Now you all know I’m not a complainer.

Accepting that fact, I keep reading stuff about American Airlines firing maintenance workers and outsourcing their jobs to people outside of the control of the FAA.

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before but for the most part I stopped flying for 25 years because I couldn’t stand beginning and ending my vacations in terror.

When I say “for the most part” I mean that if there was no other way to get there , I did fly. For example when calling a cab to take me to Japan didn’t seem possible I did dope myself up and fly. But I drove or took trains or boats everywhere else.

It turned out that this came to bite me in the ass because I probably would have toured with dave and he wouldn’t have been able to spend so much time with you know who.

Anyhoo (thank you Julie) I did start flying again after first my sister Phyllis and then my sister Iris died. I figured nothing could happen to me that would be worse than losing them.

Just because I fly don’t think for a minute that I enjoy it. But as I said I’m not a complainer.

So let’s not consider this complaining. I’d like to think of it as “thinking aloud”

My trip to Santa Fe is on American Airlines. I only chose it because that’s the airline that David is taking and I thought it would be more comforting to travel with him. Speaking about thinking I should have given that a little more thought.

At first I was upset that he was traveling first class while I had to squeeze myself into coach. For some odd reason I was sad that I wasn’t sitting with him.  Then he told me that when he sits next to nervous flyers he likes to say things like “What was that?” and “That doesn’t sound right” or “Do you smell something burning?”.  I realized then that the distance between First and Coach was barely enough.

Now today I’m reading that the airlines are outsourcing to mechanics that aren’t real mechanics and there could be problems with a seat that won’t come back up or a hole in the engine only the first of which will be detected.

I feel so sorry for whoever is sitting next to me on that plane.

I woke up cranky today. I don’t know why.

Even having coffee with David and Liz didn’t cheer me up.

Getting David riled up is often my favorite part of the morning.

I like to bring up subjects that make him spit in rage.

Usually just praising Obamacare does the trick as it did today but I didn’t derive my usual pleasure at his anger.

I decided to go to second base as they say and quote Bill Maher. That’s my go-to inciter.

But when David did his rant about not peeing on Bill Maher if he was on fire it didn’t bring even the slightest  smile to my face and today he was more colorful than usual in stating that he himself would like to immolate Bill and watch him burn yet it still did  nada for my mood. Even when he stomped out of the room… nuthin’

I am trying to think of something I like to do that I can do today but in the mood I’m in I won’t like doing it and I’ll probably ruin it.

I know one thing.  I’d better stay away from the few friends I have.

I did have a good thing happen to me today. My nephew and niece sent me 3 bottles of fancy wine. Now let’s see, it’s 9:56 a.m.

The sun must be over the yardarm somewhere. Unfortunately the “somewhere” is Japan where my fuckhead husband is sharing cocktails with his shithead girlfriend.

Man I can’t get a break.

Even though I’m not leaving for a month I spend a great part of my day planning for my Santa Fe trip.

What to wear? What to wear?

If this were a Jewish function I would just pile on the jewelry and relax but I understand the goyim are quite subtle in their dress.

I figure I’ll pack a bunch of choices and take the lay of the land before I appear in public. The problem with this plan is that David said I can only take carry-on. Aside from my 2 season wardrobe that would mean I have to lug my computer, my pocketbook and my sleep machine along with my tiny suitcase. Fitting in all I want to bring with me won’t work even if I wear 5 or 6 layers.

Luckily this morning Liz overheard David when he was telling me that he would leave my ass at the Albuquerque airport if he had to wait even one minute for me to get my luggage so she told him that I could bring as many bags as I want and he’ll have to lump it.

That problem solved.

Back to my clothing choices. I assume Santa Fe is different from New York  I don’t want to feel out of place so no daisy dukes and absolutely nothing midriff baring. Certainly during daylight hours. At night I’m sure anything goes.

Liz’s father is the biggest wheel I’ve ever met. He rubs elbows with Presidents and movie stars. Not to mention Shahs. Even though I can get by telling my friends in New York that he and I are very close friends and he never makes a move without checking with me, that might not fly down there where  people know him so I’m probably going to have keep the “bragging” to a minimum.

I’m not only going to have to clean up my wardrobe, my language will need a bit of brushing up.

Yep for 4 days, 3 nights it’ll be like the word “fuck” was never invented. And “cocksucker”? Never heard of it. Even if someone asks me “How’s dave?”

I just called the pension people to find out how to divide dave’s pension between us and how we can start taking the money.  dave says that whatever I decide to do with my half, he’ll do with his.

Now if I were a different kind of person I’d tell him that I’m investing my half in mood rings but as you might have already guessed I’m too much of a saint for that and besides if he lost all his money I’d probably end up giving him some of mine.

I’ve been told that at some point I have to stop telling people that I’ve been left after a long marriage and I know that’s true but sometimes it just greases the wheels. Especially with women.

The woman at the pension place, Becky, became way more attentive after I happened to mention in conversation that my husband had a girlfriend.

Like I said though, men aren’t that sympathetic. The guy from American Airlines wouldn’t budge and upgrade me even when I embellished the story slightly by claiming that dave tried to kill me with a sword.

From now on when I want something done and a man answers I’m going to slam the phone down and keep calling back until a woman picks up.

I wasn’t lying yesterday.

By 6:30 Julie and Violet had gone and the dishes were in the dishwasher.

When Liz came home she just sat at her place at the table and started eating. I did leave the food out. I had just found God as I do every September and being a good hostess is in the Torah so she knew her dinner would be there whatever time she got in.

I have to plan my day.

I like to do 6 things every day. Then I can feel that I’ve accomplished something.

Some days it’s easy. Make business calls or go to the dentist,  you know, like that.

Other days I have to pad my list. Read Celebitchy, tape Dr. Phil, WATCH Dr. Phil.

Today is a hard day.  It’s still Rosh Hashanah so I don’t want anyone who’s not Jewish seeing me doing something ungodly like going to Bloomingdales.  Whatever I do has to appear to have angel’s wings attached to it.

For example maybe I should be  throwing away my old spices. I have a shelf of spices above my sink most of which I don’t use..

Unlike my mother before me who was strictly a salt, pepper, poultry seasoning and garlic powder kind of girl I have added oregano and basil to my repertoire.

Even though I’ve never used them, my spice shelf has rare herbs on it like fennel. What the hell do you put fennel in? Not that it matters. It’s been there since 1989 so the chances of it adding or detracting from any recipe is unlikely.

Besides I cook everything so long that flavor is only a distant memory in any of my dishes.

I just finished my list with “Think about throwing away your spices”

Whew! That felt good.

Miss Liz is home again so things are back on track.

David and I picked her up at the airport and we went out to dinner. Whenever anyone arrives at Kennedy Airport anywhere near dinner time we like to pick them up so we can eat at this same restaurant.

It’s an italian restaurant that looks like something out of “The Sopranos”. They serve the greatest food family style. Every table is filled with big groups laughing and screaming at each other.

Since we stick out like sore thumbs, (well Liz and David do, I don’t) every time we go there the maitre d’ who I assume is named Frankie because almost everyone there is named either Frankie or Dominic, asks “Where ya from?”.

We answer, “Manhattan”.

And he always says “Whoa, we don’t get a lot o’ youse guys.”

Now for those who live in other lands (New Jersey or Canada) Manhattan is about 30 minutes away but it might as well be on Mars.

It’s not just the staff that are warm and friendly. The people that eat there are too.

Last night there was a long table celebrating a birthday next to us. A woman from the party happened to catch our eyes and she introduced us to the whole family, Uncle Tony, the birthday boy, (he was about 70) and Aunt Marie, she’s one of 18 children.  And  do you believe it? The woman speaking has 109 first cousins. I won’t name them all but there were 14 Angelos , 15 Teresas, 11 Christophers and only one Jennifer.

The last time we were there there was another party and the waiter was cutting up a sheet cake and passing it out to the revelers. When he saw me looking at it he just cut another piece and put it in front of me. Tell me this isn’t the greatest place.

Today is Rosh Hashanah or the “Day of the Latkes” as it is said.

I am making a lovely dinner for Julie, Violet and Lizzie. David is in Tennessee.

I’m making roast chicken, corn, potatoes (2 starches just to piss off my sister and a few of you purists) and a few other things.

In the age old jewish tradition dinner should start at 5:30 and be over by 5:45.

So yesterday I get a comment from Julie saying that she feels like her heroism in the finding of my iPad was downplayed.

One could say that’s true if one didn’t have a kid that called her sweet aunt a liar after she took her to FAO Schwartz and spent almost $120 on her for no reason other than that her lip was quivering.

And yes I know I wouldn’t have found my iPad if Julie didn’t tell me about the app because I had already turned the chair over twice but because it was wedged in it was a no go.

I have to say though that just looking at that chair brings back the memory of Julie constantly haranguing me for leaving the tags on it for  a bit past it’s purchase date.

After all, even twelve years after you buy something someone might ask you if there’s any rayon in the fabric and the information can be at your fingertips.

Look, maybe I was remiss in not giving her the proper credit but that’s just my way.

You gotta take the good with the bad. For example I don’t chastise her for rolling her eyes and groaning when after one glass of wine I may be too complimentary to the waitress. And frequently the waitresses do look like Farrah Fawcett Majors during the red bathing suit era.

And is it a federal crime to introduce the busboy as your fiancé?  I know that when I did that the other night it puzzled Violet enough to ask her mother if in fact I was getting married again. That was  no excuse for Julie to be telling her that Ant Mattie is a bit “odd”

And ever since Julie was a little girl she’s been on me for talking to strangers on the street especially if they seem to be out of towners. I’m sure that they were grateful for the “fun facts” I gave to them  while waiting for a light or strolling through Central Park.

I know she’ll disagree with this but I consider myself one of the reasons that New York is known as “The Friendliest City in the World”

But since “Change” is my middle name ( in addition to “Joan” and “Truth”) I am more than happy to give Julie the credit she craves and deserves.

Julie, without you I never would have found my iPad or met The Tough Cookie, who, by the by is having a cookie festival that Julie says I can’t go to if I insist on bringing Oreos.

How do I begin?

Yesterday was a day of extreme highs and lows in Mattieland.

Let’s start with the highs.

My sister and brother in law (Julie’s parents) had slept over the night before so we had a lovely breakfast before they went off to visit their other children.

Also it was the day of Violet’s 67th ninth birthday party.

Julie was way overwhelmed so I offered to pick up the cookies she ordered from @THEtoughcookie, or Gail as she is named. Now I was really looking forward to this. I follow Gail on twitter and I love everything she writes plus Hello – Cookies.

Julie has been raving about Gail for as long as I can remember. Not only because as she says, she’s the Michelangelo of cookies but she said that when she met her she loved her.

That made this meeting a great responsibility. I not only combed my hair and put on lipstick but in order to not scare her I decided to wear, instead of my usual black, a maroon shirt peeking out from under my black jacket or as I like to say “a rainbow of color”.

Since I was driving and I had Rupert with me, she came down to bring me the cookies and she brought her dog with her.

Gail was everything I hoped she’d be. She was warm and pretty and I wanted to hug her. In fact I did. Also the cookies were  like individually wrapped paintings.

Her dog was sweet and cute and the fact that Gail seems to think that she has regular ears says a lot about her. They were in fact exactly like bird wings.

We only spoke for a minute because she was working and I was on an errand of mercy.

As I was leaving she said “Have a good time at the party”

Since I wanted her to like me I said “Thanks, I will” rather than the truth which was that I’d rather have lit cigarettes put out in my eyes than go to Violet’s party.

I was feeling really happy when I got home. I think I remember passing my iPad and telling myself to plug it in.

That was the last I saw of it.

Later I looked for it and it was nowhere to be found. I looked all over my house over and over. I started at the door and moved  outward. I even looked in the refrigerator. Nothing. I looked in David and Liz’s house and in the incinerator room. Since as I’ve told you often I only have about 6 marbles left anything is possible so I could have thrown it away.

I finally went to bed as sad as sad could be.  Once again I missed dave. He would have taken me to the Apple store and bought me a new one immediately.

This morning Julie called and asked if I had found it. When I said no she told me to try the “find your iphone” app on my computer.

Do I have to tell you how this ended? The app finds your thing and then you tell it to make a beep and lo and behold you find your iPad in between the arm and the cushion of your lazy boy then you can be happy again..

I love my new guest room.

For the most part I love everyone who comes to visit me. I like the women better than the men. Here’s why.

Men feel a need to tell you what you should do to improve your life, mechanically.

I have heard “The faucet in your guest bathroom has a drip ” from every man over 40 who’s been here. Did they fix it?  No.

Even the ones who offer to fix it want me to be part of the solution.

“Do you have a wrench?”

Say I say “Yes, I have a wrench”.

That means I have to get up, look for a wrench and bring it to them.

AND it’s never just a wrench. “Do you have a weezle?”

I never have the right size weezle so that means a trip to Home Depot which though it’s across the street still means I have to wear something other than my pajamas and either drag Rupert with me or upset him by telling him I’m going out.

Then after one trip to get the weezle I have to go back again to get the snark that the weezle needs in order to work efficiently.

Then I have to stand there and hand him things and applaud because they’re fixing something I never gave a shit about to begin with.

So I have learned. The answer to “Do you have a wrench?” is always “No”.

So the Iphone 5 is out.

This would make me happy except for one thing.

It’s connectors aren’t the same as the the old connectors so if I want to charge  it in my car or attach it to my computer I will have to get all new connectors. Pretty soon every Apple connector we have will go the way of the floppy disk. First it will be hard to use and then it will be impossible to use. They make it seem like no big thing because they say there is a thing you can buy to make the old connector usable. Guess how long that’ll be around?

My head is hurting from all this but since I already opened my brain I think I’ll talk about something else smart.

I got an email from Beyonce today.

She said that she admits that she doesn’t usually write to me but this is something special. If I donate $25 to President Obama there is a good chance that I and a guest be invited to a function, date to be named later, with her and Jay Z to meet the President in New York. Hotel and plane fare will be taken care of although that won’t be necessary in my case.

I can’t imagine 3 people I’d rather hang with but what are my chances of winning?

$25 is a lot of money. However I am an optimist . I often buy lottery tickets and that has proven to have a very poor return in my case.

What to do? What to do?

And say I send the $25 and I win and the date to be named later is the night of one of the Housewives shows or even worse one of those end of season things where they all yell at each other.

Decisions, decisions.  This blog is getting way too hard on my grey matter to continue. Sometimes I’m just way too intellectual for my own good.