I’m getting ready for Thanksgiving.

My yearly Thanksgiving joke is that to commemorate the Indians that “welcomed” the Pilgrims I always serve indian food.

Since I’m the most centrally located my whole family gathers here  for most holidays.

To my never ending delight Brian and Cheryl and their 2 girls always stay here. This year my sister and brother in law are sleeping over too. My house is full of people I love so I shouldn’t be lonely.

How come I am?

Actually this morning I woke up thinking this was  the first time since dave left that I had a good dream.

I was sitting at the dining room table. Liz was over playing “Words withIdiots” as she likes to say. Sadie and Lily were playing with their computers, Brian was trying on a new outfit to see if we thought he looked as fabulous as he thought he did (he was right), their dog Burt was staring at me to make sure that if I wanted to give out treats he was right there to receive them and Rupert was shredding tissues under the table just because.

All of a sudden I felt a wave of loneliness float over me.

I was trying to figure out why. Although dave always looked forward to hosting these holidays he did little to help. In fact waking him up in time was always a trial.

Maybe it’s because I got a call from American Express for him. It was about his personal card and since I’m not handling payment it could be that he’s late. In either event they wouldn’t talk to me about it so I just emailed him to call them.

I wonder if he even remembers that it’s Thanksgiving.

Usually when I sit down to write my blog it’s because I have a something specific to say. I’m not sure that’s the case today. I just have fleeting thoughts that I want to write about or as my sister, Phyllis used to say “Throw something up the flagpole and see what sticks”. It seemed to make sense when she said it.

My nephew Eric, I still call him that even though his name has been Yitzhak for over 35 years, just went back to Israel.

It was a really good visit and in his email on his return he said that he just realized that when he spoke to his children about his trip he kept referring to my house as home.

I really felt good about that. The other kids seem more comfortable coming to stay too. I’m wondering if the absence of dave has something to do with that.

he was more than welcoming so it could be something as simple as now there is a guest room.

dave walked around all night talking to Japan and writing music and at about 3 a.m. he would make himself eggs or something to eat. When people are sleeping in the living room that can be disturbing.

But I’d like to think it’s because they feel so close to me that there are no eggshells to walk on.

There’s something else I’ve been thinking of.  dave is coming back to New York in January. The months are passing quickly. It seems like he only left a little while ago.

Again I say I don’t want him back but I wish I’d look much better when he returns so he’ll feel a little bad about leaving me.

I’d like to be skinnier. I wish I had the nerve and money to get a face lift.

Who am I kidding?  The time will pass and he’ll come back to the same old me.

Something happened last night and I can’t figure out why I found it unsettling.

I was at Liz’s house when David mentioned that he ran into our neighbor from upstairs in the elevator. She’s a lovely woman with a very nice husband and 2 small children. They live right above me.

Her kids really like me because I always tell them they can make as much noise as they want when their mother tells them they have to be quiet  out of consideration for me.

I always felt that if you insist on quiet you should live in the suburbs.

Anyway David said that she mentioned that she hadn’t seen him and Liz or me and dave in awhile.

He said “dave? He ran away with another woman to Japan.”

If there’s an offensive way to say something David can hone onto it in a second.

He said she was really shocked and then she said something strange, “Were they married?”

Liz and I gave each other puzzled looks.

The only thing I can figure is that since she knew dave was a musician (she had asked me if he’d make a demo for her because she liked to sing), she thought we were hippies or something.

I don’t know what bothered me so much about this.

Was it David’s stupid way of depicting my situation? How can you be mad at a frog for being a frog?

Was it my neighbor’s thinking that I wasn’t married?

Was it just one more of those boxes that I keep in my head that burst open without my being ready for it?

Whatever it was I took a tranquilizer before I went to sleep and slept like a baby. A married baby.

Today I went to visit my sister Phyllis.

She’s buried in a cemetery in Valhalla. I went with 3 of her 4 sons. We stood over her grave and tried to connect that flat hard stone with the woman who was always laughing and making us laugh. She was beautiful until the day she died. (If she’s reading this she’ll be glad I wrote that.)

Even though I put a stone of remembrance on her grave and said a few words to her I really couldn’t feel her presence.

The funny part is that I feel her with me all the time. But there, nada.

Instead I kept thinking about something the cemetery does. It brags.

When you walk into the building there is a glass case with a display of mementos from some of the famous people that are buried there.

In the back of the case there’s a Danny Kaye video. Pretty close to the front there’s a bottle of Knickerbocker beer to represent Jacob Rupert who owned that beer company and incidentally the Yankees.

My nephew Jim was pretty puzzled that front and center was a big metal blade for an electric hand saw. We couldn’t quite figure out what connection that had to the person buried there. And after all, Danny Kaye was way more famous and deserved that prime space. Or so we thought.

Now here’s the mystery. Above the case was a map of the cemetery. We looked at the map and several graves were highlighted. They had Ayn Rand, Tommy Dorsey, Ann Bancroft and Lou Gehrig!

They had no baseball symbolizing Lou Gehrig yet they put a saw blade and a bottle of beer in their case. No video from “The Graduate” and no copy of  “The Fountainhead”.

This was the shittiest excuse for a brag that I’ve ever seen.

I used to get in trouble a lot when I was in grade school.

Seventh grade was my worst year. We had a very weak teacher who took over mid year and in an attempt to make is like her taught us chess and gave each kid 10 jelly beans at the end of the day for being good. She would take away one jelly bean for every rule broken each day.

Since I thought I was such a scream, I never once got a jelly bean. I remember my mother told me that the teacher complained to her that I was the only girl that was as bad as the boys when it came to cutting up.

Which brings me to the point of today’s writings.

Whenever my mother had to go to school for any of us she’d pile on the diamonds for intimidation. I guess that’s where I got my love for big flashy diamonds. I’ll take a big one with a slightly yellow tint over a small tasteful pure white any day.

And whether there’s any reality to it or not when I return something to a store or have to complain about something I feel oh so much better about it if I’m wearing my jewelry.

Listen, I know this doesn’t make me likable but I am what I am.

Back to my point.

Soon I’m going to have to stop wearing my wedding and engagement rings. Then who will I be?

The other day someone who reads my blog said that a friend of his was just told by her husband that he’s leaving. He suggested that she read my blog, thinking that it might give her comfort to hear that someone is going through the same thing. He thought that she might get some insight from reading how I’m dealing with it.

Hearing this filled me with sympathy and grief. I thought about how scared she must be and I knew that she had so much to go through before she even reached where I am and I’m an open wound that has learned that I have no choice but to go on.

The last thing she should do is read my blog. It won’t make her feel better. It will just pour salt in her wound.

If I watch Dr Phil and there is any discussion of divorce, it’s painful to me. Salt

“Desperate Housewives” has a couple who are breaking up and the husband is dating. Salt

My friends talking about their husbands as in  ” ___  and I hated that movie” Salt

Here’s my advice.

What she really should do is go to a shrink who gives medication.

Only when her hands stop shaking and when she can wake up without that sinking feeling and when she can stop thinking and thinking so she can sleep can she deal.

Then she can protect herself from the rest.

What a week. From the pits of despair to the heights of international fame and through it all I am the same humble person. Other than my having to wear a baseball cap and sunglasses to Duane Reade, I’ve hardly changed at all

I mentioned not picking my nephew up at the airport because of Rupert’s brief hospitalization.

My nephew Eric, or Yitzhak as he’s now known, was coming from Israel.

He originally left New York about 40 years ago.

As a college student he went to Europe with a girlfriend. When he decided to go on to Israel, his girlfriend’s parents objected to her going there because it was too dangerous.  He went on alone and she stayed in Europe. I think they were supposed to meet again later.

During that separation she died. I don’t remember whether it was food poisoning or a gas leak in her hotel but it was a horrible tragedy.

My sister, Phyllis, called Eric and told him what had happened. Naturally he was devastated. He said he would come right home.

I few days later she received a telegram saying “Return delayed. Letter to follow.”

It seems he decided to stay on and study in Israel.  A year or two later his brother went to talk him into coming home and he too decided to stay.

Some of the details of this time  are vague to me but this is all how I remember it.

Both boys became Hasidim. Although I grew up in a Jewish home, my mother kept kosher, we followed a Conservative path, but by no means Orthodox, the Hasidim were as strange to us as any foreign religion.

They eventually had arranged but very happy marriages and many children.

My sister Phyllis and her husband Bern finally accepted the situation although it took some doing with the differences between them.

Phyl used to tell the story of walking through a marketplace in Israel with Eric, Yitzhak by then, and when she wanted to stop and buy them some nuts or something he told her not to. In a very serious voice he said they might have worms in them and he’s not allowed to eat worms.

Clearly annoyed she answered “I’m not allowed to eat worms either Eric!”

Although there were some years of separation with me when I decided to marry dave, a non jew, eventually that all passed and we became as close as ever.

Since his mother’s death my home has become his home when he comes to New York

Whenever any of his children come with him they love the fact that I look like their father and we both laugh all the time when we’re together. For that reason I seem very familiar to them as they do to me.

Having him visit is no easy feat. He will only eat Glatt Kosher food. He will not use my silverware or glasses, pots or pans.

Try making a salad with plastic knives.

I look at him sitting across from me and I don’t see the grandfather with a long white beard, dressed in black. I see the sweet boy who always stayed in my apartment when I was single and who went roller skating with me down city streets when we were way too old to do that.

I see how happy he is with his giant loving family and though 40 years ago we would have given anything to bring him home, we would have been wrong.

Yesterday was a weird day. Mostly bad but ending up okay. Not only did I almost murder the dog I love like my own son but on the way back from the Animal Medical Center I was interviewed by the New York Times.

Liz and I were walking home with Rupert in his carriage, still a little loopy but thankfully on the mend. After the morning I’d spent I was really feeling happy.

A movie star handsome young man, 29 ( I know because I asked him his age after he asked mine and Liz made him show his press card) stopped us to ask about the traffic surrounding the closing of the bridge for the making of Batman.

Unfortunately he only took 2 quotes. He seemed totally disinterested in the break up of my marriage and my opinions of the Penn State situation. Go figure.

He did ask for my phone number in case he had any “follow up questions” wink wink.

I guess I still got it.

Liz said in an email to my family

“She should thank her publicist, who is with her at ALL times and had to make all sorts of deals and promises to keep her dirt out of the paper.”

Rupert’s vet bill was a little over $500.

It was the best money I ever spent.