Tag Archives: George

A Walk in the Park ……


…… without a George sighting today.

But Gracie and I had a nice time anyway.
She’s a very interesting dog to take on a walk.
That’s because …… and this might be considered TMI …… or humiliating for her …… but, she does not “do her business” outside.
Not at all.
No matter how long we stay out.

It seems that she doesn’t think she’s supposed to go anywhere else but her litter box.
Which cracks me up.
And makes me proud.
She has too much class to relieve herself in public.
I admire her fortitude.

She still stops and sniffs at every single tree and pole.
But that’s all she does.
Just sniffs.

She also wants to meet and greet every single person/dog that comes our way.
And I’m not kidding when I say ……

It makes for a much longer walk than necessary.
At least she’s friendly.

She has surprised me with her friendliness.
When we’re at home and she hears someone outside, she barks like a maniacal Doberman.
Seriously, she thinks she can take anyone and anything.
Napoleon complex, anyone?

But she doesn’t bark at anyone or anything when we’re out walking.
She just wags her stubby little tail and silently begs people to play with her.
And then sadly watches them go past.


Then she looks at me …… with sadness in her eyes, as if to say,”Why won’t they play with me?”
Bless her teeny tiny little heart.

As we walked back to the apartment I started noticing that suddenly we seemed to be surrounded by high school-looking students who were dressed in shirts and ties (the boys) and dresses (the girls …… just in case you couldn’t figure that out).
And by surrounded, I mean there were hundreds. If not thousands.
There were school busses parked and double parked all up and down Central Park West (the street behind my apartment building that borders the west side of Central Park).
Here’s a small sample:


I still have no idea why they were there.
It’s May Day, but do kids dress up for that and get to take a field trip to the city?
Anyone know what the deal is?

Well, that’s it for my day.
I know, it’s almost too exciting for you to handle.
Take a deep breath and try to calm down.

Before I end this post I want to say thank you to all of you who commented here and/or on Facebook when I wrote about my secret feelings and sadness the other day.

I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. And how surprised I was by the number of widowed people who are reading my blog.
I really didn’t think many people read it at all, widowed or not.
So thank you.
Thank you for letting me know that I’m not alone in feeling that way.
Thank you for telling me that you felt less alone when you read it.
It feels good to know that you’re out there.
I appreciate you.
Very much.

Have a great weekend.
And if anybody out there knows where George likes to hang out …… please let me know!!!!

Back ……

…… in my happy place …… New York City.
The weather here is absolutely beautiful. Β I have the windows open and am enjoying the street sounds as well as the “fresh” air.
I use quotation marks around the word fresh because …… well, because “fresh” may be a relative state.
I love being able to open the windows in the spring and fall. Β In Houston that would be approximately 2.5 days of the year.
I get a lot more days here in NY, but the more I keep my windows open, the more I have to dust.
And dust a lot.
Like …… every day.
And sometimes it seems/looks heavier than regular dust.
But I try to not think about that as I feel the cool air and listen to the sirens, honking, and music that drifts in through my windows.
Or maybe, slams in through my windows.
You get used to the noise.
I can sleep with my windows open and the noise doesn’t bother me at all. I wonder if I should make one of those sleep machines that has the ambient noises on it, like the sound of rain, a babbling brook, the ocean waves, etc. and add NYC noise?
I bet one or two people would like it.
Besides me.

I’m currently sitting on my sofa with a worn out puppy laid out next to me.
I know how she feels.
As much as I love this city, sometimes I think it’s trying to kill me.

This morning I went to the MET to take a “class” with some other women from the Manhattan Women’s Club. It’s called MET 101 and it’s 4 sessions. I missed the first two, but made it for today and plan to go next week.
Today we talked about painters from post-something to pre-modern. Or something like that.
Don’t judge me …… my brain holds only so much information now. To learn something new, something old has to fall out.

Anyway, we followed our lecturer (very nice and interesting man) through that museum for 2 hours.
Of museum-walking.
Which is TOTALLY different from walking on a street, in a park or around a track.
It’s walk a lot-stop-walk a bit-stop-walk a bit more-stop-walk a lot-stop, etc.
It’s a back-killer.
Or maybe that’s just me.

But it was a very interesting morning, in spite of my screaming back and feet, which I totally ignored as I walked 2 miles back through the park, to the grocery store and then home.
The park was so lovely with tulips and pink budding trees all over the place. A bride and groom were doing their pictures in one spot. Behind them was a group of about 5 young people who were singing/selling their cd’s.
Further down was a group of young men who entertain people all over the city. Either that or they all have clones who do.
They do a lot of gymnastic stuff, including lining up about 7 men from the crowd and having one guy run and flip over them. Kind of like Evil Knievel. If you don’t know who that is, you should be on Instagram now.

There was a guy who was using a stick and string to make those huge bubbles, there were people painting/drawing scenes or caricatures of tourists (because people who live here don’t pay anyone for that).

All in all, it was a great walk on a fabulous day.
In spite of my back.

After I got home from the grocery store I did a work out …… still in spite of my screaming back.
And now I’m paying for it.
Well, not if I don’t move off of the couch.
But I’m not sure how long I can sit here without having to get up to do something useful, like finding the TV remote or going to the bathroom.

Gracie got to go on a walk this morning, too. Daughter #3 and the little boy she nannies for took her out. She was less than thrilled that I left her with them, but hopefully she behaved herself soon after.

By the way, I learned how difficult it is to do a workout in a room where your puppy is.
She kept trying to get me to throw her toys, pick her up, jump on my feet, back, legs, etc. and just plain give her my attention.
She was a pain.
And now she’s snoozing.
Like messing up my workout was a huge workout for her.

So, yesterday before my flight up here, I picked up a People magazine. I didn’t pay much attention to the front of it until right before my flight.
That’s when my heart started slamming into my chest and I think I may have hyperventilated a little.
Because of this:

I have every intention of becoming a serious stalker.
I knew that he had been up here doing something, but I had no idea they were living here.
How did I know that he was up here?
Daughter #3’s BF sent me these, the day after I left last time:

He added, “So … George is here shooting a movie… Just saw him. Thought you should know.”
I wanted to kick him.
The BF, not George.
I mean, how dare he see George?!!!
Yet, I liked the pictures.

So now I’m on the search for George. I’m not sure what the first step should be, but hopefully it doesn’t involve me getting off of this couch.


P.S. Here’s a picture of Miss Gracie, being excited to find herself back in the city!


I just got home from doing my volunteer reading class and then doing a bit of grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s, which is usually like fighting over Cabbage Patch dolls back in the mid-80’s.

I had planned on coming home and writing yet another addendum about me slapping my forehead this morning as I ate breakfast before heading to my barre class, because it was then that I suddenly remembered that I forgot to eat breakfast yesterday, which probably totally explains why I was so exhausted.
I did not start off with the most important meal of the day.

But, as I walked into my building, I stopped at the front desk because I had been notified that I had a package to be picked up.
I signed in and the guy turned around, grabbed a vase with a dozen roses in it, and sat it next to where I was signing. Then he turned back to find something else. I just kind of looked at the vase, knowing it couldn’t possibly be for me, but then wondering if it could be for Daughter #3, because SHE has a boy friend. The guy came back with a small package and sat it down next to the flowers.
I looked at him and then back at the flowers. Then I looked at him again. He looked at me like he was wondering if I was a bit touched. So I said, “Are THOSE for me?!”, to which he replied, pointing at the card, “It says they’re for J.E.” (only he said my whole name, which I’m not putting on here).

To say I was stunned would be an understatement.
I picked up my two grocery bags, my small package, my purse and the vase of roses and headed toward the elevators. While I was waiting on them I took the card out of the vase and opened it. Then got on to the elevator and read the card.

Nice flowers, yes? See the card? Can you read it? Not clearly? I’ll give you some help:

Now can you read it?? The signature (a real signature, not a copy) is a G and a C (although it could be read as two G’s):

I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!
George sent me roses!!! And another thank you card!
I grinned all the way to my floor in the elevator.

I so glad that barre class didn’t kill me today, or I wouldn’t have been here to get these. πŸ™‚

OK, that’s all the news for now.
And that seems like plenty.