Adieu, mon ami

What do you do if  you have a far-away friend who dies and his wife doesn't tell anyone?  No obit,  just a death notice, two lines in a newspaper.  Said wife hated all his "old" friends.  You find out almost a year later, and feel cheated and angry and want to call the wife and berate her, but don't because maybe she is paralyzed by grief.  Unlikely, but still. 

You wondered why he hadn't called (he had to call when she was out of the house) and why he didn't respond when you emailed that Locke Ober, his favorite Boston restaurant was closing. 

He was a one of a kind person, and did not deserve to die in anonymity with no one who knew him "back when" to mourn.  

I don't like this at all.  Still debating what to do.

Haven't posted in ages.  Writing, cooking, cleaning, publicizing World of Mirrors, gave a couple speeches at Toastmasters, made savarin and risotto and polenta all from scratch for the first time.  Did a lot of cooking.  The snow is endless.   So--terribly sorry.

I am also taking lesson in Word Press (hear that Blogger!) because  I am so  pissed at Blogger because you are forever tied to the email you signed up with or all your photos will disappear from your blog.  Did you ever hear of such stupidity? In this day and age of technology you can't even change a freakin' email address.

Personality, I don't like Google so much anymore.  Just the search engine.  Groups and docs pretty much suck. Their e-reader is going feet up.  I give G+ a C+, but blogger being stuck with my ancient now obsolete email really stinks.  It's costing me $9 per month just so my blogs (I have four of them) won't go South. So my sad tale of woe.

My writing group doesn't like my new book so much and I got stuck in a volunteer job I didn't want.  No time to write or blog, but ha! ha! plenty of time to complain.   Two out of three of our cats complain a lot.  The third just hisses at everyone. 

Savarin soaked in rum syrup filled with strawberries and whipped cream

Meow!  Hiss!