I’m starting to do some of the things that I couldn’t do while hiding under my bed.

It started on Saturday when I was walking Debby and I heard the Star Spangled Banner coming out of someone’s window.

I started crying then and I’m almost finished crying now so I am dipping my toe into life once again.

On a slightly personal level falling under TMI, ever since I saw Stephanie’s toilet that practically gives you a bath every time you use it. I wanted it.

Now that I have reentered the world of the living and joy is permitted back in my life I decided to get one.

My sweet nephew Jimmy said that if I order it he’ll connect it.

So on Amazon I go.

It was all going fine until they asked if my toilet was long or round.

It looked pretty round but it could have been long.

What to do.What to do.

Now who could I ask?

It could only be my super, Lester.

But from my huge knowledge of Latin men, how could I bring up the subject of toilets without him thinking it was a come on?

I’m a woman alone so I have to be careful.

I finally hit on it.

I sent him a text.

“Is my toilet round or long? I’m asking for a friend.”

Luckily he bought it. After asking me to send him a picture of my toilet he assured me it was round.

I also bought a new computer that I can’t work at all.

Still my angst at this is nothing like what I was feeling under my bed.

Double Zen

Here’s the funny part.

It’s about the worst person I know.

You guessed it, David.

As you know David is a Republican, gun owner who has been known to be bigoted and is just generally shitty.

He also is one of my best friends.

I’ve noticed a few chinks in his crap armor though.

In spite of the fact that the only thing he holds dear is the economy, he didn’t vote for trump last time and he won’t vote for him this time.

Although he’s considered himself a Texan for as long as I’ve known him (embracing everything lousy about that State) and considered New Yorkers well, not his style when he moved to Texas a few years ago he realized that he was more of a New Yorker than he thought and he moved back this year.

This Covid thing has knocked him for a loop though. He was telling me that he feels isolated and somewhat depressed being in alone so much.

Here’s where I have to pat myself on the back even though as you know that’s very hard for me.

“What you need is a dog! It will get you out and there will be someone who’s glad to see you when you get home”

Which is something I myself can’t imagine that happening much in his life.

He brightened up immediately.

You’re right! I will get a rescue dog.

And he got right on it.

To encourage him I sent him a dog bed for his birthday, telling him that the dog will probably sleep in his bed.

To which he replied “Well that ain’t happening!!”

Now let’s move forward.

Yesterday he picked up Minnie. I can’t exactly say what she is. It looks like someone threw everything doglike in a pot and out came Minnie.

I had told David that it would probably take her awhile to get settledl

David, Minnie and I zoomed last night and her tail was almost wagging off.

She’s already made him her person.

BTW here’s where she slept last night.

He acted tough though.

He sent me this saying:

“No luck getting into her bed. I’ll get medieval on her ass tomorrow night “

David will be sleeping in that dog bed before Minnie will.

Now we have a guest Zen today.

Let’s start with last night.

As you know I don’t have many friends.

I can’t really say why. I’m pretty delightful.

Anyway back to what I was saying. I can’t be that choosy so when a friend is disgusting and shallow and crappy I stay mum.

I won’t mention the name of the person I’m talking about because I wouldn’t want to hurt David’s feelings.

Many evenings at about 5 o’clock he calls me and we have cocktails together.

Last night he said that he was expecting a call from the richest man in Australia so he may have to hang up.

Why is he calling you?

A mutual friend of ours just died and he wants to commiserate with me because we are both truly saddened by this.

Then he says “While I have him on the phone I’m going to bring up a really good deal that I’m sure he’d want to invest in.”

“Are you nuts?” I suggest. “You can’t do that. This is the a call of sympathy not business”

“That’s what I thought too but I figured out a way to bring it up. I’ll say that Frank’s (we’ll call him Frank) dying words were. “Be sure and tell Clark (we’ll call him Clark) about that great investment David has”. He loved us both and and I guess he wouldn’t want you to miss out on a sure thing”

Mum

Then I watched one minute of the Debate.

I immediately turned it off and watched an old episode of ‘Psych’ to clean my brain.

As if things couldn’t be worse they turned the a/c off in my building.

About 5 years ago I gave my Super my standing air conditioner because I was afraid that the landlord would find out I had it.

It cost about $300 but did I ask him to pay a penny? No because I am a giver.

This morning I take my sweaty self and Debby out for a walk and as I pass the lobby my Super’s wife, who is our doorwoman is on the house phone and she stops me and says “Lester wants to talk to you. Oh he doesn’t want to talk to you he just wants me to tell you that it’s too chilly in his office.”

I just walk away refusing to take the bait.

That is for about a minute.

Then I continued my walk thinking that my day had to get better.

I was walking across 57th Street when a young woman WITHOUT A MASK pointed to my BLM shirt and said “That’s a terrorist organization”.

She walked away before I could educate her with a “Put on a mask cuntface” when I decided to be open minded.

Maybe she’s right. I have noticed several Black peopled hurting cop’s knees with their necks. And there have been untold stories about Black people stealing much needed police bullets in their bodies.

I walked home a shadow of the person that left my apartment and just as I was arriving home a pretty old woman walking hand in hand with her husband said “Good for you” to me.

I still need a little zen

The other day my sister Marcia fell down and sprained her ankle.

She was at the doctor today having her eyeball fixed (removal of band aid after cataract surgery) and the nurse looked at her ankle which was still bruised and said “I’d have your doctor look at that”

She repeated this to me and said “That is so stupid. What’s he gonna say? You sprained your ankle?”

We hung up and I mulled this over for awhile.

If that same thing had happened to me I would have lain awake for a few nights tossing and turning and screaming into my pillow so as to not wake Debby.

Finally I would call my friend Susan to tell her I have foot cancer.

Susan would sympathize with me and tell me she’s sure that I don’t have it (even though she would be sure I do) and give me several suggestions of what it could be, a tick bite or something.

Then we’d swap symptoms of reasons why we both have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

Of course I wouldn’t go to the doctor because I hate bad news and even if I did go to the doctor I would lie.

If he was any kind of doctor I wouldn’t have to give him a bunch of clues for him to make a diagnosis.

Don’t ask what would happen if I had a headache.

Maybe this will calm me down.

Why? Because too many things are expected of you.

You must be smart, kind, fleet of foot and dare I say spunky.

You must also be diplomatic and have grace under fire.

I don’t like to brag but I have all those things so if you move here I am what you should aim to be.

I’ll give you an example.

About a week ago my Super Lester asked to enter my apartment since either the apartment above or below me had a bad leak and he would need to go though MY wall to fix it.

I must remind you that for a NYC apartment dweller the people of importance in your life are your immediate family, close friends and right before either of them is your Super.

So when Lester said he needed to do this I graciously agreed.

Now remember, I don’t have a leak. MY floors are dry as a bone and I couldn’t pick the people above or below me in a line up but because I have at times been called ‘saintly’ I gave the go ahead to my dear Super who I’ve needed in the past and may need again one of these days.

Also I’m kind of walking on eggshells with him for calling him a pussy when he was changing my light fixture. These latinos can hold a grudge.

So he went about making a giant hole in my wall. Well maybe not giant but not so little either.

He worked on it all day and when he left he covered it with some plastic shit.

A few days passed and I decided to text him a little nudge

I gave him a bit more time before my second little hint was sent to him.

Still patient I gave him a small heads up.

In answer to my question of did he know when he’s closing the hole he did say “yes”

So he does know. I, however, don’t.

Now Zen

lester fixing my sink, not the hole.

Does it sound like I’ve run out of things to talk about?

Kee-rect.

I almost never leave my house.

That’s not entirely true.

I always walk my dog. I always go somewhere with Julie when she’s willing to see me.

And I did leave the house to go to my friend Susan’s birthday because , well because my personality has gotten so lousy that I can’t afford to lose any friends.

I read something on either Twitter or Facebook that even if Biden wins and trump goes to jail we still have about 40% of the USA that are racists and homophobes and the rest of that shit.

I was born in 1944.

I saluted the flag in school.

I grew up in a protected environment that thought that being Jewish was good. I was the best kind of Jewish. We celebrated Christmas not religiously but presenty and my sister Marcia always got me an Easter basket.

During the 50’s and 60’s I demonstrated for racial equality and against the war.

I remember going to a demonstration at Bryant Park and Mary Travers and the Mayor of NYC joined in. That convinced me that I was on the right side of history.

Streamers of support flew out of the office buildings on 42nd Street as we walked home.

I looked around and though I wasn’t happy with the government I felt that America was still the greatest country in the world and the people were basically good.

Remember I’m seeing this from my own vantage point.

Now I’m 76.

I’m keeping my promise of wearing my Black Lives Matter shirts every day, except for weddings or bar mitzvahs, until I either die or I don’t have to.

I’m pretty sure that the die thing will probably come first

See here’s the difference between me at 18 and me at 76.

I no longer believe in America.

I thought the only way trump will win a second term, he’s already talking about a third term, would be by cheating.

I’m not so sure any more.

I see all those Senators that did nothing to stop him no matter how horribly or ILLEGALLY he behaved.

I see people in the country, more than just a few, cheering for him even when he is proven to be incompetent and lying.

I’m thinking that even if he loses he’s preparing Ivanka or don jr. to follow him in 2024.

I have a little hope for the youth but we were young once and we didn’t really change much even though we thought we did.

Did I cheer you up?

Maybe this will make you feel better.

As those who know me or follow me can attest, though I am beautiful and brilliant I do have one or two flaws.

For example I watch dumb person TV.

Many in my family have been quite cruel in making fun of me for this.

I won’t mention the names Julie and Marcia because those of you that put me on a pedestal might turn against them.

In fact I have never responded on ‘Reality Blurb’ (my favorite) or ‘About the Tea’ no matter how hot under the collar I get because if either of them were to see my name in print on the comment section there would be ridicule like you wouldn’t believe.

They would say I sullied their name which is stupid because their name is Klam and my name is Matthews.

Oops have I given up too much?

Anyway watching Below Deck last night put me in such a state that I felt I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t give Captain Sandy and Malia a stern tongue lashing in print.

What to do? What to do?

Eureka! It came to me in a flash!

I can use my same email address with a compatible name.

So I was finally free to speak my piece and live the American dream!!!

So from now on astute and clever comments will come from my email address in the name of ..wait for it…dave matthews.

Now Zen

 

I have to admit that I wasn’t that unhappy about this whole staying home and not seeing anybody thing.

At least that’s what I thought.

Last night I had kind of a party and it was wonderful

Allan and Susan Schwartzberg and Dave and Ronnie Taylor came over and we had a mostly socially distant get together.

We had cocktails on the terrace and sent out for indian food and had a wonderful time.

It was pretty close to perfect.

Of course there were a few bumps.

We were talking about old times as long time friends do.

As you all know I’m not one to hold a grudge but when I happened to mention the time Dave made me carry his bass trombone IN A HARD TRAVELING CASE because he had a “bad back”, I believe it was late ’84, Dave claimed that there were wheels on that case, a fact that I knew to be a lie.

He was lucky I couldn’t touch him because a bitch slapping would have been on the menu along with the pappadum.

And it’s possible that Susan might have gotten a little hot under the collar when she asked Al to get her more wine and I remarked that it was like she had a butler.

Her response “I do plenty of things for you too. Don’t I Al”

He looked up from polishing her shoes and answered “Sure you do. Sue”.

I personally have never seen her do anything for him but I let that slide.

Oh wait, I think I remember him asking her to pass him the salt and she did.

That was in ’08, I remember it clearly.

Debby was having a wonderful time. She loves company.

Drinks were flowing.

I vaguely remember Ronnie asking me to call my dog because she was eating her pants but I may be wrong.

I know Debby had pants for lunch so she was probably just licking some indian food that Ronnie dropped.

It was a magical evening. I hope to do it again soon.

Now Zen

 

 

 

I might even call it catastrophic!

I get the flyer from Costco saying that they once again have the Heathy Choice Fudge Pops that Debby and I both enjoy.

Saying “enjoy” is meaningless.  I should have said NEED.

I can’t tell you how happy that made me. You see they were out of them last time I was there.

I know, I know there are bigger problems in the world  yadda yadda yadda . I can’t think of any right now but I’m sure there are some.

Back to my tragedy.

As you all know I rarely leave my house except for emergencies.

So I’m on line , in my mask and gloves naturally, with a few non essentials,  batteries for my iron lung, socks and the 4 boxes of pops that I have secured.

When to my horror the check out guy removes THREE of my four boxes from my cart and he says, as if he was just passing the time of day,

“Only one to a customer”

When I got up from the floor, I’m light as a feather since I’ve been out of my favorite dessert for months, so only two rather small gentlemen helped to pick me up.

I think I’ll cut to the chase. No amount of pleading helped. I even limped over to the manager to make my case to no avail.

I know I should have thrown the iron lung batteries and the socks on the floor and stomped out but I really need socks.

Just to prove how wronged I was when I relayed th story to my friend David, who is without doubt the worst person in the world, he was shocked.

“There’s a limit on fudge pops due to the pandemic (oh yeah that’s one of the problems that I couldn’t remember before)??? It’s not like it’s masks or disinfection wipes, Pops???”

I believe I have made my case.

I’m quite sure that anyone who knows me even on Facebook or Twitter will boycott Costco until they change their draconian rules.

But for now I give you… Zen.

 

 

I’m not going to say that’s the only thing on my mind but it’s right up there.

I feel guilty if Debby acts even a little sheepish while I’m cleaning it up.

And why is it always on the rug?

Now to the business at hand.

I watched all of John Lewis’ funeral yesterday.

His life and death has overwhelmed me.

I don’t have to go into how brave and kind he was, and at such a young age.

In his memory I intend to wear my Black Lives Matter shirts (I have many attractive colors) every day until I die (I’m 76 so that could be any day)  or I don’t need to any more.

Of course that excludes weddings and bar mitzvahs unless they come out in sequins.

We all do what we can.

Luckily I have this Zen…