David didn’t die. It’s possible he made a few enemies in the place just by being himself, but he didn’t die.

The procedure he went through was to zap kidney stones.

For you ladies and men with perfect kidneys out there, you may be as surprised as I was to hear that the doctor told him that he has to filter his sissy for the next week or two.

Since I try to expand my knowledge in every field  I innocently asked him if I could see one of his kidney stones if and when he pees one out.

He went nuts.

Rather than look at this simple request as evidence of my ongoing thirst for knowledge he treated me like some kind of pervert.

He just went on an on about it. He just wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want to watch him pee.  Jeeeez, what a hot head.

The rest of my day didn’t go so well either.

Divorce after a long marriage isn’t a one time blow. Every new thing that happens stings a bit until it doesn’t and then the next new thing comes along.

Yesterday dave wrote an email where he referred to me as his ex-wife.

It wasn’t a huge deal. Just another little bite.

But then I watched a video of a baby elephant going into the ocean for the first time and I was all happy again.

David is having a “procedure” this morning .

As he told his son, Graham, he needs a responsible adult to pick him up afterwards so he asked me. Graham’s response, “Close enough”.

He was not supposed to eat anything after midnight and from 3 o’clock on only clear liquids.

At around 8 last night he called me and said that since he’d come to the conclusion that white wine is a clear liquid maybe I’d like to join him for a cocktail.

I knew he must be nervous because he rarely seeks out my company that late unless he needs his cable or his computer fixed.

We sat out on his terrace sipping wine and I let him ramble on about which talk show host he wants to set on fire  (Bill Maher) and how stupid I am because I didn’t know that Ireland and Northern Ireland are two different places (Go figure) until he pointedly looked at his watch and then the door a few times so I knew he had calmed down enough to be rude and I went home.

I’m going to read Twitter now and see what’s doing in Hollywood via TMZ, EW.com and Celebitchy and then I’ll get dressed and go and pick him up.

I just wrote “If he pulls through I’ll write tomorrow. If not, the day after.” but I erased it (kinda) because it made me scared.

In an effort to earn money I submitted 3 pieces to a well known magazine.

Since you all know how clever I think I am you won’t be surprised to learn that as soon as I sent my stuff in I put a Chevy Nova and a pair of grey slacks on lay away.

You can imagine my surprise when they rejected my entries.

At first I was pretty sad.

But not one to give up easily, I realized that I must regroup.

I reasoned that even though that particular magazine didn’t appreciate my writing I wouldn’t let it get me down.

After all 271 twitter followers can’t be wrong.

My next plan is to bombard every magazine that strikes my fancy with my stuff. If any particular periodical hasn’t  published anything similar to what I write maybe some free thinker will want to think “outside the envelope” and expand their readership to include plucky losers .  I won’t leave any stone unturned.

Does anyone know someone at “Titanic Tits”?

Last night I had a dream that I was in the crowd yelling at Hillary Clinton for doing a commercial for some kind of anti aging cream.

I think that’s because my recent interest in politics, i.e. Anthony Wiener and wiretapping Americans, has brought my smart side to the forefront.

I say this even  though my nephew, who thinks because he’s a doctor and went to Cornell, saw fit to correct my usage of the word “effect” as opposed to “affect”.

I’m a forgiving person so I won’t mention that in the seventh grade he failed his bicycle test and had to walk to school while his friends could ride.

And even if he corrects me again I won’t mention the fact that when he was two he was so stupid that when I put a half slip on my head he no longer recognized me and thought I was the story princess.

Back to how smart I’m getting.

I’m a little relieved that I’ve become a political animal because up to now my attention was mostly taken up with all of the “Housewife” drama and whether Kanye will appear on next season’s Kardashian show etc.

I was starting to think that I’m vapid.

Now that I see that that couldn’t be further from the truth I am going to begin planning my future even though I, like Dudley Do-right’s girlfriend, Nell, for the present have one good eye.

I just have to figure out a way to make money.

Maybe I’ll run for Mayor.

I could take the Obama path and ask each of my Twitter followers to send in one dollar.

I’m sure a campaign chest of $271 would be enough to get my name out there.

And if not, I could buy myself a lovely sweater.

I’m going to discuss politics today.

People are running for Mayor of New York.  This is a City known for it’s great Mayors but the new crop seems like a bunch of lightweights.

I used to like Anthony Weiner before he,  you know,  started showing his weiner.  I’d watch him on news shows or Bill Maher and mostly agree with him.

I may even still like him but whenever I say this Julie jumps down my throat and starts yelling about his poor judgement and David just makes a shooting sign in the air.

My theory is that you can be a schmuck and still be able to do brain surgery. Sexual preference or even weird stuff as long as it doesn’t involve children or animals doesn’t affect your ability to run a company, a city or even a country.

I’d vote for Bill Clinton, and FDR and John Kennedy again in a heartbeat.

This sounds like I’m pushing for Anthony Wiener for Mayor. I’m not.  I’m just saying that if I’m forced to vote for him because the others are so lame it won’t be the worst thing.

Speaking of politics. Everyone is all up in arms about the President inspecting all our stuff. What’s the big deal? Maybe he’s just doing it because he’s nosy.

And you people didn’t think I was an intellectual.

Besides, my two eyes see differently so I’m acting crazy.

Miss Liz and her father were in town with her father staying at my house.

The whole thing went swimmingly. As always I was so happy to see Lizzie and, if I do say so myself, I was “hostess with the mostess” to her Dad.

He was a charming guest and I  pulled out all the stops. I put cookies and a water pitcher in his room in case he got hungry or thirsty during the night and I bought and installed a new shower head in the bathroom to give him a perfect bathing experience.

The shower thing didn’t quite work out the way I planned.

After he left I noticed that that white tape I put on to seal it was hanging down and must surely have hit him in the face during his shower.

Also, note to self, always check your guest bathroom to make sure the bathtub drain isn’t clogged. I”m thinking that standing in a foot of dirty water might have taken the shine off his toilette.

But the man is charming and gracious and I loved having him.

What I should have done was given David the same warning before Doctor Tom came that I gave him when we went out to eat with my friends, namely don’t say anything to make me uncomfortable.

It was difficult enough playing Pearly Mesta with a plastic patch on my eye without him trying to make me look stupid at every turn  just for sport.

For example, asking me to name the four states that border each other might be funny to him but I’m sure you couldn’t find 6 other people who have that knowledge at their fingertips. And since Michigan rarely gets a mention in normal conversation I can only say that it was a kindness on my part to include it as one of the 4.

Because  Liz’ father was there  I had to smile charmingly at all his barbs and pretend that stuff just slipped my mind and that, as I confided to Dr. Tom, I like to keep geography on the back burner so I can concentrate on physics.

He seemed to buy it.

So yesterday I had my “nose job”.

I had sent Julie all the information so she could pick me up. The email had the address of the hospital, the name of the doctor and the phone number to call to see when she should come and get me.

Her response. “And you are?”

After the operation Julie was waiting for me. I was wearing a big bandage covering the whole left side of my face. For some reason my nose was completely uncovered.

She leaned forward and said in a very loud voice ” Mattie, it’s me, Julie”.

The kid never let’s me down.

Since the hospital is only 6 blocks from my home we walked.  At one point my niece was distracted by a text and I walked into a chain link fence but other than that the trip home was uneventful and my little button nose remained intact.

It was so not a big deal that I’m thinking of having my other nose done in 2 weeks.

Last night  I went to dinner with David and The Schwartzbergs. More about that later.

Just as I was about to leave I got a call from my real estate agent saying that the police had been called because the neighbors were furious that there was so much noise coming out of my Montauk house.

She suggested that I call my tenants and give them the riot act.

I don’t have their phone numbers but I emailed the sweet one this morning.

I'm so glad you seem to be having a great time.
I got a call yesterday from the real estate broker that the 
neighbors are going nuts and it appears that there was some 
police involvement.

Frankly I don't give a crap about the neighbors but 
it might be nice to tone it down a bit.

Mattie

I hope that wasn’t too harsh.

I wouldn’t know my neighbors there if I fell over them but I have had a running conversation with the kid and I even heard from his mother so let’s see, who would I prefer had a good summer, a bunch of strangers or 6 or 8 fun loving twenty-somethings who gave me money? No contest. Let’em get ear plugs.

Now back to dinner.

I warned David that he must behave and not say anything that would make me cringe. He didn’t answer me but he clearly got the message and behaved beautifully.  Both Susan and Allan thought he was a real charmer.

This morning we were having coffee together and the subject came up of Sue and Al being vegetarians. Something this guy from Texas simply can’t understand.

He asked me if it was for their health that they didn’t eat meat. I said, yes but also humanitarian reasons.

“Humanitarian? ” another word he doesn’t recognize. “That’s ridiculous .”

“Why do you think I don’t eat pig?”

“I thought it was the Jewish thing.”

“It’s because they’re so smart. I’m hoping to eventually cut meat completely out of my diet.”.

“Now why would you do that? If we don’t support mass production of meat one third of the world would starve. Luckily it would be the third I don’t give a fuck about. ”

That, by the way, is exactly the kind of thinking I begged him to keep to himself while dining with my friends.

Now how do I get him to shut up around me?

I received a call from my lawyer yesterday saying she had good news for me. I was legally divorced.

She seemed surprised that I didn’t greet this news happily.

The truth is I have no idea how I feel.

I know I don’t feel happy. I think I don’t feel sad. If I were to examine my innermost thoughts, something that this blog forces me to do almost daily, all I feel is shock.

I emailed dave yesterday, at my lawyer’s request, telling him that we are officially divorced and asking for his address in Japan so she can send him the papers.

His answer, “As I expected, I don’t know what to say. I will have my ring cut off tomorrow.” Then he wrote his address.

Actually, I was surprised that he was still wearing it.

I think he’s going to find what I discovered when I stopped wearing my wedding rings a year ago, that when he cuts that ring off, the indentations from wearing those rings during 38 years of marriage don’t disappear.

Mine are still there.

I just read that over and said to myself, “What the fuck does that mean? That I still have dents in my finger? Big fuckin’ deal. Let him wear a band aid”

Sometimes I get carried away with the drama.

I’m legally divorced.

What’s new with you?