Documentary filmmaker Aviva Kempner sat comfortably in a Manhattan editing room, one sandaled foot extended to admire her pedicure. Her bright-red tunic, busy with flowers, matched her red toenails. “I don’t know why more women don’t have their toes done,” she said with a sigh.
There are no single men in New York, and everyone knows that. Everyone except my mother. To her, the city is filled with men waiting to make me their wife. I just needed a creative plan for finding them.“If you want to meet a doctor, eat in a hospital,” she advised.Any objections I voiced she waved away. “Look,” she said, “who do