962 Yesterday was my birthday but that doesn’t mean that there weren’t bumps in the road.

I did have a wonderful few days with my sister and last night Julie and Dan took me and Marcia out to dinner.

We went to the indian restaurant on my block, Chola.

I have a long history with Chola. They cater my Thanksgiving and they’ve been my go to indian restaurant for years.

Why am I telling you this? to explain why I behaved as I did last night receiving what I considered to be an unfair tongue lashing from my co-diners (not you Dan)

I’ll set the stage by saying that Chola closed suddenly with no explanation and stayed closed for several months.

They reopened only a few weeks ago.

The meal was wonderful and all my favorite waiters stopped by to say hello. They even gave us a few things “on the house”.

Towards the end of the meal I delicately excused myself to “tap a kidney”.

When I got into the ladies room directly above the toilet paper roll was a sign saying


I have to admit that I pondered over this sign. Could their delicate plumbing be the reason for the closing of the restaurant? Keep in mind that the sign is directly over the toilet paper roll.

I’m thinking that this pondering distracted me and at the end of my toilet (pronounced  twa-let) I thoughtlessly used the toilet paper and dropped it in the toilet.


When I realized what I’d done I was horrified. The thought that I would be responsible for another month long closing was more than I could bear.

I did what any faithful customer would do in this situation. I reached down into my pee, retrieved the culprit and put it in the trash can.

And yes I washed my  hands thoroughly with soap.

When I got back to the table I told my fellow diners what I had done and instead of the praise that I was expecting, I was greeted with condemnation and jeers.

“They meant paper towels stupid, not toilet paper”

This from my usual adoring sister.

“If they meant paper towels they wouldn’t have put the sign directly over the toilet paper”

Julie feigning a gag wasn’t any kinder.

“You put your hand in pee?”

Only Dan refused to jump on the bandwagon without doing some investigation himself. He went to the men’s room.

When he returned to the table he announced that the same sign existed in the men’s room but it’s  location was different. It was by the paper towels.

“Well,” I said, feeling vindicated “If it had been by the paper towels I would have behaved differently. I would have known that they meant paper towels”

Marcia; “Unless you were a moron”

Julie trying to soften her mother’s attack  “A birthday moron”




Why? Because only then will you get the magnitude of having 2 stinky meals when you’re away overnight.

Julie had to go to Southhampton to do some research on her new book. I decided to  accompany her so that I could check on my Montauk house.

I decided to leave Ray with my nephew Scott  since it was only for one night and he doesn’t love car rides.

You remember Scott. He’s the one who threw Ray off the chair only missing cracking his skull open by a hair.

I didn’t worry because I was sure that the stern look I gave him would put Scott on his best behavior and I was right.

As soon as he got to my house he texted me proof of life.


“Why is he sitting on the couch alone?” I asked and he followed that unacceptable foto up with:


I was able to relax. I guess this was because I didn’t know the horror that was to befall me.

The long car ride gave Julie and me much needed time to go over world and family events and discuss them until they were solved.

I don’t want to suggest that if we had taken this trip a little over a month ago we’d be gearing up for a Hillary Presidency but if we had taken this trip a little over a month ago we’d be gearing up for a Hillary Presidency .

We arrived at the library in Southhampton and Julie went in to do her research. When she finished it was about 2 p.m.so we decided to eat lunch in that tony town.

We chose what looked like a popular place. It was jammed with well dressed people not an original nose or a facial expression amongst them.

Julie and I each had one of their fancy sandwiches (you know with avocado and sprigs of green jammed in) and I had a small soup.

That set me back $43.00.

I DIDN’T EVEN EAT MY WHOLE SANDWICH BECAUSE IT STUNK SO MUCH. Julie was trying to keep a brave face while gagging down her lunch but I know the girl and I saw right through that.

We couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

We barely spoke on the way to Montauk but I think I heard Julie mumbling to herself “At least we’ll have dinner. At least we’ll have dinner.”

There wasn’t much open in Montauk, this being out of season, just one fancy restaurant that demanded reservations and one plain seafood place that demanded that you wear a shirt.

After our unfortunate lunch it was a no brainer.

The atmosphere in the fancy restaurant was lovely but that’s where it ended.

Now I could go into detail about how my cosmopolitan was undrinkable (I believe it was made with moonshine) and my pasta was mushy and had so much garlic in it that it was not to be eaten by a human with tastebuds.

Julie had a burger which she told me was only okay.

Here is a side note:

My friend Susan, who also has a house in Montauk considers this one of her go to restaurants. When I told her about my meal she made 3 follow up phone calls to me with questions about what I found wanting and why I chose to order what I did when surely I should have known that they have much better dishes.

I’ve always said that Susan gets madder if I don’t like a restaurant that she likes than if I call her daughters whores. (Her daughters by the way are lovely and most proper)

Anyway back to me and Julie.

We went back to the house feeling more than a little let down.

Julie and I slept in the same bed and may I recommend her to anyone who’d like to share  a bed with her.

She lies down on her back and doesn’t move. She sleeps like a salami.

She did make a few cutting remarks about my bite plate and sleeping machine but I put that down to hunger pains.

I do want to say that there was light at the end of the tunnel. I always prefer ending on a high note.

Our breakfast at John’s Pancake House  wonderful. In fact it pleased me so that I was more than willing to pose for this playful photo.




960. Almost a festive evening.

I spent the night at Stephanie’s again but this time she was home and she made a wonderful dinner and we played games.

Her darling husband Terry was there.

Stephanie always says that when I get feeble she’s going to take care of me. I am counting on Terry to protect me from her.

Also present my sweet niece and Steph’s baby sister, Laura and Laura’s son Scott.I could go on and on about how much Laura loves her boy but they say a picture is worth a thousand words.


He’s much older now but she still looks at him the same way.

Scott minds Ray for me whenever I go away.He stays at my apartment because as you know I don’t want Ray upset in any way.

I’m going away for one night next week with Julie and Scott has “kindly” agreed to care for  my boy.

Why is”kindly” in quotes?

First of all I’ve tried to ignore the fact that I’ve heard Scott and Stephanie refer to Ray as “not all there” but something happened last night that made me think I may be too forgiving.

We were sitting down to dinner and Ray took his usual spot at the table.

Just a reminder


Since Ray was already seated and there were only 5 chairs I asked Scott if just this once he’d mind eating standing up.

Well you can imagine my shock when without a howdy do he just walked over to Ray’s chair and tipped it so Ray went flying.

Not wanting to ruin the tone of the evening I said nothing. I did give him quite an angry glare though so he’d know that I was displeased.

I’m thinking that if he treats my dog like this IN FRONT OF ME who knows what goes on when Scott is left to his own devices.

I think I’m going to buy a few of those penguins with cameras in them and leave them around next week just to keep an eye out.

In spite of that a good time was had by all.

The next morning Steph and I went shopping and while we were driving I happened to mention the meatballs and spaghetti that I had waiting for her and Terry when they came back from their last trip. Maybe I was waiting for  some compliments since my meatballs are stellar.


“My meatballs have been called stellar” I gave her a little nudge.

“Well they gave me diarrhea”

That made me hot under the collar.

“Something else made you sick. Terry and I were fine.”

“I have some of them leftover in the freezer. If I get diarrhea again you can shove your meatballs up your ass.”

I am still trying to remember if I ever spoke to my Aunt Ray like that.


959 General kvetching

I live 4 blocks from trump Tower.

Every time that fat schmuck goes anywhere the traffic is held up and a million cars with flashing red lights go flying past my house. They even have an ambulance in case he gets a burger stuck in his throat.

I wear my Hillary tees quite a bit so whenever this parade goes and I’m walking Ray I open my shirt so that he can note my disapproval .

I did have  a nice weekend though. I went up to Steph’s house to mind her animals. She has

2 dogs

3 cats

2 donkeys

2 horses

I have to give the horses and donkeys lunch and dinner.

At lunch time I bring a big bunch of hay out to them and put it in specific spots for them to dine. The horses have no respect for me and they push me around.

One of them, I won’t mention any names,


started eating the hay while it was in my arms thereby ignoring my “Down Boy!” instructions.

The donkeys were pretty well behaved but  when I wanted to take a picture WITH one  of them he made it pretty clear that he was a solo act.


The only one that was appreciative was the barn cat who greeted me warmly each time I went down to give them all dinner.


Ray, on the other hand thought all these guys were well, animals.

He expected his lunch to be served properlyray-lunch

Oh there is one more thing. Having a blog is a big burden because you have to be truthful even if it mars you for life. So here goes…

I had  the beginnings of a sex dream with donald trump.

Luckily I woke up screaming before we “did it” but I’m still going to hell anyway.

958. Who’s on first?

I’ve always said I’d never marry again but as those of you who follow me on Facebook know, I’ve made some exceptions: President Obama, Jon Bon Jovi and others.

I was at physical therapy yesterday and I happened to mention this to Ricky my torturer.

So it will be easier for you to follow the conversation here’s a picture of him


I’m really hoping that he’s showing someone an exercise in this picture.

Anyway I’m naming some of my lucky grooms Lebron James, any member of The Band…

“What band?” Ricky asks.


“I heard you. What band?”

To keep it from gong on forever I say, because I’m older and I see this as a teaching moment,

“You young punk I’d like to punch your lights out. The name of the group is “The Band” They backed Bob Dylan and you know… “The Last Waltz?”

” How would I know that? If I asked you if you knew who Souja Boy was, You wouldn’t know that.

“I absolutely do because I live in this world and (a little quieter) I watch TMZ every night.

From the next torture table a guy pipes up.

“If you ask me about “Soldier Boy” I know what I’d answer and he starts to sing the Shirrelles’ song.

Naturally I join in.

“Oh my little soldier boy.  I’ll be true tooooooo youuuuuuu”

957.The Smith Connection

Every year my nephew Yitzhak, nee Eric, comes from Israel and stayed with me so that he could say something Jewish on his mother’s, my sister Phyllis’, grave.

This year her praying time came very close to Thanksgiving so he wanted to know if it would be an imposition for him to share the holiday with us.

Now this is no minor thing.

Though I do make Thanksgiving for the family, and we have a big family, there were 4 sisters, it isn’t that difficult a job because I usually just order Indian food. All I have to do is throw out a few cheeses and a cracker or two. Maybe a couple of pigs in blankets.

My sister Marcia always makes desserts

Now if Yitzhak comes all that goes out the window. He is kosher but not regular kosher, glatt kosher. The glatt is hebrew for fucking nuts.

Still I don’t even think twice. The thought of having him with us for Thanksgiving is too great. We’ll just have a traditional Thanksgiving and kosher it up.

Marcia and I can handle it even if it is a pain in the ass.

He can’t eat any food that isn’t kosher. He can’t touch any of my dishes, glasses, or silverware. So it’s all paper plates and cups and plastic silverware.

Yitzhak has 10 children. When 9 of them hear about him coming for Thanksgiving it was just too tempting. One of his daughters, Chaya has just had a baby so the kid was coming too. That makes 11.

When the American family hears that they are coming they are so excited. My nephew Barry who lives in Oregon even flies in. He and Yitzhak are the same age but haven’t seen each other for probably 40 years.


Now where will all these people sleep?

I have sleeping with couches etc for 5. That won’t do. I buy 5 blow up beds but it’s still touchy.

Then I decided to sell my piano. It takes up a huge amount of space and has become nothing more than a place to put family photos since the guy who played the piano ran away.

Luckily Jim Pugh, the best trombone player in the world and the sweetest guy was in New York with Steely Dan. He looked at the piano and decided to buy it for his son and daughter.

With that money I bought another sleeper couch. That made sleeping for 7. That took care of the boys. Where would I put the 3 girls and the baby?

Liz offered her apartment at first for my nephew Brian’s family but they found someplace else to stay so that was settled.

I just realized how boring this is getting.

No reason going into carving a turkey with a plastic knife and the long list of instructions Yitzhak gave me and Marcia to keep his family from eternal damnation.That will just make it more boring.

The Israeli kids are so happy and loving that it almost made me rethink my casual attitude towards religion…. almost.

Some of them don’t speak english but they make every effort to be understood and the one’s that do speak english translate.

Yitzhak’s youngest son understands english perfectly but he’s uncomfortable speaking it. He’s so adorable. He’s the only one who isn’t married. I told Yitzhak that if the kid would lose the beanie I could get him laid in 5 minutes.

I must pat myself on the back for thinking of name tags. That way the Israeli kids and the American kids will know each other’s names. Each  sister’s children would have their names written in the same color.


Ray, my family


Barry and Yitzhak


Everyone was so happy to be together.



The Entire Smith Connection.


956 There is no joy in Mudville

But it wasn’t mighty Casey who struck out.

She stood with dignity against taunts about her family.

She waited for her chance to speak while the Other sent threats her way.

She listened while her years of public service were ridiculed and ignored.

She responded to hate and division with promises of working together and remaining great.

She heard the Other call her a criminal for using the wrong email while he proudly boasted about assaulting women against their will.

She responded to blatant lies with truths.

She gathered her friends and admirers to help her explain the wonderful plans she had for Muddville while he stood alone because even those who put him there didn’t want to be seen with him.

No it wasn’t Casey who struck out.

It was Muddville.

She was just too good for Muddville which turned out to be a dumber and meaner place than she thought.

955. I’m rubbing elbows with the stars

My sweet friend Susan’s daughter Nicole had a bridal shower yesterday.

It was really fancy. Everywhere you looked there was something highfalutin to eat or drink, caviar, rare cheeses and luckily m&m’s WITH peanuts. I plopped myself right down next to them.

Plus Martha Stewart was there.

Nicole or Daisy, as she is known, is Martha’s make up artist and clearly friend since Martha didn’t just make an appearance, she stayed the whole time. I found it interesting that she was much smaller than I expected and really quite beautiful.

I was on my best behavior. I didn’t want to embarrass Sue and Nicole so I told the bartender to make my drinks strong enough so that I could get a buzz but not so strong that I’d take out my tits.

While I was sitting on the couch nursing my cocktail and shoving m&m’s in my mouth I went over what I’d say when I was introduced to Martha.

I finally settled on “Charmed, I’m sure”. I was thinking that if I said it in kind of an english accent I might impress her enough to invite me to one of her soirees.

I had already sent the couple a lovely engagement gift.  Even though I adore Nicole and have since she was a baby I saw no reason to give her a shower gift too.

I’m a woman alone and I’m counting my pennies but I didn’t want to look cheap to the other guests (Martha) so I gift wrapped a can of corn and just hoped that there wouldn’t be some big present opening section of the festivities.

I’m not really good at parties and I think the bartender may  have begun to ignore my instructions since I felt a bit warm and when I opened up my top button I figured that it was time for me to make my exit.

Next to the m&m’s were some coasters with the sweet couple’s photo on them. I assumed they were remembrances for the guests so as I was leaving I slipped one in my purse.


Hey if they didn’t want anyone to take them they should have glued them down.

954. Mystery Solved


My niece Julie’s birthday is tomorrow and we are required to celebrate it for a month, like Ramadan. Today is Birthday Eve.

With all that we still go about our business (as long as we acknowledge the countdown to…you know)

This past week my other niece Cheryl and her two daughters, Sadie and Lily, came to visit.

We did the town. They are so sweet and beautiful that even our waiter wanted to have a photo with them.


But that’s beside the point.

The other day I sat down on my couch to talk to Cheryl when I noticed a strong odor of pee.

I knew that it couldn’t be Ray. If you remember I leave to terrace door open for him 24/7 so he never has to suffer.

I’m a bit of a detective so since the only new element in that part of the room was Cheryl sleeping on the couch I delicately brought up the subject.

“Did you pee on the couch?”

She denied it. I had to believe her because the couch is an L shape and the stink came from the side that she didn’t sleep on.

Then I started thinking. Maybe it isn’t pee.

“Maybe there’s a dead mouse under the couch.”

City dwellers are familiar with that sweet rancid odor but these girls did not take it well.

Cheryl got a broom and a flashlight to look under the couch. Nothing.

To tell you the truth Cheryl’s over the top assistance put her back on my short list of perpetrators but I kept that to myself.

Finally we gave up searching since they were going home and I planned to avoid the couch.

The next day I was speaking to Julie congratulating her of her 4 days before her birthday when I mentioned the smell problem.

“It’s your plant. Remember you told me your plant doesn’t smell good?”

Since I barely remember to put my shoes on it didn’t ring a bell to me but I went into the living room and smelled my plant.

Yep that was it.

The plant is a group of succulents that spent the summer on my terrace so the blooming roses overpowered it’s natural odor.


Soooo…. Anyone want to buy a beautiful plant? It’s really lovely and it doesn’t smell anything like piss or rotting corpses.

At first I thought it did but then I realized that the bad smell must have come from Cheryl’s perfume.

The plant itself gives off a gardenia type mist.

Best offer.


953. Bummer

Everything was going along swimmingly until last Friday but I’ll get to that later.

I have every reason to be happy.

Today Susan and I are going to my cousin Tracy Burtz’ art show.

Tomorrow  my niece Cheryl and her two girls  are coming to visit and we’ll laugh and hug.

My sister is coming next week to celebrate Julie’s birthday.

And biggest of all I’m having 11 sleepover guests from Israel for Thanksgiving. That’s right my nephew Yitz is bringing 9 of his kids and one of his grandchildren plus most of the rest of my family is coming to my house for the holiday.

I will be feeding 40 people a strictly kosher dinner this Thanksgiving. Every where I look I will see someone I love.

You’d think I’d be happy and I was until last Friday when I farted in physical therapy.

This isn’t the first fart set back I’ve had in my life. If you recall in the fifth grade I sneezed and farted at the same time in assembly sitting between Richard Sheslow and David Gillis.

Maybe that was worse. But this was no picnic.

I was alone on the table doing my stretches when it happened.

My therapist Ricky, remember I told you he was my new friend (well that ship has sailed), pretended he didn’t hear but all hopes of that being true left when the woman he was working on turned sharply to look at me .

I just looked around whistling hoping that she thought it was just a sour note but I could tell that she didn’t buy it.

I mean she didn’t hold her nose with one hand and use her other hand to whisk the air around her away but she did furrow her brow.

Anyway there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not looking forward to going back to PT. I hope that woman isn’t there. Not that I would recognize her. I think I blacked out when it happened.

Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ll get over this. After all I got over that sneeze/fart thing in only 62 years.

At least I thought I did.