oh sheet

I guess I felt bad about doubling the rent (to $10,000/wk), because I promised linens would be included at Hannah's Hideaway in beautiful Block Island. That was before I started going through the linen closet there and counting duvet covers and realizing that I needed doubles of everything so that all could be washed during turnover between tenants. And then someone pointed out that if we washed all the linens my washing machine and dryer would break down. And it was also before I realized that if I were to send out the laundry I would need a minimum of 16 bath towels. We're not even talking about beach towels. And it was also before I went to the white sale at a nearby store and realized that there was no way I could carry all those towels (and four twin sets and 16 pillow cases and 18 washcloths and and. . . ) . And had to call the nice niece to come and help me.

I should have just let them be content with the views and rent linens as before. 

boring stuff

 So I mostly don't post this shit up because it's too boring. But anyway. I go to physical therapy twice a week. For how much longer I don't know. Maybe another week? I am stronger, but my leg has not realy straightened out much. It's about 3 degrees out of straight, which is where I've been for months now. However, I can walk without a limp. I have no pain. I can almost sit crosslegged. And  can see the time when I will be ale to walk on the sand without winding up with a knee that looks like a canteloupe. Huzzah!

city life

 

So we went down to Dumbo, which means Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. I think the last time I was here was in the 1970s when Debby and I were taking ballet classes with a friend. Another life. I took a picture of the bridge and niece Eva took a picture of me taking a picture of the bridge. Very noir. And yes, Frank, I seldom go out after dark. But for noir you gotta.

We were there for a presentation Donna Ferrato was giving about her book Holy. Eva (above) was helping her with streaming of the interview by photographer Carol Storey to the Frontline Club in London. 

 Donna was also debuting a new book jacket with her original cover, which she had decided was too inflammatory to put in stores. Nephew Mason designed them and we were busy folding them to sell at the Powerhouse bookstore. 

And then we all went out and had dinner.

 

 

the difference 50 years makes

Eva and I are almost exactly 50 years apart in age, but I have learned that I have much in common with  an almost 21-year-old. We both sleep unconscionably late. We both spend an inordinate amount of time sitting on our asses either scrolling on our phones or working on our computers. We both have a lot of friends. We both like photography and reading and deplore the metaverse. Neither one of us particularly likes preparing meals, and we both like snacks, though she leans towards candy while I lean towards crackers. We both like fruit. 

However, there is this.

 

good to go?

 Well, I can fly, if I could fly. Actually I need ti wait a bit longer for blood clots, but no worries when I set off the alarm! The surgeon called me yesterday to see how I was doing, and I couldn't think of anything to ask her. She asked me how the leg straightening brace was working. I told her that I thought the physical therapy was doing more. I think you have to wear it for it to work though.

what happened

Pan and Johnny took these pictures around my house. Brrrr wah! as Johnny would say. It howled about 70 mph (gusts), but we're used to that. The power never went out, and the sea never came over our dunes, despite predictions of extra high tides.

Fortnately, Waldyn redid these new small windows, so hopefully the place stayed watertight!

I love how the wind sculpts the snow to look like the dunes.

My sister, Erin, took the sunset pic of my place yesterday, when she arrived home on the island to find one of her windows blown out. Hopefully Island Hardware helped her out today. And meanwhile I was watching the storm, and its aftermath, from my warm nest in NYC.Where I am getting increasingly stir crazy now that my knee seems better.

storm warnings

 

Dire warnings about high tides and deep snow on Block Island here. However, we have heard these before, and sometimes these events happen and sometimes not. 

   Johnny took this picture of my houses yesterday. The ice has been awesome for skating, but if the snow comes as expected, that's the end of that!

   Here in New York it has begun snowing, but not like it means it just yet (noon). I made a Zabar's run for milk and chicken pot pies and apples, so I think Eva and I are good til it's over. 

  And yes, my new knee is functional. It doesn't really hurt any more and I'm walking well.

old farts at lunch

Well, maybe Hope and Barbara are not old farts, but we are all old enough to remember the days of paid journalism. Hope told us that at People magazine writer/reporters are required to produce a story every 45 minutes now. What! We used to get weeks! And new hires are presumably paid pennies. The years of the $5-a-word free-lance story are obviously over as well.

  Hannah used to say that old people talked about the weather and when the mail would come. (As an aside, the mail hasn't come here for a week.) Now that I am old, I see that we talk a lot more about our ailments and our friends who have died and how much the internet has changed everything and the bad shape the world is in. Barb said she feels like she is telling people to be careful and call to say they are OK too much. 

   But Ralph is living his best life—finally able to travel and write instead of booking travel for writers. He took a giant round-the-nation train trip, with many a whistle stop for lunch or to take pictures and plenty of stories to tell afterwards. So there's a cure for old fartism: Start something new!

   Oh, and BTW, we had to show proof of vaxing even to sit outside.

  

 

nice niece

Keeping you somewhat up to date, my niece Eva is staying here in NYC with me while interning with Donna. I continbue on the PT road without much encouragement from my therapists. Leg still not straightening out. But walking around and doing all the things!

 

happy bday, douglas!

 

It's been a long road. Douglas and I were married 44 years ago, in 1978. He was born in '44, and now he is 78. We were once very young.

Katie took this picture, so you know I have known her for a long time also. Not sure of the year. But it looks like the Claudia's Surf City era in the 80s.

This picture was taken on January 1, 2022, on our daughter's 40th birthday. It was taken by Simon, Douglas's youngest son. And the picture below was taken on the same day, of Douglas and his current family, Simon and  Lynn.

 

 There was love there, and there still is. Happy bday, Baby!

the one and only randy

 

There are so many Randys in Thomasville it should be called Randyville. But for me, there was only one. My Randy was the one with the heart big enough for anybody, whether you came from his country or a foreign one, whether you were light or dark, city or rural, no matter your beliefs. If you were in need, he was there to help. He never met a stranger, and he took everyone in and trusted everyone—until you lied, cheated or stole, and then his wrath was terrible. He liked to say that he was a member of the Hatfield family, of the feuding Hatfields and McCoys, which I guess could account for the wrath!

   I wouldn’t have lasted in Thomasville without him. He helped me with my well, my electricity, my air conditioner, carpentry, repairs—and was a hero during the flood. But most of all, by accepting me, a liberal citygirl outsider, he caused the rest of the town to accept me as well. He was my foot in the door. More: He held the door open for me. That’s the kind of heart he had. And that’s the reason he has friends all over the world.

   He loved his town, his neighbors, his animals, his children and grandchildren, but most of all he loved his Baby. “I robbed the cradle,” he liked to say. He wanted her next to him most of the time. “I have to get my helper,” he’d say. I don’t know if he and Virginia ever quarreled, but I certainly never saw it. All I ever saw was love, on both of their parts.

    I don’t know what his turkey is going to do without him. There was always an animal following him around, his rooster, his little dog, most recently the turkey. 

 

 I really don’t know what any of us are going to do without him.

 

snow day

Snow days aren't like they used to be when school was in person. Milla and Isaac have been on virtual school for two days now. And it snowed last night! The first big snow of the winter! But today their teachers gave them a snow-day break: school was out at noon. And so the back yard became a playgound of snowballs, sculpture, building, shoveling and sledding. A fine time was had by all. Though the wuss watched from indoors in Sara's excellent abode.

 

 

the party's over

 

Aaand, two people who attended have tested positive for Covid. Mind you, people were vaxed, masked, tested, outdoors and careful. But.

  The kids are at school, and afterwards Camilla is learning to crochet. A gremlin.

partay

 

You may not know this—I hadn't thought about it—but in time of pandemic one does not blow out the candles on the cake. One may, however, at a rainy 40th birthday party, eat cake, have hot cocoa with whipped cream and hot cider with spiced rum and champagne and cotton candy and lots of other treats. 

   The lollipop girls enjoyed many.

And then there was the poutine et al from the French fry truck.

 

There were Gasners abounding, as well as a few Dowlings.

We wrapped it up late with a fire and kareoke, which the kids loved, and a fine rendition of "Baby Got Back" by the birthday girl and her best friend from grade school.

 

 

party ready

Back in the day, Hannah's birthday party was at 98 Riverside Drive (below). Probably like 35 or so of them. But her life has moved north, and so has her party. They moved me north too. And this is quite the affair, being as it is to be outside (pandemic) and it is raining.

Milla was the decor assistant, assembling decorations, stacking champagne glasses and helping dad tent the yard.

 The French fry truck arrives at 1:30, so away we go!