I went out to dinner with an old friend last night.

As the owner of the restaurant, we’ll call her Sofia, showed us to our table I noticed another friend, Dick Fox and his wife were dining there.

I said aloud to myself “Is that Dick Fox ?”.

Sofia answered “Yes it is”.

Now for those of you not in the know, Dick Fox is a major doo wop producer and really a nice guy.

For those of you in the  know, he’s a major doo wop producer and kind of a prick but I will always love him for one reason. He made it possible for me to sit in a room with Bobby Rydell, Frankie Avalon and Fabian and say to myself that if I could have imagined when I was 13 that I would have been sitting there with these guys, the rest of my life would have been golden.

Anyway, I went over to Dick to say hello and returned to my table.

While we were waiting for our food, Sofia came over and asked if we wanted some prosciutto. I’m a “regular” and I am often offered a little something extra.

I didn’t but I turned to my friend and asked him. He thought for a minute but decided not.

“No prosciutto, Sofia, but thank you”

My answer didn’t seem to satisfy her because she shook her head no and asked again.

We went back and forth like this a few times and she was beginning to get on my nerves.

Finally I said ” Come closer, maybe I’m not hearing you correctly”

She leaned in and said “Dick Fox is what kind of producer?”

I told her and the rest of the night I kept thinking ” I come in here all the time and the bitch can’t even offer  me  a little prosciutto?”

I actually have a lot to do today so I shouldn’t be writing but I am.

I”m having a ladies lunch with Julie, Susan and her daughter Nicole/Daisy.

Since there will be no boys there I’m wondering if combing my hair is a must.

I think I know the answer to that. Nah.

I spoke to one of the guys that’s renting my house for the summer yesterday.  I loved him so much that I’m afraid that my wish to show him a great summer will mean that I have to add a rec room or home theatre before he gets there.

He was so sweet and he loves his mother. Plus he asked what was expected of him and his friends while staying in my house. I wanted to make him think that I’ve done this before so I contemplated saying what everyone says to anyone renting their house, “Just don’t any of youse go fallin’ down the stairs” but I stayed mum.

I had another interesting interaction yesterday. I heard from one of dave’s closest friends, Ben. His name isn’t really Ben, it’s Bill but he’s kind of a secretive cat so I’m going to call him Ben.

I’ve always loved Bill, I mean, Ben. So has everyone in my family. I always have him at Seders and things because I just do. In fact a few years ago he couldn’t come and the first thing my little niece, Lily said was “Where’s Bill?”. ( I’m not doing the Ben/Bill thing any more.)

Anyway I have to admit I missed him and I was a little sad that I hadn’t heard from him much but really glad to talk to him yesterday.

Naturally we talked about dave and his shock at what happened and being who he is he was saying that dave has always been so generous with his time and help and had such a strict moral code that he had trouble understanding how he could justify what he did to me.

He started to suggest reasons for this in dave’s past when I realized that I don’t give a shit why.  Maybe in the beginning of this whole thing I would have been interested in discussing that but now I couldn’t care less. I’m so past that.

I’ve got more important things on my mind like what kind of car I should buy the kid who’s renting my house.

I have to admit that my ego has taken a beating what with getting dumped and all.  But time has helped and I was beginning to feel like my old self (a phrase that I will never again use) when two different people offered me a seat on the bus this week.

I’d like to say that it was courteous men that offered hoping to curry my favor but it was young women both times. I smiled a thank you and refused politely.

I spent the rest of the ride holding on to the pole trying to appear surefooted with a frozen expression on my face and in my heart.  What is it about me that I appeared so fragile that these girls would feel the need to give up their seats to me?

I’m sixty nine, not ninety. I dye my hair, a pleasing blonde, if I do say so myself.  True, I haven’t had any work done, no lift, fillers or botox but hell, this is New York, not Hollywood.

When I look in the mirror I don’t see my twenty five year old self but I don’t burst into tears either. Clearly I’m wrong. What does the world see that I don’t?

I remember visiting my grandmother when I was a teen ager. She was going through her closet pulling out colorful cotton dresses.

“See? I like bright colors. I don’t dress like an old lady.” Then she said almost to herself “Inside I’m still a young girl”.

Is it that inside girl that I’m seeing when I look in the mirror?

I’m not totally blind. On occasion I am surprised when I’m in a department store and I catch a reflection of an older woman picking up the same black sweater that I’m looking at only to realize that that woman is me. I admit that’s a shock but I usually put it down to shopping makes me tired and if I tweak my make up I’ll look better.

Not everyone feels the way I do. I was on the bus yesterday, seated thankfully, when the frazzled woman across from me with a bunch of packages and two weepy kids said

“Would you like a seat?” to a thin, older woman (I say older but she wasn’t much older than I am, she might even have been the same age or a little younger, and she was wearing sneakers which suggests athleticism in anyone’s book).

In a clear voice the woman answered “Yes I would, thank you”

And she watched the younger woman struggle to her feet trying very hard not to drop any of her parcels and plopped herself down with a true sense of entitlement.

If I had been the recipient of that woman’s kindness, obviously I would have refused it and I would have spent the remainder of the trip trying to keep my sobs from becoming an irritant to the other passengers.

I just got back from an overnight visit with Julie to Montauk.

She came with me to help me put the finishing touches on my house so it is in fine shape for the people who have rented it for the summer.

Our plan was to drive out, walk the dogs (Julie has 3) on our arrival, spend a few hours working at the house cleaning, look in some shops then go over for cocktails at my dear friend Susan and her husband Allan’s house. You all may know Allan as the drummer on the James Brown hit, “Funky President”.  We’d wind the day up after 15 or 20 minutes having cocktails by then going out to dinner.

Except for the house cleaning we kept pretty much to our schedule. Unfortunately eliminating that sped up the cocktail hour and it went from 15 minutes to three hours.

The time went by very quickly. Before you could say “Jack Rabbit” or something with less consonants, three bottles of wine were history and Julie was giving Susan make up tips for her to pass on to her daughter Daisy, who does Martha Stewart’s make up.

Tip #1:  Why put on make up when you just have to wash it off 8 hours later?

I know she felt very strongly about this because she was saying it very loud and appreciated that Susan and I were trying hard to translate it into Russian for our friends in Something-vlad.

We had dinner and went home. Julie was afraid to sleep in the guest room alone so she and her dogs slept with me. It was actually very nice having the dogs in bed. Two of them lick your feet and ankles until you either fall asleep or shove them away. It was almost like an expensive spa massage if during the massage, the masseuse farts and snorts.

We woke up the next morning and picked up Susan for breakfast.

There are a lot of places to eat breakfast in Montauk. There’s John’s Pancake House for those who have just given up. Then there’s Joni’s, a terrific restaurant for people who like you to think they eat healthy without having to suffer even the tiniest bit. You might bump into Ralph Lauren or Aida Turturro here.  Then there’s the health food place where they don’t kid around. Muffins like dust and a bunch of stuff that looks nothing like it’s name.

Since I have known Susan she’s been trying to get me to eat things that really and truly taste like  poison while closing one eye in a pseudo wink and telling me how delicious it is.  She has actually described something made out of turnips as “heavenly”.

I keep saying “Susan, a hot fudge sundae is heavenly. A turnip is good for you”

It just goes to show how very much Julie and I wanted to be with Susan  because just to lure her we chose the health food place over Joni’s, our way preferred choice.

Sue didn’t disappoint when she ordered. She had a kale, spinach, any green crap you have lying around and one carrot juice.

Julie had granola and fruit and a muffin. She told me later that the owner of the restaurant should be jailed for daring to call that a muffin.

I had something that sounded like an egg McMuffin with nothing McMuffiny about it.

Susan offered us both a sip of her juice. Julie said that only the addition of eel would make it more disgusting than it looked.

It may not sound it but both Julie and I agreed that it was the best weekend we’ve had in a long time.

How has divorce, well my coming divorce, changed me?

One way is that I never think of marriages as permanent any more. Sorry Kim, the chances of you growing old with Kanye? Almost nil.

If I knew then what I know now would I have married dave? There were times while I was married that I wondered if I would have been better off marrying a Jewish guy and living in the suburbs with kids.

While I was dating dave my mother gave my number to the son of one of her friends and I went out with him. I never defied my mother until I actually married dave.

He was nice looking, funny and familiar. We both really liked each other and had it been a different time we would have continued dating. I had to tell him that unfortunately I was seeing someone that I was pretty sure I was in love with.

He understood why I went out with him anyway since his mother had made him call me. That’s pretty much how the Jewish Mother Mafia worked.

He wrote his phone number on my calendar and said to call him if it didn’t work out with dave.

Some of my friends are going through separations and divorces now. I’m listening to what their marriages were like and I can’t imagine how they lived like that. These were really unhappy homes. One wonders how they lasted as long as they did.

Mine was never like that. I lived a good life. We laughed a lot and dave always treated me with respect. He took care of me financially and made me feel loved until he didn’t. The show business part of our life was fun and exciting.

Would I have married him if I knew what was in store for me? Yes I would. But remember I’m talking about our relationship from my point of view. I’m sure he’d say differently.

Knowing what I know would I have left him before he left me while I was still young enough to find someone else. Maybe but I don’t think so. I was really bored for the last 7 or 8 years but I loved him and wouldn’t have been able to hurt him.

I just realized that I’m forgetting that I would have known in this scenario that he was going to leave me so that doesn’t hold true. I might have been too scared even with that information. Maybe I would have squirreled away some dough and looked for a boyfriend. Yeah that’s probably what I would do. I feel better now.

Remember when I told you about that guy who wrote his phone number on my calendar? The year was 1975. The year I got married. I’m a saver. I have stuff from my high school prom and the first LP I ever bought (Elvis). I’m sure I have that calendar saved somewhere.

Maybe I should dig it up and give that dude a call. After all it didn’t work out with dave, did it?

Miss Liz is home for a few days and that’s making all of us on the 18th floor (me and David) very happy.

Because she’s here David is being much nicer to me. Why just yesterday morning he brought me a fresh bagel for my breakfast.

He delivered it by throwing it against my door from down the hall. I was so touched that I ran over to thank him. It took me a few minutes to show my appreciation because he put the chain on his door so I couldn’t get in. Luckily Liz heard the rattling of the lock so she gave David what for and opened up.

I know that some people would give the little lovebirds some time alone which I do. They have from midnight to 7 a.m. to coo sweet nothings to each other. I also know however that neither one of them would want to miss the lively conversations that are a result of the three of us sharing the mornings together.

There is always something to be learned in the give and take of three different points of view, two sane (me and Lizzie) and one stupid (him).

Why just yesterday David tried to put me down because I didn’t have the exact population of the United States at my fingertips. I thought it was 8 million. But I quickly proved that with a little brain power and my math skills I was able to rectify my mistake once I realized that I was thinking of New York rather than the whole country, something that in my mind isn’t exactly false, I multiplied the 8 million by 50 which is pretty clever since some states have more people and some less. I came to an approximate count of 400 million which is really close to the Census Bureau’s count of 314 million.

See? I realized my mistake and used the new information to get the correct answer.

And besides, unless I’m planning on buying them all  jackets, who gives a shit how many people are in the United States?

I understand that you want to save the earth. I’m an earth fan myself.

But that doesn’t mean that when there is green furry shit on the ricotta cheese you can scrape it off and serve the rest of it without saying a word and only mentioning that we need more ricotta cheese when someone who is kindly visiting (me) and has already eaten it offers to refill the little serving bowl .

And the bowl, like the rest of the pottery in this house,  is adorable.

It’s ceramic and has happy flowers on it with a little matching ceramic spoon disguising the plague ridden crap inside of it so you can pass off the last little remnants of poison to unwary fools because heaven forbid you might be asked to throw it out if someone doesn’t eat it and there goes the future.

I also noticed he didn’t eat any.  BTW I’m talking about my brother in law, Paul. When I questioned him about this his answer was “Don’t worry, I only put out the white part”

THE WHITE PART IS NOT OK WHEN IT HAS RECENTLY BEEN ATTACHED TO THE GREEN PART!

So I say to all you earth loving whackos, you know who you are.

I know you want your grandchildren to have clean sunny air but do I have to eat old cheese so that little Violet won’t ever have a little haze in the sky?

I got to my sister and brother in law’s house yesterday. They live in the other New York. The one with 9 Democrats, 2 of which are my sister Marcia and her husband Paul.

My sister had her knee replaced so I came up to give them a hand.

It’s very odd stepping into another couple’s life even when you all love each other. As I said, they try very hard to leave no carbon footprint while mine is a big fat snowshoe., with socks.

They have a very specific evening routine. Dinner, TV and bed.

That’s something I can easily and happily  get into except when they turned on the TV I banged my head on 1997. They watched “Cheers” and followed it up with a little “Friends”.  I think 1967 crept in for a minute because I’m fairly sure I saw a little Raymond Burr.

Until she is recovered, Marcia is temporarily using a walker. Interestingly enough she gets around the house quite well considering she has one dog the size of a cow and another who appears to be perpetually on speed. They know she isn’t herself though so they move near her very gently.

Even though I’m a shitty cook I’m trying to prepare the meals when I can, which brings up that footprint thing in spades. Tonight my brother in law Paul told me that he doesn’t like me using a microwave  oven because “who knows what all those rays do to the food you’re eating”. I wanted to tell  him “I know what it does. It cooks it and whatever  else it does it won’t affect us because we’re almost a million.

And nothing is garbage in this house. If you can’t eat it, wear it, plant it or pack something into it you can paint it and put a frame on it.

This place is nothing like New York City. I went to the supermarket this afternoon. Everyone was so nice that I felt like I was going to bump into Beaver Cleaver in the vegetable aisle.

If I had I’d have knocked him over with my cart. That nice thing gets old very fast.

As sweet as I’m being they aren’t really paying much attention to me. I was sitting in Marcia’s room this afternoon when I realized that I was wearing 2 different shoes and no one noticed. They weren’t anything alike either. Well of course they were both black but one had laces and the other was a loafer.

In NYC even my doorman would have goofed on me for that.

I’ll be glad to get home. I’m afraid I’m getting soft.

I just realized that when you write a blog there are people who actually read it and are somewhat affected by what you write.

For example the other day I wrote about being sad. I feel fine now but I keep hearing from people who love me telling me to keep my chin up.

I’ve been treating my blog like confession. After I yap I feel all better. I really should have been Catholic. I absolutely adore that confession thing. You tell some guy what you did wrong and then you pray and then you have a clean slate.

I also like Easter now that the Catholics have removed all the hard words from the Lord’s Prayer and Christmas makes Hanukkah a dumb boring cousin.

Back to me and my mood. I had a lovely day yesterday. Julie came over and we had lunch and played cards. I’m suspicious that Julie might have been cheating because in the middle of the game I found a ten of diamonds under her chair.

It didn’t help her though. I was victorious. And I was a good winner. I only gave one whoop and one bow while forming an L with my fingers on my forehead signaling ‘you know what’.

I was reading a magazine which said that people in their 50s and 60s are at their most empathetic. First of all because they have had a lot of life experiences and also because my generation went through the free thinking 1960’s so we are more liable to look at the other person’s point of view.

I forgot why I mentioned that. Maybe it’s because I was thinking about other ways those my age differ from younger people. My cell phone. I never leave home without my cell phone not because I want to be reached but if I get run over I want to call my sister.

Hardly anyone ever calls me on my cell. In fact, when I first got it,whenever my phone rang it was usually spam but I pretended that it was Lance from Nsync. (I want to thank my nephew Joe for reminding me of that. I say he’s MY nephew even though he’s from dave’s side of the family because I’m sure I love him more than dave does. When he was about four I even let him pee on the door of the ice cream shop in Montauk when they wouldn’t let him use the bathroom, but that’s a story for another day)

What was I saying? Oh yeah becoming Catholic. If they don’t mind my saying “Oy” every time I kneel down, I’m in.

We have another member of the family.

My sister got a new knee.

I’m going up to see her in a few days. The reason I’m giving is that I want to help but really I want to hug her. I’ve been out of sorts lately. dave and I had a brief personal sentence in our email and unfortunately it’s been a setback for me.

It wasn’t anything. I only said in my note telling him what he can deduct on his taxes next year that I can’t believe that he’s a stranger to me now. he answered, “I know”.

For some reason I haven’t been the same since. My eyes keep filling up with tears. I don’t know why. It’s also brought back the bad dreams.

It’s funny but whenever I dream of him and his girlfriend they have children which is odd because they’re old. Well he is. I don’t know how old she is.

I think it’s just another way of my saying to myself that I failed him by not having kids.

This is getting way too deep.

I’m not going to answer my phone today because Stephanie always calls and yells at me when I write something sad.

What she doesn’t realize is that after I write it I can put it aside because I feel much better.

I just got a very happy thought. On my way back from my sister’s house I’m going to buy some rose bushes for my terrace.

And dare I get some peonies?

Yes I think I will.