a brief history of this past year

Today being the last day of 2025, it would feel strange to write about anything other than it being the last day of 2025.

This has been a fairly uneventful year, as most years are recently. 

I miss being young, when the unexpected is not a rare occurrence.  Now I need to create new adventures, and without much money (and fear of running out), that is hard to do.

 

That's not to say that I'm unhappy. I'm not. But there is too much routine in my life and not enough spontaneous joy.

Aside from starting to blog again in late August, there have been only three major changes for me this year, all of which I've mentioned.

I lose my job on the last day of February at 4pm, on a Friday.  Within 30 minutes, my company account is shut down. I can no longer access anything. And a man appears at my apartment door to collect my computer. I feel immense relief coupled with immense fear. I am offered a paltry severance. But I no longer have that pit in my stomach every Sunday night. And every weekday morning. When I started, on September 12, 2022, the stock was trading at $9.89. Today it's valued at $.075 (decimal placement is correct). 

My mom is admitted to Falmouth Hospital on May 2 with pneumonia.   She recovers, but it is a scary month. Her new home, beginning in July, is Atria, a nice assisted living facility. Of course it's not the same. My mom never complains. Has made many new friends. But has lost much of her mobility. Both her home and car have been sold. Her life is very different than it was just a year ago. But she's safe, well cared for, and much-loved.

And finally, it is great to have my son living in NYC. I wish I saw him more, and didn't have to beg for each visit. He's still figuring out how to balance work and play. And because I fit into neither category ... well seeing me is not a high priority. I understand except when I don't.

Life overall is good. I'm healthy. Have great friends. Feel closer to my sisters. And still live in the world's greatest city.

I just need more unexpectedly great surprises.

Wishing you all a most magnificent 2026.

 

a few random, inconsequential thoughts

Here are some things that fill my head lately — some fleetingly, others not.

Is it worth $10 for a cinnamon bun? Even one that is supposed to be the best of the best? One that is sold from a store whose sole products are multiple variations of this one item?

Hmmm. It is excellent. But probably not much better than the ones sold at West Falmouth Market for half the price. Then again, West Falmouth Market is almost 300 miles from me.

There should be a hair-height limit for people who attend theater. If you're tall, hey, then you're tall. But if you choose to wear a hairstyle that blocks the view of those behind you, well that just shouldn't be allowed. My view yesterday is totally blocked. Fortunately I can change my seat.

I'm reading and loving The Correspondent. It just bothers me that the main character, who is my age, sounds like none of my friends, and projects herself as being ancient. I know that objectively I can be described as an old lady.  I don't identify that way and find the descriptor loathsome, even if true. And though I hate to admit it, aging is something a think about every single day.

I am amazed at how well this product works on removing dry blood on fabrics. (As I said, these thoughts are random).

I've seen about 50 movies since October to prepare for BAFTA voting. My two favorites are: One Battle After Another and Marty Supreme.

I feel immensely lucky to have smart, fun, female friends. They enrich my life in ways too numerous to count. They astound me with their generosity, insights, and willingness to listen, to play, to advise, to recommend, and to make me laugh.

I do sometimes wish I had one or two male playmates that were local. The few male friends I have (and cherish) all live many states away.

I walk around the city and know that I absolutely love it here. I never take for granted that I get to call New York City my home.

While I don't see my son nearly as much as I'd like, knowing he lives here is comforting. He's experiencing the city in ways he never has before, and discovering, really for the first time, its greatness. 

Today we get together for lunch, totally unplanned. I am later meeting a friend to see a show in Times Square. Alexander picks a small, casual place on 51st and Fifth, across from St. Patrick's. After lunch, we exit onto Fifth Avenue. Walking is near impossible as the streets and sidewalks are jammed with pedestrians.

I say, "Let's head west to get out of this mess." He responds, "Well, this mess is so much better than that mess (referring of course to the crowd-quality on Fifth Avenue vs the one a few blocks over on Eighth). 

He makes me laugh even when he's barely trying.

the bad state of things

I had planned to write about my Saturday night dinner with Terri — a good friend of over 30 years who now lives in Florida.

I was going to write about how she surprised me with the news that she has fallen totally and addictively in love with an Argentinian man who seems perfect, but in a very real way...this is not a future Dateline story. 

In the many years I've known Terri, I have honestly never seen her more beautiful, more content, or more happy. I am thrilled for her.

Our three hours fly by, and the pictures do little to capture her beauty.

It'd be nice to be thinking all good things, given such a fun night. But I write what's on my mind, and tragically, this is what is on my mind today.

• A random shooting at Brown where two are killed.
• A massacre at Bondi Beach in Australia where at least 20 are killed at a Hanukkah event.
• And the murder of Rob Reiner and his wife in his own home.

This is a blog about mostly trivial stuff. Day-to-day pleasures and annoyances. I try to stay away from the bigger news items. But sometimes it's impossible.

I think Trump is playing a major role in poisoning our collective society.

I'm not saying that he is responsible for any of the tragedies I've sited above. But his politics have created a divisive global environment that encourages angry, dangerous behavior. Just recently he called all Somalis "garbage." This, from a world leader. This, from the person who represents our great country. He has said worse and done worse. Here is a man who embraces violence  (January 6 being the most egregious example) and uses extreme rhetoric and actions against those who don't support him (too many examples to list).

Like so many, I pray that things improve in 2026.  And that Democrats and informed Republicans do a better job of countering what's been happening.

We need more positive actions. More good news. Better, bolder world leaders.

(Sorry, I usually stay away from politics, but I just had to add my two-cents, which literally doesn't even exist anymore).

ADDENDUM

Trump just posted this on his Truth Social site:

Rob Reiner, a tortured and struggling, but once very talented movie director and comedy star, has passed away, together with his wife, Michele, reportedly due to the anger he caused others through his massive, unyielding, and incurable affliction with a mind crippling disease known as TRUMP DERANGEMENT SYNDROME, sometimes referred to as TDS.

about a coat

I love the feeling of selling stuff. Sure, the extra money is nice. 

But even more importantly, I like the feeling of giving more life to something I once enjoyed.

So in going through my closet, I see a coat that takes up a lot of room (space being a huge issue living in Manhattan). It's a long, shearling coat that is exceptionally warm. And because I rarely wear it (maybe once each winter, if that), I opt to sell it on Poshmark. I take a few pictures this summer and decide to wait for cooler weather before posting.

So now it's cooler weather. Much cooler weather.

It's uncharacteristically freezing out. I have several puffer jackets — different lengths, different degrees of warmth. But none compare in warmth to this coat. 

Tonight I am meeting a couple of friends to see a play at some tiny downtown off-broadway theater. The temperature is in the 20's. Hmmm. Maybe I should wear the coat I was going to sell.

I leave my house nice and toasty. On the subway, there's a sketchy character across from me. And he starts talking. Loudly. I soon realize he's talking about me.

"Look at her in her fancy coat. She's oblivious to those in need." (I'm just sitting reading my Kindle.)

"She doesn't have a clue about people like us."

I want to shout back that I'm unemployed, can't find a job, and scared about my future. I don't.

"I bet that coat could feed every single person on this train," he says to no one, in a voice all can hear.

I move my seat.

When I exit the train, there's a several block walk to the theater. The coat is long, and I need to hold it up to my knees when I climb stairs.

And it's heavy, forcing me to walk slower than I'd like.

I miss my lightweight, puffer coat. Maybe not quite as warm, but warm enough.

This impractical coat will soon be finding a new home.

Addendum

Before I thought of selling my coat, I had considered shortening it. That would have made it more practical and more walkable.

I even found some photos of the coat it could be.

And then yesterday I found this coat, in a closet I don't often use:

I had totally forgotten I had the coat I wanted.

It'll be perfect for those ultra cold days. Though I just might not wear it on the subway.

a big bash

I have never been much of a party girl. Even in my twenties. The concept is appealing but the reality almost never lives up.

Home parties I like. Or small get-togethers. But mingling among strangers has never really appealed to me. I can hear my mom whispering in my ear, "Go. Maybe you'll meet someone. You never know." By someone she means a guy. And that has never happened. 

Even weddings or Bar Mitzvahs. I wish there were options to choose from.  For a wedding, I'd select the ceremony and the drinks/appetizers after. I'd skip the dinner and dancing part. I wish the idea would catch on.  

During this time of year, I get tons of invitations for screenings. Many have Q&A's after. A small number come with receptions, before or after. And a select few come with big budgets and a spare-no-expense party.  That was tonight's affair.

I meet up with a couple of friends to see a screening (one episode) from the HBO series Task. 

Much of the cast (and the creator) are on stage for a Q&A after.

After, about 250 people or so walk over to a nearby restaurant, Redeye Grill. HBO has taken it over for the night.

The place is big. Two levels. Impressive food stations on both floors (sushi, pasta, salmon, beef filets and dessert). An open bar. And mingling stars.

Unlike many who run to get selfies, I don't. 

I mean really. What could I possibly say having now seen only episode 6 of a 7-part series? 

Soon I will watch Task, even though I now know who the snitch is, who gets killed, and who survives for Season Two.

a thanksgiving, different from expected

I awake last Monday and don't crave coffee.  That's the first sign.

Scratchy throat. Heavy head. Dry cough. Fatigue. Overall achiness. Ya know, a cold. 

I keep hoping it will go away, but my colds generally linger more than a few days.  

By Thursday, Thanksgiving, I still have all the same annoying symptoms. I'm not really sick, but not exactly sick-free either.

Thanksgiving is possibly my favorite day of the year.  And as much as I want to go to my sister's, and hang out with my cousins and their kids, I don't want to risk making anyone else sick. 

So I stay home.

I'm not sad or mournful as I know I have much to be grateful for. Despite all that can be wrong among families, in my case, there is so much more that is right. I have two sisters, one niece, and four nephews. We are also very close with Abbey's (my brother-in-law's) family. Plus there is my mom and Abbey's mom. We are a large, boisterous, funny, smart, and interesting group — with seven little kids (the oldest is 10) who are always entertaining. 

But this year, instead of being with my family, I find myself googling, "What is the best way to freeze a fruit pie?" The apple pie I planned to bring (bought, not home-baked) is huge.

I also successfully ignore the many many emails I get from retailers luring me with sales of a million percent off. 

I watch a movie. 

Read some. 

See a great football game (with a sad ending) between KC (28) and Dallas (31). 

My sister thoughtfully sends my son home with the meal I missed. It includes turkey, my mom's famous stuffing that both my sisters make, string beans, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and my favorite, an entire 7-layer cake from Wall's. I could host my own Thanksgiving dinner with all the food she sends me.

My son  must feel sorry for me as he allows me to take a photo without argument. Just one more reason to be grateful today!

pre-thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has always been our family's favorite holiday. 

Our first Thanksgiving on the Cape is in 1979. 

Our last one is 33 years later, in 2012. 

My dad died in early November 2013. By then, the New York contingency had grown substantially. So beginning that year, our Thanksgiving dinners moved from Massachusetts to New York. 

And that is where they've stayed since — all in NY, at various locations.

Last year was at Val and Abbey's (where it will be again in a few days).

My then 95-year-old mom, and Abbey's then-101-year old mom, made it as well.

But this year is different, since my mom is unable to make the trek to New York. 

Yesterday I get up early. Meet Val and Abbey in Rye. And arrive at Jean and Jim's in Falmouth by 1pm. 

Aside from the absence of young kids, it is still a lively celebration. Jean makes a great turkey-less meal (since turkey will be on everyone's plate in a few days).

Even though it's not with everyone (and nice that everyone has become so many), it's a nice way to celebrate, and be thankful for, family.

you know you're too busy when...

As I've previously said, 90% of my social life probably occurs between September and December. 

Gorgeous weather. Tons of new off-broadway plays. And so many screenings. Many with Q&A's. Some even with impressive receptions and great food. I'm a member of BAFTA and I have friends who are also members of SAG. So between us, we could be doing something every night. 

I get an email from Susan inviting me to a 7pm screening with a Q&A of a film I've never heard of, Sheepdog. (Yes, some screenings are for little-known films). I decline and remind her that we have a 1pm screening the same day, at 1pm. She writes back and tells me that she had responded that she couldn't go to that one. 

Hmm. I thought she said she could. So I go back through my texts and find this.

Then, about 24 hours later, I text Susan:

So not only do I totally forget just asking her, and her just saying she couldn't, Susan also forgets just being asked, and forgets, too, that her original answer (and still the correct one) was no. 

Being too busy with stuff you like doing? A problem I like having.

33

Room all set.

New clothes in place.

A baby nurse hired for the first week.

And time to adjust (I was on maternity leave from my job at CNBC, not knowing that I'd be let go before having the chance to return).

My mom and dad drive up from the Cape as soon as Eric calls with the news that they are grandparents to their fourth grandchild, a boy, like the other three.

I was a single mom, at a time when there weren't that many. Murphy Brown was one of the few I knew of.  

I thought I was ready. And I pretty much was. 

The first few weeks were the hardest, and then it was pretty easy until about kindergarten. 

That's when I started fearing more, and questioning my abilities as a single parent. 

But I never once had any regrets. Quite the opposite. I have always felt immensely lucky that I get to be Alexander's mother. 

Sure, there were times that were tough.

His epic tantrums over the smallest thing.

The hurts I couldn't fix.

A bad nanny who wouldn't leave my house until I had to call the police.

His early friendship with a young, wild, and beyond misbehaved best friend (who was a very bad influence and could often be cruel).

The challenging teen years.

A few college grades.

And his leaving NYC for a few years to live in Philadelphia, and then Austin. 

I think the thing I was least prepared for was all the worrying that goes along with being a parent. And the worst thing is that it never ends. It just gets bigger.

• Has he chosen a career path that will make him happy?
• Will he meet and marry someone he adores?
• Will he stay living in New York?
• Will he not get distracted when driving? (I worry about this all the time).
• Will he stay safe and be careful? The world (and this city) is full of potential dangers.

Tonight his grandmother (Diane to me, Lala to my son) and I take Alexander to Sempre Oggi to celebrate his birthday. We sit down and are handed menus. It is Alexander who notices the restaurant's thoughtful touch (I added the arrow).

I haven't seen Diane in a while as she now spends most of her time in the Hamptons, though she also lives here. It is truly a magical night. Great food, conversation, and total agreement on politics (which we just couldn't avoid). Diane is clearly the most liberal of us three. She and Alexander often disagree but not tonight. 

and the winner is...

I rarely write about politics but sometimes it's just too hard to ignore.

Zohran Mamdani will be the next mayor of NYC. 

I didn't vote for him for a myriad of reasons. It doesn't matter why, because here we are. For the next four years. With a young, inexperienced, democratic socialist (which I'm still not exactly sure what that all means).

New York has become a city with a huge divide. The gulf between the uber rich and the rest of us keeps growing. Rents are making it unaffordable, especially for the young or those new to the city. My son got "very lucky" and through a friend of a friend found a tiny, fifth-floor walk-up on the Upper West Side. The one-closet apartment is nicely appointed in a great neighborhood, and is only a little over $3,000/month.

I love this city and like others, believe it might be the greatest city in the world. But it certainly has its problems, with affordability being high among them.

I do hope Mamdani is the change agent we need. That he is able to freeze rent-stabilized apartments. And that he finds a way to somehow get along with our childish, vindictive, and utterly embarrassing president.

I also hope that the major sweeps by Democrats is the impetus needed for the party to finally identify a strong and viable presidential candidate for the next national election. 

Pete Buttigieg or Josh Shapiro would be great options, but the country is probably not ready for a gay or Jewish President. Kamala? No. Who else then?

We live in a great country. But right now, its leader is harming its global image, and worse, he's harming the people who live here, every single day.

today in new york

The New York Marathon takes place on the first Sunday of November.

I live on East 79th Street, between York and First. The Marathon runs right by. It's an impressive, energetic race, through all five boroughs of the city.

My busy two-way street is closed to traffic, starting around 8am —that's long before any runners are even in sight. That means that I cannot cross First Avenue. And just about anything I would do would require that. This is non-negotiable. The police guard has their rules and won't budge. 

But there is an upside. Because this usually-trafficked street is closed, kids can now play on it without fear of cars, reckless bikers or careless delivery vehicles. 

I once missed a viewing party at a friend's house. She and her husband have a terrace overlooking the race. I couldn't cross the street to walk the two blocks to their apartment.

In 2018 I was working at Saks and almost didn't make it in. I couldn't cross the street to get to any subway or bus. And I wasn't about to walk as the job required me to be on my feet for 8 hours. That year I was lucky enough to flag down a police car and get a ride in the back seat, behind the bars.

This year I know better. 

Zelia is coming over to watch a movie, but not until late afternoon.  First Avenue should be crossable by then. 

Except it's not.

She calls me at 4. The best we can do is wave to each other.

But the cop standing next to me looks friendly. I tell him my friend is across the street. He says, "Okay. Call her and tell her she can cross. And act like you don't know me."

I call Zelia, and she complies. She weaves through the race and quickly makes it over. 

The movie we watch (Park Avenue) is awful, and we quit halfway through. But I do appreciate Z's effort to get here.

how is this even remotely okay?

It's a little after midnight.

I hear a very loud crash. It sounds like someone has picked up an empty large barrel and slammed it onto the street. 

Some crazy night wanderer I think.

But then it happens again. And again. And again.

I throw on my sneakers and a coat and go outside.

There I find a construction site in the middle of 79th and First. 

There is a bulldozer that is lifting slabs of concrete and dropping them onto the street. The sound is deafening. The workmen say they will be there all night.

How can it possibly be that someone at DOT thinks that keeping an entire neighborhood awake makes more sense than to close off traffic to a small section of 79th Street during the day?

I call 3-1-1, hoping I'm not the only one.

It takes a while to get someone. I register my complaint. I am told someone will respond within 14 days — such a comforting response. 

There are very things about New York that I don't like. This is one of them.

a new york slice

I meet my anonymous friend X (her preferred moniker, not mine) to see a screening of The Baltimorons, with a Q&A after with the filmmaker and one of the stars.

Though it takes less than 30 minutes to get to the West Village, it is world's away from my UES neighborhood. Young. Hip. Criss-crossed streets with actual names. Tons of people everywhere. Loads of history and equal amounts of charm.

We get to the theater early and it's about a quarter full. We take our seats, and soon after an older woman enters (she's alone) and takes the seat right next to X. One seat in from the aisle. A million empty seats in other places, and she opts for this one.  That's bad enough. But then she takes out her phone and begins playing a video (not on mute). How can people be so annoyingly stupid? We move to another row.

The movie is fun, the Q&A great. We decide on pizza for a quick bite after. But not just any pizza. L'Industrie Pizza on Christopher Street.

According to Google:

L'Industrie Pizzeria is popular due to its high-quality, unique ingredients and a slow-fermented, thin and crispy crust, which elevates it beyond typical New York-style pizza.

The line (as expected) is long. And we're at least four decades older than anyone we see.

The place is packed inside too, while people await their orders.

Fortunately, X notices that the cute little place next door is filled with people eating from L'Industrie-labeled boxes. We ask if we can bring our pizza over, as L'Industrie has no tables. "Sure," is the response. "You just have to order drinks here." It's a nice symbiotic relationship, and works well for everyone. Even if two diet cokes cost $16.

The line goes fast and within twenty minutes or so I'm back next door where X is holding a table. 

So is it worth it? We both agree; it's a resounding yes.