So I got my oil changed today at Jiffy Lube, and the tech must have re set my headlights to "on" instead of "auto." So, when I went out later on --lo and behold --dead battery.
I called AAA, a company my family has used since the 1960s. I opened the hood to see if I could jump start the car myself, and realized that I couldn't even figure out how to remove the cowling preventing access to the battery. AAA to the rescue.
The service they give has gotten much better. The dispatcher called within 20 minutes of my request, and the "battery service" fellow arrived 10 minutes later. He was great -- had me up and running right away, and told me how to reset my remote if the car failed to start.
And it occurred to me --what a great job the fellow has. He spends his evenings literally rescuing folks, and gets paid for it. He's not stuck in an office anywhere.
The fellow confirmed my thoughts. He tells me he really does love what he does, though sometimes the people waiting for service get nasty.
In contrast, there's another job I saw performed tonight, that I realized I'd NEVER want. But, I can't talk about it.
Anyway -- that's all that's going on. Tomorrow I have an all day seminar of mediation training, to keep my certification current. Then, my friend Vince has a 50th birthday party over at the Rusty Pelican --the restaurant with the best view in town.
Vince's wife wants me to tell the story about how he and I met. I was in Calculus Class in 1980 at UM, and bored out of my mind. I found my gaze drifting to the ample bosom of a co ed from my dorm --Christine was her name. I noticed that there was another pair of eyes likewise enjoying the view of this young lady, and the eyes' owner gave me the thumbs up sign. It was Vince, and afterwards , outside the class, he introduced himself saying "I can see you're a man of good taste!" We're friends nearly 30 years later.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Saturday In the Park
What a glorious day it was yesterday. The weather was best it could be --the very reason to live in Miami in January. It was about 70 degrees, under clear blue skies, with the gentlest of breezes.
D2 went off to South Beach with her friends, and I sat reading the newspaper on my front porch. My friend Jeff called, and invited me to an art festival in Pinecrest Gardens. He was going with his wife, and 2 of his 3 daughters. I accepted.
We ran into some old friends there, a couple long divorced. The former wife was someone Jeff had asked on a date, probably in 1985. At the time she was a raven haired beauty, although with a squeaky voice, and, well, let's just say no excess of smarts. Her reply, which we still laugh about "Thank you for asking, but I have a policy of only going on dates with men I'm attracted to, and I'm not at all attracted to you, so I have to say 'no.'"
Fortunately, Jeff survived the rejection, and has been happily married for over 20 years. His rejector? Well --her husband left her about 4 years ago, and the years have not been her friend, sadly. She's about 50 and looks 60, ddressed out of a schtetl, and easily 100 lbs overweight. As Jeff's youngest, who overheard the tale of her father's rebuke remarked: "Dad --I don't think you'd be asking her out now."
Anyway, we made our way around the park, and ran into more friends and neighbors. The sun streaked through the heavy foliage, and vines. Pinecrest Park, the former Parrot Jungle, is one of the most gorgeous city parks there is, and on a day like yesterday, it was magical.
I bought a polished wood box from a local artist, with a painted tile cover, depicting a house in Italy surrounded by bougainvillea. I'm bringing it to Wifey when I visit her in Orlando this week. We're going to place some dreams and hopes and warm emotions in the box, and carry it back home with us.
Wifey's been gone since Tuesday, and I miss her. She should have been there yesterday, in the glorious winter sun. She'd have enjoyed it.
Today, D2 has her math tutor Ron here, and we'll probably have dinner together. I'm thinking sushi outside, by the pool. The weather's still gorgeous, and it seems a crime to be indoors.
As I write, the aging Labrador and young Basset Hound are sunning themselves on the backyard lawn. They sense how delightful these days are, too.
If there's a better place to be, at this time...I don't know what it is.
D2 went off to South Beach with her friends, and I sat reading the newspaper on my front porch. My friend Jeff called, and invited me to an art festival in Pinecrest Gardens. He was going with his wife, and 2 of his 3 daughters. I accepted.
We ran into some old friends there, a couple long divorced. The former wife was someone Jeff had asked on a date, probably in 1985. At the time she was a raven haired beauty, although with a squeaky voice, and, well, let's just say no excess of smarts. Her reply, which we still laugh about "Thank you for asking, but I have a policy of only going on dates with men I'm attracted to, and I'm not at all attracted to you, so I have to say 'no.'"
Fortunately, Jeff survived the rejection, and has been happily married for over 20 years. His rejector? Well --her husband left her about 4 years ago, and the years have not been her friend, sadly. She's about 50 and looks 60, ddressed out of a schtetl, and easily 100 lbs overweight. As Jeff's youngest, who overheard the tale of her father's rebuke remarked: "Dad --I don't think you'd be asking her out now."
Anyway, we made our way around the park, and ran into more friends and neighbors. The sun streaked through the heavy foliage, and vines. Pinecrest Park, the former Parrot Jungle, is one of the most gorgeous city parks there is, and on a day like yesterday, it was magical.
I bought a polished wood box from a local artist, with a painted tile cover, depicting a house in Italy surrounded by bougainvillea. I'm bringing it to Wifey when I visit her in Orlando this week. We're going to place some dreams and hopes and warm emotions in the box, and carry it back home with us.
Wifey's been gone since Tuesday, and I miss her. She should have been there yesterday, in the glorious winter sun. She'd have enjoyed it.
Today, D2 has her math tutor Ron here, and we'll probably have dinner together. I'm thinking sushi outside, by the pool. The weather's still gorgeous, and it seems a crime to be indoors.
As I write, the aging Labrador and young Basset Hound are sunning themselves on the backyard lawn. They sense how delightful these days are, too.
If there's a better place to be, at this time...I don't know what it is.
Friday, January 16, 2009
I Am Become Curmudgeon
For years, I made fun of the old guy who cared more about where a group was going, than about the fun of the company involved. I never mad a big deal about a particular restaurant; the point was going out, and laughing together.
I have become the old guy.
On Wednesday night, the Canes were playing Maryland, and Mike asked me to go. I reminded him that I bought my own tickets this year, but that we'd meet for a pre game dinner. I asked some of my friends to go with me, since D2 had too much homework to accompany me, and got multiple turn downs. The game started at 9 on a weeknight. My friends are all old farts, too.
Anyway, Mike called to say his friends wanted to meet at Flemings Steak house in the Gables. I've been to that place 3 times, and swore never to return. It's way overpriced, with a snooty staff, and to me --3 strikes and you're out.
So, I opted out, and told Mike I'd see him at the game. Well, after eating take out chicken with D2, and taking a nice evening stroll, it was past 8. Who was I kidding? I wasn't first going to leave for a game. I ended up watching the final 3 minutes on TV --it was the greatest Miami comeback in recent history. Down by 17 in the 2nd half, the Canes rallied to win.
Still, the game ended, and I was happy with the result, and happy I wasn't sitting in post game traffic at 1030 at night. I have become the old guy.
I spoke to Mike the next day, and he said the Flemings meal was the worst ever. 3 of the 4 guys had their steaks cooked wrong, and Mike's $40 ribeye was "sub Outback level." The manager gave them a $100 gift certificate to return. I'd trash it, or give it to a secretary at his firm, if I were Mike. At least she could buy 4 ripoff martinis at the bar.
I think Oppenheimer was about my age when he captained the Manhattan Project. When he watched the mushroom cloud over the New Mexico desert, he quoted the Hindu Baghavad Ghita "I am become death."
Although I don't yet wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, and I still dare to eat a peach, is much more excitement in store?
I have become the old guy.
On Wednesday night, the Canes were playing Maryland, and Mike asked me to go. I reminded him that I bought my own tickets this year, but that we'd meet for a pre game dinner. I asked some of my friends to go with me, since D2 had too much homework to accompany me, and got multiple turn downs. The game started at 9 on a weeknight. My friends are all old farts, too.
Anyway, Mike called to say his friends wanted to meet at Flemings Steak house in the Gables. I've been to that place 3 times, and swore never to return. It's way overpriced, with a snooty staff, and to me --3 strikes and you're out.
So, I opted out, and told Mike I'd see him at the game. Well, after eating take out chicken with D2, and taking a nice evening stroll, it was past 8. Who was I kidding? I wasn't first going to leave for a game. I ended up watching the final 3 minutes on TV --it was the greatest Miami comeback in recent history. Down by 17 in the 2nd half, the Canes rallied to win.
Still, the game ended, and I was happy with the result, and happy I wasn't sitting in post game traffic at 1030 at night. I have become the old guy.
I spoke to Mike the next day, and he said the Flemings meal was the worst ever. 3 of the 4 guys had their steaks cooked wrong, and Mike's $40 ribeye was "sub Outback level." The manager gave them a $100 gift certificate to return. I'd trash it, or give it to a secretary at his firm, if I were Mike. At least she could buy 4 ripoff martinis at the bar.
I think Oppenheimer was about my age when he captained the Manhattan Project. When he watched the mushroom cloud over the New Mexico desert, he quoted the Hindu Baghavad Ghita "I am become death."
Although I don't yet wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled, and I still dare to eat a peach, is much more excitement in store?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Still Got the Religion About Marriage
Wifey's off in Orlando at an intensive PT program designed to help her back. And guess what?! I miss her.
Now, of COURSE a husband should miss his wife when she's away, but in recent times, when she went away, I was like a teenager whose parents left town.
I still got the religion about improving a marriage. Last weekend, we went on several dates. The best was Friday night, where we followed dinner with a walk around my beloved UM campus. Classes hadn't started yet, and we strolled around the mostly deserted school. As we approached the Music School, we heard an orchestra playing. It was a civic group, and we listened to them play some wonderful Aaron Copland compositions. I joked that I had hired the musicians for her.
As we continued our stroll, we heard MORE music --this time a band playing Springsteen. We discovered a party going on near the art museum --a pre Beaux Arts Festival party, with the patrons dressed comically in beach attire (it was a cool night). We crashed the party, though we were in sweaters, and then walked to a grassy spot by the lake, where we looked at the stars and listened to the music. It was delightful.
Of course we argued some over the weekend, but we have a new spirit of honesty, and not letting sources of resentment hang out there.
I love to spoil the woman in my life, and Wifey hadn't been letting me. Sometimes I hadn't been letting me. I've been making her coffee each morning, and cutting up fresh fruit into a salad, and waking her with it. I put the coffee under her nose, and, loving the literal, cheerfully tell her to "Wake up and smell the coffee.!" Yes --living wiht me can become tiresome, too.
Anyway --she called this moring from the Orlando hotel, and said she missed her morning fruit salad and coffee, and missed me. How about that!
Now, of COURSE a husband should miss his wife when she's away, but in recent times, when she went away, I was like a teenager whose parents left town.
I still got the religion about improving a marriage. Last weekend, we went on several dates. The best was Friday night, where we followed dinner with a walk around my beloved UM campus. Classes hadn't started yet, and we strolled around the mostly deserted school. As we approached the Music School, we heard an orchestra playing. It was a civic group, and we listened to them play some wonderful Aaron Copland compositions. I joked that I had hired the musicians for her.
As we continued our stroll, we heard MORE music --this time a band playing Springsteen. We discovered a party going on near the art museum --a pre Beaux Arts Festival party, with the patrons dressed comically in beach attire (it was a cool night). We crashed the party, though we were in sweaters, and then walked to a grassy spot by the lake, where we looked at the stars and listened to the music. It was delightful.
Of course we argued some over the weekend, but we have a new spirit of honesty, and not letting sources of resentment hang out there.
I love to spoil the woman in my life, and Wifey hadn't been letting me. Sometimes I hadn't been letting me. I've been making her coffee each morning, and cutting up fresh fruit into a salad, and waking her with it. I put the coffee under her nose, and, loving the literal, cheerfully tell her to "Wake up and smell the coffee.!" Yes --living wiht me can become tiresome, too.
Anyway --she called this moring from the Orlando hotel, and said she missed her morning fruit salad and coffee, and missed me. How about that!
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Goodbye --Ball and Chain
Since Friday, Wifey and I have engaged in a series of intense talks. Our wedding anniversary was Saturday, and it seemed an appropriate time. We've been married 22 years.
We both pored our hearts out about what's been bad and good over the past more than 2 decades. We know each other very well. We know what we want out of a marriage and what we don't.
A big thing for her is the ball and chain joke --she's always hated it. I hereby pledge to stop.
There's nothing funny about this blog entry, but it's crucial.
Two people who met in 1983 and dated, and then moved in, and then got married, have realized what they've built together. They also realize how much they've hurt each other.
We've looked around in horror at many marriage we see. Often those marriages exist out of inertia, or the fear of divorce. We won't go that route. Life's too short; too precious to stay in a prison where one holds the key to freedom.
Rather, we've re pledged our love. To all of my friends --you won't hear me venting my frustrations about Wifey any more. If you do, please remind me of this blog entry. Wifey's going to hear from me first hand. It's going to make for a rough ride.
There will be tears where there were held tongues. There will be fights where there was avoidance. There will be passion where there was apathy.
Friends of Wifey --same thing. Hopefully she'll keep our marriage between us. Running to the phone or computer to let off steam about my latest slight (real or imagined) is a hard habit to break. I'm ready to listen directly.
Wifey has shown me this weekend that she really does love me, dearly. More than I knew. More than I thought was left after all of these years.
Ds 1 and 2 idolize me. Truth is --I'm the best father I know --but I'm far from perfect. This weekend, I tearfully begged of them to take me off of the pedestal. I screw up things. I hurt people. Sometimes I hurt those closest to me. All people do.
They're nearly grown. They'll meet their life partners someday, and they need to understand that men are highly imperfect. And, the unconditional love of a father must be replaced by the conditional love of a lover and hopefully husband.
When I was a young man, and my friends and I spoke of marriage --we really had it all wrong. We put all the emphasis on "finding the right woman." It was as if once the vetting was done, the marriage would take care of itself --like choosing the best carnival ride, and just enjoying the bumps and dips.
The opposite is more true. As Jack Lemmon famously said, in character on Biscayne Bay in "Some Like it Hot:" "Nobody's perfect." We have to work, and work, and work on our relationships. If we don't they stagnate into toxic things.
Anyway --it's been a heart wrenching weekend around here. I firmly believe what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.
As for Wifey: I love you. I'm in love with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to hold hands at our daughters' graduations and weddings. Should our blessings continue, and we have grandchildren together --I want to share them with our girls and each other. I want to be the coolest granparents ever. (I've already told D1 she can drop her baby off with us, go on vacation with her husband, and come back before the teenage years...).
I'm sorry from the deepest reaches of my heart and soul for the hurt I've caused you. I've always striven to be the husband my father was --I will continue to strive for our love.
Our roles have changed. We're diminishing as parents. We find ourselves nearly back where we started. We can choose to get off of the ship, and start separate journeys. I'm signing up for the duration --forever.
Here's to a 2009 of new beginnings. Goodbye --ball and chain. Hello, hopefully, to a new, real wife, in every sense of the word, and a real man for a husband.
Happy 22nd anniversary, Wifey. I'm telling the world how I love you.
We both pored our hearts out about what's been bad and good over the past more than 2 decades. We know each other very well. We know what we want out of a marriage and what we don't.
A big thing for her is the ball and chain joke --she's always hated it. I hereby pledge to stop.
There's nothing funny about this blog entry, but it's crucial.
Two people who met in 1983 and dated, and then moved in, and then got married, have realized what they've built together. They also realize how much they've hurt each other.
We've looked around in horror at many marriage we see. Often those marriages exist out of inertia, or the fear of divorce. We won't go that route. Life's too short; too precious to stay in a prison where one holds the key to freedom.
Rather, we've re pledged our love. To all of my friends --you won't hear me venting my frustrations about Wifey any more. If you do, please remind me of this blog entry. Wifey's going to hear from me first hand. It's going to make for a rough ride.
There will be tears where there were held tongues. There will be fights where there was avoidance. There will be passion where there was apathy.
Friends of Wifey --same thing. Hopefully she'll keep our marriage between us. Running to the phone or computer to let off steam about my latest slight (real or imagined) is a hard habit to break. I'm ready to listen directly.
Wifey has shown me this weekend that she really does love me, dearly. More than I knew. More than I thought was left after all of these years.
Ds 1 and 2 idolize me. Truth is --I'm the best father I know --but I'm far from perfect. This weekend, I tearfully begged of them to take me off of the pedestal. I screw up things. I hurt people. Sometimes I hurt those closest to me. All people do.
They're nearly grown. They'll meet their life partners someday, and they need to understand that men are highly imperfect. And, the unconditional love of a father must be replaced by the conditional love of a lover and hopefully husband.
When I was a young man, and my friends and I spoke of marriage --we really had it all wrong. We put all the emphasis on "finding the right woman." It was as if once the vetting was done, the marriage would take care of itself --like choosing the best carnival ride, and just enjoying the bumps and dips.
The opposite is more true. As Jack Lemmon famously said, in character on Biscayne Bay in "Some Like it Hot:" "Nobody's perfect." We have to work, and work, and work on our relationships. If we don't they stagnate into toxic things.
Anyway --it's been a heart wrenching weekend around here. I firmly believe what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.
As for Wifey: I love you. I'm in love with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to hold hands at our daughters' graduations and weddings. Should our blessings continue, and we have grandchildren together --I want to share them with our girls and each other. I want to be the coolest granparents ever. (I've already told D1 she can drop her baby off with us, go on vacation with her husband, and come back before the teenage years...).
I'm sorry from the deepest reaches of my heart and soul for the hurt I've caused you. I've always striven to be the husband my father was --I will continue to strive for our love.
Our roles have changed. We're diminishing as parents. We find ourselves nearly back where we started. We can choose to get off of the ship, and start separate journeys. I'm signing up for the duration --forever.
Here's to a 2009 of new beginnings. Goodbye --ball and chain. Hello, hopefully, to a new, real wife, in every sense of the word, and a real man for a husband.
Happy 22nd anniversary, Wifey. I'm telling the world how I love you.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year's Irresolution
And so this is 2009. I'm up early as usual, even though I went to sleep at about 3 am. This was the first New Year's Eve where Wifey and I are essentially empty nesters, and we decided to go "out on the town" for the first time --well, in many years.
I used to go out in college, and beginning in grad school, always hosted parties. My first year of law school, New Year's 1983-1984, Eric and I had a great bash at our apartment. Wifey chose not to attend, because, well, my old girlfriend was spending the night, as she recalls. What a party pooper!
Since Wifey and I got together, we hosted New Year's parties. 1986/87 we were living in our first house, and about to be married. Our party that year was our "rehearsal dinner," where we brought in Chinese food and prepared for the upcoming nuptials. 1987/88 we had over 100 people in our tiny house, and our friend Elizabeth's then husband, the rocker Pat Travers, played music for us. It was a blast --he even invited me to join him for an off key (because of my singing) rendition of "Rocky Raccoon." Ah --we were so young.
In 1999/00, we had another huge party --in our last house. To celebrate the world not ending at the stroke of the millennium, D2 joined me in jumping into the swimming pool.
In the ensuing years, we hosted Hurricane Bowl watch parties, and a few progressive dinners in the neighborhood. The low point, though, was last year, when we were invited to some friends in the neighborhood, and everyone left before midnight.
I resolved, this year, to go out. Wifey and I had a great seafood dinner at a local joint, and about 930 our friends Dave and Maureen came over, along with our friend and neighbor Charlie --temporarily bachelor while his wife is in Chicago with their first grandchild.
Dave and MAureen's daughter came along, and we drank 2 bottles of champagne, before dropping the daughter at another party. The 5 of us then went to Coral Gables, where Dave had heard a blues band was playing.
He was right --it was in a German tavern called Fritz and Franz. We drank beer and wine, while Albert Caviglia and his band performed. They were terrific. Albert, the leader, is sharply funny and a great guitarist and singer, and he had us laughing with blues songs about growing up rich in Coral Gables, and the fact that the economy left him with a "201K" account.
Wifey and I danced, and kissed at midnight, and Dave, MAureen, and Charlie really loved the music. The band ended with a Hendrix set, which caused Charlie to reminisce about his days at the University of Maryland in the 60s.
We toasted our childrens' health, and we toasted to friendship. It was a fine, fine way to ring out/ring in.
As for resolutions...NAH! 2008 brought some sadness and challenge, and some joy and laughter. I suspect we're in for more of the same.
There were mighty strange examples of human nature --folks acting WAY out of character; some acting, comically way WITHIN character.
I drank my coffee this morning in a spectacular dawn. Ds 1 and 2 slept over at their parties; Wifey is still sleeping. I look forward to a marathon nap to the background of college bowl games. Such is the new year --small wonders and pleasures.
I used to go out in college, and beginning in grad school, always hosted parties. My first year of law school, New Year's 1983-1984, Eric and I had a great bash at our apartment. Wifey chose not to attend, because, well, my old girlfriend was spending the night, as she recalls. What a party pooper!
Since Wifey and I got together, we hosted New Year's parties. 1986/87 we were living in our first house, and about to be married. Our party that year was our "rehearsal dinner," where we brought in Chinese food and prepared for the upcoming nuptials. 1987/88 we had over 100 people in our tiny house, and our friend Elizabeth's then husband, the rocker Pat Travers, played music for us. It was a blast --he even invited me to join him for an off key (because of my singing) rendition of "Rocky Raccoon." Ah --we were so young.
In 1999/00, we had another huge party --in our last house. To celebrate the world not ending at the stroke of the millennium, D2 joined me in jumping into the swimming pool.
In the ensuing years, we hosted Hurricane Bowl watch parties, and a few progressive dinners in the neighborhood. The low point, though, was last year, when we were invited to some friends in the neighborhood, and everyone left before midnight.
I resolved, this year, to go out. Wifey and I had a great seafood dinner at a local joint, and about 930 our friends Dave and Maureen came over, along with our friend and neighbor Charlie --temporarily bachelor while his wife is in Chicago with their first grandchild.
Dave and MAureen's daughter came along, and we drank 2 bottles of champagne, before dropping the daughter at another party. The 5 of us then went to Coral Gables, where Dave had heard a blues band was playing.
He was right --it was in a German tavern called Fritz and Franz. We drank beer and wine, while Albert Caviglia and his band performed. They were terrific. Albert, the leader, is sharply funny and a great guitarist and singer, and he had us laughing with blues songs about growing up rich in Coral Gables, and the fact that the economy left him with a "201K" account.
Wifey and I danced, and kissed at midnight, and Dave, MAureen, and Charlie really loved the music. The band ended with a Hendrix set, which caused Charlie to reminisce about his days at the University of Maryland in the 60s.
We toasted our childrens' health, and we toasted to friendship. It was a fine, fine way to ring out/ring in.
As for resolutions...NAH! 2008 brought some sadness and challenge, and some joy and laughter. I suspect we're in for more of the same.
There were mighty strange examples of human nature --folks acting WAY out of character; some acting, comically way WITHIN character.
I drank my coffee this morning in a spectacular dawn. Ds 1 and 2 slept over at their parties; Wifey is still sleeping. I look forward to a marathon nap to the background of college bowl games. Such is the new year --small wonders and pleasures.
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