• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies Sometimes I think a meteor could strike the earth and wipe out mankind with the exception of my mother’s Bridge club — Roz, Bea, Bette, Rhoda, and Jackie — five Jewish octogenarians who continue to gather for lunch and Bridge on Mondays as they have for over fifty years. When I set out to learn about the women behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, and most of all the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
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Kiss Me and Smile For Me

The Hose

Dearest darling readers of this blog:

I am going on vacation to a place where they don’t have telephones, computers, or any electronics. I’m going to London. In my stead, I put you in the very worthy hands of my friend, colleague and writing collab, Erin Hosier. She has been most famous lately for her scathing blogs about the publishing business, but among her many other talents she is also one half of the cult-y Literary Death Match extravaganza. You are in for some fun. And if she tells you I eat expensive Finnish yogurt, she’s lying.

Love you and leave you, Betsy

p.s. I’ll be back

14 Responses

  1. Safe travels

  2. bon voyage

  3. I miss you already. London is such a backwater.

  4. When I was in London, publishing people wore sneakers, rode the bus, and ate sausages for lunch. It was like Mars. Have fun!!

  5. The cows think Finland is heaven. Like Newsweek. Happy travels.

  6. So close . . .

    Don’t forget, it’s a toilet, not a bathroom.

    Enjoy!

  7. Panicked when I saw the beginning of this post. “Kiss me and smile for me … hm … leaving … on a jet plane … I wonder what this post is about … leaving!? … dearest darling readers of this blog? … I am going!?”

    Thought you were abandoning the blog. Eeee. Do not do that to me. I hope you enjoy your time abroad.

  8. Wait. You have a life outside this blog?

    Wait. When you say “London”, what does that mean?

    Hold on. Are we going to die? What’s a Literary Death Match?

    I think I speak for more than myself when I say that my social skills are too feeble to tolerate a long separation. If I were a dog, I’d be howling right now. OK, I’m howling right now ,but in a merely human way: be glad I’m not a St. Bernard. Or a Yorkie.

    • “Literary Death Match marries the literary and performative aspects of Def Poetry Jam, rapier-witted quips of American Idol’s judging (without any meanness), and the ridiculousness and hilarity of Double Dare.

      Each episode of this competitive, humor-centric reading series features a thrilling mix of four famous and emerging authors (all representing a literary publication, press or concern — online, in print or live) who perform their most electric writing in seven minutes or less before a lively audience and a panel of three all-star judges. After each pair of readings, the judges — focused on literary merit, performance and intangibles — take turns spouting hilarious, off-the-wall commentary about each story, then select their favorite to advance to the finals.”

      I will restrain myself.

  9. Have a good trip Betsy!

    Welcome Erin. Don’t be scared.

  10. You WOULD leave the day before my birthday. *sigh* Fine, then. Have fun, dammit.

    If it’s even the smidgiest bit chilly, duck into a Paul’s and order the hot chocolate. You’ll have an orgasm on the spot.

    Safe travels. We’ll be nice to Erin while you’re gone.
    Maybe.

  11. Have a great time..a pint..and a fag for me.

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