I used to care so much about everything, get all hot and bothered, worried about what was happening on planet earth, but now, well, what the hell, why bother? The seven deadly sins will always exist. The four horsemen are still on the war path. Life will go on without me. And I’ll go on without life.

We’re at it again. The clothes and makeup critic (of her mother) and I are setting off on another cruise adventure.

I love bad poetry. I’ve written bad poetry. In fact, when I was in college, Donald Hall used one of my poems in class as an example of bad poetry. Thank you, Donald. I appreciated that. However, in my second semester of poetry writing, X. J. Kennedy used a poem of mine as an example of, I guess what one could call, “acceptable” poetry. So I can learn.

You weep for the children of Palestine, their mothers, their fathers, their grandparents, as do we all. But you go a step further. You applaud the rape, the murder, the dismemberment, the burning to death of the citizens of Israel, who weren’t only Jews, but also Arabs and Thais.

Am I obsessed with Jelly Juice? No. It’s a time filler for when I don’t want to think of other things I should be doing, like figuring out health care choices now that it’s open season again.

In my continuing efforts to clean out the basement, I found a bin with old photos, yes, from real film, before digital took over the world. The only question I can ask myself is how did I allow myself to get so fat!

My husband, may I label him the ultimate hoarder? He has moved to assisted living, I’m left with the detritus. He saved test papers from high school on. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. From bin to trash in one easy step. Well, not so easy, three steps really and carrying them isn’t fun.

What shall I wear today?  What says me? Well, okay, I guess I’ll go with the usual and look like a schlub. 

They hadn’t written their own vows.  Riley thought it was a corny thing to do.  She just wanted the traditional ceremony.  Vows could be so—sappy.  And sappiness could be saved for the toasts at the reception.

The box that Steve gave him.  The presumptuous box.  Mike decided to open it.  What else did he have to do but watch television and maybe fall asleep.

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve joked, as he returned from his latest trip, this time San Diego. He was supposed to have an assignment in Dubai, but he told his bosses that he definitely had to be there for his sister-in-law’s wedding. Under no condition was he going to miss it. Ergo, San Diego, clearing his calendar for this coming weekend’s drive up to Scarsdale, where he would once again meet the charming Bernice Franklin. And the rest of the crew.

Was she so bad in bed that he had to look elsewhere? And how many times had he done the looking? Was it only with the whip master? Were there others? Patients? No, he wouldn’t. They might have a heart attack. But what about the nurses or staff? She never asked. The only one she knew about was Heidi, the rejuvenator. Leaving sad sack Bernice all to herself.

“I think I’ve made a friend or at least an ally. Beth. She’s married to Barry, Steve’s younger brother. They have the sweetest little girl, Sophia.” Eden laughed. “Beth said, if I ever have children and it’s a girl, I should definitely make an extreme effort to get along with Sandy. Girl’s clothes, she assured me, were very expensive, and there’s nothing like a grandmother to fill that closet. Although I have a feeling Sandy will never be filling the closet of any child of mine. It was little digs the entire time, which I chose to ignore. Steve said afterwards that he was very proud of me.”

Beth drove while Barry, on his cell, rustling through papers. You’d think with everything online, he wouldn’t need papers, but they seemed to calm him, as he could be quite hyper. Perfect for what they did, mostly. Her method was the calm, “Let’s see where this takes us,” response to frazzled clients. Never oversell as it could come back to bite you in the ass.

Marty never liked to argue with his wife. But— “Maybe you haven’t been as welcoming to Eden as you could be. I think we should be grateful to her. Steve is happy. How many nights have we pondered what was going to happen to him? You always said middle-child-syndrome. But, let’s face it, it was more than that. His only friend was basically his computer. Arrested for hacking, you’ll recall.”

Eden was puzzling over what strategy to use with her new husband. How was she to get her own way with a perfectly appropriate request? Steve was home from that short trip to Ontario, and this was the weekend they would drive up to Pennsylvania to see Steve’s parents—and the rest of his family.

I didn’t meet all of my husband’s family until our first trip to Israel in the summer of 1967, right after the Six Day War. The only introduction before that was to his older brother, who lived in New York City, the one we came to call Uncle Monster.

I said to myself, Carolyn, here’s the opportunity to make the world a better place. So several days later I drove—okay, that sort of negates making the world a better place, but it was too far to walk—to the Container Store and bought myself a kitchen counter composter.

I like remembering my friends’ birthdays. Two of them I’ve known since we were eighteen years old and in college together.

Bernice Franklin was in a flurry of excitement. Finally! One of her ungrateful brats had come through and left everything in her capable hands. She got to plan Riley’s wedding!