”

 

Anyway I accepted his trauma as an excuse for not spiffing up a bit more and also for not commenting on how lovely I looked. I was forced to say as we waited for the elevator, “I look nice”.

He looked up from his phone seemingly surprised that I was still there and said ” Yeah your hair looks good”.

Now on to Lincoln Center.

We got to our seats. Very good seats, Orchestra Center, and settled in while the hall filled. I know you think that those classical music people are fancy but next to me was a young woman who smelled like she had just run a 10k.

The music began and it was lovely. For about 10 minutes. If you had something to read while you were listening.

I spent 40 years listening to jazz and I think I had used up my “sitting quietly trying to look interested” quota. It isn’t all music.  I will say that I saw “Jersey Boys” and at the end I was on my feet screaming for more.

I get it , I’m a Philistine.

If David hadn’t wanted to leave though, I would have stayed to the end and pretended to enjoy it.

I was saved by the guy sitting next to David who was humming and conducting with his program. David was a bit on edge after his roach happenstance and mumbled that he was just about to offer to put that program in a place where the guy couldn’t direct the horns to play out when the intermission came and we went to eat.

Did I say it was nine thirty by then? Well it was.


					

336. Being Hoity Toity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

I’m going to hear the Philharmonic tonight with David. He has a season ticket.

It’s not usually my thing but I was asked so nicely that I had no choice but to accept.

“I asked everyone I knew if they wanted to go and they all said no so how about you coming ?”.

He added that Marshall (his son) refused by making a jerking off motion in the air.  I think he also said something about calling his high school shop teacher but when he finally found him it turns out the guy was dead.

I was tremendously flattered that he asked me before asking the doorman.

“I’d be charmed”,  I said.

What to wear? What to wear? I’m thinking a gown and some sort of tiara. I kind of wish that I still smoked. This sort of evening screams long cigarette holder.

There’s also the problem about dinner.  The thing starts at  8 pm.

Mr La Di Da says my usual dinner time of 6 is too early to eat which means we’ll have to eat after the concert. This is probably just as well because as soon as I finish dinner, especially with cocktails it’s off to dreamland.

Unless I bring my sleeping machine with me, which is not out of the realm of possibility, my snoring might disturb others if I happen to doze off.

The problem with eating later is that if I’m hungry all I’ll be thinking about is food and I won’t be able to enjoy the music. I once dated a guy who said that the only time he felt that he had my full attention was when I was actually eating. He thought that during the cold war I’d have sold my country’s secrets for a Hershey bar. He wasn’t wrong.

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I got it!  Salami sandwich under my tiara. If there’s no encore that should hold me.

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Remember what I said about being a problem solver?

335. I deserve a big pat on the back just for being me.

Here’s why I have a good personality. Because my eye hurts and I’m still being sunny.

Yep I smile through adversity. Not only that but I’m known in my family as a problem solver. A smiling problem solver.

It started when I was very young. I was 8 years old and at Camp Highmount. I was taller than most of the boys my age so what did I do? I went to the prom with 2 short boys.  I figured 2 shorts equal one tall.

There were problems. A mutiny occurred about midway through the dance. Those two shrimp punks came up and said they didn’t want to be my dates any more. They said I was too bossy. Imagine that.

Clearly I wasn’t bossy enough. I should have forbidden them to speak to each other. That way they couldn’t have planned that coup.

But most of my solutions to the problems of my family members always, well usually, have been more successful.

I remember when my sister Phyllis started dating after her divorce. Some guy she met at Parents without Partners stole her car keys and wouldn’t give them back. She had to rent a car to get home so she could get another set of keys and go back and get her car. (Don’t look at the flaws in her reasoning)

We, the sisters, were so mad. I decided to rain (is that rain or reign?) terror on him. For weeks we called him at all hours of the night telling him that even though we were girls we were going to beat him up and punch him. We added that we were going to pull his pants down and leave him in his lobby. Naturally we didn’t give our names.

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Unfortunately he put 2 and 2 together and called the cops. A detective called Phyllis and asked her if she was behind the calls. Naturally she denied it but foolishly went on a rant telling the detective what the guy had done to her. He just sighed and said

“Look Phyl, I know you didn’t do it but cut it out, Okay?”

My solutions don’t always benefit the people around me but I’m not God.

Many years ago I was up at my sister Iris’ house and my basset hound, Norman, bit her mailman.

The mailman threatened not to deliver mail to her house any more. In order to calm things down  I just shrugged and said “Okay don’t”.

I didn’t live there. What did I care?

Now how does that fit in with the theme of this?  I’m not sure it does. Wait, since Iris still got mail maybe my cool head in the face of adversity (back to smiling with an eye ache) kept the situation from escalating.

See? I just talked my way out of a shitty blog post.

334. Just when I thought I was out…….

In turning my blog into a book, which I’m hoping to do, the advice I get from those in the  know is that what I’m going through should be a teaching moment for others. It seems that in the last five years the number of marriages of people over 60 have broken up at an alarming rate increase.

Sometimes I think I’ve got a handle on it. Find something you love to do and embrace the fact that your life is your own and you can do what you want without taking anyone else into consideration.

But sometimes that just doesn’t work and it sneaks up on you that you’re alone.

Yesterday was dave’s birthday. I made an entry on facebook about it and said that I’ll be glad when I don’t remember it.

After a few minutes I erased it. Too needy.

But I have to admit that it brought me down all day. I kept thinking that I don’t believe that I can’t acknowledge the birthday of someone who was so close to me.

I try to cheer myself up by remembering stuff like him saying that he wanted to take half my jewelry and oh yeah, “I’m in love with a Japanese woman” always puts a dent in my missing him.

The point of this is what kind of hope can I give other women going through this? Even after over a year it sneaks up on me. But I do admit that those times are rare. Mostly I’m happy.

I wonder if she made him a party.

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