Okay. This is a solemn time for all of us.

We are grieving for the loss of a wonderful man. No attacks should be made during this time of mourning.

That is unless you are forced to take someone to task for being stupid so you have no choice.

I spent all morning writing my heartfelt memories of Dr.Tom .

Miss Liz called and said she liked it and asked if I had read David’s comment.

I hadn’t but I looked at it while she was on the phone.

It said “WTF no mention of me or Rupert?”

That alone would be fine only he followed it with his email address, his home phone number and 1/2 my blog.

When I told Liz she said “Please get it off, please” She’s constantly yelling at him for putting his private stuff on all his comments.

Here’s a personal message to David:

In answer to your question, since you and Liz are engaged, you were included when I made reference to his children and as for Rupert, I forgot.  Also when will you learn that if someone can’t even make their own TV work they should stay away from social media because it will only bite them in the ass?

BTW even though you are a terrible person I love you so much for being so strong for Liz during this time.

Oh yeah and for buying me that chinese meal.

Dr Thomas Rees died yesterday.

He died peacefully in his home with his children and his dog by his side.

There will be much written about this man.  He was handsome and witty and generous of spirit. He was an incredible plastic surgeon who could have rested on his very successful laurels but chose not to.

He and his wife Nan co-founded and worked tirelessly for the Flying Doctors of East Africa, a division of what is now the African Medical Research and Education Foundation (AMREF), which is based in Nairobi, Kenya, and which is the largest NGO in healthcare and development in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Dr. Tom lost his beloved wife a year and a half ago. This was a romance of the ages. Everyone wondered how Dr Tom could ever go on without her.

But he wasn’t alone. This loving man was loved in return. His daughter, Liz spent much of the past year and a half helping him through the loss that they both felt.

It was wonderful seeing them together. They were inseparable.

As time passed and Dr.Tom became a bit more frail, Liz felt his needs before he saw them himself and made sure that the path he followed was softer than it might have been without her.

This time was a gift to both of them. They got to know and count on each other in a way that fathers and daughters rarely do.

Liz was tireless in the support and love she gave Dr. Tom and grateful in the way he returned that love.

Although Dr Tom is with his beloved Nan now, the world is a little less bright without them.

Every year at this time my nephew Yitzhak, nee Eric, comes from Israel to visit me and the rest of the family and to pray at his mother’s grave.

Yitz and I are alike in many ways. We look alike, we have exactly the same sense of humor and we both love to be together.

There is a hierarchy in this relationship. Even though I am only 11 years older than he is I am still the Aunt.

There’s another difference between us. He really loves God. I mean REALLY loves him. I’m more of an “I’ll talk to you when I need you” kind of girl but for the most part we (me and God) are merely acquaintances.

But I do love Yitzhak and I live by his rules when he’s here. Even that crazy one about not eating nuts that aren’t kosher because he isn’t allowed to eat worms, which happen to be a mainstay of my diet, worms, I mean.

I have a huge black bag that I keep behind my couch filled with kosher pots and knives and bowls. I take them out each year when he comes and put them back when he leaves.

How did they get koshered? My friend Susan and I went to a Grocery store in Brooklyn where on the outside of the store they had a brick wall with a hole in it and a basket that you would put the items in and then lower it into some water that I assume had been blessed by a rabbi, you know, holy water. Voila! Kosher.

Usually when Yitz comes to NYC, his brothers come into the City and we all go out to a Glatt Kosher restaurant. This time I thought it would be more fun if we brought food into my house.

Not trusting me not  to buy stuff that wouldn’t turn him into a goy at the first bite he decided to bring back food from Brooklyn where he went each morning to pray.

He carried a box as big as a coffin and twice as heavy (Jews must always make sure that everyone can have seconds) on two trains so that when his two brothers and my sister came we could all have a lovely dinner.

Unfortunately when he went to take a nap I took the three chickens out of their packaging and put them in a disposable aluminum pan so I could heat them in the oven.

I say unfortunately because he almost burst out crying when he saw what I had done. It seems that my oven is so full of cooties that for him to eat anything that had been warmed in it meant the Jewish equivalent of rabies.

Luckily he was able to catch it before I actually put it in said oven. He did mention under his breath about 500 times that he wished I had asked him before throwing away the packaging.

The visit went very well. When I took him to the airport this morning we did our usual bickering with him looking at his phone and telling me that the route I had chosen was 9 minutes longer than the way his app preferred.

After a few “Why are you turning here’s” he finally put his phone away because as he said “He was using up his battery and I wasn’t listening to him anyway”.

We continued the trip happily with me reassuring him that though when I die he’ll probably regret making such a big fucking deal about the chicken packaging, I wanted him to know that eventually I’d probably forgive him for that so no need to beat himself up about it.

With that little guilt trip and lots of hugs and kisses, I saw him off. I am my mother’s daughter.

During the night, my sleep machine went off.

I pressed the button to turn it on again and nothing.

I tell myself that it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll call them in the morning and tell them it’s broken.

Of course they’ll blame me and say I’m going to have to pay for it which I can’t possibly afford so I’ll have to do without it.

That can’t be good. Since I live my life like I have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel I’m sure that the loss of the sleep machine will definitely be the final nail in my fluffy coffin. I never get a headache. It’s always a brain tumor.

I finally fall back into a restless sleep.

I wake up a few hours later and look at the clock. Nothing. Also the cable light is off.

I went into the kitchen to check the fuse box. It’s fine but there are no lights in the kitchen either.

It must be a blackout.

Then I look in the hallway and it’s lit up. Maybe the building has an emergency generator.

By this time I know that  it’s 5 a.m. thanks to my iPad.

Since David is away visiting Liz I let myself into his apartment to see if he has lights. He does. While I was there I made myself some coffee (what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him) and went back home in a tizzy.

There could only be one solution. I live in a rent stabilized apartment and obviously the landlord wants me out so he can get a lot more rent. This is the first step in his reign of terror.

Woe is me. This couldn’t happen at a worse time. My nephew Eric (Yizhak) is coming from Israel today and his brothers are coming down to have dinner with him tomorrow. Then my niece Cheryl is coming to do all kinds of meetings for her new book and to hug and kiss me. After that my niece Randy who will be in town for one night.  I never get to spend one on one time with Randy so I’m really looking forward to it.

Then it will be Thanksgiving. I have 28 people and 6 dogs coming.

How can I do all that by candle light? Yitzhak will be easy. I’ll just tell him we celebrate a long Shabbas here but the others?

I’m walking around the house practically in tears.

Even though I know it’s useless, I call down to the doorman to tell him I have no electricity.

“You too?”

dave used to say that all sailor’s fog stories are the same, first they couldn’t see and then they could. That’s why they’re so boring.

Well first I didn’t have electricity and then I did.

I know it seems as if I write about everything  but I don’t.

If it’s something that will hurt someone I love or will make them mad at me I let it lie.

I was explaining that to David this morning when he was encouraging me to write about something that had happened.

Naturally he took the high road.

“Why don’t you write about it, put it in your safe deposit box and if something happens to you, I’ll launch it.”

“David, you’re ignoring the whole “hurt someone” thing.”

“No I’m not. I’m extremely sensitive. In fact there’s a horrific animal story that I’ve never told you.”

Me: “There’s got to be more to this than you’re saying”

“Well Liz did say that if I ever let it slip to you that that would be it for me. I will say though if Liz ever leaves me, the first thing I”m going to do is tell it to you”

That’s my boy.

Last night David, our friend Andrea and I met for dinner. It was an interesting evening in WASPedness.

I’ve always said that I have no gift for small talk. Andrea is like Liz. She can chat it up with anyone. Actually David is like that too.

I sat there slurping my wine in silence while the two of them yapped and yapped. Andrea asking David about his business trip to one of the M states and if he had accomplished what he wanted. And David regaled her with crap about whatever while asking her about what she’s doing.

I suddenly realized what the secret to engaging people in conversation is. You have to be willing to listen to stuff you couldn’t care less about.

I may be wrong about this. Maybe these two were really interested in what they were saying.

As for me, My mind was wandering all over the place. I noticed that Andrea is still quite young and very attractive and I’m sure she is dating which reminded me of something that I had been mulling over for a few months, that pussy waxing thing. So when there was a lull in the conversation I asked her about it.

“Do you wax your hooch?”

You’d think I threw up on the table.

David started screaming at me “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“She doesn’t have to answer, for God’s sake. Chill why don’t you”

He had to know that this subject had to be more interesting than how many miles he’s logged”

I guess Andrea was as bored as I was because she had no trouble answering me even adding when David went to the men’s room, that she had been told that she “tasted like honey”

This little story shows why I both should and shouldn’t be invited to cocktail parties.

I started my morning like I always do. Checking my email and catching up with what’s new in Hollywood.

I was perusing an article about Lisa Kudrow when something she said hit home.

She was talking about how her sister saved her.

Q: Was it your older sister who rescued you from being isolated in school?
LK: She did, definitely. Unbelievable of her too, because I was 13 and she was 20. She would find out when our half days were, when everyone would go out to lunch and I would have no one to eat with. She would pick me up and take me to lunch. That’s extraordinary to me. It was just very generous of her to be so sensitive and aware, even though there was nothing anyone could do.

When I was 9 and my sister Iris was 20 and very pregnant with my nephew Barry, my two friends, Beverly and Patricia, didn’t like me any more, I’m sure it was through no fault of my own and also they were counts (spellcheck added the “o” ).

Iris would meet me at Sid’s, the luncheonette that I ate in and sit on the stool next to me so I wouldn’t have to eat alone. I know my mother made her do it but it was sweet nevertheless.

I miss Iris every day. I miss my sister Phyllis too and thank God I still have Marcia who would sit on a stool with me anywhere.

Yesterday I got a surprising email from David. It said

“Let’s have dinner soon!”

I wrote back “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No why would it be? We’ve all had dinner before”

That’s when I realized that our friend Andrea was included in the note. I knew the tone was wrong if it was only to me.

“Oh I didn’t see Andrea. I thought you were talking about the 3 course dinner you owe me for fixing your toilet?

He wrote back “What an idiot”

Now there was no doubt who he was writing that to. The world was back on it’s axis.

Me, “Hello”

Liz,  “Whatcha doing?”

Me, “Watching “Person of Interest”

Liz,  “Can you go over and fix David’s internet and bring him some Halloween candy?”

Me, “Done”

He was sitting on the couch watching the World Series when I got there. He glanced up at me,  “This fuckin’ thing just stopped working.”

I hand him the vat of candy and check all the things that you check. Once again this means me climbing on a ladder and unplugging things and plugging them back up.

“I”m going to have to call Time Warner”

“Oh No” he says.

Now why this should be of any interest to him  (I was going to write effect but I wasn’t sure whether it was affect or effect) since he had no intention of moving .

After two calls and another death defying climb the internet was restored.

“Call Liz and tell her it’s working” he actually looked annoyed that he had to peel his eyes from the TV but he did do it.

When she answered he said, “I got it working ”

“YOU??? YOU got it working? I’m the one who got it working. You are too stupid to fix anything”

He looked over at me “One should never equate wisdom with the ability to handle shit like this. Care for a drink?”

“Nah, see ya tomorrow”

So yesterday was one of my good days.

In the morning I went to Brooklyn, picked up Susan and we went to my “salon” so I could get my hair cut.  I really needed it because my beautician has been on vacation.

When we got there Tony was having lunch. Susan and I sat there watching him slowly eat his fish heads au gratin followed by an amuse bouche of lizard and a cleansing of his palate with pepsi cola.

After he washed and dried his dishes (he has to do that after every meal because some of the plates must be returned to the shrine near the door) he came over and cut my hair.

He was in a really cheerful mood. He regaled us with details of his trip . He took his wife and children to Hong Kong.

He said it was very expensive but with the tips I give him he must have money to burn.  On my twelve dollar haircut I slip him a twenty so he has a fast eight bucks that no one has to know anything about.

Then Sue and I went into the City to meet Julie and Ronnie for cocktails, with plans to meet Allan, Susan’s husband later for dinner.

On the way Susan suggested I email David and ask him to meet us.

I had to be honest.

“Look, Sue, I’m uncomfortable emailing him with you in the car because his answer won’t be pretty and you’re very sensitive. He’s bound to write back that he has no interest in eating with those pea brains or something worse.”

Susan assured me that she was willing to risk it because for no reason I can fathom, she thinks he’s good company.

I did and his answer was a surprising “Sure”.

This was the email I sent;

“Do you have any interest in meeting me and Susan and Allan at Carmines at 90th St. and B’way between 6:30 and 7 ? I’ll have the car so we can drive home.”

Now since he spends most of his life saying that he’s smarter than everyone, except for Ronald Reagan, why, when I called him at 7 to ask where he was, did he say that he thought we were going to meet at our building?

That sounds like he’s end of his term President Reagan smart rather than beginning of his term President Reagan smart.

Now I’m going to hear from all his nitwit friends about one or two of the few flaws that they can scrape up on President Obama.

Here’s my answer to that.

I KNOW I AM BUT WHAT ARE YOU????

That ice flow (floe?) I’m going to have to spend my final days  on is coming closer.

I bounced a check yesterday.  I have never done that before and for the longest time I couldn’t figure out how it happened. It turned out that I wrote a transfer in my bank book and never actually did it. That’s the kind of thing that dotty old ladies do.

Fortunately the person that received the bad check was very kind and forgiving. I was almost crying and he probably thought I would go over the edge any second and his only shot at getting me to make that check good was if he talked me off the ledge.

That’s not giving him his due though. He was really sweet when I called.

This is an example of when I could have used dave. If he were here he would have made that phone call.

We had a deal that if either of us had a call that we dreaded making, the other one would do it, no questions asked.  The pact couldn’t be called if we were just lazy. It had to be a willies type of thing.

I couldn’t wait for David to come home last night so I could tell him what happened to me.

Naturally he couldn’t care less because as he said “He was dodging shit all day”. For some reason indifference is calming to me and  I went home feeling better.

Obviously I didn’t give him any comfort because he called me later and asked me to meet him in the hall with my Halloween candy.

Buying that candy was the biggest mistake of my life. I got it at Costco so you  know how big that bag is. Since I’m on a budget I try to cut corners where I can so even though the little trick or treaters wouldn’t be knocking on my door for a few weeks, I bought this bargain vat of candy.

Probably by October 31 there will only be one Twixt and a Snickers wrapper left.

Even though I keep it at the back of my linen closet I still know where it is.

I forget everything else, why can’t I forget that?

Well happy may be stretching it. But is surely was a celebration of a life more than a grieving at a death.

Dave Taylor’s mother Gertie died at 98. She hadn’t been well and maybe even she thought it was time to leave.

Loads of people showed up which is unusual in someone that old and they weren’t just family. It seems that many people loved her.

This is saying a lot because even though her son in his eulogy said that no one ever had a bad word to say about her and she never had a bad word to say about anyone, that was not the Gertie I knew.

She had plenty of bad words to say and she didn’t hesitate to say them. That might have been what I liked most about her.

I wrote about her in this blog before when I visited her in the nursing home. She was quick and fun to be with.

I didn’t recognize her from Dave’s brother’s description at the grave sight but he was her son and he loved her and wanted to remember her like sort of a Jewish Mother Teresa.

I kind of like that. If anyone comes to my funeral please say that I was very skinny and polite and that though my talents lay in tap dancing I was more of a ballet kind of girl.

Oh yes and that I never had a bad word to say about anyone even that whore that stole my husband.