goat cookies

In which I somehow find myself with Hank in Niles, Michigan, caring for Louie the dog, Ted the cat, and Silver Bullet, Corky, and Buster Brown the goats. Hank does a lot of pet-sitting for friends and family, particularly his sister's dog Latka, who is maybe the best dog ever. Since we both live in rather crummy and small places, our visits have taken place in various spots like his sister's in Delmar (California). It was actually my idea to get a pet-sit in some nice Michigan spot, so here we are, for two and a half weeks. The house is huge and beautifully appointed, unlike Hank's cruddy little Santa Monica apartment or my perch at Vern's run-down casita. This is simply room after room, airy and nicely decorated. The kitchen is a dream, since I live without a stove and generally cook on various small appliances. There is an espresso maker. There is a dishwasher. Tho I wont be baking, there's a Kitchenaid mixer. Three big TVs in cozy spots. A hot tub. (Three of the places that Hank and I have stayed together have had hot tubs, and I'm hooked.)

Louie the dog is a 105 pound Black Lab, full of doggie love. I cannot stress enough what a dog guy Hank is, tho he hasn't had one of his own for a while. He came in this morning with his back covered in leaves and grass, because he had been rolling on the ground with Louie. This is a very serious love affair. Ted the cat is a bit more aloof than I'd like, but when he wants a scratch or a meal, he comes to me. 

I have taken on the care of Corky, Silver Bullet, and Buster Brown. Corky is a Nigerian Dwarf, calico-colored with a beard. Silver Bullet is black with a little grey, Buster Brown is (duh) brown, and they are pygmy goats, They are fairly adorable, even with those spooky slit-pupilled eyes. They are mostly shy, tho Buster Brown likes his sides scratched. They are neutered, which Kimetha says makes them less smelly and more docile. For farm animals, they are quite easy and non-stinky; they even poop in little pellets, like rabbits. 

First they get a scoop of goat chow (pellets again), divided among three dishes, one of which is divided in two, that's four compartments of food for three goat mouths. But they just push and shove. Then I put a "flake" of hay (a 2 ft square slice) into the hay hopper, and then it's time for treats. Goat treats are actually plain old animal cookies. They push and shove, then each gently nibbles a cookie from my fingers. They are lovely little beasts. They have a big, sunny enclosure with grass, sticks (they like to nibble the bark), something to climb on, a salt/mineral lick. They've got it pretty good.

now, where was I?

I was clunking around in some Google functions, and look at this old-ass blog I found! I guess I didn't think Blogger was still in business. I started another blog in the interim, with the rather lofty idea of writing and posting reviews not tempered by a publication's commercial needs. (This must have been right after I reviewed a horrible book for Blues Music Magazine and was directed not to say how horrible it was because advertising. Fuck that noise! This is the internet!) I must have been having some energy toward becoming some sort of internet writer or whatever that is...

So, it's just about seven years since I last wrote here. I'm assuming I won't be having anything in the way of a career, Those mid-late 2010s goddess years pick-ups were fun, but too little too late. Trying to figure out now how to live as an older American. Trump. Pandemic, Trump again.

I'm 66 years old and not sure how many acts I have left. Just hoping to stay safe and comfortable and happy. But my feet are still not entirely under me since I came up100% broke in New York City during the pandemic, and had to move to a city I didn't know and live with someone I barely knew in order to keep a roof over my head.

Friends, I've been in Detroit for five years. 

We will talk more about why I still don't/can't drive, mostly because I'm not too sure myself. This is the wrong city for a non-driver, boy howdy. So that's the tragic and difficult part of today. (Well, the "tragic " part is, needless to say, not being able to live in New York any more. The "difficult" part is living in Detroit.)

Multiple heavens full of big-titty girls for my roomie Vern, who offered me this perch in Detroit after not seeing me for about 20 years. Really, we knew each other so little, but had masses of good will and affection. And so, he saved my life. He's a big smart serious helpless warm confused goofball; finally occurred to me recently that he is absolutely on the spectrum, which explains oh so much. Vern is mostly quiet and squirrely and we look after each other gently.

I also found my local bestie two doors down, lucky me! Because we enjoy each other a ton, and having a friend who has a car and knows the lay of the land is pretty important here. 

Sidebar: Detroit is a huge spread-out city that has suffered a huge population loss, so there's a lot of empty space and almost nothing is walkable. I live in a food desert. I can walk to two dollar stores, a pharmacy, and a "party store" (convenience store that's basically a liquor store with snacks). 

"Local bestie" doesn't sound that important, but he is very important to me. Companionship. In Brooklyn, I had neighbors to chat with right in my apartment building, on the elevator, in the lobby. Friends upstairs. The clerks I knew in the stores, the pharmacists. I had a lot of people to talk to face to face. Very different here. We've grown to be great friends, Byron and me, because we started doing things together. It kicked into high gear when he convinced me to start coming to the gym. We go to the gym together now; we shop for groceries and for weed, And with his wife Christine, who is no less dear but much more busy, we do some concerts and other fun stuff in the area. These are my peeps.

Then Byron's best friend from high school and college came to town for their 50th high school reunion, about a year and a half ago, and guess what happened? It turned out that Hank was the male of my species.

I should mention that a couple of years ago, I started taking Trulicity for diabetes, and lost about 30 pounds, then I started going to the gym. This brought me to a size I hadn't been at since I was about 19. This was finally getting off all of the weight I put on when I got sober over 38 years ago, 

But I wasn't used to it yet when I met Hank. I was used to men looking at me and trying to decide if they could get past my weight. The first night I met Hank, it seemed like he was trying really hard to impress me, and I couldn't figure out why. It seemed I had become something of a babe, old-lady variety. 

My boyfriend was built for me: not too tall (five-nine), more stocky than skinny (good), thick upper body (good), unspeakably hairy (really good). (Text from Hank: "I miss ya stroking the mohair.") Classic big-ass Jewish nose, bald head, beautiful smile. 

I feel like this is maybe the first relationship I've had where for the most part, it isn't just his neuroses and my neuroses having a playdate. (See: Peter. Which I did again, stupid me, in the spring of 2018. Went through that whole mess again, and by 2025: no longer speaking, on bad terms.. But there was a good photo:

This is basically the only picture of the two of us, except for the one with Weber on my 40th birthday. Geez. (Weber's dead now, too.) I was still big. He is perpetually skinny. We vowed never to be apart again, but I hadn't expected him to become an asshole again. Fool me twice.)

I'm not sure how much I love any of the pictures with Hank and me because they never seem to look quite exactly like,,, and yet...

The woman behind him is his 97-y.o. mother Dulcie. He does NOT live with her.

Hank and Byron and I went "up north" (that's what you call northern Michigan) last spring - Christine couldn't get off (she's a therapist and tends to work five days a week). It was huge big fun being with those two, saw a lot of great sights, and Hank and I started making out on a bunch overlooking Lake Michigan, after seven months of daily emails. 

National Poetry Day

Palm Sunday, Coney Island

clouds hang in lazy accent
of a clear blue sky
in this land dominated by
memory, ghosts, skeletons

presiding, ex-officio,
the parachute jump
silently observes the steady inaugural turn
of the wonder wheel
and the first clattering mobius orbit
of the cyclone

who can doubt spring?
in another beach kingdom,
south of this place
mustachioed men swing wooden bats
at leather balls
squinting at the same sun
as heats Brooklyn's mechanical heart
toward summer

Jennifer Zogott
March 19, 1989

Happy National Poetry Day

public face

Some afternoons, I go to Dunkin Donuts to get a coffee to go, because their flavored coffees are pretty good and I can use Samsung Pay and get points. I'm all about the points. Well, I also think it's cool.

So I was there a few days ago, paying with my phone, and a middle-aged man commented on it and we chatted for a few seconds.

It wasn't until I left that it occurred to me: that was a man of appropriate age and I barely took a good look, left the conversation early, and did not check for any chemistry.

And when I got home, it occurred to me that even if I had thought to pay more attention, I was walking around my neighborhood totally slobbed-out, I've at least upgraded from a sweatshirt to a nice Lands End jacket, but I didn't have a speck of make-up and my hair was pulled back but possibly unbrushed, and I had no earrings.

It then occurred to me that since I do pay a little more attention to my appearance when I go to Manhattan (for some reason), I can do the same for puttering around the neighborhood. So I prepare a little before I go out: make-up, cologne, earrings. I even brush my hair although there's not much I can do with it. I need a good stylist and at least a trim.

I've also bought some slightly better-looking clothing: as I mentioned: a fleece jacket in lieu of a sweatshirt, some solid-color long-sleeved tees, and even a pullover sweater. It's partly in case I go to work outside the home, and partly to have something to wear besides printed tee shorts (I have 3 or 4 more tailored ones, but they're all short-sleeved).

I actually think it's fun to put on make-up, and really not such a pain to remove. Plus I have a lot of urges to buy it (like earrings, it always fits), and if I don't wear it often, a lot of it just gets too old and has to be tossed after a few wearings.

And, as a nod toward being less acquisitive and more experiential, I bought myself a ticket to see Gilbert Gottfried next month. (I also have one for the first showing of The Disaster Artist on Thursday.)

It does sort of suck that I pretty much have no one to be experiential with, I have been saying for many years that I'd rather do something by myself than miss doing it, but I pretty much have no friends who are available for or interested in the things I enjoy. (Except, of course, my ex-husband, and I want to keep socializing with him on the minimal side.) I have to work toward bigger experiences, like travel, and the idea of traveling alone is fairly scary to me. But first, I need to get a passport. Then we'll see.

trying...

I'm working on getting in the habit of writing more, with the goal of writing here every day, which is Step One. I've more or less decided that the only thing I want to do for a living is write, which involves a lot of kinds of work. As far as fiction or memoir, this is Step One.

I also need to take some action about freelance work, starting with re-contacting the editor of Blues Music Magazine; I recently did a review for them.

I don't want to work in an office again. One of the advantages of my last job was that I wasn't sitting all day. (I can still work there part-time if I want, to bring in a few bucks.)

thankful

This is a little challenging for me, since I am of late not much about gratitude and much more about being very depressed and glass-half-empty. But since, obviously, writing at all has not been coming easy, I thought I'd try to punch out two for the price of one.

I'm thankful for having this nice apartment to live in: being able to afford it, furnish it, and enjoy it. I'm thankful that it doesn't feel like a compromise and does feel like a luxury, one that I deserve.

I'm thankful for seeing my nephew and sister-in-law today, and somehow surprised because I didn't think I cared much about my nephew and was convinced that my sister-in-law and I didn't like each other.

I'm thankful that enough of my family managed to get together today, since my aunt and uncle are moving to Arizona on Monday and my dad is very sick - like dialysis-three-times-a-week sick. I'm really glad that my dad got to see his grandson, and that my nephew is concerned enough about his grandfather that his parents have arranged a couple of visits. There's some crazy dysfunction as concerns my brother and my dad, and my brother and my uncle. My brother was not present.

I'm thankful to have enough money not to have to rush into a job, although I'm very unsure about what I want to do or even if anyone will hire me to do anything.

I'm thankful for my friends, and in particular for my little posse from my last job, who have stayed in touch and hung out with me. They're real gems. One of them and his girlfriend took me out to lunch on my birthday. 

I'm thankful that I finally realized it was important for me to finally have surgery to correct my stress incontinence. I suffered with it for about 25 years, and it did nothing but get worse. The operation was six weeks ago tomorrow. Needless to say, I'm also thankful for health insurance even though I pay a mint for it under COBRA. (The surgery was covered except for a $50 co-pay.) 

I'm thankful that I've healed well from the surgery and that it did what I needed it to do.

I'm thankful that my ex-husband went to the hospital with me and stayed with me for a couple of days after the surgery. Having said that, I'm also thankful I don't live with him any more.

I'm thankful for a really good therapist who has helped me tremendously over the past seven years. Although she now says that I need to focus on the experiential rather than the material to dig out of this funk; in other words, I need to do more stuff instead of acquiring more stuff. Right now, I am responding to her many suggestions that I do more writing.

I'm also thankful that I got to review Zeke Schein's book for the October issue of Blues Music Magazine, which would be on your newsstand now if newsstands still existed. I dare you to find a copy.

a job over and done

What a nice thing it is to finally cancel that Monday-Friday alarm.

I actually had a very lovely last day yesterday. I didn't tell any of the clients that I was leaving until Thursday, and all of them knew on Friday, as my little going-away cake was on the calendar. (And someone must have remembered that I like ice cream cake!)

So I got hugged all day yesterday, over and over by some of the same women. Even some of the more religious guys who limit their contact with women to a high-five/fist bump/handshake gave me a hug. I had an easy group and activity and one of my "buds" as co-counselor. Did my last ass-wiping, my last daily goals.

I'll see my buds again, and also some of the women counselors I had dinner with the week before last. The woman who arranged it chose a non-kosher restaurant, which weeded out our manager and one of the more sanctimonious counselors. We had a blast.

The only thing that hurts is that I was very close to a client who is very low-functioning, and did not understand that I was leaving. It was hard not to be able to say goodbye to her. She only speaks a few words, but we communicated with pictures and gestures; she is quite funny and sweet. She likes to hold my hand. She was in my AM group (9:30-10:15) every day, and enjoyed looking at pictures on my phone, especially pictures of herself. For a while, I was taking pictures of her almost daily. She would see one, and either point at herself, or say in her tiny voice, "Me."

It was close to 80 degrees yesterday, so I changed into sandals before my book club. As usual, we barely discussed the book, ate good Vietnamese food, and chose another book. I love my book club.

Then I got home around 9:00. There was still a drop of light in the sky. 

no surprise here

I gave notice at my job. As much as I love the clients, let me just say that I'm increasingly unhappy with the way things are run at my location, as well as having some real doubts about how the upper management does things. I'm leaving at the end of the week, a few days after we put on our play. I've been working very hard on the play (a cut-down version of "Annie"), and this will enable me to see the play through to completion and then avoid some rather unpleasant things coming up.

Here's one: at the end of June, they're "temporarily" moving the second dayhab in with us, meaning an influx of about 40 older clients, about ten counselors, and their manager. We already have about 60 clients and 18 staff...and only four bathrooms for clients - there is a staff bathroom accessible by a button-code lock. Our clients go up to around age 60, and theirs are 60 and up, though this is a rough estimate of the division. But our people are mostly in their 20s and 30s, and theirs are mostly elderly - involving a lot more bathroom needs and incontinence. This is "temporary" because a new building which is supposed to house the entire organization, including both dayhabs, is supposed to be completed at the end of the summer. It was supposed to be completed at the end of last summer. So the extreme overcrowding may be indefinite.

Of course, I'll miss a couple of the perks, like Jewish holidays - I'm now off for two days for Shavuous. (However, the only national holidays we get off are Thanksgiving and July 4.) And learning a lot about Judaism, since I never even knew what Shavuous meant until I started working there. And I love some of the counselors dearly. But I surely will not miss the shitty pay, or the client who punches me when she's caught misbehaving (usually it's stealing food or soda). But the perks are few and far between.

I can fortunately afford to be without a job for a time. I'm planning to try the usual nonprofits, universities and analytic institutes, but someone suggested to me that I also try city and state government. I also plan to (finally) study grant writing this summer, which may result in improved opportunities in nonprofit.

I love living in my new apartment. There are small problems, like the kitchen and bathroom being a little smaller than I'd like, though the living and bedrooms are really big. The five closets and endless kitchen cabinets are also great. I'm slowly but surely filling the place up. I bought end tables (mid-century modern, natch - they pretty much match the coffee table) and two bookcases and a recliner that looks like a regular living room chair.

I have a TV table and three little tables, and am waiting for delivery of a microwave stand and a file cabinet.

The orchid count is now up to seven, five of them in bloom. They are all in my bedroom, and though only two of them are scented, the room has a green, planty-smell that I just love.

Because I had to learn to care for them, I've amassed a pretty good amount of beginner-level information about orchids in general. I have really good indirect light, and a humidifier, so they're pretty much thriving.

I bought four African violets for the living room - two standard and two mini. Less successful with them: they all dropped their blooms pretty soon after I got them, though their leaves are growing well. Don'r really know if they'll ever rebloom. The original plan was to have orchids in the bedroom and violets in the living room, but I think there are going to be more orchids in the living room. There doesn't seem to be any such thing as enough orchids.

The place keeps me busy. In addition to new-home stuff (arranging new decorative and useful items), there's always laundry, vacuuming, dishes and such. I find I come home and see something that needs doing, which turns into an hour or two of work. Then I need a fast, light dinner, which is probably why I've dropped about nine pounds without really trying.

I have a huge list of chores for today and tomorrow, some of which are computer-and-paperwork oriented, but there's also a table to be assembled, laundry, taking a load of cardboard boxes to the trash and vacuuming. Also need to figure out and prep the headphone system for my TV. But there's a dinner tonight with the female dayhab counselors - the person who planned it chose a non-kosher restaurant, which eliminates a few possible attendees (one of which, fortunately, is my manger). And tomorrow I'm going to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden for the first time in years and years, because of a free pass, roses, orchids, and June in general.

I lived about five blocks from the Gardens when I was a kid, and we went all the time. It was free to get in, and 25 cents to get into the Japanese Gardens. I knew the place pretty well. It now costs $15 to get in, In a bid to get members, I was sent a free pass for a weekday, and they're offering a year's membership for $55. I should also mention that for the past 11 years, if was very difficult to get there from where I was living; but now, one subway. Given that I should be pretty free this summer, and that it's a really good deal, I'll probably buy a membership.

really not a good thing

I keep the confidences of my workplace. There are thing that are funny and things that are annoying and people I really enjoy. But we're not supposed to talk about it and I keep that promise.As I may have mentioned, I work in a day center for developmentally disabled adults. It has a lot of up and downs.

Here's a hypothetical from such a workplace: you're a counselor, in a van with 5 or 6 clients, and another counselor is driving. A few minutes into the ride, you notice the driver is texting while driving. You tell him to stop and he does. A few days later, you report this to the manager. You don't like the idea of ratting out this popular counselor, but neither do you want him endangering a van full of clients - or you, for that matter.

The manager asks for a lot of information: the day, time, destination. She promises she will speak to the counselor.

After a few days, it starts to look as if she hasn't spoken to him at all. It would have been clear to him who made the report, but he's friendly as ever to the reporting counselor. Doesn't talk to her about the incident or the report, greets her with the same smile as always. And he continues to drive his morning and afternoon routes and to take clients to activities.

A week later, he's named senior counselor, second in command to the manager. And still driving.

What can be made of this?

my buds

Had a get-together today with this interesting little posse I have, three guys who are in their twenties, my work pals. I don't want to say too much about them, because of what I am going to say, but I can say that we have fun as a group and that each of us has a good one-on-one connection with each of the others.

There is another woman who is also close with them; we were together with the group at someone else's house. I don't invite her to my house because she can be a bitch, which we all know and which isn't the worst thing; but she is the only person in the group who is condescending about my age and tries to make me feel bad about it. That is not my kind of bitch.

Two of the guys have helped me immeasurably by assembling my dinette set and both of my bookcases. They say they like doing it. I thank them profusely anyway. I can assemble fairly easy stuff, but those were a little above my pay grade.

They are all interesting and have some similarities and some differences. Two are ex-Orthodox. Two are ambitious. Two are gay. One is a great teacher. One is a natural businessman. Two keep tropical fish and are really pushing me to get a tank.

One of them said today that this apartment looks just like me, and this really pleases me. I don't even have anything on the walls yet. One of the other ones studied my plants and odd objects closely. One fell in love with my new vintage travel alarm clock. One fell in love with my secretary.

They're all kind of poor fellas (as I would be if I were living on my paycheck), so I don't talk closely about the pricey things, but I do talk about the cheap stuff; the travel alarm clock cost me about $8 or something.

I love my guys. They're sweethearts. They're interesting. They're good company. They're fun friends.

But no fish tank for me. I'm sticking with high-maintenance plants, and I'm naming them. Phoebe and Susan the African violets somehow became Phoebe and Carol. Both doing well - no pix yet.

Bella was just popping a third bloom when I took this (she had two when I got her), and now she's working on her fourth. She and Phoebe and Carol all seem pretty hearty, all popping new blooms.

But Stella and Clara the mini-violets, and Greta the mini-orchid, did not do well when I was away for four days a couple of weeks ago. Stella and Clara lost their blooms, but their leaves still look okay, so I'll keep caring for them. Greta is pot-bound and seems to have some rotting roots, and her stalk died, but I'm going to transplant her and take off the dead or sick stuff, and see if she comes back. She still has some good leaves.

Anyway, they are devoted herbalists, and always get me pretty floaty. Today was no exception.

It's too early to eat, and I'm not level-headed enough to do much housework. Luckily, I did laundry yesterday. I did just do as many of the dishes as I could, and when they dry, I'll do the rest. Dishes really have to be done twice a day, and if I fall behind even once, it sucks. 

book club!

I finally, finally got back to my book club tonight, after something like 4 or 5 months. Amazingly, all eight of us were there (some of the folks travel or live part-time elsewhere).

I was asked to join the club by someone I knew at PPSC; we got to know each other better after I left as Facebook friends, and she invited me to join maybe 9 months ago. They are a fabulous bunch: old lefties, five women and three men, mostly older than I am. They all either work in or retired from helping professions. All of the women wear arty jewelry.

We go to a restaurant once a month and discuss the book a bit, but mostly schmooze. There's a whole procedure in place for choosing the next month's book, and this seems more serious than discussing this month's book. Each person can propose up to two books (one of the men brings something he's written to promote his book choices), and then we can each vote (secret ballot) on two nominated books. One of the other guys always brings slips of paper and golf pencils for the vote. It's kind of cute.

Since we only meet once a month, it's been a little rough for me to keep track of everyone's names, how they're connected, what they do or used to do. I was terrified that I wouldn't remember a thing after all these months, but after a short time, I had all the names. We had been going for a while to a nice Szechuan restaurant on St. Mark's Place (on the site of the renowned Electric Circus, which later on hosted some grungy AA meetings). But that restaurant closed, so we went to Saigon Market tonight.

Everyone was so glad to see me again, which made me really happy, since I'm the new kid. With eight people around a round table, it's impossible to have just one conversation (though we do it for the brief book discussion). Everyone was concerned about my health and wanted to hear about the new apartment. I'm not super-close with anyone yet, although I did ride the subway partway with one woman and we got to have a nice chat. I feel very relaxed with them. It's such a good, good thing in my life.

I've been hella busy. I had been so crazy arranging the furniture delivery times that I thought both pieces were coming Saturday, when in fact they came yesterday. Good thing I had a slow start and hadn't yet gone out on many errands! The coffee table is great, and Lars himself delivered the small dresser. Lars himself is so lovely. He stuck around for a few minutes and admired the progress on the apartment.

Today was the big errand day. I went down near Kings Plaza and went into Gothic Cabinet (just in case they had a floor model of the wooden file cabinet that I love but think is too pricey); then into Bob's and Raymour & Flanagan to look at recliners. I remembered vaguely that I'd seen one I liked at one of those stores when I was pre-shopping. (It may have been in the couple of weeks between signing my lease and my accident.) I remembered it as being yellow and tweedy. Bob's had a lot of those big ugly leather recliners (some had electric up-and-down), and one push recliner that I liked, a nice blue fabric, but the wooden arms had an obvious and ugly veneer,

Then I went into R&F, let a sales guy show me a few recliners, and then I spotted the one I'd seen before - which was not yellow and tweedy, but a nice tan-ish print. And it's a push recliner, and doesn't look like a recliner - it looks like a nice accent chair. I tried it out for back comfort, and pulled the trigger. It will be delivered on Tuesday, Then I went into Kings Plaza, to browse a bit but mostly to pee, then took the bus down Avenue U a bit to check out a plant nursery I'd seen online, Came home with two big African violets, Phoebe and Susan, for five bucks each. Then back on the bus down Avenue U to pick up my prescriptions, then home.

I haven't managed to do much housework except for two loads of laundry, vacuuming the living room, and wet-Swiffering the bathroom. It'll all get done.

Tomorrow I have therapy in the city at 11, and I suspect a stop at Union Square on the way home. Sunday I have a long dental appointment: temporary bridge and I suspect some work on the crown (I never had a crown before, so I'm not sure what that entails). It's supposed to be a beautiful day so I may mosey on down to Coney Island. Monday has nothing scheduled yet, so I expect I'll be cleaning, maybe go to the Botanic Gardens if it's nice out or a movie if it isn't. Don't know yet when the chair will come on Tuesday.

Then back to work Wednesday.

When I came home, there was some sort of candlelight procession half a block from home. I asked one of the candle-carriers what it was for. He said, very seriously, "the resurrection of Christ." That's my reminder to call Mary on Sunday to wish her happy Easter.

Time to see if I have a copy of The Handmaid's Tale and then some TV - probably the new MST3K on Netflix.

peace

"Peaceful" is a good word for living in my own home. There's quiet if I want it; any noise comes from me or my doings.I'm close to being unpacked but there's still furnishing and decorating to be done.

I was at Jannah's new house this weekend. It's a compact version of her old house, on one floor instead of two. There are still upper and lower outside decks, only now they face a little canal which is shut off one one end and leads to a bay on the other. She brought her furniture and decor, so it has much of the feeling of her old home. It is perfectly lovely and comfortable. Considering that she was in the old house 20+ years and so not a frequent mover, she did a very nice job. I also met a couple of really great women over the weekend, which was a big plus. I need to make new friends as I can.

My bookshelves (one in the bedroom, one in the living room) are assembled and already have books and tchochkes (Yiddish for knick-knacks) on them. Also plants. I decided that since I can't have a pet, I'd get some high-maintenance plants and name them. The two mini-African violets, Clara and Stella, live in the living room. Clara did not do that well over the long weekend; I run the humidifier when I'm home. The mini-orchid, Greta, also did not do well; I suspect she needs to be transplanted. A new full-sized orchid, Bella, joined us yesterday, and she is about to pop a new bloom.She is about the prettiest thing I've ever seen.

Since I get a LOT of dry steam heat here, I bought humidifiers for the bedroom and living room - initially just for me, but both the violets and the orchids like humidity. I've moved my secretary to the living room, since I did not want to have a desk chair in the bedroom. Works better out here, though I still need the desk chair.

I'm adjusting to using my first-ever laptop. I've figured out how to use it as a "media server" so I can watch movies from my hard drive on my smart TV. (The TV is ever-so-smart.) I am much in favor of cord-cutting, and the Sharp/Roku TV has made it much easier. Between wi-fi, Sling TV, Hulu and Netflix, HBO and Showtime, I pay around $100 a month. I have more channels than I can possibly watch, and I watch a lot less TV. There is too much puttering to be done around here.

I am off from work this week and Monday and Tuesday next week for Passover. (The Jewish holidays are one of the best things about my job.) It's ended up being a busy time: I was at Jannah's from Friday night until Tuesday morning (had the first Seder there), went to the second Seder at Elise's on Tuesdays night (wasn't sure I'd be invited since my separation, but I was indeed included). Yesterday, Howard and Tina (my uncle and aunt, who live near Princeton, NJ) came into town, and we had lunch near Union Square (Blue Water Grill - yum!), and walked around the Greenmarket and a few stores nearby. (Got Bella at the Greenmarket.)

Today and tomorrow will involve the last of the unpacking, housecleaning and laundry, getting my hair trimmed and picking up prescriptions, and going down by Kings Plaza to look at recliners in the furniture stores. Tomorrow night is my book club. Saturday I have therapy at noon (my therapist finally has an office in Manhattan - we've been having Skype sessions for months), then I rush home to get furniture deliveries. I have a walnut coffee table coming, and also a lingerie chest from Lars. (Have I mentioned Lars, my wonderful Danish mid-century furniture guy, from Lanoba?) Sunday I have the dentist at 11, and no plans yet for Monday or Tuesday. Probably whatever cleaning I didn't get to, maybe a trip to Doody (home center) for a new pot for Greta, and some orchid soil.

I still have to plug my phone into my laptop to retrieve some photos; I still haven't figured out how to get it done wirelessly.

My dental work is entering the home stretch. I've already gotten two bridges to replace the protruding "vampire teeth" I had in front. Next is a bridge and a crown on the right side of my mouth. Then I'm done. After a number of years with this dentist, he and I are accustomed to each other so I'm not afraid he'll hurt me. I have a sensitive mouth. My mouth will soon be quite nice.

My dad has not been well. He went into kidney failure a number of weeks back. He's home now, but going to dialysis three times a week. He's finally starting to adjust a bit and is no longer exhausted all the time. But he still doesn't want visits. Between the dialysis and dad's new special diet, Mary is running herself ragged...but doesn't want any help. I can only respect their wishes. It's also driving Howard and Tina nuts (Howard is dad's younger brother).

Time to do some dishes and make breakfast. More to come/

on my own

I respected Barry's wishes not to post anything here or to Facebook until it was a done deal. It's a done deal. We have been separated for a little over a week. The beautiful new apartment is mine, not ours.

I realized about eight months or so ago that I no longer wanted to be married to him, but I was a little too chickenshit to say so to him. So we went to three sessions of marriage counseling with two different counselors. The first counselor was too chatty on our dime, and seemed to be invested in saving the marriage. The second one was really straightforward, asked correct and direct questions, and it was decided.

I was supposed to move a couple of weeks after my accident, but I was laid up for quite a while. I returned after eight weeks, made it through 3-1/2 days, and then spent another two and a half weeks at home and in physical therapy. So I finally moved last Monday,

The sorting and packing was horrendous, but starting to live on my own again was easy. My sophomore year at SUNY-Binghamton, I got my own apartment; I knew after one semester on campus that roommates were not for me.When I moved back from Binghamton in 1980, I lived with my mother and stepfather for a year, then got my own place, then moved in with a boyfriend for about a year. So I mostly lived alone for 20 years, lived with Barry for about 19 years, and here I am by myself again.

It helped that I was moving into a great place: great apartment, great building, great neighborhood. I slept like a baby my first night in my new queen-sized bed, new mattress, new sheets, new comforter and duvet cover. Set up my wi-fi and new TV right away (I bought a smart TV, and am now an official cord-cutter). Everything is basically new except my mother's ancient beat-to-shit cedar chest, which I may sell.

I never bought either of those chairs, but I did buy two identical bookcases (a wood-tone one for the living room, and a blue one for the bedroom), and a TV stand (all yet to be assembled). Real oak shades in the living room windows, and blue vinyl mini-blinds for my bedroom (put up by my outstanding super, Reggie). There's a small trash chute and recycling bins on my floor, and a laundry room on the lobby floor (the laundry machines are quite new and the laundry room, like the lobby and hallways, is spotless).

I also bought an oak secretary and a small teak mirror (both vintage) from my pal Lars at Lenoba.

The kitchen and bathroom are both a little smaller than I like, but the bedroom and the living room are big, and I love the dinette to pieces. And did I mention the five closets? Two huge, two small, and a small linen closet.

Most of the apartments I've had never really felt like a long-time home, so I never really nested. I lived among cartons. I was very afraid that I'd be lazy and live among cartons again, but I'd say I'm about 3/4 unpacked by now. It helps a lot that I had good storage space, that I pared down my belongings before moving, and that I had the money to furnish from scratch. And that I love this apartment and can see staying here for a very long time.

I'm located a block and a half from Kings Highway in Brooklyn, about 3-1/2 blocks from the B/Q station at Kings Highway. It takes me 15-20 minutes to get to work. KH has all kinds of good shopping: greengrocers and delis and Russian gourmet stores, a dry cleaner and a housewares store and a hardware store. Within the ten or so blocks of KH between Ocean Avenue and Coney Island Avenue, there's a TJ Maxx and a few boutiques and shoe stores, a Rite-Aid and a Duane Reade and a Walgreens, numerous banks (including mine), some restaurants (Turkish, Russian, and a Chipotle to boot), two  Dunkin' Donuts and a Starbucks. All that's missing is a supermarket and a movie theater. (The Walgreens used to be the Kingsway Theater; I shop at a good supermarket across the street from my job and have it all delivered.)

I still need two chairs for the living room (I was going to pull the trigger on the first chair in my last post, but it had already sold). I need a microwave stand for the kitchen and a garbage can. I may ditch the TV stand and get a wall mount. I need at least one end table and a plant stand and plants. (My friend Charles had been making ultra-cool planters and lamps, and I will get at least one planter from him.)

Two of my wonderful work friends assembled the dining table and chairs. I am good friends with three middle-twenties guys at work; we occasionally get together and avail ourselves of herbal remedies on Fridays, when we get out of work at 2. There are a few women who are close to Charles, who is the social butterfly of the group and usually arranges the parties, but they are drinkers rather than herbalists and like to go to bars. One of them sometimes joins us, but she's actually the only one I don't care for. She's the only one of the entire group who treats me like I'm too old. Charles' roommate often joins us. Next get-together is here, a week from Friday, and will also include a co-worker of Barry's, who is friends with one of the other guys, lately friendly with me, and fits right in. My three closest friends, my guys, are a great mix: one black and gay, one ex-Orthodox and gay, and one ex-Lubovich California boy. (The Lubovichers are an Orthodox sect who actively recruit non-religious Jews.)

Anyway, my 45-minute writing alarm went off, which means it's time to do some more work here. I promise to post more photos as soon as I can figure out how to get my phone to talk to my computer.

mending quite nicely

I'm on the brink of re-entering my life, which is a happy place and also a little scary. I'm starting physical therapy today and going back to work on Monday. And of course, I have to start getting ready to move.

The packing is not so onerous, but the throwing-away is. I am determined not to have clutter, I will certainly have boxes of cluttering stuff stowed away in my many closets (box of family photos, yarn, jewelry materials), but a lot needs to be thrown out on this end.

I arranged some time back for my good friend John to pick up all books, CDs, DVDs and clothing that we don't want, and that was done a couple of weeks before I fell. The clothing has been donated, and John will keep the rest for his occasional garage sales. John may be pressed into duty again, as the kitchen counter I've decided on is from Ikea, which will require a car and a cool head. I always hear that shopping at Ikea is a horror, but maybe going to buy one thing and one thing alone will make it easier.

A lot of essential things are already in place at the new apartment. I have two rugs (one still needs to be rolled out), my bed and mattress and dresser, and a dining table and chairs that still need to be assembled. Barry arranged for some larger items to be brought over there: my blender and microwave, TV, and my dishes, flatware, comforter, sheets and towels, and shower curtain. That's a lot of what I'll need to get started.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've bought some more things online, like a sink drainer, kitchen canisters, ice cube trays, a salad spinner and such, Shopping is so much easier than packing!

I have my laptop and have to go on Carbonite and get my files downloaded to it. It's my first-ever laptop, which is pretty exciting. My tech plan is to cut the cable, get wifi and stream everything to the TV; I did a little research and got a Sharp-Roku TV. Barry bought one for himself (he's renting a room, and wanted a new TV for it), which we set up here, so I've been able to get acquainted with it. I'm figuring on doing Sling TV, HBO and Showtime, and I already have Netflix and Hulu. At some point, I'll buy some speakers for playing music, which is almost entirely on my hard drive. (I'm looking forward to getting the music and photo files onto my laptop, and deleting all of Barry's stuff.)

Somewhere along the way, I bought a new phone, upgrading from a refurbished Galaxy S4 to a brand new Galaxy S7. It's my first-ever brand-new top-of-the-line smartphone. I got a pretty cheap price buying it from Samsung instead of from my carrier. I had been dithering about it for a couple of months, but began to realize that, since I had the money to do it, I ought to spend as much on my phone as I did on my laptop and my TV - I use the phone just as much as the other electronics, probably more. (I am a fierce online bargain shopper, and each of those items cost me a little over $500.)  I am in love with my phone - it's the first one I've fond to be really well-organized and intuitive. And it's so fast!

And speaking of dithering...I've had a really hard time pulling the trigger on any high-ticket items. The first one was my bed, which is why it didn't arrive until around three weeks after my original move date. The bed and the mattress were quite expensive, but I knew for sure that this was one place not to go cheap. (My dining set was really cheap.) The second pricey item that was killing me was a sofa. I've never bought one before.

Once I decided on a color scheme for the living room (earth tones), I started looking at mid-century-styled sofas. I was trying to keep it under $1,000, and was having a bitch of a time trying to find a style I liked in a color I liked in that price range. I decided to relax the minimum price a bit, and found some I liked more. I had fifty sofas on my Pinterest, and looked at them over and over. I even requested a fabric swatch for one, but it seemed too scratchy. I thought if I was going to buy online, I'd either need to buy velvet or chenille, or else get swatches. (When I was a little kid, we had a great sofa that was scratchy. It didn't make any sense to me to buy a brand-new sofa and then have to put a throw on it because the fabric was uncomfortable.)

Then yesterday, lo and behold, I went to the Gothic Cabinet website (which was where I bought my bed). They don't have a lot of upholstered furniture, but they did have a comfy-looking dark brown leather sofa reduced to $599. I ordered it almost immediately. It's not a mid-century style, but the apartment certainly will not me all mid-century modern, and this sofa will certainly never be too precious-looking. Like the bed, the sofa must be comfy and well-made. So I'll have my sofa in 5-6 weeks. Choosing chairs should be less traumatic.

The dresser was a whole other story. It was the first piece of furniture I bought. I spent a lot of time looking at the website chairish.com, which has a ton of actual vintage mid-century stuff. I spotted a Danish teak dresser, dead simple, and it kind of put me in a trance...I just jumped on it. Chairish, something like eBay or Etsy, has items sold by individuals, so you pair through Chairish but end up dealing with the individual seller as far as delivery and shipping. They have stuff all over the country so you can end up paying hundreds of dollars for shipping. But you can also sort it by city, so I was able to look only at NYC-area items. My dresser was in New Jersey, owned by an actual Danish person named Lars, and he couldn't have been nicer to deal with. When the dresser came, Lars had included some information about the piece, a bottle of oil and instructions about oiling the piece, and a tin of Danish butter cookies for good measure. This is where you can find Lars' Lovely Danish Modern furmiture: Lanoba

The dresser:

And here are some more pictures. This is the bedroom rug - the bedroom will feature blue.

It's a fake faded Oriental. The sheets and duvet cover are dark blue.

Living room rug:

Also new and not expensive.

The sofa:

Two crazy vintage chairs I'm considering for the living room:

These are both vintage and I'll probably get one or the other. I love the second one, though not the metal legs. The first one looks like it sits very low, so I'll have to double-check the measurements.

Dining table and chairs - the actual chairs I ordered are white, not blue:

For china, I'd had my heart set on vintage Iroquois Informal, Garland pattern, designed by Ben Seibel. I've actually owned four bread plates and the sugar and creamer for some years now. Here's Garland:

But the pattern was simply too hard to find. The dinner plates were impossible.

I was thinking of doing a mash-up of different Ben Seibel Iroquois Informal patterns, but then I discovered - Canonsberg Temporama! Still vintage, still mid-century modern, but way cheaper and more available. So I bought plates and shallow bowls and deep bowls:

It's hard to see the detail from this photo. Here's another:

Last picture is of bathroom towels. I decided to do the bathroom in green.

So things are starting to shape up.

I'm still trying to decide where a few things will go. I want a desk and file cabinet for my bedroom, and possibly also a reading chair. I'm hoping to finish the living room with two chairs, a coffee table and probably an end table or two, maybe an ottoman; some sort of credenza or cabinet for the TV (and to store DVDs etc.), and a bookcase (for books and also various vases and tchochkes). One of the chairs will certainly be a recliner.

There is a dinette right in front of the kitchen, but a table and chairs there may hinder access to the kitchen! So there's a chance that the dining area may be in a corner of the living room. Barry has offered a suggestion that I put the desk in the dinette, but I kind of hate that. Still, it may end up there, or in the living room (if the dining table lands in the dinette). I think I'd prefer to having the bedroom double as a den, with the desk and a chair with reading lamp. (A reading lamp sounds a little weird, considering that I do 95% of my reading on a tablet, but I like the idea anyway.)

I still need shades. I am dithering about shades. I think I want wood or faux-wood blinds for the living room, and lightish blue mini-blinds for the bedroom. I have not been able to find blue mini-blinds anywhere, even though I had them when I lived in Brighton Beach. And installing them seems a daunting task, although I guess that's a job for the super, or a friend with a drill.

And the kitchen - not enough counter space, needs an island. And I'm buying as much kitchenware in red as possible. I have a red microwave and blender and dishtowels and a dish rack and canisters. The kitchen will eventually have little red curtains and a hanging pot of herbs.

The reason I'm thinking about blinds is that I want to be able to have some privacy but also light for plants. I'm thinking hard about orchids for the bedroom (Robin suggested yellow, as an accent for the blue). Since I have good light, I may try cacti for the living room, and/or African violets.

So this is the state of home decor. Lots of ideas, many good purchases so far, still some head-scratching.

But first, I need to sort, throw away, and pack.

healing

I'm actually starting to feel like myself again, and like I'm inhabiting my own life.

It's hard to describe, or even to understand, how much energy the body takes to heal, including mental energy. For nearly four weeks, I've put aside the details of moving and work. Without consciously realizing it, I kept my life as stress- and worry-free as possible. No compulsive on-line furniture viewing. No worrying about who's going to be where to accept packages, or a move date, or anything about work (except for the friendly co-counselors whom I miss).

But in the last couple of days, my pain and discomfort have been really minimal, and I haven't had a shot of muscle relaxant since Monday. I may even be able to stop using the painkillers before the prescription runs out; I'm certainly no longer having noticeable pain as the dose wears off. The doctor said I can start physical therapy next week, and I think he's close to giving me a back-to-work date. I'll see him later today,for the first time since Monday.

To backtrack some days...soon after the injury, I was concerned about possible internal organ damage. I was less worried as time went on, but I still wanted a test to know for sure. So I had a sonogram. When the doctor got the results, he said there were two small masses on my left kidney. They could have been anything, even cancer, so I went for a CT scan. Fortunately, they were something called angiolipomas, which are entirely benign and nothing has to be done for them. All organs are fine.

Yesterday, I went ahead and ordered a dining table and chairs for the new apartment, which are pretty much the only essential pieces of furniture I hadn't ordered yet. I'd actually seen the ones I wanted some weeks back, and had pretty much decided on them, but I just couldn't wrap my head around actually placing the order. But now it's done.

While I was on a roll, I also bought a new phone, which I've been dithering about for weeks. My current phone isn't totally shot, but it has a couple of small cracks, so anew phone wasn't an absolute necessity. But then I started coming up against insufficient memory; it only has 8GB, so I found myself having to delete things when apps needed updating. Plus, I've actually never had a brand-new smartphone. I started with a used one, and since I have insurance through my carrier, all of my phones have been refurbished replacements, and never the newest model. So now I'll have the newest model.

I certainly didn't expect recovering from a serious injury to be the prologue to my new life, but maybe it's provided me with a cool-down period (as painful and frightening as it was).

moving and falling, and maybe more

My husband and I are separating, in an entirely amicable manner. I had never really given it that much thought because it was entirely unaffordable, though I know that I craved to live alone. Once I inherited money from my aunt, the thoughts started to come to the surface, and I realized I no longer wanted to be married to my husband. We went to three counseling sessions. The most interesting thing that came out is that he was not willing to do the work to keep the marriage together. I guess it wasn't a surprise, but it was a surprise to hear him say it, to have it acknowledged.

So I found an apartment, which would have been impossible without having some money to put behind it, since my credit is only fair and my salary is low. I made a cash-based deal to rent a very lovely one-bedroom apartment near Kings Highway. Good neighborhood, very good building (including an elevator, laundry room, and super).

However, a few days before I was supposed to move, I was going through some cartons stacked outside the doorway of my old apartment, stepped back a little too far, and began to fall down the stairs backward.

As best I can reconstruct this, I fell down several stairs, grabbed the banister to try to stop, and the momentum flung me over the banister and I fell to the next floor, face down. I believe the banister caught me very hard on my left hip and groin. I had my hand in front of my face, so I only had a tiny bump on my head (did not lose consciousness), and a bit of a bloody nose. But I did not move in case I had a back injury. I yelled to Barry to call Hatzolah (a very good volunteer ambulance service), and went to Community Hospital, where I was examined and x-rayed. The x-ray showed I had fractured my first lumbar vertebra, L-1.

So Barry and L-1 and I went home in a car service, and the next day, went to my doctor, who is thankful only a block away. I was in a lot of pain and couldn't walk more than a shuffle. He immediately put me on Cipro (some of the color and raised quality of the bruising indicated an infection) and a strong ibuprofen. The following day, I told him that the ibuprofen was doing nothing, and he put me on oxycontin instead. My left butt cheek turned almost entirely purple, as well as my groin, and part of my mons.

I went, and continue to go, to the doctor every day, where I was getting daily shots of an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. Had an MRI of my lumbar area and two of my hip/pelvis (one with contrast and one without), and another x-ray, which showed my T-12 vertebra was also fractured and the fractures were causing the discs below to bulge.

I missed Thanksgiving with my family.

My hip really hurt more than my back, and I spent a lot of time sleeping/resting on my right side. Slowly, the pain began to abate, and the bruise started to vanish, The doctor stopped the shots, I finished the course of Cipro, and got a back brace.

By a few days ago, I was having a lot less hip pain, but I asked the doctor to have a test done to make sure there had been no damage to my organs. So I had a sonogram done a few days ago.

The sonogram showed two masses on my left kidney, which may or may not be related to the fall; it may be residual blood clots from the internal bleeding. It may also be cancer. I am supposed to have a CT scan today for a better look.

So this took place over the past week and a half. Barry has been a champion. He took the first week off from work, and has accompanied to every doctor visit and test, while taking care of all household things and all shopping. He arranged to have whatever was already packed moved to my new apartment. (My move was scheduled for three days after my accident.) He has been amazing.

I have updated friends and family daily, as well as notifying my job. My best work friends, Charles and Jonathan, have texted pretty much every day, This apartment is too small and grungy to have visitors. I've also been publishing updates on Facebook daily. I have a lot of good support.

After I got the sonogram results, I told everyone the sonogram was "inconclusive" and that I had to have a CT scan. No reason to worry my 86-year-old father until there was actually something to worry about. I did tell the true story to my brother and to my bestie, Robin.

So I am mostly out of pain and thoroughly panicked. The doctor said that if it is cancer, it is easily treatable. And I do have a second kidney.

This has been, to say the least, an ordeal. My walking improved pretty quickly. My appetite was really poor, and although we initially ordered a lot of take-out, we've been relying pretty heavily on the new gourmet shop attached to the excellent greengrocer right next to the doctor. I needed food that would tempt me, so I've been eating a lot of goat cheese and crackers, fresh-press juices, and gelato. Barry brings lattes a couple of times a day. I recently discovered the shop's pre-packed salads, which are fancy and excellent. He also buys chocolates for the office staff at the doctor's; the "girls," as the doctor calls them, are endlessly hardworking and pleasant. They have performed admirably in wrestling with my insurance company to get my tests approved and scheduled.

I have basically paid nearly nothing this whole time. I paid a $20 co-pay this first time I saw the doctor, and everything else has been a follow-up at no charge. We've paid co-pays for my meds, and for car services to and from the labs. But that's about it. My insurance has proved to be very good. I have weekly Skype sessions with my therapist.

I'm going on disability from my job, and the move is on hold. In my new apartment, I have one rug laid and the other is there but not yet laid. I have my mattress (the bed will arrive December 17), all my linens, a microwave, a TV, a blender, dishes, flatware, and a vintage Danish teak dresser. (I did give Barry a bunch of money, and he's landed a share at a friend of a friend's). I haven't been able to think much about the move and furnishings; I have nothing yet for the living room and no dining table and no kitchen island (the kitchen is low on counter space, which is basically the only flaw in the apartment), and no shades. I have chosen styles and colors for the various rooms. The bedroom is blue, the living room is various warm colors, the bathroom is green, and the kitchen will be highlighted in bright red. For some sense of my design ideas, you can visit my rather large Pinterest (www.pinterest.com/jennlevy1). I spent a chokingly large amount of money on my bed and mattress.

Furnishing from scratch is exciting and scary. I'm mixing real and faux mid-century modern pieces. Buying the small stuff was easy; buying the big/expensive pieces is scary (except for the dresser, which was so enchanting that I bought it immediately).

But this all seems very far away now. My real life seems very far away. I will be doing a lot of physical therapy for my back, and of course there may or may not be extensive treatments for my poor kidney.

I thought this was all drawing to an end once the pain was pretty much gone. Once the pelvic/hip pain abated and I got the back brace, I've felt a lot better, though I'm still taking oxy and resting a lot. I only found out about the kidney yesterday, and I've done a good deal of crying since then. This has perhaps been the scariest part of the whole ordeal: scarier than the ER, the fractured back, the ceaseless pain in my hip and groin. Last night, I wanted my mother like nobody's business. 

can't do it

I'm staying home from work today because I can't stop crying.

the long honeymoon

I saw Elvis Costello last night, and when he played this:

tears ran down my face. It happens to be a very sad song, and one of my favorites from "Imperial Bedroom," but I guess what got to me was the topic of a broken relationship. Since mine is.

It was my decision to separate, but instead of my saying so, we went to three sessions of marriage counseling, at my suggestion. I guess maybe I wanted someone neutral present. The first two sessions with one counselor were hopeless; he was not a very good counselor. The next counselor really helped us nail it down.

So I'm moving out at the end of this month. I have a lovely one-bedroom apartment which I can't afford on my salary. And never would have gotten given my salary and my credit report. I used a portion of my inheritance from my aunt, and I am also banking on earning more within two years.

My husband and I are very good friends. We've both cried a lot over this. But we agreed that certain things are not what they should be, and I think we've both known that I am better-suited to living alone.

I am furnishing my apartment from scratch, which I've never done before, and it's costly and scary. My therapist reminds me that nothing is permanent. If I hate the rug once it's on the floor, I can always get another rug (but sell the other, natch).

I'm sure I'm dealing with my fear and anxiety by obsessing over details of my new home. I actually set up a page on Pinterest and have been obsessively "pinning" rugs, sofas, beds, chairs, duvet covers, vases, china, flatware, mugs, glasses, kitchen islands, throw pillows, ottomans...pretty crazy. But, however, it has permitted me to think about what I want my apartment to look like, and I've already chosen the living room and bedroom rugs, I've picked a mattress and I'm very close to picking a bed (platform or captain's). Oh, and I bought a laptop.

I have the keys now, but my target move date is November 30. But first I have to put in at least the rugs and the bed.

I find myself starting to write obsessively about the apartment stuff.

Instead, I will say, I'm separating about 19 years together, married almost 16, and it's scary and exciting, a very new and different life.

Oh, and there's a horrible election today. Or rather, the end of a really horrible campaign. In just a matter of months, I have more bad things to say than I have to say about Walmart (and don't get me started on Walmart, because I've been at that for years). I'm astonished by the classlessness at this level of political race. That scary orange guy has a wild imagination and absolutely no filter. He's dragged down the dignity of a presidential campaign. And people support this guy, despite his proven lack of character, bigotry, untruthfulness, and ugly tactics. Saying "crooked Hillary," apparently, is enough to turn a lot of people against her. Someone told me today that they were voting for Trump, "because Hillary is crooked." I'm pretty sure he doesn't exactly know what "crooked" means, or what "crooked" acts he's being accused of - but he's a Trump guy.

Also, I love that the topic of one of Hillary's emails to Huma Abadin, was, "What was the name of that older Indian actor we met a few years ago?" If forgetting Amitabh Bachchan's name is a crime, I guess she is crooked.

free-speech bashing by Kansas City police

Here we go again...

who decides?

Last night, I watched this documentary, about political correctness (particularly on college campuses) vs. free speech, as pertains to stand-up comedy. I found it very thought-provoking. I come down pretty hard on the side of free speech. I've listened to some pretty extreme stand-up, and even if something rubbed me the wrong way, I never felt it didn't have the right to be spoken or broadcasted (and that I always had the right to turn the channel, walk out of the club, etc.). Lenny Bruce, after all, died for our sins,

Then I read this in the New York Times, about hate speech on Twitter, which was even more thought-provoking. I have to ask the question, who gets to decide what constitutes "hate speech"? This is a pretty tricky one, especially since Twitter presents itself as a free-speech medium. But Twitter also does not permit what it calls "abusive behavior" (see guidelines here). Should verbal/written abuse be set apart from "free speech"? And who gets to decide what constitutes "abusive"? If someone on Twitter attacks a person or race or viewpoint, and some number of people think it's correct or OK, and others are offended, is it permissible or not under these guidelines? And how extreme does the "attack" have to be? 

From the Times article: Just take a gander at @Bridget62945958, who published a series of anti-Semitic posts against my colleague Binyamin Appelbaum. One message showed a series of lampshades. Its caption read: “This is your family when Trump wins. Get your Israeli passport ready.”

Do I like this? Nope. Would I be upset if it were directed at me? Sure. Are there Twitter users who think it's OK? I'm sure there are, just as there are readers who think it's horrible. But should it be censored from a "free speech" medium?

And what we're talking about is censorship. One of the free speech advocates in the documentary I watched said that it is absolutely necessary to permit speech that offends any number of people in order to begin a meaningful dialogue and understanding about the issue. I can get behind this, I'm pretty sure. And I'm not certain that there's not all that much difference between a stand-up comic on a college campus or a racist demagogue on Twitter (if Twitter is indeed "free speech"). I can hate it, I can change the channel, I can walk out, I can block the poster or quit Twitter. I've unfriended quite a few people on Facebook who have repeatedly expressed views that I disagreed with or found offensive; now they can post what they want, and I don't have to read it. (I don't really use Twitter much these days, so I haven't come up against that kind of situation in that venue.)

Lenny Bruce got thrown in jail for saying "cocksucker" in a nightclub. Let me repeat that: Lenny Bruce got thrown in jail for saying "cocksucker" in a nightclub. Some people were offended by that word. Maybe some still are. Does anyone think it was OK for him to be jailed for saying it? It was considered an illegal act at that time. Do we consider it illegal now? He was convicted in 1964. He died before his conviction was overturned, in 1966. New York State pardoned him in 2003. No one since has ever been arrested for anything said in a nightclub. 

I am not OK with censorship. I am not OK with "hate speech" (as it is commonly understood, such as the above example), I am not OK with prejudice, I am not OK with soliciting terrorist activity...but those are things that offend me personally. I can change the channel. Maybe I'm being naive, but I think censorship is scarier than any words can be.

That being said...let me share my own experience of being attacked online and being accused of censorship.

Many years ago, I started a "listserv," which was an email discussion group, that eventually became an online chat group. The group was founded to bring together fans of an incredibly minor musical genre (basically defined as three specific musicians and their cohorts). It started with six people I found in a newsgroup (rec.music.folk), back in the 90s, and grew, over about ten years, to (as best I can remember) around 500. I was the founder and the moderator. 

There started to be instances where members assumed that if the others shared their musical tastes, they were sure to share other interests; what I remember specifically was a bunch of posts about astrology. I gently reminded people what the group was about, and asked them to stay on topic. Wasn't a big deal.

Then a guy joined the group - let's call him "Gene." Gene seemed to have a very short fuse and would go off on people for seemingly no reason and in very extreme way. Most of the group members were more or less love-and-peace hippies, and Gene's behavior was jarring to a lot of people. And he was scaring off newcomers, which bothered me a lot. For instance, a newcomer might post something like, "Hi, I'm new to this group. Has so-and-so played in the Chicago area recently?" And Gene would reply along these lines: "IF YOU SHUT UP AND READ THE POSTS BEFORE ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS MAYBE I WOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU TO SHUT YOUR IGNORANT IDIOT MOUTH!!!" So, the newcomer would quit the group. This didn't sit too well with me. I tried asking Gene to try to play nicely with others. No dice.

I should also disclose that Gene went after me, a lot. Example: I had read a book where one of the characters was a fictionalized version of one of our topic musicians, and I said something along the lines of "I thought the female characters were too simplistic and trivialized." The part of Gene's ensuing rant that I remember best was that he called me a "LESBIAN NAZI." (PS, Gene and I were, and are, both Jews.) 

Some of the people in the group liked Gene. (Amazingly, to me, one even married him.) Some found him offensive. Some brushed it off. Some left the group. Some thought he was funny. (Gene did have a credential relevant to the group: he owned a record label that had released one album by one of the artists.) Needless to say, I didn't care for the guy, didn't like his tone, and didn't like his presence in the group. And no one else behaved like him. 

Here's the difference: it wasn't a free speech forum. It was my wheelhouse, my playpen, my topic. The gentle nudges-back-to-topic that worked on astrology did not work on Gene. Here's what I did, which I hated having to do: I wrote guidelines. (Just like Twitter, which does represent itself as free speech.) They were pretty simple: keep on topic, don't attack other people. I was the moderator; I got to judge what "attack" meant. Among our twinkly little music fans, it wasn't hard to distinguish "Is anyone going to so-and-so's show next week?" from "UGLY LITTLE WORMS LIKE YOU SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO BREATHE THE SAME AIR AS THE REST OF US!!!" 

The guidelines further said that the first and second times I judged someone's posting inappropriate based on the above, I would email them privately. After a third time, their posts would be subject to moderation, which meant I would change a setting to read and approve their posts before forwarding them to the group.

It killed me that I had to do this, or felt I had to. It killed me that anything like this became an issue. I had never imagined such a thing would happen, that someone like Gene would join and participate in the group. I was trying to grow and enhance the group, and people were leaving because of Gene. This was not OK in my group. 

This started a lot of yelling about censorship. This started a lot of chaotic behavior within the group. This started a lot of attacks on me. This led to more and more people being moderated. I do not exaggerate when I say that I lost sleep. I do not exaggerate when I say that my husband begged me to quit the group. Although he blessedly lived in another city, Gene did show up to a club show in New York, where he waved a finger in my face and yelled, "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND I'LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER!!!" 

It ended very badly. I eventually banned Gene from the group, and he started his own "rival" group (with a very slight spelling difference from mine), in which people were allowed to post anything they wanted. Gene's pals who belonged both groups started reposting his nasty rants in his group to my group. His group had about 30 members and mine was in the hundreds (and mine eventually included two of the musicians who had become sufficiently internet-savvy), but after ten years, I gave up. I turned the moderation and ownership over to someone who maybe had a more even temperament or cooler head or thicker skin than mine. 

For unrelated reasons, I broke off my friendship with one of the musicians and lost my interest in the mini-genre, lost touch with most of the group members, took my life in another direction. The lost group and friendship felt like losing a family, felt like a divorce. I have no doubt that it was the right thing to do. But I'm still scratching my head over the business of directing/limiting/controlling the discussion in the group. Was I trying to keep the group as I had created it and intended it to be, or was I just a no-good censor?

I think the group still exists, though I have no interest in looking into it. I'm still Facebook friends with a couple of the early members. One of them recently referred to me on FB by the affectionate name a lot of the members used, "Our Jen," and I was touched and happy and sad. It was nice to be "Our Jen" for a while. Bringing the scattered fans together was a good thing. It actually raised the profile of our musicians and led to real-life connections and more gigs for them. We had a member in Ireland and one in Denmark and one in Aruba; the man in Aruba met Barry and me at the airport when we traveled there for our honeymoon, and drove us to our hotel. It was actually pretty amazing. 

Did Gene wreck it, or did I?