Hits & Misses

This blog just entered its third year, thanks to a core loyal following and those who check in intermittently to see me make a fool of myself. You want to know what’s behind my more sensational—or self-deprecating—headlines.

My index shows me I’ve talked about my long-suffering husband Joe 56 times, my sister Missy 11 times, celebrities 18 times, and sadomasochism just once. 

My favorite post from the past two years was my appreciation of LA’s Chateau Marmont, my favorite hotel. 

That one, or maybe this one about “turning the tables on a Jehovah’s Witness.” I had fun with the premise.

I have written a lot about New York. My encomium to Greenwich Village’s now-shuttered Village Cigars celebrates my favorite city while lamenting the loss of an iconic marker. 

I’ve learned there is no magic formula and certainly no predicting what topics and entries will engage you all and which will fall flat. Early on, I wrote a regrettable post comparing the English poet John Milton to the pop star Lizzo; it left readers scratching their heads and me vowing never to write about English poetry again. Then there was the time I tried to make a tortured comparison between my air conditioner dying and the mortal nature of existence. 

If there is anything that approximates a formula for clicks, it is a teaser promising embarrassment to the author. Joe’s favorite is this one, which describes me making a fool of myself in front of Liza Minnelli.

At least I haven’t stooped so low as to tell you what once happened to me at the Hallmark store. Or after my high school prom.

While I am happy to score some wins—I’m thinking of last winter’s post about Joni Mitchell, last spring’s post about breaking up with my podiatrist, my excoriation of Madonna, and my appreciation of Cleveland—I’ve learned more from the misses. One Italian food lover I know took me to task for making the case against Italian food. The premise was just too absurd.

For now, I thank you, and Xander thanks you. Xander is my loyal Coton de Tulear, who comes downstairs with me during my nocturnal writing sessions to provide moral support and occasionally beg for a snack.

At the two-year mark, hits and misses be damned, I enjoy writing this blog and appreciate it when I get to hear from you non-anonymously.

Whether you read me every week or just come occasionally for the self-deprecation, thank you.

To quote the great Al Green, “Let’s stay together.”

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