Not sure what the problem is but we have been having some computer problems. We could most likely use a new computer but it also could stand to be re-formatted blah blah blah....
Anyway, I'm still here and haven't fallen under huge weight of all the stuff that I've un-earthed. I wasn't feeling that great this weekend but luckily for me, I have a husband who is very indulgent and helpful. He cooked diner Saturday and I got to hang around playing the Lady of the Manor. He recently purchased for me a book which I have been in love with since before it was written. I am a huge fan of Nelson DeMille and years ago stumbled on "The Gold Coast". It is on my list of 10 most favorite modern books and I have re-read it so often that I had to buy another copy in a used book store last year because the pages wee literally falling out of the original. Anyway, my dreams, literary wise have come true and he has finally written the sequel. I was hooked the moment I read the first page and it felt like coming home. When I finished reading "The Gold Coast" I felt like I lost a friend in John Sutter and actually wondered what would become of his life. Thank you Nelson DeMille for answering my questions in the most wonderful ways. When I finished reading it Sunday morning I picked up my dog-eared copy of "The Gold Coast" and started reading it again. The thing is, I grew up here and these people are no strangers to my life at all. I can put a face to any of the characters instantly. Many years ago I dated the son of one of the large Italian families who are in the construction business here on the island. It was a colorful chapter in my life. An equal number of years ago I worked in the perfume and cosmetic business and I became good friends with a couple who owned a company and lived in a gated place in Lattingtown. They didn't just give parties-they entertained. The room I stayed in was larger than my apartment then and it came with servants. I used to wander away from the party and, frankly, escape the clutches of some idiot who tried to stick his tongue in my ear or something that's equally icky when it's not being done by the man of your dreams. I'd go up to the children's quarters where they had built a playhouse that was room-sized and the walls were painted with storybook characters and lighted mobiles danced around the ceiling. Occasionally, I would find a couple who were stumbling around trying not to look guilty. I just went there to drink some champagne and try to imagine what being a child in a place like that could be. The second best place was the Library. A whole room full of beautiful books and no one ever looked at them. I believe they were mostly for show and most likely bought by the yard from a dealer. The larcenous Library thief in me imagines I could have gotten away with some good ones that no one would have ever missed. They had a tree growing in the center of the breakfast room. A huge, very old, historical tree. I wonder what happened to that place and to the tree. It had a historical marker on the trunk. Maybe it's still there? Good times.
Anyway, it makes a story twice as fascinating when you can picture the events based on moments that have taken place in your own life. So, I really had a great weekend with my nose buried in a wonderful book for hours.
Of course, the down side of that is I've got a lot to catch up on. So off I go-back to reality but it sure is fun to travel down those memories from time to time.