I knew I had to get my apartment on the market by the end of January at the latest for it to sell in a reasonable timeframe and at the price I wanted. But I was only the owner and couldn’t fire the contractor as he had too much of my money.

You’ll get it back in the sale
No I won’t. Listen to me.

But of course he didn’t. It was all about his needs and his wishes. I should have never tried to do him a favor for I might suffer dire consequences.

My 6 by 12 windowed marble bath has the wrong kind of marble. It’s not Carrera so what good is it? The huge reglazed tub isn’t a modern soaking tub so…? Oh the kitchen problems–they will truly haunt me.

I have only myself to be angry at am so I am. I knew I had to get on the market by January but who am I? Only somebody who saw what was going on and didn’t act quickly enough.

I’m angry at people who treated their homes as if they were a cash machine. Not talking about the people who got sucked into teaser mortgages but the people who thought the party would never end.

There are so many of them and we waste time feeling sorry for them? If you can’t afford it, don’t buy it. Simple. I hate to feel like a Republican on this and I do understand why the bail outs have to include people who weren’t acting responsibly.

But I was. And I’m paying for their partying like it was 99. The New York real estate blog delights in the fact that apartment inventory for sale is at an all time high. The other night I was reading it and realized exactly why I hate it and why I’m leaving New York. People don’t look at things in terms of people anymore but in terms of figures. If it can’t be quantified it’s meaningless.

They have no respect for the history of New York. No knowledge of New York’s social history. Had to Google rent control and rent stabilization. Didn’t know why it began. Youth is no excuse.

I could and have written long research papers on how modern New York came to be. I was so tempted to ask if they knew who Lewis Mumford, Jane Jacobs or Robert Moses even was. But I never comment on large blogs, and am not about to begin.

They didn’t understand the history of the Bronx–how Mose’s Cross Bronx Expressway cut it in half and White people with some money moved to Riverdale; White people without money moved to Coop City which had been a great amusement park, Freedomland, for a few years. They didn’t know parts of the South Bronx have become more surburban than bona fide surburbs.

They, not all of course, thought rent controlled apartments and stabilized ones are government subsidized. Not even the rent stabilization board is a government agency but why let facts get in the way?

Many new condos and rentals are truly government subsidized as they get tax abatements. The same person thought rent controlled and rent stabilized meant projects when it just means the rent is controlled or stabilized. The program began after World War Two to keep the middle class in the city. It’s far from perfect. I wouldn’t believe in it but nothing has taken its place.

Most people I know who are stabilized make between 40K and 100something. Have no real savings outside a 401K, are in “the helping professions,” exec assistants, paralegals, or in the arts. They have no savings not because they spend money wildly but because Manhattan is truly horribly expensive

But it’s a great city and these people are part of the reason why. I lived in a stabilized apartment for sixteen years. The first year the lease was in my father’s name as I had been irresponsible. The next year it was changed to my name and my name only. My boyfriend Zachary wanted his name added. Not even when we were truly in love would I do that. My best friend didn’t add her husband’s name when she was married–which was fortunate as he almost sued to get the apartment. It’s not the stuff of myths that people get divorced and divide the bedroom with markers.

My building had a great landlord. He sold it and the new owners tried to evict as many people as they could. They did evict both my neighbors. They sent me an eviction letter claiming that the lease was in my father’s name. It wasn’t but even had it been I had been paying the rent for the entire twelve or thirteen years I lived there and was obviously the tenant. No way could they evict me.

They could make my life hell and they did. This is an article about more modern day hell

I had five major floods they refused to take care of. They imported cheap prostitutes to live in one apartment next to me and drug dealers in the other. Whoever wanted to could sleep in the lobby and vestibule. This was during crack days and I was the first person in the building to leave in the morning.

I could have waited for them to buy me out. But I grew scared so I left. I sent the management letter a certified letter saying I was breaking the lease a few months early. They sent it back, and had the frigging nerve to call my elderly mother and tell her I moved without a return address or phone number. That was of course absurd and she told them so.

I should have bought that year–91. I could have a bought a large two bedroom dirt cheap but I didn’t want to profit off peoples misery as the housing market was down almost as much as it could be.

I used to believe in karma. I’m not sure that I do anymore. I want my apartment to sell and soon. I don’t need the realtors to tell me about their other apartments that are moving. What does that do for me?

And I hate this weekend. I have neither a mother nor a child. Am I supposed to retreat for the weekend?

The Town of North Myrtle will be 40 tomorrow. They’re having a concert with The Beach Boys without Brian but with Dean of Jan & Dean. If they do Mother’s Day things, somebody might have to ball me from jail.

Stumble it!

I just cleaned my cpanel of all unnecessary junk and went from having a filled disk to having much space. Feel much better about blogging and life in general. There is something about a clutterless life
Lately I feel self-conscious blogging not to prompts. I had a post mapped out in my head about when I was a little girl my father would take us to a client who had “girly calenders” and other pin-ups hung up in the back of his store. I found them revolting. When I was a teenager I was much more verbal about my hatred. Then I discovered noir films and pulp fiction and had to begin liking them. The other night I saw a movie about Bettie Page that I had meant to see when it was out. It left me with many questions I can’t quite verbalize. With some exceptions, I’m not sure there’s room in the blogosphere for discussions like this. It seems so compartmentalized and theme centered. It no longer feels like home but I’m having problems with that concept also.
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Cooper has an amazing image that she lifted from somebody and I would have taken from Cooper but my custom WP blog doesn’t do images.

I need images. I’m going to a shagger’s parade tomorrow. A year ago I never heard of shag music, and now I live in its home.

I have been spending way too much time reading this real estate blog where it is to some peoples interest to talk up the death of the Manhattan real estate market. As I’m selling an apartment….I write long, nuanced and rational responses that I don’t post.

Why don’t I post them? I was a political blogger for two years and too quickly learned that people don’t want rational, nuanced comments. They want to play up their views or to be snarky and stupid.

I so much prefer discussions in real life with people who might not hold my views but understand the framework of an argument. I so much prefer people who have many interests, and aren’t hung up on one POV or one minor point.

I almost feel like posting my comments that I delete here but it feels snarky to remind people that Manhattan actually has a real estate market.

I priced my apartment too high and reduced the price. Does this mean I’m in defeat? No it means I always knew it was too high but when a person prices an apartment it’s not just between her and her realtors. It’s analogous to Freud’s theory of sex; that when you’re sleeping with a person it’s not just the two of you but all four of your parents are in bed or wherever with you. Personally I have never bought into that. But my parents had a “healthy” attitude about sex so.

When you have a desirable apartment in a good building, everybody you know becomes involved. Had I priced it at the price it’s at now I would have heard forever how the realtors and I were lazy. This has nothing to do with the comments I never left. Hell, they’re too personal to post on a board where I have a screenname nobody knows, so I’m not going to post them here.

Leaving Manhattan was the best decision I made since my decision to move back. Even then I wanted to leave the New York area but I had an elderly mother who I loved very much. If I write about my father more, he was easier to write about. On the surface my mother was a cute suburban housewife. Under the surface…..I’m trying to write about her for Mother’s Day and it’s so hard. She’s not somebody I can easily categorize. I can’t really write about life lessons my mother taught me. She taught me everything. I don’t want to reduce her to a series of cliches.

Since I left Manhattan seven weeks ago I have been given a series of opportunties. I had unlimited energy when it didn’t benefit me; I have to get the motivation and energy back. Because the rest of the year is all about me, me and more me.

I do have a zen type feeling about my apartment. It needed to see me. I had staged it too well and took all the personality out so that anybody could picture herself there I bought it a flower box, flowers and arranged with somebody to keep refreshing the flowers.

The day before my meeting with the coop board, my bff’s daughter, Little Luce, then six, walked around the building touching it for luck. Now she’s seventeen and the next time I go back will be for her high school graduation. I didn’t dare ask her to touch the building again but somehow it came up and she’s going to….

Because I can’t wait to sell so I can buy here. For the first time in forever my life’s going to be doormen free. It feels so liberating.

Send out vibes, whatever. I need this new chapter of my life to go seamlessly.
•••••••••••
Actually it angers me that many people I know view this as a permanent vacation or “you’re too young….” I believe we’re given chances to remake our lives or make them better or live where we want.
I strongly believe that I was given a gift and had to leave Manhattan to make the most of it.
Life in New York is filled with tension. Once I thrived on that but it all became too much for me. I couldn’t help but overhear this cell conversation:
Hello Beautiful. Busy Busy. Can’t talk. Busy busy. Kiss kiss.
That’s not the mark of a successful person to me. It made me tense up–she was screaming so that everybody on that block of West End Avenue had to listen.
The hair salon I go to here–weekly–has a sign “please turn off your cells out of consideration for the other clients.” In New York nobody would listen to that. When I go to the salon there I listen to the sounds of 30 one way conversations. Everybody has to out important each other. The only acceptable answer to “how are you?” is “busy.” I began to yearn for the days when people had actual conversations with one another in salons, in stores, anywhere….

Stumble it!

This went into private though didn’t say that last night–nor did I touch anything to make it so. I need a design company to retweak Courting and another hosting company

The most exciting part of my day today, Monday was walking past The David Letterman Show twice and pretending that he came out to discover my brilliance and my Southern/New York beauty and put me on the show as an added guest. A girl can dream.
Until I sell my apartment, this will be my legal address. I’m coming back at the end of June, and suspect I will be coming to New York often even after I sell. New York runs through my blood as no place else ever could.

Spirit Air was only a half hour late. For Spirit that’s like being two hours early. At the Myrtle Beach Airport they had a display of banned cigarette lighters. Many looked just like guns. It was scary to think of what could happen if somebody took one out…I had never seen anything like them before. Hey I think Aim Flames look like guns–but these looked like the real thing.

Lucia and Rafe my two BFF’s came over. Lucia wanted to scream about how much she loved my hair but as Rafe was my hairstylist for so many years….Even he had to admit it looks great. We went shopping at Fairway at ten PM. It was much more crowded than any store I have been in, in North Myrtle during prime shopping hours. Thursday night I loved the exhilaration though I know that will wear thin. I bought sushi for breakfast. Sushi is one food I will never eat in North Myrtle–OK, it was brown rice, smoked salmon sushi but still–I wouldn’t buy any fresh fish that I wouldn’t eat within an hour or two. I did sample it when I came back home. Bought rough cut oatmeal as I can’t find it anywhere in North Myrtle. Rough cut oatmeal makes oatmeal into a truly divine experience. Have to buy hot wasabi peas and a few other things. Have a feeling I’m going to be buying many things over the Internet.

On Friday I began walking down Broadway looking for a certain mani/pedi place. The weather was incredible. When I passed Gray’s Papaya, I began tearing up–will take pictures and begin a photo blog to show you why. The thing is I can’t deal with the smell of hot dogs and have never actually been in a Gray’s. If I get a drink somebody has to buy me one. I was getting over an allergy induced migraine–my allergies are much better near the beach. But Gray’s symbolizes real New York to me, and my sinuses were clogged so I didn’t smell anything. Just stood there and teared and teared for my heart belongs here. Continue Reading »

Stumble it!

I put the post I wrote on the sidebar as I wanted this to be front and center. If this bores you don’t read it. I have to get it out.

The real estate blog I read was filled with people exuberant over the “death of the Manhattan real estate market.” One man in particular has been all over the threads and in posting so much spreads negativity.

He has a very vested interest in seeing others suffer as he wants to buy at depression prices. He cashed out. Or something. You never really know who commenters are. I gave up on political writing for large blogs a long time ago (as defined by the “youthful age of blogging”) because so many commenters had an agenda and would refuse to listen to any other POV. They and a few other people know everything and they know it well.

If they did, they would understand that a bad housing market is good for nobody as is a bad stock market which does go hand in hand. I caught this man talking about putting 250K into the stock market instead of a down payment. He mentioned putting it in one stock that would pay eight percent therefore paying $20,000 a year in interest.

In that one statement he showed ignorance in everything that he was trying to be an expert in. Nobody puts or should put that amount of money in one stock, one stock fund, bond etc. The 250K–put in a diversified portfoli– might go up but will probably go down. Therefore eight percent is eight percent of a lower number that is probably constantly changing and can’t be reliably predicted this year. He created a perfect stock market scenario which is exactly the opposite of what he says for the real estate market. You can’t have it both ways.

But what do I know? And for the record I don’t comment on that blog. It’s not worth it.

These people don’t seem to understand that that many of us bought not thinking of an apartment as an investment but were forced to by the very media that now tells us we never should have thought that way. And the psychology of entitlement that pervaded this country.

I never bought into that. I have never felt entitled to anything including being comfortable with my own intelligence and/or talent. This lack of feeling entitled caused me to wait too long. Or maybe not as I priced my apartment too high for me to feel comfortable with but I did that to see if anybody would bite. It was a couple of days before Bear Stearns went under but that was one event that shouldn’t cause an entire city to give up.

I know longer no what a fair price is but I know it’s not 100% less than somebody with a comparable apartment who sold last month. I have bills to pay and a life to maintain. Unfortunately it is that simple. I don’t have a mortgage so I can afford to be more flexible than most people but….

If my apartment doesn’t go into contract in x amount of time I will take it off the market. I can’t afford to pay maintenance and rent indefinitely. A strict coop board might be forced to let me rent me out.

Personally times are very different for me than during the last recession. I’m older. I can’t afford to wait ten years for housing prices to spike back.

I think new media and the affect of it on MSM can be very dangerous. People should bear some responsibility for what they say and not be content saying “the public has a right to know.”

The public doesn’t have a right to feel fear needlessly. And so far much of what’s been happening in Manhattan specifically is very fear generated. It might be a one industry town–the stock market–but it is different for many reasons I don’t have the time to go into now.

Tosay is seventeen years since my father died. That day was also the day the government officially said the stock market began its long trip upward.

I refuse to give into either fear or depression so I’m getting my hair done. Of course it’s pouring and very cold for the South.

I think murdering a contractor who took my money and stopped working and kept begging me for another chance would be considered justifiable homicide. I don’t want to get into that mind frame.

We are all in this together and we have a responsibility to look for answers that help all of us, not feed our own agenda.

Stumble it!

We’re having some problems getting this post to work. We don’t care.
My apartment’s going on sale today–the week that The New York Times officially called the Manhattan housing market not good. Some people, basically everybody we know, called us obsessive for renovating a perfectly nice apartment. Since the paper of record says you should renovate to sell, they call us foresighted.

Our host company had problems. We don’t know why the “iconic” pinup is gone. However….We have it back.
We’re too happy to have our archives to bear a grudge. It’s just that when we said we were going to shake up our life, we wanted our blog to be part of our new life.

We hadn’t realized Courting is our real home. As long as we have our blog we can live anywhere. Not true but it sounds good.

We lost some posts that talked about our very chaotic move. Briefly it took fourteen hours to get here. We arrived to a disaster. The townhouse next door had their water heater in the attic. It exploded. Our friend’s downstairs kitchen, dining room and living room floors had to be replaced.

Bobby our newest BFF the project manager said fixing this house was like “what’s that show?” “Extreme Home Makeover.” “Right, hon.”

Bobby accomplished in two days what took us four months to do to our apartment, and we didn’t have to constantly give him more money and tell him not to take out the recessed lighting in the kitchen as we like it and we wanted to focus on the things that bring in money–a reglazed bath tub, new paint, great sanded floors, new door knobs. We knew what to do and what not to do, but we only own the apartment.

Basically we spent four months being contractor to the contractor and totally appreciate professionals. We did bring in a professional but he too had his hand out constantly. We understand how high the cost of living is in New York and that people think if a person’s renovating to sell they will make millions. We know our apartment has limitations and won’t. Hence we wanted it to look as perfect as possible. We’re so happy to be out of the city of “gimme, gimme more.”

We did take our own furniture, rearrange and “staged” it amazingly, if we must say so ourselves. Our mother’s best friend, an interior designer, always told us we had the eye and whatever else is needed to be an interior designer. We didn’t think it intellectual enough and were scared of graphs. Now we could do the graphs on computer and think it a great occupation.
•••••••••••••••••••
We would like to remind people as it doesn’t seem to be talked about that in less than two weeks the US will have been in Iraq for five years. Five years too long.

Stumble it!

Life is good. Yes it is. See why it’s becoming good for me personally. Though I believe Horry County SC was the one county Obama didn’t take. I will be there for the general election where I will finally have a vote that counts. In the post below I included Caroline Kennedy’s endorsement of Obama. Caroline Kennedy can say the things many of us feel with more authority simply because she is who she is. I wish I remembered more about her father’s administration and less about his death but I was young…
The post below also has Bob Herbert’s truly excellent article “Questions for the Clintons.” It’s a rare Sunday that doesn’t belong solely to Frank Rich in my house…..
This article is about the death of young icons. Baby boomers grieved when James Dean died in 1955? As the oldest baby boomer was nine, and the peak year for baby boomer’s birth was 1957, this was almost impossible. I was four and rather doubt that I ever heard of James Dean. Continue Reading »

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I think we’re over the hump, apartment renovation wise. Yes I have a living room!! And bedroom. I mean they look habitable and decluttered. Had a useless kitchen cabinet. Nobody could figure out the problem. Change of knobs and screws and a few other minor things, and yes I have a kitchen cabinet!

There’s a new 3WW below this. This post has become about Marty TankleffNew York State has begun an investigation. It boggles the mind that with all the evidence they have against another person and none against Marty the DA’s office probably wants him to accept a plea bargain My father died around the time of Marty’s appeal. That was almost seventeen years ago. My parents were in awe of Marty’s aunt and uncle and their relentless work to have Marty freed. They were friends.

This case happened in Suffolk County, Long Island in a rich, supposedly sophisticated community

As soon as the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Tankleff were found, Martin Tankleff accused his father’s embittered business partner, Jerard Steuerman, of being involved. Mr. Tankleff and his supporters have complained for years that the police never investigated Mr. Steuerman as a suspect even though he owed Seymour Tankleff $500,000, was in the house the night of the attacks, left suicide notes a week later, changed his appearance and fled to California under an assumed name.

Continue Reading »

Stumble it!

There’s a new form of comment spam. Pingbacks to blogs that aren’t real blogs as they have no contact person etc., and some do have ads that you want to end up in spam. If they continue I will close pingbacks as I’m not in this for number of comments
I am so glad that I’m not of the Facebook generation. I love making new friends, on line or in person. And in person has that thrill of garnering new information about person, face to face. I might anger some people by saying this but I have had lots of experience in both worlds, and there’s nothing like that thrill of discovering somebody is going to be your new best friend. While that can happen in email. IM, and “social networks,” it’s harder to trust the initial encounters. You’re missing that pivotal eye contact moment. I’m not saying it can’t happen online as it had happened for me. It takes longer, and I’m just a big believer in eye contact. I might be able to learn more about a person online quicker. I have had problems “reading” their intent and personalities and have never had that problem in real life except with possible lovers and love’s a whole different thing.
Speaking the language of IM doesn’t guarantee getting your message across. My best friend Lucia always says: Email knows no nuances.” Of course Saturday we worked on matching laptops across the table from each other and she shot me a two word email that had me in hysterics: Shut up. But we have to know each other to reach that point…
Most of us aren’t thirteen anymore and don’t think we’re prey for online bullies. Nathaniel West wrote Miss Lonely Hearts in the 30’s. There has always been a market for lonely people and always will. Online accessibility makes it easier. Having 500 Facebook “friends” doesn’t guarantee immunity from this but might make it easier for many reasons.
I love this online world. I’m a student by instinct and would love to go back to school to study urban anthropology with an emphasis on people in urban communities communicating through the Internet. I’m the first to admit that it can easily be done as I chose to do it. But I was going through seven oral surgeries and chose not to be seen publicly during much of it, and chose for the first time in my life to be reclusive. I had to spend the past two years reclaiming my life, and that’s what this post is really about. I didn’t have to be reclusive. I always looked normal except for the two days right after each surgery. I used it as an excuse not to be out and about, ran out of excuses and…

This article shows how crucial to intellect “exercsing both the brain and the body is. And the people who do best do things with other people. New Yorker’s live on average seven years longer. Studies have shown it’s because we walk so fast. But maybe all those encounters each day, even the annoying ones, help also. I know where ever I end up I will force myself to be in peoples faces each day.
Bone’s mother’s mini stroke this weekend brought out all my fears It also showed me the power of love and being connected. That’s a lesson I don’t ever want to forget, she says as she waits for the sanders, contractors and myriad of other people who control her life these days.

December 16, 2007 Relationships will be high on your agenda over the next seven days and with Jupiter, planet of good fortune, moving into the partnership area of your chart on Tuesday you will benefit in ways you had not expected from people who think you can do no wrong. That’s just about everyone.

Wow!
I feel so blessed so loved and so cared for. This weekend I saw many people from many parts of my life. Last night many people were at a party who had only previously met at one of my parties.

I make fun of It’s A Wonderful Life because a friend, no longer on this earth, used to make me watch it incessantly. Last night on East 65th Street off Madison I felt like George Bailey being loved by a community. If I had any doubts I was doing the wrong thing I don’t anymore. Just for all the parties people are making for me.

Today I went to a holiday “obligation party” that wasn’t. I’m sure I bitched about it last year. This year it was wonderful. I spoke to people I barely knew and ended up with invitations to home near Myrtle Beach.

There was a DJ last night and people danced as if it were 1977 as that’s when the music was from, and that was the year many of us first met.

It’s easy for me to find the words to describe life’s disappointments. To find the words to describe the embarrassment of riches that is my life right now, that’s hard.

How do you describe “bliss” without sounding maudlin, sentimental or full of yourself?

How do you say “my cup is overflowing,” but I’m leaving as I know my friends will always be here for me, and will come down, and I’m about to embark an adventure with new people, most I haven’t met yet?

I came to Manhattan, 32 years ago, on January 3rd, a young foolish unformed girl. Fortunately I had friends and would soon meet many more wonderful people. My mini-loft on East 63rd off Fifth was a pink party palace. I loved everything about my parties from the preparation–they were always on Saturday night so I could take Friday off to cook and clean to the party to the clean up.

I over analyzed everything. But I was many people in one and I never let anything come between me and a good party. There was never high drama at my party. I did everything in advance, had tons of drinks, ice and more food waiting to be put in the archway so whoever was in the kitchen could do it as I mingled.

My parties were the one place I didn’t let my perfectionist streak ruin. I had a theory that if you enough soft pink light, scented candles, food and drink, nobody would notice the little imperfections. Parties were the one thing I was totally confident in. I would invite 40-60 people and tell them to bring a friend. They would bring friends. Once an entire South American dance troupe came. I knew who the core group would be. I never knew who else would come. There was a lot of wonder in that. Nothing bad ever happened. Only good things.

Last night people talked about my parties. I was introduced to the few people I didn’t know as the girl who had the legendary parties.

I think today most people care too much about the food being perfect, the guest list being perfect. How to be the perfect host or hostess. Good food is important. Being a “foodie” takes the fun away. People become scared they won’t live up to the foodie host’s expectations. A host’s only expectations should be that people enjoy themselves.

Parties were the one time I could suspend my disbelief. I would plan everything. But once the first group of guests came I would say, OK, you can take over for awhile. People love to be needed. People love to have something to do with their hands. People love easy conversation and if you invite a mix of people the conversation flows. I would put out the music and let other people play it. I hung large garbage bags all over so there never was garbage around. People knew the garbage room, such as it was, was across from my apartment and would take the bags there before they flowed over. I would have more garbage bags at the ready.

Some of my parties lasted until after the sun came out. Others would end in time to go to after hour clubs.

Yes, I loved hearing that I was the girl who threw legendary parties. I’m older now and don’t have the energy or the want to throw parties that go on until dawn. But I remember going to New Years Eve parties in college that went on until dawn in townhouses in Manhattan. The hosts were my age now.

It was a different world. I can take some of that world with me. We pride ourselves in our repulsiveness of excess, and our love of sobriety. I had one drink last night. True it was the largest glass of good wine I have ever poured myself, and when I realized what I had done, ran to the food room to soak up the carbs. I could smell the pot and at one time would have found it.

But when I come as a guest I bring the girl who threw the parties and who knows what it takes for the host and all the guests to have a good time. I had forgotten for awhile. I looked around the room and almost cried for a second when I thought of all the time I have lost this past decade to writing.

I’m not planning on giving up writing up. Just giving it some perspective. Yesterday I arranged something that might lead to a new and possibly lucrative career. If nothing else it will be fun, and bring people together. In real life, not virtually.

I’m a real life kind of girl. I’m my best in large groups though no longer the girl people invites because of my young youthful vigor and looks. Actually I had a love/hate relationship with that. I loved being good looking. Only an idiot would hate that. But I always wondered if I was invited places because of my looks. It was horrible to be 25 and be given a job I didn’t feel qualified for because my look added something.

Now I realize that it wasn’t just my look but me. Again I feel the lack of words. How do I say many girls were pretty, but to have that spark that makes people want to give you things is rare, without sounding full of myself? I don’t feel badly that I didn’t understand that then. That’s youth at its best and worst.

It’s what you take from your youth to your middle years and above that marks you for life. I always knew that but didn’t really understand how to make the transformation. Now I see how easy it is. I can take the best of myself and throw out the rest. That’s true editing.

I feel overwhelmed with love, happiness, bliss and more. Last night somebody said he has never seen me not smiling. I resisted the “this is the 100K+ smile,” line.

Two or three years ago I finally understood a person makes the decision to be happy or miserable. I chose then to be happy. It wasn’t always easy and it didn’t come without cost. But every single one of my relationships has become richer.

You could say that I’m lucky. I had the raw materials to work with. I have resources. Not endless resources but more than many. I can’t downplay that one. When I was in my 20’s or 30’s you could have called me spoiled and I wouldn’t have disagreed. I never lived “rich.” At the job I met many of my friends I dressed a bit better, but I was that type of girl. I had the apartment off Fifth but only paid $50 a month more than most people I knew. I took more and “father paid” for vacations. Today that would be normal. Then I was embarrassed and downplayed it all.

I was an appreciative daughter. I wish I had yelled how much I appreciated it from the top of my lungs, but I know my parents understood. They were happy I occasionally consented to go with them. Fortunately they loved to go away without my sister and I. My sister and I, so different in many ways, would travel together once every few years. During the day we would go off and meet for dinner. Invariably we ordered the same entree, very different from what our parents would pick..

My sister threw great parties also. Just different from mine. We came from a family of people who loved to throw wonderful parties. I don’t know how young we were when we served our first hor dourve. I’m the biggest drinker in the family, or the only one who has stayed in bed with hang overs. We’re more just “I love a great party” than drinkers. People would find my father so much fun they would think he would be even more fun with a few drinks. He would fall asleep.

I’m in my 50’s and honestly believe the best is yet to be. I have spent the past few years planning, and hopefully will soon reap the rewards.

Most people I know who sold their apartments didn’t have as nice an apartment as mine. Most didn’t renovate and made a bundle. I’m renovating because I promised myself I would never put a less than perfect apartment on the market. I understand that’s obsessive. But this apartment reflects me and I come with obsessions. I come with too many suitcases and much too much stuff.

This is the hump week. The floors will be sanded, the little bathroom regrouted. After that the marble and granite will be buffed. The under the sink cabinet I didn’t know was rotting because I couldn’t see it–nobody really could until inspected will be replaced. Then a ton of small stuff will be done.

I have to decide what to take when I go in January and what to take when I sell. I plan on a light load. I will bring myself, some furniture, a lot of glass, Mexican pottery, books, Cd’s, some clothes, my computers, my portfolios–writing and financial, and not much more.

I bring myself, the girl who threw the legendary parties, and yes I’m psyched. Life is so good I can’t imagine it getting much better. I’m scared to say more. I’m scared to post this. It feels more exposing than all the truly bad things I have said about myself.

One thing I will say. I chose to talk about the people in my life, both “real life” and bloggers more in the abstract than concretely. It’s me I will talk about. I can judge myself. I can judge groups and politicians, but I can’t put people I know through scrutiny. That’s not who I am or what this blog is about. My friends love me more for that, and I do love to be loved.

Stumble it!

I’m real nervous about many things so I included the perfect song and video. Perfect for many reasons. I used this blog like a nervous tic today. wrote the bottom yesterday. Work started on the apartment. Now my cable’s out just when I want to retreat from the world and watch totally mindless….
Unless I can think about other things this blog is going to be mostly about selling a coop, and other minutia in life
I totally forgot that I have sold a coop. My mom’s and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I deleted the rest of the post as I need positive energy. Lots of positive energy. It had a happy ending. My sister and I became closer and we did make money. I spent a good part of my share at the dentists.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I didn’t get my mail yesterday so I didn’t know that my bank had bounced my health insurance check. This was very confusing as they included my balance which was more than ten times the amount of the check. The balance reflected this check as having been paid. With me so far? Good because I’m lost.

By the time the woman said they would refund the $25 service fee I was laughing too hard to listen. She began to laugh, as she tried and failed to come up with some excuse for the bank. I have no idea why I found this so funny tears were coming from my eyes. We were both choking by the time the call ended. She dispensed with the usual formalities as she was laughing too hard. The letter told me that I qualified for a credit line. That I have one and the amount was mentioned a few sentences down. I scanned it in both to keep it and as proof that not every problem in the world is caused by me.

It turned out that they actually resent the check to the health insurance company with an explanation. Still I know I will have to spend an hour tomorrow straightening this out. Epilogue: it’s a dull and dreary day and I can’t deal with health insurance companies. If they cut me off, I will….

I’m truly tired of this bank making mistakes that I have to straighten out. They seem to especially like to bounce or lose then find checks to health insurance companies–the one industry that will cut you off before the due date. It’s no longer a New York bank but is very much associated with New York.

I can’t wait to officially move and cut all ties to it. To truly go on with my life I have to leave the New York area.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Work begins on my apartment tomorrow. The guy I hired, to oversee it and hire the others, is the son of the man who named Talking Heads. My deep love of music and Talking Heads–late 70’s–80’s played no part in this decision really. He happened to see a book an old beloved friend of mine wrote that has pictures of many Village musicians on the cover. He said “that person looks familiar. Is it?” “No he is___” We have been finding that we know many people in common.

I admire women who can take care of twins and three other kids while selling a house, buying a new one, working full time, and are deeply immersed in a new relationship. I’m not one of them. Recently I have begun to give myself permission to be imperfect.

Beginning to give myself permission isn’t exactly allowing myself to screw up. It’s so hard to be imperfect and want to be perfect.
here were many Talking Heads “psycho killer” videos to choose from, and most sounded more professional and more Talking Heady–but only the one from CBGBs would do. Really the New York I love lives on in many memories.

I can’t seem to face up to the facts
I’m tense and nervous and I
Can’t relax
I can’t sleep ’cause my bed’s on fire
Don’t touch me I’m a real live wire
Psycho Killer
Qu’est-ce que c’est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho Killer
Qu’est-ce que c’est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away

You start a conversation you can’t even finish it.
You’re talkin’ a lot, but you’re not sayin’ anything.
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.
Say something once, why say it again?

Psycho Killer,
Qu’est-ce que c’est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho Killer
Qu’est-ce que c’est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away

Ce que j’ai fais, ce soir la
Ce qu’elle a dit, ce soir la
Realisant mon espoir
Je me lance, vers la gloire … OK
We are vain and we are blind
I hate people when they’re not polite

Psycho Killer,
Qu’est-ce que c’est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho Killer,
Qu’est-ce que c’est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away

oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh….

Stumble it!

I should explain that I have changed the bottom of this post every day for the past six. I also wrote another post, put it up, then put it in draft as I’m having ten zillion anxiety attacks at once
November 23, 2007 — Chances are you will do something outrageous today, something even your closest friends think is evidence that you have finally lost your mind. They’re wrong, of course. If anything you have finally discovered your true self and intend to follow your dream without fear and without seeking approval. Good for you.
November 24, 2007 — You need to overcome your fears and you need to overcome them quickly. For some strange reason your worries have got out of hand of late and the result is paralysis - you cannot move one way or the other. Trust that life will always support you, then make a supreme effort to get moving again

On the sidebar is a new chapter and link to a page for Colliding Worlds–the page has a summary and explanation

Ten years ago today I officially moved into this apartment.

But put me in an elevator.

I’m not a romantic. Actually maybe sadly the opposite of one. When I left a comment at Cooper’s blog defending benevolent sexism, I was really defending my using men to help me with everything to do with selling this apartment. When I bought it was an all woman thing except for the seller’s realtor. I’m bad at accepting any kind of help. I think I should do it all myself. This move has me crazed and I find myself accepting any help. I find myself obsessively making arbitrary deadlines based on nothing but a feeling that I have to get it on the market before the end of the year.
I read blogs, magazines, newspapers and various websites. It feels as if everybody thinks they’re an expert on some subject or another. If every American who claims expertise truly was, then wouldn’t this country be in better shape? Reading all this works me into a state of paralysis. I was reading a real estate site that I love as it gives real prices, days on market etc. However the comment threads are dominated by idiots. I wanted to ask real questions but didn’t see the point as I would be told to buy gold. That has nothing to do with the questions that I wanted to ask. I think we suffer from too much bad information.

Little Luce and I spent a couple of hours figuring out weird things about my Imac. She’s kind of an expert and it wasn’t just me. Wow do I feel great. And feel great about what I didn’t understand and do now.

Stumble it!