Stephanie’s dog, Duffy, fell through the ice on her pond the other night and her husband , Terry, jumped in and saved him.

That’s definitely a hero story but there is a part of this tale that got me steamed.

In a few weeks I’m staying at her house to mind her animals. If you recall I was uninvited on a fabulous spa weekend because she decided I’d have a much better time staying at her house in Nowheresville taking care of her dogs and cats. She has someone else minding the donkeys and horses because she said it would be “too hard for me”.

Aside from the fact that she has given me loads of rules about what I can and can’t do in her house (I accept this because I know her and I’ll do what I want anyway), she cut me to the quick when she told me the story about Duffy and added “Thank God that didn’t happen when we were away. You couldn’t have saved him”

“Are you crazy? Do you seriously think that I wouldn’t have run in the water and gotten him?”

“You’d want to but you wouldn’t be able to”

Now I know I’m a little slower than I used to be but the fact that she thinks I’m not capable of pulling a dog out of a pond is a shock. I used to be the one she counted on. Now she treats me like a feeble old lady.

No words are going to convince her that I’m still a force to be reckoned with so I’ve decided that when I go up to mind her animals I’m going to rearrange her furniture.

I am taking to the airwaves to ask for help. Are these airwaves? Anyway you know what I mean.

My life before dave started dating frequently consisted of shopping with friends, Susan, Ronnie, my sister.

Since he left I only bought one item.  That’s ONE item in over a year.

It was a pair of Eileen Fisher pants. In black (surprise surprise). They were the perfect pants.(I keep wanting to call them slacks.)

They were more money than I could afford so I only wore them for good.

They were supposed to be the coup de something of my outfit the other night but when I got dressed they were no where to be found. I had to wear everyday black pants.  I know you’re saying big deal, black pants are black pants.

Well maybe to the untrained eye but take it from me. If I had worn the good ones my outfit would have been “off the hook” as the kids say. As it was I was only “attractive”.

All day yesterday I searched. Since every item in my closet is black that wasn’t easy. I emptied my drawers, I combed my closet. Nothing.

And don’t say I could have missed them in all that black. This is what I do. I know they couldn’t have walked off by themselves although they were so fine they might have.

BTW don’t start bitching because this blog is boring. This is for the greater good. Mine. Would you call an Amber Alert boring? I didn’t think so.

Go ahead, guess. Never mind,  you won’t be able to.  It was nine thirty P. M. That’s right! NINE THIRTY P period M period!

We actually ate earlier than we were supposed to because we went to the Philharmonic and at half time or whatever they call it David decided to leave because he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

It was none too soon too. I had just finished mentally reorganizing my closet for the third time and the violins were beginning to look like turkey drum sticks.

Let me start from the beginning.

I obviously took this as more of an occasion than David did. I curled my hair and tried on several different outfits before I finally decided on the black.

When we met in the hall at 7 he was wearing the same thing he wore to Home Depot earlier in the day to buy roach powder because he saw a bug in his kitchen. He had to go back twice because he had a tragedy. He sent me the following email at about 2 o’clock.

“I was fixing myself a sandwich and had flung a dish towel over my shoulder that I’d just used to dry my hands. Apparently hiding in the towel was a huge roach that crawled out onto the back of my neck. Screaming and cursing like a stevedore I quickly removed and sent him packing to roach hell.

In response I’ve gone back to HD and have significantly dialed up the lethality of my efforts to kill these MF’s. I have some shit now that was developed in a government warfare lab that is capable of taking down an elephant !!”

Anyway I accepted his trauma as an excuse for not spiffing up a bit more and also for not commenting on how lovely I looked. I was forced to say as we waited for the elevator, “I look nice”.

He looked up from his phone seemingly surprised that I was still there and said ” Yeah your hair looks good”.

Now on to Lincoln Center.

We got to our seats. Very good seats, Orchestra Center, and settled in while the hall filled. I know you think that those classical music people are fancy but next to me was a young woman who smelled like she had just run a 10k.

The music began and it was lovely. For about 10 minutes. If you had something to read while you were listening.

I spent 40 years listening to jazz and I think I had used up my “sitting quietly trying to look interested” quota. It isn’t all music.  I will say that I saw “Jersey Boys” and at the end I was on my feet screaming for more.

I get it , I’m a Philistine.

If David hadn’t wanted to leave though, I would have stayed to the end and pretended to enjoy it.

I was saved by the guy sitting next to David who was humming and conducting with his program. David was a bit on edge after his roach happenstance and mumbled that he was just about to offer to put that program in a place where the guy couldn’t direct the horns to play out when the intermission came and we went to eat.

Did I say it was nine thirty by then? Well it was.

I’m going to hear the Philharmonic tonight with David. He has a season ticket.

It’s not usually my thing but I was asked so nicely that I had no choice but to accept.

“I asked everyone I knew if they wanted to go and they all said no so how about you coming ?”.

He added that Marshall (his son) refused by making a jerking off motion in the air.  I think he also said something about calling his high school shop teacher but when he finally found him it turns out the guy was dead.

I was tremendously flattered that he asked me before asking the doorman.

“I’d be charmed”,  I said.

What to wear? What to wear? I’m thinking a gown and some sort of tiara. I kind of wish that I still smoked. This sort of evening screams long cigarette holder.

There’s also the problem about dinner.  The thing starts at  8 pm.

Mr La Di Da says my usual dinner time of 6 is too early to eat which means we’ll have to eat after the concert. This is probably just as well because as soon as I finish dinner, especially with cocktails it’s off to dreamland.

Unless I bring my sleeping machine with me, which is not out of the realm of possibility, my snoring might disturb others if I happen to doze off.

The problem with eating later is that if I’m hungry all I’ll be thinking about is food and I won’t be able to enjoy the music. I once dated a guy who said that the only time he felt that he had my full attention was when I was actually eating. He thought that during the cold war I’d have sold my country’s secrets for a Hershey bar. He wasn’t wrong.

I got it!  Salami sandwich under my tiara. If there’s no encore that should hold me.

Remember what I said about being a problem solver?

Here’s why I have a good personality. Because my eye hurts and I’m still being sunny.

Yep I smile through adversity. Not only that but I’m known in my family as a problem solver. A smiling problem solver.

It started when I was very young. I was 8 years old and at Camp Highmount. I was taller than most of the boys my age so what did I do? I went to the prom with 2 short boys.  I figured 2 shorts equal one tall.

There were problems. A mutiny occurred about midway through the dance. Those two shrimp punks came up and said they didn’t want to be my dates any more. They said I was too bossy. Imagine that.

Clearly I wasn’t bossy enough. I should have forbidden them to speak to each other. That way they couldn’t have planned that coup.

But most of my solutions to the problems of my family members always, well usually, have been more successful.

I remember when my sister Phyllis started dating after her divorce. Some guy she met at Parents without Partners stole her car keys and wouldn’t give them back. She had to rent a car to get home so she could get another set of keys and go back and get her car. (Don’t look at the flaws in her reasoning)

We, the sisters, were so mad. I decided to rain (is that rain or reign?) terror on him. For weeks we called him at all hours of the night telling him that even though we were girls we were going to beat him up and punch him. We added that we were going to pull his pants down and leave him in his lobby. Naturally we didn’t give our names.

Unfortunately he put 2 and 2 together and called the cops. A detective called Phyllis and asked her if she was behind the calls. Naturally she denied it but foolishly went on a rant telling the detective what the guy had done to her. He just sighed and said

“Look Phyl, I know you didn’t do it but cut it out, Okay?”

My solutions don’t always benefit the people around me but I’m not God.

Many years ago I was up at my sister Iris’ house and my basset hound, Norman, bit her mailman.

The mailman threatened not to deliver mail to her house any more. In order to calm things down  I just shrugged and said “Okay don’t”.

I didn’t live there. What did I care?

Now how does that fit in with the theme of this?  I’m not sure it does. Wait, since Iris still got mail maybe my cool head in the face of adversity (back to smiling with an eye ache) kept the situation from escalating.

See? I just talked my way out of a shitty blog post.

In turning my blog into a book, which I’m hoping to do, the advice I get from those in the  know is that what I’m going through should be a teaching moment for others. It seems that in the last five years the number of marriages of people over 60 have broken up at an alarming rate increase.

Sometimes I think I’ve got a handle on it. Find something you love to do and embrace the fact that your life is your own and you can do what you want without taking anyone else into consideration.

But sometimes that just doesn’t work and it sneaks up on you that you’re alone.

Yesterday was dave’s birthday. I made an entry on facebook about it and said that I’ll be glad when I don’t remember it.

After a few minutes I erased it. Too needy.

But I have to admit that it brought me down all day. I kept thinking that I don’t believe that I can’t acknowledge the birthday of someone who was so close to me.

I try to cheer myself up by remembering stuff like him saying that he wanted to take half my jewelry and oh yeah, “I’m in love with a Japanese woman” always puts a dent in my missing him.

The point of this is what kind of hope can I give other women going through this? Even after over a year it sneaks up on me. But I do admit that those times are rare. Mostly I’m happy.

I wonder if she made him a party.

I was packing up my good china to give to Stephanie.

I haven’t used them in 25 years and she entertains a lot.

I got them in London when I was 19, the year I met dave. I used them once before I was married. My boyfriend Jerry and I ate pizza on them. We did this secretly because everything I did with Jerry was a secret since he wasn’t Jewish and my mother would have killed me if she knew he was in her house, much less touching the cutlery.

Once I got married I used them whenever we did any fancy entertaining ( I once served Ahmet Ertegan coffee on them thinking he would be impressed but he barely noticed them ). We hadn’t done that in a lot of years. They were just sitting there gathering dust so I decided to give them to Steph.

While I was packing them this morning I felt a rush of sadness. Not for the dishes, although they are really beautiful, a robins egg blue band around a white center and rich gold edges, but for what they represented. They were always my treasures because I had them since I was young and they reminded me of better, no past, times.

I called Steph and said that maybe I’d keep 2 settings. Then I changed it to a cup and saucer.

“Well what if I have 12 people over and they want coffee?

“So you won’t have any”

All of a sudden I started to cry. She gasped.

“I’m not taking them. I don’t want you to be sad. I don’t need them. Please keep them”

“I want you to have them. They are wasted here. It isn’t the dishes. It’s just memories. Please take them”

I hung up and called my sister. That’s what I do.

Actually I thought she’d say keep them which I didn’t want to do but she didn’t.

“Of course it’s emotional but what do you need them for?  Nobody entertains like that any more. In fact when it’s just the family we use paper plates and you almost always bbq for your friends.”

I felt so much better, even happy. I love Stephanie so much. I immediately called her and told her I was happy again.

“She’s happy again, Terry” I had obviously made them both feel bad about taking the fucking things. Nothing like  dipping a gift in guilt before you give it. Thanks, Ma.I learned from the best.

Anyway now I’m happy and they’re happy and my sister and I are happy because we were able to discuss in detail all the sub par meals we had been served on fancy dishes. My family really holds a grudge when it comes to food.

When I say we hold a grudge I mean it. When my sister was first married (She’s been married for 54 years) she and Paul, her husband, went to dinner at another couple’s house. They had been hearing about what a terrific cook the wife was. I could tell Marcia was getting steamed just talking about it. The table was beautifully set but the meal was cheese fondue and a Pepperidge Farm cake for dessert. No apps! No salad!

I don’t like to besmirch my sister Iris’ memory and this has nothing to do with fancy dishes, just an unfortunate lunch and the length of time we can hold on to resentment for a bad meal.

I was about nine years old and my sister and her then husband George, took me out on their boat. It was a last minute thing. Come lunchtime Iris opens up a bag and pulls out jelly sandwiches on packaged rye bread. Not peanut butter and jelly, not cream cheese and jelly just jelly.

I was shocked. I know it was a Tuesday because I remember telling her that I always take a hot lunch on Tuesday. It fell on deaf ears.

Did you people read “Shogun”? There’s a scene in that book where they spend an entire night boiling some guy. It was referred to as “The night of the screams”.

That day on the boat will forever be called “the day of the jelly sandwich”

I am so bored that I’m too bored to say how bored I am.

I have so much to do. Taxes and stuff.

Have I done any of those things? No. So far today I read a list of edible bugs, the 12 worst supermarkets in America and the REAL reasons why Michelle Williams and Jason Segel broke up.

I was just about to dive into why Justin Bieber is having the  “worst birthday ever” when I thought I’d give you guys a jingle.

So what’s new?

Life, Heroism, Wrongful Accusations, Death,  and the Beginnings of a Secret Society. It’s all in today’s blog folks.

It started like any other Tuesday only it was Wednesday.

I woke up, watched “Dance Moms”, ate breakfast, got dressed and went out to start my day. (LIFE)

Just before I left, my sister Marcia called and told me that her friend, and mine, Pat had been driving to work in front of a Brinks truck when money started flying out of the truck unbeknownst to the driver who kept going. (I’m using ‘unbeknownst’ because this is a fancy post).

Pat pulled over and tried gathering up the cash, $11,000 worth (she knew this because on the bag it said “$11,000” just like in a Donald Duck cartoon), while dialing 911 and the State Police.

They contacted Brinks who sent the truck back to pick up the money. Brinks called Pat’s cell phone, thanked her and asked her to keep it under wraps. Maybe they thought that having one of the Three Stooges driving their money around wouldn’t do much for their rep. Anyway while she was waiting for an hour for the Brinks truck to come back, she put it on Facebook so they were too late. (HEROISM)

I had an appointment with the nose doctor. Stephanie has been criticizing the fact that I say “What?” a lot so I was having a hearing test. The nose doctor minors in ears.

I get on the bus, put my old person bus pass in the ticket thing(thanks dave for taking taxis out of my life) and start to move to a seat when the bus driver calls me back because my card couldn’t be read. I put it through again and it still says ERROR. I show the driver that my card is still valid and explain that it is automatically renewed money wise. He looks at me with disgust. I ask what I should do now and he says that he’s been on this job for 8 years and he’s seen this thing happen over and over with people who think they can get away with not paying when they know the card is no good so I can just pay.  I’d like to say I took him to task but I was shaking so much, looking for enough coins to pay the fare that I just said nothing. A woman offered me quarters, I only had  a dollar bill, and I paid the fare. Immediately after that I found two quarters in my pocket and handed them to the woman who had helped me. She tried to refuse them because I had already given her the dollar. She too was starting to get annoyed with me, “I’m just trying to help you” but I would have none of it. I shoved the quarters in her hand and rushed to the back of the bus. So that lady’s deed can fall under (HEROISM) while what I went through was clearly (WRONGFUL ACCUSATIONS).

Though my hearing turned out okay , (Take that Steph, maybe if you were more interesting, I’d listen the first time you told me something.) I got no comfort at the doctor’s office. When I told the receptionist what had happened on the bus, instead of getting sympathy she went on a long rant about how the same  old lady pulls exactly the same thing I pulled every morning on the bus while she was just trying to get to work on time (BITCH)

I got some change and took the bus home. That bus driver wouldn’t let me  pay when I showed him my card and told him there was a problem (HERO? I say yes)

When I got to my apartment house there were ambulances and cops and fire engines in front of my building. I had to open the door myself (I told you it was a rough day) because my doorman was sitting on the couch in the lobby talking to cops and shaking like a leaf. It seems that the tenant in the  penthouse called him and asked him to check on her husband who had not been answering the phone. When he went upstairs the guy had hanged himself. (DEATH).

I actually don’t know how to segue from this to my next activity which was to meet Julie, Gail, the cookie queen and my darling Claudia, shrink/accordian player without seeming heartless but frankly I didn’t know the guy and a cocktail was just what I needed after all this so imagine the next scene is a lovely restaurant surrounded by my friends.

I was a little late because, well because and the other three were deep into conversation and drinks when I got there. I had to interrupt them several times to get all my stories out. When I told them about the bus Julie wondered aloud why I would need a card to show that I’m old since all they had to do was look at me (WISEGUY).

In no time we were laughing and loving each other. So much so that we decided that we should make this a regular thing and we even started suggesting what we could call ourselves. The offerings were so lame that we decided to table the choosing of a name for the next meeting. (THE BEGINNING OF A SECRET SOCIETY).

So that’s it folks, there are 1000 stories in the Naked City and five of them were mine. Well six if you count the nose doctor, maybe seven if you include Julie getting a yuck at my expense. Oh yeah and what about the nice bus driver? Or is that part of the bus story? So maybe eight, or is it nine……….?

I nearly had one of my best days today. I was supposed to go to Brooklyn to play with Susan. Unfortunately Allan has the flu so I don’t want to touch either one of them with a ten foot pole.

I have a great many important things going on in the next few weeks.

I have to get ready for tax time. This is the last year dave and I will be filing together. Who knows what he’s going to do in the future. For his sake I hope his lady friend has some accounting skills because he hasn’t even written a check in 30 years.

Plus the first nine chapters of my book are ready to send out to lure an agent, an editor and some big money publishing house into investing in me.

If no one buys it I have three people I can lay the blame on. Julie, who’s gone over it repeatedly with a fine tooth comb , Cheryl who worked endlessly on my first three chapters and Brenda who gave me absolutely free help while showing me how to go about turning my blog into a book.

Since my mother has always told me what a genius I am, if this thing doesn’t go anywhere I’ll have to blame those three hacks.

I was very close to getting a fabulous invitation this morning. Stephanie called and said that she and her husband Terry wanted to invite me to go with them to a lovely North Carolina hotel and spa.

I started to graciously accept when she informed me that she changed her mind because she needs me to mind her animals.

Ah it wouldn’t have been any fun anyway. Beautiful scenery, good food, facials and massages are just not my thing. I’d rather stay up at her house with no cable.

DID YOU HEAR THAT? NO CABLE.

They’re like hillbillies. Who has no cable in this day and age?  And it’s not that they can’t afford it. They just completely renovated their house. They have a toilet that opens up when you enter the bathroom, welcomes you with a song, washes your tushy and wishes you a good day but they don’t consider cable a necessity?

I will never understand some people. TV isn’t just for entertainment. It’s for learning. Why if I never watched “Jerseylicious” I would be completely in the dark about the “smokey eye”. (Get it? Dark?  Smokey? Do I ever stop cracking myself up?)

Good thing because being up there with that talking toilet and no cable I’ll need myself for entertainment.