Tomorrow night will be eighteen years since you left this earth. I hope you found a better place where all your friends and relatives will recognize you whether or not they knew you with your moustache. Only you would seriously ask me (when perfectly physically healthy and mentally healthy for you) if you should shave half your moustache so when you reached the other side people who knew you before would recognize you….

Eighteen years and I miss you more than ever. Truthfully I didn’t miss you for years as I believed you were ready to die–always complaining about your forever gone friends and family–and it seemed to me selfish to want you alive.

I thought you were very old. Now 77 is the new beginning of old age. Oh lets get onto something less depressing.

I moved into my house last Thursday. Lucia came from NY, for the weekend, just to help me. CLo and her husband W came from Atlanta. They were beyond selfless and I’m so grateful. You taught me to be a good friend and that lesson has paid off in spades.

The town I live in has a Wal Mart. I was looking at the 40th of an aisle devoted to Passover and they had Yazeirt candles which aren’t used on Passover but are used on death anniversary’s. I took it as a sign that for once I should be a good daughter and i bought one. I so hope I remember to light it tonight.

I’m exhausted and not in the mood to write. I can’t do you or me or anybody justice and I have to see how much money I have lost in three hours. It’s like a game this money losing thing. Once I made money and now…It’s not the stock market you loved. It’s stacked against all but who work in the highest Wall Street positions Oh let me shut up.

I don’t know if they celebrate death days where ever you are. If they do I hope you get to have a perfect day or maybe they all are. Like you I want to believe…

That’s it. Photos in a few days.
Two Iranian Christian bloggers are missing. As I’m four fifths on an incredible natural high, one fifth scared I left the townhouse not perfect and three fifths crazed by the money I have been spending when I should be saving, truly horrible things are happening. I know my math was off; it’s just the way I feel
This is a photo of me and the boyfriend I call well lots of things. If it doesn’t link properly I will have it later.

We’re in Folk City in the late 70′s. I met Jeffrey (his real name) when one of the soon to be new owners of Folk City, Robbie Woliver told me I had to come back the next day to see a girl who was better than incredible. My friend Helena and I had stopped by after dinner at Panchito’s a greasy horrible cheap Mexican restaurant that was very beautiful (I think) and everybody loved though if you didn’t eat your food in two minutes it congealed. Most people really went for the endless chips, dips and frozen Margaritas.

People liked hanging with me because well I hope they enjoyed me and I had contacts at all pivotal clubs in Manhattan. It was strange. I even knew Marc the doorman at Studio.

Helena lectured me because I was working twelve to fourteen hour days six days a week. I had recently been promoted to supervisor in a computerized litigation company and loved my job. But Helena was right. I realized the next day I wanted a boyfriend and set out to get me one. I have written in depth about the walk from 63rd & Fifth to the Village. How I stopped at Macys and bought new clothes–as it turned out it wslucky for me I didn’t have to go to work in the same clothes.

Yes those were the days I would think “I want a boyfriend” and despite my extreme shyness one would appear. The same thing happened with weight. “I want to lose 20 pounds,” and I would. Now–well I really try with the weight thing and it’s more manageable but the other thing….If you don’t try….and sadly I didn’t have to learn the skills.

The girl was Lucinda Williams. She and Jeff were friends from New Orleans and he suggested she send Moses Ash of Folkways a demo tape. Jeff had a recording contract with them. She didn’t become real famous for another decade at least but Rob was right; she blew the audience away. It was a star studded audience; filled with recording artists, producers, reviewers. I was in music groupie heaven. Problem was I could never be an actual groupie type. I was more the girlfriend type. I was shy. Robbie would come over and tell me that so and so wanted to meet me–he would come over constantly. I would smile demurely. Sometimes I want to hit the girl I was and tell her–all you had to do was smile at the guy–not Robbie. I always said I had to be hit over the head.

Jeff was the only one who came over and told me a bad joke. I’m a total sucker for bad Polish jokes. It was the 70′s and Jeff and I moved in together two days later. I plead the 70′s defense.
The thing was Jeffrey was sexy. Real sexy for the time. I felt as if I had been hit over the head by–I’m not sure I can describe the feeling. All my girlfriends were impressed. Very impressed. All my male friends disliked but tolerated him.

Jeff was the only one who came over and told me a bad joke. I’m a total sucker for bad Polish jokes. It was the 70′s and Jeff and I moved in together two days later. I plead the 70′s defense.

I have written a lot about Jeffrey. I did love him. For about six months he made me happier than I could imagine being. I think I did the same to him. I really didn’t mean to write this much.

This post was written under the influence of “I bought a house, sweated the renovation, and paid for everything, and wow, my life is becoming exciting once more. Only this time I’m in charge.”

“Let me give you excellent service.” Him
“How do you spell that?” Him
“B.A.R.N.E.S & N.O.B.L.E” me
“How do you spell that?” Him
“M.A.I.N. S.T.R.E.E.T.” Me

This is how my day began. Without the dots though I was very tempted to say “A.M.P.E.R.S.A.N.D”

After the fifth “excellent service” I asked him to can the word “excellent” as it was making my blood pressure rise.
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This audit is taking way too much time as there’s only so much I can do and have to rely on other people. My files are in storage and I can’t control when the van will come and I can unpack.
I got the last thing I needed to get my taxes in order today. My attorney screwed up big time. She “forgot” that the buyers of my apartment had a mortgage so everything had to be redone. How can you “forget” that? I had to remind her what the mortgage broker looked like. She finally remembered her perfect manicure. I’m not finding life fun now.

I guess I should tell you I bought an apartment in New York in 97 for about the amount I would have spent when we looked in 88. The difference was the building was classier, the apartment more beautiful and more renovated than any we saw but oh so small. Though in my imagination now…

I sold it this past October. I know you thought people lost IQ points for every mile they moved out of the NY/suburb area and had an elaborate formula for the IQ loss, but I could sell my apartment for more money than you would have believed and I saw last year that this past spring summer and fall would probably be the last of the good times.

Though maybe they’re going to come back in a slightly different format. Like a bad TV show remade for a bigger audience.

So much has happened. I wouldn’t know where to start. That’s probably my book.

So let me just say I bought a house. Yes a free standing house–but not being a fool I hired people to do everything. It’s much cheaper here. I moved to South Carolina.

I know you don’t think they let Jews in South Carolina but it was actually the first state to guarantee Jews religious freedom. Yes I know that was a long time ago.

It’s a nice place. I truly like it. My house is perfect for one person who likes both solitude and company. It will be perfect later if I need a roommate or help (and have the money for that–the times they are different than any you imagined in my lifetime.)

I’m one person and while I want schools and things to be great, be real, daddy. Schools in Manhattan were only becoming good in the past fifteen years because of helicopter parents–a mode of parenting you invented. Libraries–we might have the best research libraries anywhere but lending ones…not so good.

I actually like the lending library here. Not that I have joined yet. It’s near my house and I will join after I move two weeks from last Friday. And I want the schools to be good. But I love the low taxes–yes I’m a Dem but…

Our new President talks about redistributing wealth. When I personalize I hate the thought. Everybody we know is educated and to some extent a have. Shouldn’t more people be? I don’t buy the notion that many or most people are meant just to be clerks at Wal Mart. This subject is too complex for me right now daddy and I hear you arguing with me in the background…But I know that you believed people should have opportunities and I do believe President Obama means the same.

I’m burnt daddy. Being audited. I know you taught me never to fear the IRS and I don’t but the paperwork’s a bitch. And my frigging lawyer from the apartment sale in New York still hasn’t sent me the paperwork and I need it if I’m going to do my taxes on time, and you betcha I’m going to have them into the accountant before I move. Though getting my taxes to him a year ago plus a week might have caused this problem.They were very complicated and that week was the first leg of my move. The Bear went under that weekend; I didn’t know if I could sell my apartment.
I honestly didn’t think that if a brokerage house folded into another brokerage house the first brokerage house still has to send you a 1099. And four fifths of the things they asked for they have–under the names listed on my 1099′s. So I’m freaked but not overly. It’s just I wanted this time to be stress free. Or just a bit because life without stress isn’t supposed to be good.

Uh brokerage houses. I hate to tell you what happened to most of your favorite ones. You wouldn’t believe it. As I said Bear Stearns well didn’t really fold but is a shell of itself. When my apartment was in contract Lehman Brothers did fold. There’s so much you wouldn’t believe. Frank Rich who used to be the theater critic explains how much we have all changed. It’s an incredible article and sort of sums a lot up. From theater to OpEd. Life is one big stage, and Frank Rich’s the one man I would hunt down and marry if he weren’t already.

You had your stroke on 3/26 which happened to be your 52nd wedding anniversary. Poor mommy had to live with the best of days and the almost worst of days being one and the same for a decade. You died on 3/31–eighteen years ago. You and mommy were bookends as she died a decade later.

My 90′s the decade of my discontent for many reasons–including many that had nothing to do with you or mommy began on 3/31/91 and ended on 10/14/01.

Maybe next time I will explain blogging to you and how in various ways it remade my life.

Bone entitled this photo “toilet of pia.”

When I was looking from my deck at my barely one fifteenth of an acre irregular plot, I couldn’t help but notice a toilet that came with the house. I gutted one bathroom and took the toilet out of the other. Nobody wants to live with other peoples toilets, I think.

Eldin One was very psyched at my obvious excitement and asked if I was planning on putting in flowers. Of course; ragweed.

Ich bin a Southerner.

My house renovation blog. I was surveying my property; (my tenth or so of a very irregular acre) looked at something and began squealing. “I’m officially a Redneck. Yahoo–Mountain Dew.” Actually I didn’t put that last part in. My coming out as a Redneck made Eldin One and Bone both very happy. They’re Southern so….
I can’t remember the last time I did 3WW I should be moving, into my house, in a week or three and hope to have the mental energy and physical time to truly participate occasionally in blogging things.

Alana practiced smiling in the mirror. She wanted her smile to appear genuine but not as glowing as her normal smile. A slightly tipsy though highly functional Mona Lisa was the effect she desired. After half hour her mouth hurt but she thought she had it down. Burt’s Bees Wax applied liberally to her teeth and gums kept her lips from drying out and more importantly her mouth moist enough for her to talk normally. She didn’t want to have dry mouth this morning. No that would be almost as bad as no smile or her 100 watt one.

Fortunately nobody was in the elevator. She smiled and waved at the doormen as if she were too busy to speak to them for she was. Idly she wondered when her building would become a one doorman one, instead of two most hours. Union rules precluded a reduction in hours. About one tenth of the building residents weren’t paying their monthly charges; another 20% were becoming chronically late and none of the luxe two to five million dollar apartments for sale were moving.

It only took her 22 minutes to walk the 33 blocks south and four avenues east. Being oblivious to people she bumped into helped. Alana ran into the ladies room that didn’t look as if it belonged in the gorgeous art deco office complex. Her face wasn’t too red, but she put some more rosacea cream on. It wasn’t as if Alana had rosacea; her best friend did. Alana’s motto had always been: “you could never have too much make up or skin care products.”

Oh life, why was she going to have to change a lifetime of habits? Could she? Fortunately she still looked great in red lipstick. She had bought many Chanel reds over the years and kept them fresh in her dressing room tiny fridge. Yes she liked this affect. Pale skin, red lips, dark eyebrows and lashes. Alana knew she looked very 40′s retro.

She wondered what would happen in the auditorium the meeting was going to be held in. Would there be a ramble? No, unfortunately, the others, like her were too civilized to duke it out.

Do you call a large room with seats and a stage in an old classy complex an auditorium? The meeting notice had called it a conference room but it sat 500. The meeting was supposed to begin at ten AM. Alana arrived at 9:45, smiling her Mona Lisa type smile. The room was packed. Her sister and cousins were sitting in one of the front rows. Her cousin Tony waved frenetically at her and pointed to an empty seat next to him. Oh Tony, was he going to be a drama queen to the end?

The murmur going through the room was becoming louder and louder. Promptly at ten, her own lawyer, walked onto the stage. Hal looked so dignified with his slightly too long hair, custom made suit, Italian loafers. She remembered from the days she knew him more intimately his penchant for silk socks or no socks. Oh half the women in the room had slept with Hal and another quarter wanted to. In the end, he had been too easy for Alana. Still she was proud of him as he began to speak:
Ladies and gentlemen. The wheels of justice have been moving too slowly for you. I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do but I can present Bernie Madoff.”

As one, the formerly dignified people in the audience moved to the stage. “Yes,” Alana thought triumphantly, “we’re going to avenge the loss of our fortunes.”

I don’t live in NY anymore but am a New Yorker through and through. Bernie Madoff perpetuated the largest fraud ever, the Ponzi of Ponzi schemes. To be Madoffed is to be swindled out of your money. Some of us wish we had that excuse but nobody wants to lose their money that way. I and many people I know are overly fascinated with him. He’s so sick among his many many victims were Eli Weisel and his foundation. Not that anybody deserved… I’m so thankful for what I have left–I’m being audited and am preparing my taxes for this year. It’s very sad. Humor is the only weapon
This is the NY everybody dreams of and that sort of existed for me until the 90′s. Coincidentally I lived three blocks and two avenues from The Apthorp; it’s my favorite building and I’m a too well known customer at the Apthorp Pharmacy. Hooks you because it takes insurance and then you buy $60 candles, home perfome, body lotion. OK. Not you. Me. I couldn’t afford my five and ten dollar prescriptions anymore.
Bone wants it known that it’s a great article and the older O’Neal owns my boat basin. Yes I have a personal boat basin in Riverside Park cum cafe that we no longer eat at often as there’s a place at the 70th Street that makes great hamburgers and has sometimes incredible concerts.
Recession blogs are big.

Ms. Maya Hunt was sitting at her computer watching her rapidly dwindling portfolio. She thought she had $600 every day this year in unrealized (not sold) losses. One 07 statement she had to give her accountant showed 200K in (sold, stock or money market fund never to be seen by her again) realized losses. When times get tough…She poured a triple Absolut and thought she should really invest in liquor companies.

Just as she finished pouring the phone rang. Her cousin Madison didn’t even say hello but began screaming about AIG and Warren Buffet. Madison was walking down West End Avenue and couldn’t care less who heard. She hung up and realized Maya hadn’t said a word. Not even “how are you?” Ill mannered her mother had always called that branch of her family.

Madison saw her pot dealer Frankie who kissed her and began talking about how his brother was walking away from a 300K condo loft deposit. When Frankie and Madison parted ways at 97th Street, Frankie saw his clfriend (client friend) Henry. Damn if Henry wasn’t screaming to himself. Nah, he had a bluetooth on.

Henry, an intellectual property lawyer, was on the phone with his clfriend, Neil, who had just had the last of his margin called. He didn’t know how he was going to tell his wife. Henry tried to sound encouraging as he tried even harder to get off the phone so he could buy some weed from Frankie.

Neil bought a bunch of tulips from a Korean grocery and almost fell on the slushy icing up snow, and walked up the 12 flights of stairs. By the time he arrived in the apartment he thought of something to tell his wife but Maya was sprawled on the couch face down, a drink knocked over and an unlit joint in her hand.