I just realized that when you write a blog there are people who actually read it and are somewhat affected by what you write.

For example the other day I wrote about being sad. I feel fine now but I keep hearing from people who love me telling me to keep my chin up.

I’ve been treating my blog like confession. After I yap I feel all better. I really should have been Catholic. I absolutely adore that confession thing. You tell some guy what you did wrong and then you pray and then you have a clean slate.

I also like Easter now that the Catholics have removed all the hard words from the Lord’s Prayer and Christmas makes Hanukkah a dumb boring cousin.

Back to me and my mood. I had a lovely day yesterday. Julie came over and we had lunch and played cards. I’m suspicious that Julie might have been cheating because in the middle of the game I found a ten of diamonds under her chair.

It didn’t help her though. I was victorious. And I was a good winner. I only gave one whoop and one bow while forming an L with my fingers on my forehead signaling ‘you know what’.

I was reading a magazine which said that people in their 50s and 60s are at their most empathetic. First of all because they have had a lot of life experiences and also because my generation went through the free thinking 1960’s so we are more liable to look at the other person’s point of view.

I forgot why I mentioned that. Maybe it’s because I was thinking about other ways those my age differ from younger people. My cell phone. I never leave home without my cell phone not because I want to be reached but if I get run over I want to call my sister.

Hardly anyone ever calls me on my cell. In fact, when I first got it,whenever my phone rang it was usually spam but I pretended that it was Lance from Nsync. (I want to thank my nephew Joe for reminding me of that. I say he’s MY nephew even though he’s from dave’s side of the family because I’m sure I love him more than dave does. When he was about four I even let him pee on the door of the ice cream shop in Montauk when they wouldn’t let him use the bathroom, but that’s a story for another day)

What was I saying? Oh yeah becoming Catholic. If they don’t mind my saying “Oy” every time I kneel down, I’m in.