Here’s the thing.
When you have a big family spread all over and you’ve gone through something, they kinda want to hear that you’re okay. My blog does that.
After dave left I was writing almost every day because I had a lot to deal with. That made my family happy, not the “a lot to deal with” but the writing part because they knew what was going on with me.
Well time passes and things have settled down for the most part so I don’t have as much to write about.
Oh there are snippets, but nothing really blog worthy.
For example, last night David was calling the chinese restaurant and ordering take out.
As he was dialing he murmured to himself, “I think I’ll do a hare lip”.
This was a new more disgusting choice for him because he usually does John Wayne, calling the woman who barely speaks english “Darlin'” and using all kinds of down home slang.
Now I could write about that but why? To prove once again what a piece of shit he is? I think I’ve brought that home more than once. No point in beating a dead bigot.
Anyway Miss Liz is coming home tonight so she’ll take care of him. In a few days he’ll be using a napkin and not eating with his feet.
Thanksgiving this year was perfect. Everyone came and loved each other. You can’t write about that.
I have the same worries that everyone else does, that I’ll get sick and die or I won’t die and I will run out of money, that’s not blog worthy. That’s just life after sixty.
I made a joke the other day to my super and my doorman that since I’ve started drinking I’m much more fun. What I meant by “drinking” was a cocktail or two but saying that would have ruined the punch line.
Anyway, I hadn’t totally cleaned up from my company when the super came up to turn off the water on my terrace the other morning.
When he was leaving, he was looking at me strangely and patted my arm on his way out.
I didn’t think much of it until I walked in the kitchen later and there was an almost empty bottle of scotch and a half full bottle of sake (neither of which I drink) on the sink. Well not the scotch anyway.
Now I cringe every time I go through the lobby.
See? my world has gotten so small. Maybe I should branch out from my family and get involved.
My niece Stephanie is doing meals on wheels. She said when she visits these people they are so happy for the company. She sits with them and listens to their stories.
She told me one about this woman with a blind cat that acts like a dog and greets you at the door and purrs and purrs. The woman said it was a rescue cat and the people told her it was a siamese.
Steph, never one to mince words, was forced to tell her that since the cat was yellow and had stripes she had clearly been taken for a ride.
Hey, maybe that’s something to do. I could visit people who are lonely and listen to their long stories and let them know that someone cares about them.
Either that or I’ll see what’s on channel 7.
Mannie, you’re a f–ing riot!!!!
Miss u!! Xo
Come home and I mean now. I need a mani/pedi and a trim
I think you should give your super and doorman each a bottle of scotch for Christmas with a note attached saying “My Body Could Use the Break ~ Merry Christmas”
I absolutely love this. You’re right. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em
I told Mattie that I resented her assertion that I had bad table manners, as mine are impeccable. She on the other hand could stand to take a note or two from me.
Just because a bit of my pasta ends up on my shirt he has to criticize. Meanwhile later in the evening I can snack on my outfit while he has to search out some pie.