Yesterday was Julie’s book signing in Connecticut for her wonderful new book “Friendkeeping” .

First there was a lovely brunch at Denis and Ann Leary’s house. Ann is not only a terrific generous woman, she’s a great writer. Every one of her books is a “can’t putter downer” and her new book, The Good House”  is coming out soon. I can’t wait to not put it down.

The brunch was followed by a book signing at the Hickory Stick Bookshop in Washington Depot, Ct.

One of the best parts of  going to one of Julie’s functions is that I get to see the people that I follow on twitter. It’s always a pleasant surprise to me but I worry that they’re disappointed and  I think to myself that they’re probably saying “No wonder she got dumped. She’s such a loser in person”.

Julie and I drove up with Brenda Copeland a dear friend of Julie’s and someone who might just be my new best friend. Brenda is a sunny pretty blonde who is also a successful editor.

Listening to those two pros talking business while I drove was a real wake up call to me.

I wrote this little blog, got plenty of good comments (not counting you, shitfeet, and you know who you are) and just waited for the offers to come in.

I figured writing a book is a piece of cake and since I have plenty of followers it was just a matter of time before I become Agatha Christie (I mean in book sales, not subject matter. I mostly whine while Aggie , I considered myself her equal so I saw nothing wrong with calling her Aggie), solves crimes

Hearing Brenda and Julie talking made me aware of the fact that even real writers have trouble getting agents and book deals. What chance do I have? The only good thing about this epiphany is that it gives me a whole new thing to kvetch about.

Anyway while I was moping up at the brunch I got an email from Liz who’s in Santa Fe saying that David has no internet:(

As you know, David has the technical know how of a lamp. If you recall I had to go over there at 10:30 at night once to turn on his TV.  Under normal circumstances  I would run next door and solve the problem for him but I was up in Connecticut.

So when I got home I knocked on his door to see if the internet was fixed.

At times like this he seems almost happy to see me. In about 2 minutes I found out that he had turned off the outlets that ran his computer, internet and Airport.

We were so happy that we toasted the occasion with about 40 glasses of wine. We went out to dinner and I went home to watch my ceiling spin around like a top.

So that’s my day. How was yours?

I just got this email from my friend, Ronnie in response to my last blog post.

“I was on a crosstown bus last week (before the storm). When I got to the bus there were a bunch of people waiting to get on.

A small older man in his seventies dyed brown hair, dressed well, carrying two bags from the supermarket was arguing with the bus driver to take his dollars.  After 5 good minutes of making everyone wait, the bus driver let him on without paying.

He took a single seat.  I forgot to say that I was thinking of giving him coins when we were on line but the driver gave him the free ride first.

Anyway, I sat right behind him. I had my legs crossed and my crossed leg was facing him, not at all on him, at least a foot from him.

After a few stops he turned around to me and started screaming at me loudly “Get that food away from me. they let trash on this bus”  I didn’t answer him.

Then I leaned over and  asked him to take his bags out of the aisle since someone could fall on them.

He ignored me. I had to change my seat. I was boiling.

When I got up to leave I kicked his bags hard with my shoe and pushed them down the aisle.

Now isn’t that a good response?”

I never loved Ronnie more.

Thank goodness my Halloween candy is all gone. Well, not ALL gone. I still have a Tootsie Pop and a piece of bubble gum left but I’ve decided to pass on them. Or at least save them for an emergency.

I”m really worried about the election.  Sandy will make it difficult for decidedly blue people in some areas to make it to the polls. I can’t imagine what life will be like if Obama doesn’t win. Not the least of which will be David’s self satisfied puss.

Back to me.

Only someone who lives in an apartment building and has to share washers and dryers with the other tenants will understand the tragedy that just befell me.

I got up early to do wash. It is an unwritten law that you have to be there the moment your wash is done because the next person has the right to take your wash out and use the machine.

I know this is boring but tough. I’ve got to vent. This is a psychological emergency.

I got down there exactly on time and put my wash in 2 dryers. I put them both in for 45 minutes.

I got back exactly 36 minutes later and, brace yourself, one of my dryers was rolling around as it should but the other one had another person’s laundry in it  AND MY LAUNDRY WAS IN A BALL ON THE TABLE.

Luckily the offending woman was standing right there.

“Did you take my laundry out?”

“Yes” she said defiantly “The dryer was finished”

Now I had her. I went in for the kill.

“Well I put both these dryers in for the same amount of time and the other one is still going”

She just shrugged, said “So?” and walked out saving herself from a savage beating.

I gave that empty doorway some look.

She’ll think twice before she pulls that crap again.

I woke up this morning to  a load of emails from friends and family asking if I am okay after the hurricane.

I wrote back “hurricane shmurricane. It didn’t even blow the petals off the daisies on my terrace”.

Then I turned on the news and saw the devastation this storm left on the east coast and I was ashamed of myself.

Now I’m going to tell you why I’m not a nice person. I say I was ashamed of myself because I don’t want you to hate me but I wasn’t really. I was just so happy that I have electricity and I didn’t get hit by a tree.

When you’re old and alone you are obsessed with self preservation and cling to personal comforts.

Ah who’m I kidding. I was always that way.

When I’m in a restaurant and have to wait for water, I’m clutching my throat and gagging until the waiter makes eye contact and I can point to my glass.

I am a major advocate of protecting the environment and am serious about global warming but you wouldn’t want to spend one second with me in a non air conditioned room.

I don’t like having to throw him under the bus but a very good part of having David across the hall from me is that he makes me feel kind of okay about myself.

He was really pissed this morning that his newspapers weren’t delivered.

So here I am waiting for the hurricane to come get me.

I actually don’t  think it’s going to be any big deal unless you live by the water, which I don’t. It’s only a catagory 1. I piss on category 1’s.

One of the interesting things about NYC being a ghost town is that David has absolutely no one else to talk to so  for the last two days he was teaching me football. I actually cared who won yesterday.

And a ghost town it is. No subways, no restaurants open, No stores open.

There’s not a thing to do today except watch TV and the only thing on TV is dire reports about the hurricane. Remember you heard it here. It will be no big deal.

The  one thing I learned from traveling on a boat for 30 years is wind speed and this windspeed isn’t nothing but it isn’t any big deal.

I think I may not print this until after the hurricane comes and goes. No ! I’ll stand by my words unless I’m wrong and then I’ll blame it on David.

I’m getting ready for the hurricane.

“How?” you ask.

Before I go into that I had another epiphany. When you go to someone’s house for dinner one usually brings something, a bottle of wine or flowers.

I have decided to make a request that whoever comes to my house should give me $9. That’s probably less than the price of a bottle of wine or any decent bouquet and I’d rather have the cash. I’ll bet plenty of people feel that way but they’re ashamed to say it.

Back to the storm.

Liz called to make sure that David and I had prepared our terraces for the oncoming storm. I was forced to tell her that David didn’t take in his cushions (remember one of my middle names is “truth”).

She immediately hung up so she could call him back and yell at him. I pursed my lips and returned  to what I was doing when she called, watching a replay of “The Real Housewives of Miami”.

I was just about to go onto Bravo.com to say what a shitheel Joe Francis is for telling everyone who he had sex with (ickety  ick ick) when the phone rang and it was Whiney calling to say I was a tattletale.

Then he asked me to help him move stuff on his terrace which did. Nothing I  like better than bossing someone around. We had cocktails and decided to go out to dinner.

In the restaurant we met Gene Bertoncini, the famous guitarist. He sat with us for awhile and I introduced him to David who was so charming that I thought he must be a pod.

That’s his real talent. He pretends to be nice so I look crazy when anyone reads what I say about him.  I think that’s how the devil walks around the earth to pick up souls.

Back to what I’m planning to do during the hurricane.

Look out the window.

Last night was Julie’s first reading for her new book “Friendkeeping”.

Naturally she was wonderful.

I spent the day driving her around the city getting her hair done and picking up stuff, like Violet, her kid.

My sister Marcia and I decided to lighten up the day and help pass the time by singing at the top of our voices any song that had to do with friends.  When I saw that Violet was embarrassed by it I thought I’d increase her discomfort by opening all the windows so passerbys could hear us.

Obviously she has our genes because during Julie’s reading, Violetta went up to the stage and suggested to her mother that she let us come up and sing.

For some reason, Julie decided to give that a pass. Not that I would have done it since when we were little girls and tried to sing together, Marcia would hit me in the back of the head because I couldn’t harmonize.

Oh yeah and because we sing like crows.

Today I had breakfast with the former Ambassador to Belgium and his wife who it turns out is a Hollywood bigwig AND HE PAID!  They didn’t even ask me to leave the tip. Classy!!

Plus I bet I could have ordered anything I wanted. I probably could’ve had chicken parm with a side of steak and they wouldn’t have blinked. Yep that’s the circles I’m traveling in now.

They are very good friends of Liz and her parents so I was very careful to put on my best manners. I didn’t want to embarrass Lizzie or heaven forbid, her father. So I started off easy asking him to describe a day in the life of an Ambassador.

Did you know that even if they’re having a great time at a party they have to leave early because no one can make an exit before they do?

Then with a great deal of subtlety I began grilling him on anything he knew about former Presidents, Vice Presidents etc. Actually the guy was a little closed mouthed but since he and his wife are my new best friends it’s only a matter of time before they invite me for dinner or even a sleep over and I’m sure he’ll loosen up.

Anyway when Mr Ambassador (I believe that’s his official title) excused himself to go to the can I turned my attention to his wife who is truly Hollywood royalty.

Since I subscribe to both People and Us I feel that we had a great deal in common. I had barely gotten to asking about what Frank Sinatra was really like when, much to her disappointment (I could tell) he husband returned and they had to run for their plane.

They said something like “We must meet again” as they were leaving so while they were rushing off I shouted my email address at them several times so they could commit it to memory.

I’m pretty sure he’ll remember it. You can’t represent the good old U S of A in a foreign country if  you don’t have a good memory.

Yesterday I attended the memorial that was reason why I made this long trip.

I wanted to support Liz and her family in remembering Nan Rees, Liz’s mother.

When someone dies, the people who are left behind to speak of them do so in glowing terms, frequently overstating their good points and ignoring the rest.

This wasn’t really like that. Well maybe a little but the worst they could say about her was that she yelled at the TV and didn’t suffer fools gladly or quietly.

The good she was couldn’t be overstated. She lived her life not only for herself and her family and friends but she was determined to make the world a better place before she left it, particularly for the women and children of Africa and animals everywhere.

It spoke volumes that there were well over a hundred people who came to a place that had no direct flights to pay homage to this incredible woman. And these weren’t people with nothing to do. There were captains of industry and movers and shakers. And they weren’t there for any reason other than friendship and love for Nan and Dr. Tom.

First her children spoke. I can only say that there isn’t a mother on earth who wouldn’t want to be remembered that way.

Then a series of women spoke.

Her friends, they say you can tell a person by the quality of their friends.

These women were all incredible. They each had anecdotes and seemed to come from different places but then I realized that they were all saying much the same thing.

The overriding theme was the love story between Tom and Nan. You only had to spend a short time with them before you saw what a complete loving pair they were.

Nan had very strong opinions and didn’t accept people easily but once she did you became family. I didn’t know her as long or as well as most of the people in the room but since I loved her daughter, I too was welcomed into the fold.

She was a happy woman with a sense of wonder and adventure.

She worked tirelessly for Africa. She asked that her ashes be spread there so she could become a part of the land she loved so much.

She ended her life much the way she lived it, with bravery and grace.

There isn’t much more I can say. Yes she will be missed but she left such a strong imprint on all the people that she touched that she surely will live on in all of them.

So far so stinky.

I just got thrown out of the Admiral’s Club.

It seems a FIRST CLASS TICKET ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR THEM.

Slinking out of there with my carryon and my sleep machine plus my pocketbook and a jacket wasn’t my finest moment.

As I was leaving I saved a little face by yelling back “what a bunch of Snootheads” before I entered the elevator.  Unfortunately the door didn’t close right away so we just stared at each other until I broke eye contact.

Then on to gate D2 with the rest of the riff raff.

I don’t know what I expected First Class to be but it wasn’t this.

The seats are close together kind of like regular seats were when I used to fly many years ago.

We just took off.

I think my tranquilizer kicked in because I’m not screaming.

More later.

The second plane looked like a mosquito but it was newer than the first plane so I was fine.

Actually the flying part wasn’t bad at all and then I got to Santa Fe.

I never loved anyplace this much. It looks like another country.

Liz took me all around. All you saw was wonderful pottery, jewelry and clothes.

I hope I can find someplace where they sell refrigerator magnets.