David is always sending out group emails to me and all his right wing whacko friends.  They consist of either racially insensitive jokes or some “absolute proof” that President Obama is solely responsible for the downfall of the economy. Come to think of it the two are usually one and the same.

There’s always some feedback from his nitwits. I used to respond but since my arguments were never greeted with anything but insults now the most I do is put down their mothers or tell them to shut their pie holes.

Last night David and I were having cocktails when I referred to an email that Liz had sent us with an article from the New York Times or as David refers to it “The Communist Manifesto” , declaring that the issue of human-induced climate change had “moved firmly into
the present,” a major study found that water shortages, torrential rains, heat waves and wildfires were worsening.

“How come you didn’t send that information around to your dopes?”

“Because there is no proof that global warming exists.”

“Do you want to know why you’re stupid, David?” I didn’t wait for an answer because why wouldn’t he want that information? “Because you are closed minded. You never openself to the opposing point of view so you’ll never grow”

Do I know how to get under his skin or do I know how to get under his skin? But that didn’t stop him from responding.

“I don’t open my mind to your point of view because you get your information…. hell I don’t know where you get your information. I’ve never seen you read anything but “People”. Did one of the Kardashians tell you that global warming is a fact?”

I was able to counter his assault with the time honored “Sticks and stones” thing.

It was about 7:30 by then so he responded with “Do you want go to that italian restaurant that Graham and I went to the other night?”

“Sure”

Since I’ve been on Yahoo Travel more people are following my blog.

Every day I get an email or two saying someone else will be notified each time I post. These emails scare the shit out of me. I am never happy when one comes.

When I first started my blog the only people that read it knew me. After awhile my niece Julie Klam who has a huge following tweeted about me and I got more followers, all of them loved Julie and therefore looked kindly on me. The same thing happened when Tammy Gordon from AARP noticed me and told her followers about it. They were people in the same place in life as I was and they too were encouraging. After Gail Dosik AKA @thetoughcookie came upon me, I think from Julie, I got loads of people who bake in my corner. You can’t be a baker and be a meanie.

I know this is boring but bear with me.

Now these people who think I’m a world traveler are reading my stuff and they expect me to have something valuable to say.  You people who have been with me for a long time know the lame crap I can go on and on about. They are bound to be disappointed and when they are disappointed they can get mean.

Julie told me not to read the comments on my Yahoo Travel piece. I made the mistake of ignoring her, something I won’t do again. One person said I got dumped because I’m dumpy. Another called me an ugly American. Listen, I never pretended I was comfortable in foreign lands. I’m a person who loves the familiar but I’m excited that I’ve gotten so much braver since I’m on my own and I’m pushing myself in ways that I never thought I could and yes, no one could ever mistake me for anyone but an American, to be more specific a New Yorker.

It’s been three years since I stood at my stove making my husband dave eggs when he shocked me by saying I’m in love with a Japanese woman”.

I thought my life was over then. I’m surprised that that wasn’t the case. In fact it’s been better than ever, certainly more exciting, and I have this blog to thank.

Here’s something that will enrage all the people that love me. Even after three years when I finish a post I always hope that dave will read it. At first so he knew how much he hurt me and now so he knows how well I’m doing.

Also I want him to go fuck himself.

I don’t think anyone loves email more than I do. In fact I love all mail and all phone calls.

I’m obviously in the minority. With caller ID everyone I know only answers calls from people they know. I would never do that.

In fact there is a Chinese restaurant in Spanish Harlem that has almost the same number that I have and I get at least 2 calls a night, sometimes really late, asking for delivery. I never fail to answer and tell them to dial again.

dave used to try and talk me into taking their order.  Only a real prick who prefers drinking to eating would do something like that. Just the thought of Maria Lopez waiting for moo shu chicken that was never going to come makes me want to break out into sobs.

And when all of AOL was getting spammed I was delighted to see that I had over 37 emails every morning. I used every self control muscle I have to keep from finding out if Viagra really is cheaper in Canada.

I’ve always been this way. I remember when I was a little girl my mother, never one to watch her words, told me I had a letter in the box. I ran to the mailbox. I was so excited because I thought I had mail when all I had was my pants sticking up my ass.

Now why am I going on about all this? When I sat down I planned on discussing the economy.

I guess that will have to be for another day. I’ll keep you posted.

So I’m doing this stuff for Yahoo Travel. It’s really fun. I’ve been hearing from all kinds of people and I like that. And I love the website. There is an article about any possible thing you may want to do.

 There is one little thing I never thought about when I signed up. They expect me to go places.

 It’s not like I have such a busy life. I can get away. But they obviously haven’t been reading this blog if they think they have some kind of Lewis and Clark on their hands.

 Anyone who reads what I write will learn absolutely nothing about the places I write about except how to look like you’re doing something smart while all your doing is shopping, eating, and complaining about any minor discomfort.

 Yesterday they asked me if Marcia and I were interested in going to Capri.

Actually that sounds really good but Marcia can’t go anyplace until her puppy gets house broken, you know, the one from Arkansas. I’m not sure they’ll want to stop the presses for that.

 Anyway my next planned trip will be to Santa Fe to visit Liz. I’m hoping David will go when I go because as you all know, he always delivers and I can do a whole article on going to a gun store with that jerk.

 Speaking of David, he and I had dinner last night. When I met him downstairs the first thing he said was “What’s wrong with your eyebrows?”

 “I dyed them”

 “It looks like you only dyed half of them. Why would you do that?”

 “I dyed all the hairs that were there so shut up”

 “Okay, I was just saying, it looks stupid”

 “Thanks for nothing, just stop looking at my eyebrows”

 “Kinda hard to do but sure.”

 We went into the restaurant and I explained that these Yahoo people want me to travel.

 He got that superior smirk on his face that he always gets when he thinks he’s saying something smart.

 “What a surprise, they expect a travel writer to travel. Didn’t I tell you that would be the case?”

 “I know, I know. Actually I wouldn’t mind going to Capri. Marcia would like that too.”

 Just then my phone beeped. I look at the message. It was from my Yahoo boss,

 “How does China sound to you?”

 These people are nuts. They’re thinking of sending a woman who can barely walk to Bloomingdales to climb the Great Wall.

 Then I start thinking, do they have pizza in China?

That’s right, all you freeloaders. Yahoo is actually paying me money to write stuff. You can see my first article at Yahoo travel.

I’m not going to say what they are paying me per word but I’m getting what all big time writers get paid. In fact I have it on good authority that my pay scale is almost identical to Charles Dickens’.

Yep I’ll be traveling all over flashing my Yahoo Travel badge (I assume they’ll give me a badge) so I get special treatment.

Maybe I should get a lorgnette, you know those eye glasses on a stick. That way they’ll know I’m fancy and when I go to a hotel they’ll give me extra shampoo.

I’m really excited about this.

I wonder if they’re gonna expect me to go to snooty places like operas? No can do.

Here’s the deal. If you want to know the happ’nin’ spots that will broaden you intellectually I ain’t your guy, but if you are looking for some sights that will be easy on the knees and still sells refrigerator magnets worth putting in your kitchen, that’s me.

Now on to my eyebrows.

I read that one of the things that make you look older is pale eyebrows.

Now that I’m a paid writer I owe it to my fans to look good which is why I had my eyebrows professionally dyed yesterday.

I must say I was very pleased with the result. I practiced several expressions in the mirror and noted how much more effective they were with these dark eyebrows. I did angry, then perplexed, then pensive. I’d like to say which was the best but they were all sterling.

I pretty much forgot about them until Julie and Violet arrived for dinner.

When I came to the door Julie looked at me and said “Your face looks different” and then she bent over hysterically laughing. I do mean hysterical too. If my living room had aisles, she’d have been rolling in them.

“What are you laughing at? My eyebrows?”

She’s not a mean girl and I could see she was trying to pull herself together but she just couldn’t.  Every time she tried to say something comforting I would change my expression and she’d be back at it.

Finally, well into the meal, she gave me some half assed explanation for her laughter. While keeping her eyes well above my head she told me that she just got frightened when she saw me.

How that was supposed to make me feel better I don’t know.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll “Yahoo travel” over to the place I got my eyebrows done and ask if they can erase them.

David is home for one day and we’re at each other’s throats.

First he was furious that I removed the word “Zipperhead” from his comment on yesterday’s blog. True, I didn’t know what the word meant but I know it was an insensitive description of some minority.

Remember folks, I’m trying to keep him somewhat lovable while still giving you an idea of what a dope he is.

Not for him, he couldn’t care less, but every time I quote him exactly I get an immediate call from Liz.

 “Do you realize that people know that he’s my fiancé? How do I explain that if you show what he’s like? Take it off!!”

 And I do.

 But it wasn’t all harsh words. We discuss lots of intellectual things too.

 We talked about fracking.  To tell you the truth I don’t have a clue about what fracking is so I asked him to explain it to me.

 He did, in great detail making it sound logical and absolutely the thing that’s going to save the U.S. economy. He’s very much for it.

 Which is why I’m against it. If he thinks it’s good it’s got to be evil.

 When I told him this he sneered “You are just against it because your sister says it ruins the water. She’s an idiot.”

I should note that the last time Marcia was here they had a vigorous discussion on fracking and haven’t said a nice word about each other since.

 “Well, David, I do value my sister’s opinion above yours because she is good and you stink”

 Now that I think of it, it is nice to have him home.

My neighbor David is always saying that without him my blog would suck. Being dumped is old news. My cat Elvis is beyond boring. My family interactions are only interesting to the people in my family. These are his words, not mine.

He may be right though. He’s been in Santa Fe with Lizzie for about a week and I can’t think of one thing to write about.

Usually when that happens I walk across the hall and just wait for Obama to give a speech or some law giving minorities the same rights as WASPS to pass and I can count on him to give a summation of what’s wrong with this country and, by the way, me.

Any innocent question like “Is Atlanta on the way to Santa Fe?” can get him going for about 20 minutes.

He delights in pointing out that my geography knowledge is limited which is only true to a point. I’m a sponge. Even though I’m seventy I’m still growing and learning.

Why just the other day someone wrote and told me I have a fan in Kansas.

I went right to my globe and found Kansas smack in the middle of the United States, kinda.

Now it’s my favorite state.

See? I’m evolving while that putz is still looking for Obama’s birth certificate.

Good news. Seems I’ve been grinding my teeth when I sleep so my dentist has added a night guard to wear under my breathing machine. Now I’m perfectly protected facewise if the ceiling caves in.

Looks like the guy who sells fruit on my corner who’s been eying me in what I consider a come hither fashion will have to be prepared to pay that twenty five bucks for extra carry on if he wants to whisk me away to a tropical island for a romantic weekend.

As for kissing? No can do unless he wants to get his lips bitten off while I’m gasping for air.

Come to think of it it might be worth it to him. I was quite the kisser in my day.

Ah we’ll see. You never know what can happen in the throws of passion.

I was talking to my sister this morning and she mentioned that her husband sent away for a new printer while she was here helping Julie move.

“That was sweet of him” I said

“No it wasn’t” she answered

“No it wasn’t” I corrected.

“Did that mouth guard break your brain?” Even though she’s always been known as the sweet sister she can have a real bite to her when crossed.

“It just that I haven’t had a husband for awhile. I forgot how stupid they are.”

That seemed to placate her.

I’ve been spending my last week getting hacked and changing my password and getting hacked again.

The good part about this is that in the morning when I see I have 28 emails I get all happy because I think I’m popular. When one of them is from the dry cleaner I haven’t used in 20 years telling me to go fuck myself the bubble bursts.

Maybe I’ll give him a call. After all he did answer personally. Let’s see if he’s game for a weekend in the Bahamas.

I  know it’s been awhile.

I came back from Italy, had jet lag and with my sister Marcia immediately focused on helping Julie move.

Yesterday was moving day.

Julie’s new place is about 15 blocks from her old apartment.

In one way it was easier than we thought  ( I say this because I did very little of the packing) and in some ways harder (not for me that much but there were a million oys coming from my loved ones).

The easy part was that she had the greatest movers who kept rearranging her furniture for her until she was happy ( Go Shleppers!)

Also Julie was smart enough to make sure that the cable /internet guy was there on moving day because as she told me yesterday  since the internet was turned off the day before they left their old apartment, Violet was living like a pilgrim. She actually played with a puppet.

Well the movers left, lots of stuff was put away and I suggested that it was time to toast the new apartment.

Since the cable guy was still there I assumed it would be rude not to include him.

Obviously not everyone agreed because Julie came out of the bedroom with a look of disbelief on her face asking “Did I just hear you invite the cable guy for cocktails?”

“Guilty as charged”

After a frenzied search for a corkscrew only solved by our friend Claudia going down to buy a new one and by the way picking up a bottle of red to go with the white we already had, it was time to celebrate.

“What’ll ya have?” I asked the cable guy “Red or white?”

“I’m kind of a wine virgin, either one.”

“Okay, red it is”

We all toasted the move, the internet and just life in general.

A few minutes passed and the wine virgin said “Maybe I’ll give that white a chance now”

“Er, okay”

Me still in a party mood asked “Which do you like better?”

He seemed to mull it over and after swilling down the remainder of the wine in his glass gave us a thoughtful “Red”

We all pretty much ignored his holding up his glass, I suppose to see how the mixture of the two would go down, and thanked him and started putting the wine away.

Everything went well until about ten minutes after he left, the downstairs buzzer rang and it was WV coming back up.

I will say that Julie, my sister and Claudia all looked at me with accusatory glares blaming my gracious invitation for the possibility that we may have a stalker.

It turned out he just forgot to have Julie sign the paper that said he had done what he was supposed to, in internet terms that is.

They had to feel bad for maligning me without reason.

To you out of towners, here’s something you may not know.

In Iowa, if you move 15 blocks away you’ll meet pretty much the same kind of people. Here in New York, not so much.

That really hit home to me on the new bus route I took back to my neighborhood.

This is  how they wear sweaters where Julie lives now.

I’m home. I think my cat actually missed me. He keeps rubbing against me and hasn’t bitten me once. Well maybe just once but I was askin’ for it.

While this was the best vacation I ever had I must say that we didn’t leave Italy without incident.

While we were checking in at the airport, the cabdriver came running up and said that we had taken the room key with us and could we please give it to him to bring back to the hotel.

We assured him that we did nothing of the sort. We were quite sure of this since as Liz said how could we carry home the equivalent of
a gas station bathroom key attached to a hubcap?
Just to reassure the driver though, we looked through our carry on luggage. No key.

It wasn’t until we were on the plane flying over Omaha (I’m pretty sure we pass Omaha on the way from Venice) that Marcia while searching her bag for a sock to put over her eyes (don’t ask) that she sheepishly pulled out the arm shaped key to room 155.

“How did you not notice it?”

“With all the stuff I was bringing back my bag weighed a ton. How would I notice an extra quarter of a ton? And besides, shut up. I’ll mail it back when we land”

It was kind of refreshing hearing Marcia tell me to shut up again. All this niceness was getting old.