book club replacement

I was in a book club for many years. probably over ten. But when I started working at Saks on Fridays, I quit, as our book club met on Fridays.

I felt bad leaving as I really liked all the women in the book club. But once I left Saks and could rejoin, I chose not to. I didn't like most of the books we read (the group was more literate than I like to be) and, the discussion of the book became secondary to a general monthly catch-up.

So my friend M and I formed our own little book club. Just the two of us. It's perfect. We chose the books together. We discuss them in real-time. Nothing ever needs to be scheduled or coordinated. And we "meet" on the phone, so there is never the issue of what to serve.  

But lately, we haven't been able to find books we are excited to discuss. And, the type of books we want to read keeps narrowing.

Neither of us likes sci-fi, or books about the future, or any type of dystopian state.

Anything too depressing is out. So that rules out tons of books, including any about the holocaust. Terminal illnesses. Alcoholism.  Abject poverty.  Drug addiction. And abusive relationships, to name just a few.

We'd much rather read a book that is well-enough written but has a great plot, than an excellently written book with a so-so plot. Gone Girl is a  good example of a book that has both. There are few of these.

That same standard also applies to television-viewing, which our book club has recently morphed into. Breaking Bad, for me, is the gold standard.

We are both now watching the 164-episodic Turkish soap-opera on Netflix called Black Money Love. 

We are at episode 117, and discuss the show daily. Its many many flaws make it the perfect discussion piece. 

We imagine writing to the writers and asking:

• Hey, whatever happened to that computer guy who disappeared?
• I thought O needed an operation to save the use of his arm? Did the writers forget that?
• Why does everyone recover so quickly from multiple gunshot wounds, stabbings, car accidents, or organ transplants?
• Why did O fabricate such a stupid lie that will clearly be uncovered?
• What's up with the aunt who looks like a man?
• How do people in the show overcome their grief so quickly from the sudden deaths of those they love?
• How ugly was L's jacket, and why would he wear jeans to a wedding?
• Why are the poor people always eating?
• Why do the rich people never seem to be working at their real jobs?
• And please, can't you cut all the endless, flowery, never-ending dialogue about much in love all the lovers are?

And on and on.

I guess the point of this rambling post is that whether it's books, or movies, or TV series, it's always more fun and more interesting to share the experience with someone else. Especially now that the proverbial water cooler is missing.

pod-less in nyc

My good friend in Boston has her whole family (two adult sons, one daughter-in-law, one husband, and one dog named Gus) in her pod.

My sister in NY's pod includes her large and growing family (one husband, one mother-in-law, three sons, two daughters-in-law, one son's girlfriend, and four grandkids).

My mom has her Canasta partners, Ellie her cat, plus my sister's family in her small pod.

My sister in Massachusetts has her husband, her adult son, my mom, one cat named Serena, one dog named Roxy, and too many friends to count in her pod.

And then there's me.  I pretty much live in a pod of one.

But I am not lonely; I am bored.

I sometimes miss restaurants, theaters, and screenings, but I mostly miss just being able to say, "Hey, want to come over and.... (watch a movie, order in, or just hang out)."

I pretty much do the same thing every day.

• Watch at least one movie so I have seen the award-worthy ones in time to cast my BAFTA votes. It's more challenging than it was last year when by this time, I had already received almost 70 DVD's and gone to many private screenings. This year I've gone to no screenings and have only received a handful of DVD's. 

• Catch up with friends (most days).

• Read and watch the news (every day).

• Spend time on the computer (every day).

• Speak to my mom (every day).

• Watch at least two episodes of Black Money Love on Netflix (every day). It's a guilty pleasure, for sure. 164 episodes, in Turkish. I'm currently on episode 114 and still loving it, despite its many flaws.

• Read more of whatever book I've downloaded to my Kindle (every day).

• Play Canasta, either with friends or against the computer (every day).

• Buy food (most days).

• And walk 4-6 miles (4 or 5 times a week). 

        Yesterday was rainy and misty.

    While today was a perfect spring day — no coat required.

So yes. My life has become quite solitary. And boring.

But then I see the numbers.

In the one hour that Meet The Press was on air this morning, 8,580 new cases of COVID-19 were likely diagnosed.

Boredom and solitude are small sacrifices to make if it means staying virus-free — for (hopefully) just a little bit longer.

a happy home for amber

Once a week I check my lobby mailbox.

And the only reason I do it even that often is to remove the four magazines I subscribe to: EW, People, NY Magazine, and Consumer Reports.

I do all my bills online, and the same is true for any correspondence

I rarely write checks.

But I still receive a bit of actual mail.

Catalogs I never requested.

Alumni newsletters and magazines.

And flyers about things I don't care about.

I know that some mail and solicitations I get may be related to other interests I've shown or purchases I've made.

A new catalog, for instance, that sells similar items to another retailer I've used.

Or insurance companies looking to sell me a new plan. Or even protect the car I don't own.

Or a new restaurant opening in the area (though haven't seen many of those these days).

But recently I received something odd in the mail.

It's not in a generic envelope addressed to current resident.

Nope. 

It's addressed directly to me. 

Correct spelling and apartment number. Even used the extra 4-digits in the zip code.

It's a charity request for a most unusual cause.

Makes me wonder.

Of all the lists I do get on, how did I ever get on this one?

in the eyes of the beholder

Growing up, I had two sets of grandparents plus two bubbes. 

Everyone old back then seemed to have come from the old country. 

And all those people seemed to appear very very old.

It was almost as if the old country only created old-looking people.

I don't recall either of my bubbes speaking English. And the one I knew best (because she lived with my maternal grandparents) had to have been in this country for over 40 years, since my grandmother arrived here as a baby.

When I try to remember bubbe's actual name, I text my sister, the unofficial family historian, and ask what her name was. "Did she have one?" is the answer I get. Exactly. We never called her anything but bubbe. I just remember her sitting in a chair all day and looking very very old. My guess is that she was in her mid-70's.

How strange it is now that everyone then seemed ancient. But looking at photos, people then did look so much older than people of the same age do today.

Here's my beloved grandmother Sally, at age 52. 

And here's my mother and me at around the same age.

People today just age better.

And while I like to think I still look young (despite my half-head of gray hair), to anyone under 40 (maybe older), I probably look to them like my bubbe looked to me.

On Tuesday, I go to Duane Reade (owned by Walgreens) to buy a card for my nephew's birthday. I come home and notice on the receipt that I've been charged 20% less than the price on the back of the card.

No one said anything to me about any special discounts. 

But then it hits me.

Oh no. 

And the worst part is I'm not even asked anymore. 

It's just assumed.

a very short visit

Two dinners.

Two long walks in Central Park.

One movie (the new Borat one).

One new phrase that perfectly characterizes certain people:  virtue signaling.

Several long, good talks without interruption.

One expression I wish my son would eliminate from his vocabulary: in a sec.  He uses this in response to anything I ask him to look at, read, pick up, watch, help with, or otherwise do.

One brief catch-up with Aziz, our building favorite.

Several arguments when Alexander deliberately tries to provoke me:

Like constantly using the word jawn, which is Philly-speak for a noun referring to just about anything you want it to.

Or challenging my more liberal views by expounding on ridiculous conspiracy theories and trying to convince me that he believes them to be true (he doesn't).

Or when I ask him to put his dishes in the dishwasher (vs the sink) and he tells me that I should, because I have more experience with that kind of thing.

Or when I suggest his giving me his credit card info so I can order things for him that he wants, and he tells me he doesn't trust me with his card as I will probably spend too much, just like the Democrats.

And many many laughs.    

Then in less than 48 hours, poof, he's back in his car and gone. I miss my boy already.

 

thanksgiving 2020

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

I love the big family hang-outs.

The amazing, and endless amounts of,  food.

And the togetherness of it all.

I love everything about the holiday.

And every year looks pretty much the same. 

Except of course for 2020.

First, it's unseasonably warm. Mid 60's. 

But that's the least unusual thing about this Thanksgiving.

Alexander and I wake up late. 11. I think the last time I slept that late was in high school. It must be that comforting feeling of knowing my son is safe and nearby.

We go for a five-mile walk.  I introduce Alexander to The North Woods. He, too, can't believe its quiet beauty.

We heed the advice of Dr. Fauci and others who are warning against big Thanksgiving celebrations. The recommendation this year is to stay home, so we can all be here for next year.

At 3:30 my family gets together via Zoom. One other thing we have, among many, to be grateful for. 

22 adults and 5 little kids, on and off for a half hour.

After our Zoom call, I make Cosmopolitans, forgetting to double the recipe. We each have half a glass, though it's enough to give me a bit of a buzz.

Our "early" Thanksgiving dinner doesn't happen.

We eat around 8:30 ... an excellent duck dinner  (picked up yesterday at Chez Nick). It's poultry, so close enough.

And while this Thanksgiving may not be quite as great as prior years, it's still pretty great.

I'm with my son.

My family is safe and healthy.

We have (exceptional) food on the table.

And there is no traffic to fight going home.

11-month absence ends

There have been numerous I'm-comings that have morphed into I'm not coming." But this time I think it will really happen. Especially after my many warnings of, "I do not want to spend Thanksgiving alone." And, "You better not let me down."

Alexander gets tested (again) and receives his result yesterday: negative.

He tells me he'll be leaving Philadelphia early this morning between seven and eight. That means he could arrive between nine and ten.

I plan accordingly.

"Text me when you're leaving," I write.

I cleaned the apartment yesterday, thinking I wouldn't have time today unless I wanted to get up very very early.

Still, I do get up somewhat early to wash my hair before he arrives.

I check my phone, no messages. 

I call. No answer.

At 9:30 I'm ready.

AT 9:35 Alexander calls. "I'm leaving around eleven."

Okay, well at least he's coming. 

At 12:30, he leaves. I guess he's not heeding my suggestion that the later he leaves, the longer it'll take.

He calls while on the road and asks, "Where's the best place to park on the street?"

Clearly he's been gone too long. 

The best place to park is anywhere you can find a space (which in his case turns out to be nowhere). Alexander ends up parking in the over-priced garage across the street from where I live.

Finally, at 3:30, I get to see my son.

And hug him too.

And within minutes, he's finishing up some work so he can be done with it by dinner time.

It all feels normal and good.

I have much to be grateful for. 

Happy Thanksgiving.