I know the people who read my blog want nothing more than for me to be happy (except for that piece of shit that called me a racist and the religious bitch that said I would go to hell) which is why I’ve gotten several comments and emails stating that they are so glad that I’ve found my one true love, Ernie.

Although I know that Ernie would like nothing more than to leave his young beautiful wife for a 72 year old temptress with bad knees, I’m afraid it is not to be.

First of all I’m holding out for Prince. Second of all, well there is no second of all. It’s Prince or nothing.

But I will say that talking to him yesterday felt like old times. I swear that guy has not changed a bit.

He was married to his first wife when I knew him. We almost spoke about our divorces. Well he did. He  only wanted a thumbnail sketch of mine. He doesn’t like to talk about anything that will bring him down. and he made it very clear that he had no interest in staying in touch if I wasn’t over the grieving process for my marriage.

He told me one short story that is Ernie in a nutshell.

When he was divorcing he had to stay in the house for I think over a year. He was sleeping on the couch for awhile when he realized that that wasn’t acceptable so he took his pillow and blanket and marched up to the bedroom. When his wife asked what he thought he was doing he said “Who said you get the bedroom?” and got into bed.

His wife slept on the sofa until they were divorced.

That’s from being a detective. He knows how to solve a puzzle, the puzzle being he didn’t like the couch.

So my devoted readers, Ernie and I sailing into the sunset is not the happy ending you were hoping for.

Oh yeah and he’s voting for Trump.

The word “best” has different meanings to different people.

I know you’re thinking Mother Teresa or someone really sweet. But no, to me the best person I ever knew is named Ernie Matarasso.

I haven’t seen him in over 30 years. His main attribute as far as I am concerned is that he made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known.

In the late 60’s, early 70’s we both worked in the South Bronx at the Department of Social Services, known as the Dept of Welfare until that became politically incorrect.

Ernie sat behind me and we had a few yucks but I think our friendship really started when we went out on a home visit together and decided to go to the zoo instead. We bonded over reaching into the wire fence and combing a buffalo’s hair.

Can I remember all the things he did that made me laugh? Probably not. And even if I could it wouldn’t make any sense.

We stood in front of a shoe store and laughed at a pair of shoes until it hurt.

He called attention to people that I would never have noticed. Like the Indian guy who walked around with a nasal inhaler in his nostril and kept referring to his supervisor as a fly fucker.

His close friend was the scariest big black guy that you’ve ever seen. Ernie always introduced him as gay. He wasn’t but if it made Ernie happy it was okay with him.

There was this guy in the office who sat near me. Whenever he spoke to me he’d nervously move around the things on my desk.

I’d say, “Don’t touch my desk”. He’d stop for a minute and he’d go right back to it. I’d have to be more direct.

“Ya wanna keep your paws off my stuff?”

He’d only stop when he finished what he had to say.

One day Mr Touchy brought me a flower. I was touched. I put it in a glass on my desk.

“Thank you so much. That’s so sweet”

No sooner had I said this than he stood in front of my desk and started moving stuff around.

“Please don’t do that”. He stopped for a moment…..then he moved my stapler next to my phone.  I did what anyone would do.

I picked up his flower and threw it in the garbage.

That’s when Ernie named me the nicest and meanest person he’d ever met.

Our friendship continued even after we left the Bronx. I worked in the Central Office and he worked at Special Investigation kind of a welfare cop.

Our offices were very near each other so we had lunch every day often with my niece Stephanie who absolutely loved him.

He’d drive me home most days. He parked in a lot that was clearly a dog walking spot for the neighborhood and it enraged him that I walked to the car without looking down and stepped in nothing while he tiptoed through like a ballet dancer and never reached his destination without stepping in something distasteful.

I got married and stopped working and he moved up the ladder in the department. I’d see him once in a while on TV at some fraud bust but that was about it.

I searched Facebook and Twitter hoping to meet up with him online at least but I wasn’t surprised that he wouldn’t be part of that. I never didn’t miss him but we had lost touch.

Until about an hour ago. He found me through my blog.

I’m so happy.

For all my nephews and nieces.

Ray and I spent the night up at my niece Stephanie’s house. She and her sweet husband Terry had just come back from Thailand and I wanted to hear all about it.

I’ve spoken about Steph quite a bit in this blog. She’s my sister Iris’ daughter.

I always said that being close to Iris made me very proud because it was like being friends with a cobra.

Steph is truly her daughter. She does have some sharp edges.

Examples: My dog Ray isn’t used to being in the country and all that running around makes him sleepy.

Steph Terry and I were watching a movie last night and Ray couldn’t help but snore, a sound that is music to my ears.

Well you would think that the house was falling down by the amount of snotty remarks coming out of Stephanie while Sweet Terry just turned the TV up a bit louder.

Finally we (me and Ray) retired to our bedroom never learning whether Sandra Bullock’s guy was going to win the election.

It’s common knowledge in our family that Steph can be “difficult”. The family was all at my house and Steph asked her sister Laura’s son to bring her some more ice for her drink. He suggested that she just hold the drink against her heart and that should do it.

I could go on and on. I won’t mention the time she time she punched someone on her bowling team in the stomach because they lost because what’s the point since I love her more than life itself.

And she loves me. I know because any time I’m looking at all feeble she turns on me like a viper because she’s afraid I’ll die. At least that’s why I think she does it.

Anyway I must show you these photos from her trip.

She was at an elephant sanctuary. See if you note anything cute in these pictures.

Steph and Terry and friends

Other than the Sandra Bullock mixup which bummed me out the rest of the visit was great.

Oh wait, there was  one small glitch for Ray.

Somehow we forget to set for him at breakfast.

But when we did at dinner he didn’t like what we were serving.

Maybe he should be Stephanie’s dog.

I haven’t spoken to you for awhile because I was on line outside a shoe store buying a pair of Yeezys.

So where was I?

David? Well nothing much has changed with him except that he’s made a friend, a girl, that he seems to like as much as me.

He wants me to talk to her on the phone but that’s not going to happen because:   1. His list of what I can’t say is as long as your arm and 2. I don’t talk to strangers which is why I never go to parties and 3. She lives in Texas which is the asshole of America.

Oh and David voted for Trump so I probably won’t be talking to him much longer either.

Let me tell you about November.

Every November my nephew Eric or Yitzhak comes to New York from Israel to go to his mother’s, my sister’s grave for her Yartzeit, to pray and just say hello to her.This usually happens early in the month.

Then later in the month I make Thanksgiving.

Yitzhak sometimes brings a kid with him. Last year a bunch of his kids came. I call them kids but they are mothers and fathers.  My sister Marcia and some of the other American relatives came down to see them and it was wonderful.

We all got really close and have texted and emailed and face booked.

Why am I telling you this?

I just got a call from Yitzhak that my sister’s Yartzeit will be 3 days before Thanksgiving this year so maybe we can all celebrate together.

My first reaction was, how can we do this. The Israelis are strictly Kosher. They won’t use our plates or eat our food.

And where will everyone sleep?

Then it occurred to me. Who gives a shit about Thanksgiving? I never make turkey anyway. I bring in indian food.

And this family has spent too much time on different sides of the world to not take advantage of any chance we have to all be together.

So on or about Thanksgiving 2016 the Smith family will all be eating matzoh and kosher pizza and whatever slop we can come up with plus we’ll have a million blow up mattresses filled with people we love.