No use uttering a string of "mea culpas" or whatever it is that the sinners and the fallen utter prior to seeking the solace of the confessional. For one thing, what is a nice (though very unreligious) Jewish girl doing lurking about looking for a door to a confessional booth? I fear there ain't no such for the likes of me, unless one could consider the blogosphere as one huge confessional booth. Hmmmm, in my feeble attempt at humor I may not be so far off the mark at that, but I do not intend to go there now. I have tied my leg to the dining table and sworn that I would publish a blog today, even if it be merely one loud, screeching, "AAARRRRRGGGGHH".
There. Having managed that I guess I could untie myself, but perhaps I had better leave the rope tied till I actually hit "Post"......I have discovered during this strange convalescence that I am absolutely not to be trusted when it comes to things I "oughta" do as opposed to things I "wanna" do. No, No, it's not that I don't want to blog..........perish forbid the thought.........I desperately want to blog.....it is simply that when I sit in front of the blog screen's pristine, unsullied whiteness and tap, scrabble or bang on the door in my brain that shuts me off from my true blogging nature, the door does not open. In fact, I can hear 6 or 7 more deadbolt locks snap into place (you would think it was a New York apartment) as I feebly wrench and pluck at the unyielding doorknob.
I do NOT know why a part of me has developed this strange resistance to blogging, but I can tell you that it is a swift pain in the ass, as my beloved Mamma used to say (only occasionally referring to me). Prior to the Great Klutzy Fall there was hardly a moment or a subject which I could not sit down and blithely blog about. I have no idea what has happened, but that ability is no longer always accessible. As far as I recall, the old song goes, " The Hip Bones connecka to the Thigh Bone...." not to the Head Bone, for crissake....but in my case I am beginning to suspect that I have been assembled (or perhaps reassembled) incorrectly. At any rate, wherever that surgeon put my ready ability- to- blog, he did not leave me a map damn him, so here I am, searching frantically among the mended joints and other parts trying to find it with only occasional success. Believe me, it hurts me more than it does you.........or maybe it is a toss up, but I just want you dear, faithful followers to know that I have not deserted you.........I am here each day scratching on that damned door trying to break in to access my blogging equipment and I will not give up. In fact, I have already considered hiring one of those TV Police battering rams or simply having the pins pulled from the hinges (like we had to do with my bathroom door in order to get the walker through the opening.)
However, since we are dealing with a sort of virtual reality here, I do not quite know what part of the yellow pages to consult to obtain an expert in this undertaking. Just be assured that I have not abandoned you and, being incredibly stubborn, I intend to beat this handicap. Please do keep checking in and I will try to keep you entertained even tho it be intermittently for a while.
If all else fails I guess I can always just publish a photo or two......if I can find where I have stored them........they do not seem to be under Photos, Pictures or any such.....I know I filed them in a Safe Place and that I fear is the problem....I hope when I find them my boom box, extra camera and the original copy of my Will will be with them.
Love you madly.
The New Yorker covers: August 18, 1975
10 hours ago