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.

I know you’re all wondering what’s up with David.

How is he doing now that he and Liz are no longer together?

Is he fitting in well in Houston?

Are we still friends?

Will he ever get to drink any of the thousands of dollars of wine he left in my apartment for safe keeping until he can figure out a way to  get it to Houston ?

I’ll try to answer all your questions in this update.

Much to both our surprise we are still in contact. In fact we have cocktails together on the phone 4 or 5 times a week.

As far as fitting in, he admits that there is more of New York in him than he thought and in Houston  he’s almost a moderate.

He started dating pretty much as soon as he arrived. As he told me on the phone he has strict requirements as to who he’s going to take out.

He says she has to be educated and have some goals in life. She needs to be up to date on politics and history, his strong interests. She needs to be presentable and able to be an asset to him when they go on business dinners.

Just kidding. What he really told me is that she has to be blonde with big tits.

His first kind of date was a young lady he met at the bar of a restaurant, The Palm, near his house. Since she was clearly over the limit of alcohol he very kindly offered to take her back to his house so he could call an uber to take her home because everyone knows that you can’t call an uber from a restaurant.

This girl, according to David, had both of his dating requirements in spades which made him happy but her friend who insisted on coming along did not which made him less happy.

When they got to his house David did what any good samaritan would do with someone who was too drunk to drive, he opened a bottle of wine.

This, not surprisingly, bit him in the ass when the woman ran into the kitchen and threw up in the sink.

That’s when he called the Uber.

When he told me the story I said “You’re lucky she made it to the sink”.

“Well she missed a spot but I didn’t discover that until the next morning.”

In our discussion he let me know that he was no stranger to drunk women. He was once on a date who vomited on him and passed out.

Obviously this wasn’t a deal breaker because when he realized that he had no way to contact her for a second date he went over to her phone and called his own cell phone so he would have her number.

He’s also been seeing a woman that he seems to really like although he thinks she’s way too young for him.

She came over to watch the Super Bowl with him.

Unfortunately she passed out on his couch and when she woke up in the morning she too threw up.

There seems to be a theme in his dating life.

Since I wasn’t there to Jew up his parties, I saw the problem immediately.

“Did you serve her any food?”

“I had guacamole and chips.”

“That’s not food”

“I also had chicken wings but I forgot to serve them. Well that’s not entirely true.After she passed out on the couch I took them out and ate them”

“You’re going to be up to your ass in vomit if you don’t start feeding these women.”

“Note taken”

He says he’s going to take a break from these southern women. He’s going to visit an old girlfriend named Marie who lives in Pennsylvania next weekend. I hope she brings a tuna sandwich on her.

Anyway he’s doing well.

Did I cover everything?

Oh yeah, his expensive wine.

What do you think I’m drinking when we talk on the phone?

BUT whatever illness I had last week I still have.

Every time I swallow it’s like a thousand little men wearing razor blade skates dancing in my throat.

I felt so terrible that the other day that I actually went into one of those walk in clinics. Of course I used my alias, Diandra McAlyss, so if it’s some kind of plague they won’t be able to trace it back to me.

The doctor was first rate. She checked me for strep throat (it was a no) and told me to drink liquids. Something I do every evening on the phone with David.

Even though I’m near death I’ve been walking Ray every morning (I told the doctor that my dog’s name was Duke in case she gets clever in trying to trace me) and then I go home and binge watch “Doc Martin”. I’m on season 5 episode 1.

I think I’m getting better today though. At least I’m clearly getting more alert.

When I got out of bed this morning I looked down and noticed that the glass on my night table had fallen on the floor and broken.

My sharp eye prevented me from stepping on this

Plus when walking Ray, or Duke I avoided a well known Jew trap which is a dime melted into the asphalt of the road so when you try to pick it up you are grabbed and made to balance someone’s check book.

Before my fever broke I’d have fallen for that in a heartbeat.

This day is not starting out well.

I have a bad cold. The sinus kind.

On my dog walk I bought 4 oranges from a street vendor, you know for my cold. The guy  threw 2 more oranges in so he wouldn’t have to give me change.

Don’t ask how heavy 6 oranges are when you have one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.

And to make matters worse Ray wouldn’t make a right so I’m trying to drag him down the street with both arms coming out of the sockets, screaming at him.

“You’re not the boss of me”.

This turned out to be untrue. The little guy has feet like suction cups, so after making 4 lefts I finally aimed us towards h0me.

Yesterday was better. Julie and I went to our shrink. Not the talking one, the mental patient pills one.

She saw us together since she knows we have no secrets and she thinks we’re both a scream.

This puts somewhat of a burden on me. When we were in the elevator I said to Julie “Let’s pretend we don’t recognize her.”

I get a stony stare “You don’t have to work on a “bit”.

I say ok but I think this would go better if we got a few laughs.

I am first because I take less time. This is because I always lie to doctors.

I do this out of respect for their skill. If they’re at all competent I shouldn’t have to give them clues.

I usually talk fast so she’ll just give me my pills and I can let Julie take over but this time she slipped in a recommendation that I try Yoga.

See I told you. No clues yet she was able to determine that I needed “centering”.

I only deal with the best.

Is Yoga the thing where you get to say “Namaste”?

If so I’m in but only if she comes to my house. Ray doesn’t like it when I go out.

(Me and Marcia. I still have this bathing suit and I look the same in it only I almost never pick my nose any more)

My sister Marcia and I have always been very close so we think the same about most things. My niece Julie once referred to us as judgmental . Although it pissed me off at the time I gotta say there is some truth to it.

I know that when I walk Ray I have a running commentary in my mind.

“So tell me lady. When you tried those pants on in the store did you tell yourself “Nice fit”?”

or

“I see you made sure that you were wearing a hat this morning but your kid was on his own?”

I know Marcia does the same thing and that’s pretty much what our phone calls are like.

We speak several times a day and we never run out of things to discuss. There are plenty of people in our world that would benefit from our kind and corrective criticisms if only they could hear them.

When we run out of people we know, we can move from them to politicians and general celebrities. In a pinch we can always resort to our favorite subject, bad meals we’ve been served.

We don’t do that frequently because it’s too painful for us. We like food very much and we both have good memories and can hold a grudge for an amazing amount of time.

We got on that subject early in the convo yesterday since Marcia had a birthday and her  kids bought her and her husband a fabulous meal in a fancy restaurant.

Though she loved what she ate and told me about it in detail it only brought to mind a few times when she wasn’t treated so well in the culinary department.

Even though I’ve heard these stories many times I always listen politely since I know she has to get it out.

After taking some time to pin down the date, it was early in 1960, she once again told me about a couple she knew, let’s call them Victor and Minnie, who came to dinner. Marcia was a newlywed and she really fussed since Victor wouldn’t stop raving about what a great cook his wife was.

Marcia served lasagna, shrimp marinara, a lovely salad and a home made cheese cake, which she had to make twice since my mother told her it didn’t have to set so the first one dripped all over her stove.

Didn’t I say she has a great memory?

Vic and Minnie invited them to dinner the next week where they served packaged cheese fondue and a supermarket cake.

The indignity gets Marcia hot under the collar whenever she thinks of it. She didn’t get any calmer when she moved directly into a dinner about 10 years ago where first the hostess served soup.   They waited for the main dish when out came ……dessert.

She almost fainted.

I could only calm her down by relating my tragic story or what I refer to as “The day of the jelly sandwich”. I’ve told this before on this blog but it can’t be repeated often enough.

The name of this tragedy came from the book “Shogun “.

It seems they boiled this man alive for hours and hours and later referred to it as “The Night of the Screams”.

I was 10 years old. Let’s see that would have to be 1954. My oldest sister Iris and her husband George took me out on their boat for the day, and it was a long day.

Come lunchtime Iris takes out a bag and hands me ….. a jelly sandwich on packaged rye bread. Yes you’re reading correctly. Not peanut butter and jelly or cream cheese and jelly, just jelly.

I know it was a Tuesday because I remember saying to Iris, “You know I always take a hot lunch on Tuesday” This fell on deaf ears.

Hence “The Day of the Jelly Sandwich”.

me and Iris in better times.

Just writing this is upsetting to me. I really do want to remember Iris with love so I have to stop now and pull myself together.

I have a “Real Housewives of Atlanta” on my dvd. I believe that there was some hair pulling in the coming attractions.

Maybe that will calm me down.

Or I’ll just give Marcia a call.

Julie and I were on the phone the other day and she mentioned that was talking to a girlfriend who is going through an upsetting divorce. The friend said that someone told her that it takes 2 years to get over it.

After we hung up I thought about the 2 years thing.

I have a horrible sense of time. I had to look back at my blog to see when I was divorced. I thought it was a long time ago.

It seems that it was March or April of 2011 when dave stood in the kitchen and told me that he was in love with a Japanese woman but we weren’t divorced until May of 2013.

That means the divorce itself was a little over 2 years ago but the truth is that day in 2011 I really knew it was over, at least for  him.

As for me, I may think I’m over it because most of the time I’m happy and fulfilled but every once in awhile it catches me unawares.

My sister Marcia was recommending a netflicks show, “Grace and Frankie” starring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin about two women in their late 60’s who’s husbands leave them.  It seems the husbands , lawyers who were business partners, had been in love with each other for years.

Both wives thought they had happy marriages. Well happy in degrees, but both were comfortable in their marriage and assumed it was a “Till death do we part” situation.What I mean was that they weren’t fighting or unhappy and the announcement that their husbands were leaving was a big shock to both wives.

I watched a bit of it but it was painful to me because it was so like my situation, only I don’t look like Jane Fonda.

It was irrelevant that the men left for a gay relationship while dave left for a woman. The result was the same and their reactions, were mine.

When Jane Fonda looked at her husband and said “It’s me sitting across the table from you” that was me.

If I didn’t say it I thought it a hundred times after dave told me the news.

When we were discussing who would take what, he stood in the middle of the living room and said “I could just go to Japan and you’d never find me”

This was a man who never said an unkind word to me. Someone who when my father died and I cried because my father had always taken care of all of us  and I felt I had no one to be responsible for me said “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be responsible for you. I’ll take care of you.” and this is someone I trusted more than anyone in the world.

As I stared at him all I could think of was “It’s me dave. You’re saying this to ME”

Going through my blog to find my divorce date brought all kinds of memories like that to me.

When I read them it was as if I was going through it all again. I could only wonder how I could be so mistaken about someone I was so sure about?

I will say that since the divorce and his remarriage he’s been his old kind self. We are in touch by email for business and division of money things.

He’s in New York now, I assume to record and he’s promised not to come to my side of town without letting me know so I can avoid him.

Am I over the divorce?  Probably not. I still can’t bear to see him, especially with her.

Maybe when people are fighting and the marriage is bad, divorce brings some relief.

To me? Probably not so much.

I missed having a person of my own.

So I got a dog.

Maybe it’s not the 2 years. Maybe it’s how you fill the 2 years.

My niece Julie is a dog rescuer.  She’s other stuff too but for this piece I want you to know her as a dog rescuer.

Yesterday she told me about her visit with Henry, a dog that she had given to a lovely woman who’s life had been improved greatly by adding Henry to her family. I was there for that. In fact I drove Henry to his new home. He was just a ball of joy. He was happy from the moment he saw his new owner.

And Julie couldn’t stop raving about Henry. “Nothing has changed. He is still embracing every moment with delight”  She paused “That’s why I do this.”

Naturally I was happy to hear it. In the short time I knew Henry I too fell in love with him. Who wouldn’t?

Here’s Henry.

Ya just can’t wipe that grin off his face.

But then I started to think about that dog Julie gave me.

No one would use the word “fun” and “Ray” in the same sentence. And “joy”? Uh uh.

If I were to describe Ray in one word it would be “pissed off”.(I know, I know 2 words)

He came to me from the pound on death row. Anything SHOULD have been an improvement.

He walked into the house, went straight to the bedroom, jumped on the bed, scratched the covers away, got under them and caught forty winks.

No “Nice digs” or “I see you have a terrace. That’s lovely of you”. Nuthin’.

In the year and a half I have him I’ve posted  plenty of pictures. I always try to put a good light on it. For example;

Here he is romping on the terrace.

Now he’s happily suggesting that we don’t make a left.

This is his joyful wake up face.

And he couldn’t be happier preparing for his bar mitzvah.

Then I started thinking.

Last week my neighbor invited me to come for a drink on Jan.9 to celebrate the birthday of someone in her family.I wasn’t listening so I don’t remember who. I said “sure” even though I had no intention of going.

So yesterday, Jan. 9th, I get in the elevator with my neighbor’s daughter and her husband, a french guy. I’ve been introduced to him quite a few times but I don’t remember his name. It’s probably Pierre.

The daughter says “Are you coming to the party tonight?”

“No”

“Just for a drink?”

” Whose birthday is it? Your brother’s”

So Pierre pipes in “No it’s mine”.

“Oh well happy birthday. I’d come over but I hate talking to strangers. There’ll be strangers there right?”

“I guess so” The daughter laughs. She’s known me for her whole life.

Actually now that I think of it. Ray and I just might be a match made in heaven.

I knew it was going to be a great night so I started preparing early. I even polished my nails red.

I kept trying to get some praise from Ray about how they looked but he was so not interested.

He’s all “me me me”. He  knew his two cousins, were coming for  a sleepover and he was busy hiding his tows and ropes.

It turned out the night was great. We went to a fabulous restaurant and every place I looked there was someone I love.

I want to thank everyone who sent me kind wishes and now I’m going to plan my year.

First I’m going to see what I can do about getting rid of that Trump guy.

I was just walking Ray and thinking about my birthday.

Am I sad that dave isn’t here?

Then I started thinking. He never remembered my birthday unless I reminded him about it and didn’t do much to celebrate it.

My family always did. Even though I’m at an age where I’m not that happy about a new birthday, my family always makes a big deal about it.

So I don’t have dave but I have a lot of people that I love and that love me and I have a dog who acts like every day is my birthday so I think I’m pretty lucky.

I had a cocktail with David today while he was driving home from work.

I asked him to live by my time because I’m sick and tired of the time difference. I can’t live by his time because I get thirsty.

He said no.

What a fuck.

I had to take Ray to the vet today.

He’s been rubbing his ear lately. Not a lot because he’s not a complainer.

I picked this vet scientifically. I asked a strange woman who had 2 unruly dogs who her vet was.

Also this vet was listed with the papers that came with Ray from the pound as one of the ones that would give a free exam within a week after I got him.

I went there and they were very nice. When I got in the room with my boy the vet was very sweet. She kept praising me for adopting an older dog.

She also chatted way too much.

I was in the room with my dog for a good hour while she told me how cute he was and asked me questions about why I got him.

The whole time Ray was shaking in my arms and licking me effusively in hopes to ingratiate himself so I would take him home.

Do I need to tell you how I was feeling?

It turned out that Ray had infections in both ears but before she would treat them the vet wanted to give me the cost of the treatment.

I wanted to kill myself for waiting so long.

I said “Just fix this. I don’t care what it costs.” but she didn’t listen.

While I sat in the room with shake shake shake kiss kiss kiss.

I could hear her telling the girl in the next room how cute her dog is and small talking enough to make me wish I was in Texas so I could pull a gun and force this babe to fix my dog’s ears.

She finally came back with a list of what she could possibly do for me. It was everything from the ears to cosmetic  surgery which added up to over $900.

I selected a rabies shot and fixing his ears which came to $300.

She did these things and gave me drops to put in his ears for the next 14 days.

We left and Ray danced home.

He walked in the door. Ray ate his food and jumped on the couch.

It’s evening now. I’m going to take a tranquilizer and try to forget this day.

2016 sucks already.