On Sunday there will be impeachment rallies across America. Our government consists of a bunch of fanatics who seem to think that they’re above and better than the people.
I will be posting on Mondays and Wednesdays until the end of the year, and maybe beyond. As always I reserve the right to change my mind.
Yesterday I went into a bit of a funk, posted about it, buried it after a “more” and would love to thank Neva and MizzyB for their wonderful comments. Still am in a I hate December except for Christmas music funk. For some reason really like that most Christmas music that isn’t “I saw mommy kissing Santa,” songs about or by chipmunks and reindeer.
I’m no good at widgets and other things that seem to be integral to blogging now. I can waste half the day trying to put in a button, and it is a waste, because all I want to do is write. And take too much time from my real life. I hate not being proficient at the technical stuff but that’s a reality. I have just officially wasted a morning trying to get a button into the sidebar. That’s the reason I haven’t updated my photoblog. Yet the bells and whistles appear to be more important than the writing. Don’t people read anymore? Maybe that is a real problem.
About comments, Elvira Black left a comment on my post at Blog Critics and she’s a Jewish baby boomer from the same basic area of Queens I lived in until my parents uprooted us and moved to real Long Island. If you don’t know her you will want to as she’s a very good writer who actually loves living in New York.
Oh I must mention Bone who supplies the words from his source. Only Bone would say that, and for a second I confused it with an informant or something else.
I’m feeling better because Boston Legal is on tonight. “James Spader” is my top Google search. I really didn’t like “James Spader” “gay,” as he has long been the only actor who enters my dreams.
The friendship divorce
New York, 1990’s
Who says that it can’t snow in July? Dinah shakes the globe and is transfixed by the snow flakes, some small and some large that cover a village in the Alps. Snow globes from every place she has traveled cover four shelves along with sea shells that sprout pig families, strange alarm clocks with animals, and other truly tacky objects. Her boyfriend refuses to move into her apartment until she gets rid of the collection, and she refuses to move into his apartment until he gets rid of the life size cardboard cut ups of Dylan, Donovan and Ginger Baker.
Obviously he is deeply troubled. All her girlfriends agree that his choice of cardboard figures are worrisome. Dylan, okay. But to live with a crumpled Dylan? Who has listened to Donovan since the 60’s? There’s nothing worth saying about Ginger Baker.
Dinah can’t shake the feeling that she and her best friend Camilla had their final fight. They were supposed to move to the nursing home together in 60 years. Their friendship has outlasted five marriages, and three live in relationships. How will they see their friends? Who gets the first Tuesday reading group? The weekly writing workshop? They won’t be able to go to each others houses when its their turn to host the Sunday salons. Poco and Bovary, their dogs loved their seven AM and PM walks in the Riverside Park Dog run. They won’t take anymore long walks and end up at a cute ethnic restaurant or a diner. Saturday night at the movies with the girls.
This was worse than any of their divorces or failed relationships. This was their lives, and had been since freshman year at college. They had been the nasty girls who seemed so nice to the girls who sat in the dorms all week and weekend. They only used it to change clothes though the college had a curfew for freshman girls.
Dinah turned red when she thought about how much fun she and Camilla had made of the girls. It would come back to haunt them. The phone rang:
“Camilla, of course I’ll meet you at Patzo’s.
She quickly changed into a sleeveless slip dress, went out onto the street, and fell, head first, onto the curb.