My nephew and some of his kids are here from Israel.

I did my preparations for his visit. I took all the magnets of the Pope off my refrigerator. The one with him giving the thumbs up really hurt.

I removed any type of heathen food and went to a kosher store to fill the house with matzohs and gefilte fish.

My sister Marcia and I just visited 2 of his sons and daughters in law in London. It was so great. we fell in love with all of them even the kid that kept hitting me in the face with a paper airplane.

On Monday I’m making dinner for them, Libby and Mordicai, my nephew Yitzhak, his son, Yakir, my other nephew Jon and my other nephew Dan and his crew which includes Julie plus my sister.

Ordinarily I’d slop something together since it’s family but there is a certain responsibility here. This is the table my niece Libby made for me and Marcia in London.

If you will note there are 3, count’em, 3 main dishes there.

This is going to be a hard act to follow but follow it I will. I may even top it with 4 main dishes and that won’t count my salad. I could even throw a pizza down there.

That girl will see who she’s dealing with.

The only slight chink in this is that I cook just like my mother, lousy.

And also like my mother there will be plenty there.

Unfortunately it will all taste like shit.

Halloween is bringing back a terrible memory.

I was 7 and at sleep away camp (torture in itself) and there was a costume contest.

I had a cowgirl costume and a girl in my bunk had a tutu. Who wouldn’t want to wear a tutu?   I asked her if she would trade with me. Much to my surprise she was game.

So I squeezed into the tutu (I wasn’t thin even then) and feeling beautiful I entered the contest.

I’m sure you can guess what happened.

She won the contest.

I guess I wouldn’t have won anyway because even feeling pretty good in my tutu I just slunk around the circle with no showbiz edge.

I can still see that little cunt marching around the circle with her hat tilted on the back of her head (where the hell she got a hat I don’t know. My costume didn’t have a hat)  pretending to shoot the pistols in the air while she strutted.

I still hate her fuckin’ guts.

If on 10/31 any little bastard comes to my house in a cowgirl outfit I’m going to give her friends candy and her a can of peas.

I know I haven’t written but it’s not my fault. This country isn’t much for wifi.

Plus Marcia and I have been very busy having fun with only a few mishaps yesterday.

I tripped a baby and Marcia spilled a bottle of red nail polish on the floor of a supermarket. Strangely enough instead of making a run for it she stood around looking at eye shadows.

I had to grab her arm and pull her out of there. I asked her why she stayed even tho there was a girl on her knees cleaning up the mess right by her feet.

She said she felt the least she could do was buy something and anyway the girl was doing such a good job she was sure it happened to them all the time.

We are in Lake Como now.  We went looking for a place to eat dinner and came upon a lovely restaurant. It was very fancy.

The service was extremely slow and at least twice Marcia had to restrain me from asking who we have to blow to get a drink?

The waiter spoke english but neither one of us understood a word he said. Interestingly enough every time he asked us if we wanted something we still said yes.

In most cases you’d think it wouldn’t matter.  For example he mumbled something when our main dishes came. It had a question mark at the end. What coud it be? cheese? Fresh pepper? So she nodded which is why he threw olive oil all over her ravioli.

I think he wasn’t crazy about us anyway.

Marcia spit out her amuse bouche. I told her it was pasta.

Holy squidastrophe!

David has finally found a home.

I actually thought that when he got to Texas and heard people saying the things he’s been saying here it would offend him but each time I speak to him he sounds happier. Crazy me.

I’ll give you a taste of what he’s been telling me.

When the landlord said he’d be responsible for the yard he asked the broker “Don’t they have any Mexicans here?”

Her answer “Oh yes, we have plenty of Mexicans”

On agreeing to something in the lease that he thought was petty, “Well I’ll just act like a white man and sign it.”

Her response “I thank you for that”.

Last night he told me he actually used that term with a woman who was lawyer a from Mexico. She was helping him pick out bedroom furniture.

“Are you crazy?” I asked him.

“She knew I didn’t mean her”

I gotta think Dave’s gonna have to find some else to take him to furnish his living room.

He spoke to his neighbor asking him if they separated cans and things from regular garbage.

“Hell no! Where you from?” This gave David an opening for his favorite joke.

“The people’s republic of New York”

“What denomination are you?”

Not wanting the guy to think he was a Jew or a Catholic, which according to him are 6 of 1, half a dozen of another he proudly said “Methodist”.

I gotta think my ex father in law who was a Methodist minister and the kindest and most liberal man I’ve ever known is twirling in his grave.

Well people we got rid of one bad apple from the Big Apple.

From now on my blog will be filled with puppies and flowers.

That is unless someone fucks with me.

Well I’m living my life P.D. (post David) quite well.

Of course I’m still butting into his business. I sent him Jew Mail the other day telling him that since he needs a new TV and computer he should buy them over the Columbus Day holiday for the sales. He pretends to be annoyed but he’ll do what I said.

Miss Liz is back for awhile so I have her to play with and I’m getting ready to go to Italy and London with my sister.

It’s as if Ray knows I’m going away. He’s sticking to me like glue. It’s almost as if he’s making himself more handsome to torture me.

(I just realized that this is a Justin Bieber picture)

But he’ll have his cousin Scott with him and when Scott is at work his Uncle Dan will come and have lunch with him.

The sweetest thing that Scott does is that he’ll text me a picture of Ray having fun so I don’t worry. Ray will be fine, I’m the one that’s nuts.

Now back to my trip planning. It always surprised me when my sister Iris would come to the City and put her purse down on a counter while she stepped away to look in a mirror. I would never in a million years do that.

Being from New York I am always paranoid so for this trip I have about six different places to hide credit cards and money so if someone robs one I’ll have a back up.

I’m not a good flyer. I take extra mental patient pills and it helps a bit but I’m still nervous and a hair away from running down the aisle screaming.

I’d like to write more but I have to draw some diagrams of Ray’s favorite walks for Scott and Dan.  It will be easier on them if they’re aware that he doesn’t like to make lefts.

And someone is very sad.

I took David to the airport this morning at 5 a.m. He bitched about my driving all the way.

“Didn’t you see that man?”

“Don’t drive with the dog on your lap”

“You’re driving with one hand”

First of all I didn’t see that man because as I’ve told him many times I can’t see in the dark.

I had to keep the dog on my lap because he wouldn’t let the dog sit on his lap.

His reason, (say this in a whine)”I don’t want dog hair all over my suit”

I got news for him. He’s sitting in Ray’s regular seat so he has hair all over the back of him.

I drove with one hand because how can you have that little angel on your lap without hugging him.

We got to the airport, hugged and I left.

Did I cry all the way home? Maybe.

But he left me with a long list of duties.

Fill out a change of address card for one.

Plus he left me with about 30 bottles of booze that he insists that I send him in November. Why didn’t he send it with the movers?

“Mattie, I don’t expect you to know this, but most of these bottles are worth hundreds of dollars. The lot of them are worth thousands”. They will get overheated in the moving truck.

At first I was insulted because he’s always insinuating, hell saying, that I am ignorant of the finer things. Like fancy people don’t burp when they drink soda.

But then I gave it some thought. I can’t learn about quality liquor if I never drink it so I decided that I should try one  or two of his bottles. With all of them there he’ll never miss ’em.

Plus I was considerate enough to take one of the old ones because nobody is going to drink port from the 60’s.

Not bad but not great. Maybe it’s the bottle. I saw another one there from 1956. If I mix that one with some seltzer and add a few olives  or a dash of cherry coke it might be better.

I haven’t written in awhile because I’ve been really busy.

First of all I’ve been packing with David and I use the term “with” loosely.

I admit that he put his clothes in but anything with solid sides or points has been my job. Since the movers came yesterday we asked his son, Milton (at his request I am not using his real name which is Marshall) to come over the night before to help us pack the TV, and a few other big items.

Again the term “us” =loose. As I explained to Milton “Daddy’s drunk so he won’t be much help”.

And I was right. Here’s what David was doing while Milton and I packed our hearts out.

Even Ray looked more alert. Here he’s wondering why there’s a cup outside the dishes box.

But then Marshall arrived, I mean Milton. He lifted the TV and boxed it plus a million other things. He carried a giant heavy TV from my house which doesn’t sound like much but it weighed a ton. He brought it over so that for the next few days his father could watch football. How on earth could such an asshole have such great kids?

After his son left and I walked to the door, he called me back, I thought to give me a thankful hug, which I was sure he was going to do except something caught his eye

“How come you left my Yankee Xmas Ball out of the ornament box?”