We hosted D1's boyfriend Joel and his family for a brunch, and with bright sunshine and lovely breezes in the dining room, it was a magical afternoon.
They left, and D1 and Joel stopped by D1's friend Hannah's house for a post T Day get together the girls have been enjoying since they were in high school. Next up on their agenda was a spa day at the Joel family hotel on Brickell.
D2, Wifey, and I took delicious afternoon naps. I slept soundly as Michigan beat OSU, and Va Tech beat Virginia. Ah --college football on T Day weekend as I napped with an overstuffed belly -- it's great to be an American.
Around 630, the fun would continue. Norman's wife Deb surprised him with a limo trip to the Palm, and Wifey and I were the first pickup. We'd been in limos before, but this one was something: an enormous, stretch HUmmer, with lights and sound --the thing parked in front of our house and took up, it seemed, 1/2 the block.
It had room for 18. The four of us chatted, and congratulated Deb on pulling off the surprise. Like me, Norman is suspicious and a keen observer --it's very tough to get something by him, but Deb did.
Next stop, Miami Shores, and Norman's partner Scott's fiance Liz's house. Liz and her FSU daughter serenaded, with a beautifully harmonized rendition of happy birthday, accompanied by acoustic guitar. Norman was moved. We then took the short drive to the Palm, where we met another Norman partner and friend, Glenn, and his son in law, a last minute fill in for Glenn's wife. Also at the bar were the couple who introduced Norman to Deb, but as Gary is one of my competitors in the legal business, I'm contractually prohibited from discussing him further. Plus, he lives on Palm Island, which tells me he does much better than I do...
Ha! They are lovely folks.
Deb reserved a private room, which I didn't even know the Palm had, and we drank some healthy sized martinis, and ate delicious steaks. We also laughed, a lot, as we told tales of trips, and old cases, and the delightful humor that is living each day.
Glen is a retired cop, and teller of salty tales, and somehow the conversation turned to an aging man's "veiny" testicles...that became a recurring subject among we classy and educated parrtiers...
The 6 of us then re-boarded the enormous Hummer, and we headed to one of Liz's friends, who was hosting a house party for HER 50th. She lives in a funky, 50s era building on North Biscayne Bay --right next to where they film "Dexter."
The party was in full swing, with great 70s tunes playing, and Norman, Scott, and I soon realized that, with the exception of one other fellow, we were the only men there.
I kept my inner "Beavis and Butthead" in check, and didn't say, our loud: "Heh, heh. Cool! Lesbians!"
But Wifey insisted on lounging on a sofa, continuously petting a little kitten, which lead to more laughter when we got back into the limo.
Next stop --the bay walk near Liz's house in the Shores, where we got out of the limo to admire the view of the night, as the Bay waters crashed onto the sidewalk. It was truly magical.
We dropped off Liz and Scott, and somehow stayed awake for the ride back to Pinecrest.
I told Deb that the answer is "Pretty gross at first, but as time passes, you sort of get used to it, as long as you don't focus too clearly on matters at hand." She asked what the question was. I told her it was "What's it like to sleep with a 50 year old man?"
And so Norman has joined the club, and his initiation was sterling and spectacular, and Wifey and I were privileged to be a part of it.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Coll-ige
Well, as expected, Thanksgiving turned out to be all we hoped and more. D2, Josh, Wifey and I fired up the Hyundai and headed to Key Biscayne, where we parked the Korean piece of auto in valet, surrounded by Bentleys, Benzes, BMWs, etc...
If I let my ego be affected by the car I drive, well, I would have been in serious need of Prozac. At least the valet didn't laugh out loud when he took my key fob.
The hotel, as always, was magical, with attendants rushing to offer hot cider, as guests walked to and fro. We made our way to the restuarant, and found that D1's reservations had landed us in a private room, still in ear shot of the guitarist, who strummed mellow tunes...
D1, her boyfriend, and his family arrived, and we greeted like old friends. They were lovely folks, of course. We drank more than our share of mimosas, and selected from the 7!! different stations, with the most delicious food around.
Round one, I stuck to the traditional turkey, stuffing, prime rib, and cranberries. Round two, I went for the seafood thing: shrimp, oysters, king crab claws, and some delicious sushi thrown in for good measure.
We chatted, and drank, and laughed, and then we strolled to the water for some photos. On the way back, we stopped in the bar and pulled chairs up to the leather sofas. Wifey, Joel's folks, and I talked about how blessed we were with our kids and their boyfriends/girlfriends.
At home, my old high school friend Marcy and I exchanged messages on FaceBook (tm), about colleges. Her daughters go to very expensive private schools in the Northeast (Emily Dickenson College?). Actually, I think one goes to Smith.
Marcy is justly proud of her girls, but I keep thinking how silly the whole obsession is about where the kids go to school.
The public intellectual David Brooks always preaches that life partner choice is so much more significant --the essence of one's happiness or misery -- and yet our generation of helicopter parents spends little time coaching that, and a huge amount worrying where to send the kids for 4 years of parties and inter personal dramas...
It occurred to me, as I reflected on my many blessings related to the Ds, that I'm most thankful for the choices they make in the young men in their lives. They do great academically, and I'm happy for that, but on a much deeper level it's who they choose to be around.
D2 spent the night at her boyfriend Josh's parents' house, and Josh is due to drop her off later at Barry's place, for the drive to the final Canes game of the season. D1 will stay here, and help Wifey prepare for tomorrow's brunch with a house full of Hoosiers...
The Ds are young, and I have no idea if they'll end up with these fine young men forever...but they're picking well, in my view, and that's all that counts.
If I let my ego be affected by the car I drive, well, I would have been in serious need of Prozac. At least the valet didn't laugh out loud when he took my key fob.
The hotel, as always, was magical, with attendants rushing to offer hot cider, as guests walked to and fro. We made our way to the restuarant, and found that D1's reservations had landed us in a private room, still in ear shot of the guitarist, who strummed mellow tunes...
D1, her boyfriend, and his family arrived, and we greeted like old friends. They were lovely folks, of course. We drank more than our share of mimosas, and selected from the 7!! different stations, with the most delicious food around.
Round one, I stuck to the traditional turkey, stuffing, prime rib, and cranberries. Round two, I went for the seafood thing: shrimp, oysters, king crab claws, and some delicious sushi thrown in for good measure.
We chatted, and drank, and laughed, and then we strolled to the water for some photos. On the way back, we stopped in the bar and pulled chairs up to the leather sofas. Wifey, Joel's folks, and I talked about how blessed we were with our kids and their boyfriends/girlfriends.
At home, my old high school friend Marcy and I exchanged messages on FaceBook (tm), about colleges. Her daughters go to very expensive private schools in the Northeast (Emily Dickenson College?). Actually, I think one goes to Smith.
Marcy is justly proud of her girls, but I keep thinking how silly the whole obsession is about where the kids go to school.
The public intellectual David Brooks always preaches that life partner choice is so much more significant --the essence of one's happiness or misery -- and yet our generation of helicopter parents spends little time coaching that, and a huge amount worrying where to send the kids for 4 years of parties and inter personal dramas...
It occurred to me, as I reflected on my many blessings related to the Ds, that I'm most thankful for the choices they make in the young men in their lives. They do great academically, and I'm happy for that, but on a much deeper level it's who they choose to be around.
D2 spent the night at her boyfriend Josh's parents' house, and Josh is due to drop her off later at Barry's place, for the drive to the final Canes game of the season. D1 will stay here, and help Wifey prepare for tomorrow's brunch with a house full of Hoosiers...
The Ds are young, and I have no idea if they'll end up with these fine young men forever...but they're picking well, in my view, and that's all that counts.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Dia De Gracias
Ah, bliss. It's Thanksgiving Day, I'm up early, and it's cool out. The paper isn't here yet, but the dogs have been fed, the coffee is hot. D2 is home, asleep, as is Wifey upstairs. D1 went out last night with her boyfriend's Indiana family, and I assume she's still asleep, too.
If there's a luckier man than me, I don't know who he is.
I got sick of all the "I'm thankful for" messages on FaceBook (tm) and so posted that I thought we should reflect on all we DON'T have. I mean --look at Jay Z. Billionaire, married to Beyonce, flies around in a private jet, gives away millions in charity. Compared to him, my life is that of a lowly schlepper!
Ha. I feel just the opposite, of course, but then again, I always did. Back in the early days of Wifey, when times were tight (and our buttocks were, too) I was also happy and thankful.
Our runneth over cup REALLY filled up in 1988. D1 came along, a few days after T Day that year, and taught us both the true meaning of love. Wifey and I both knew love, of course, but never the unconditional kind. I mean, she loved me lots, I'm sure, but had I, say, schtupped her best friend Edna (sorry about that, Edna) I think her love for me would have waned pretty quickly.
But not so with our children: we love them always, above all, no matter what. And D1 was the first, and now she's about to turn 23!
Last night, Wifey woke up from a long afternoon nap, occasioned by having to take her mother for outpatient hand surgery at 6 am, and came downstairs. It was nearly 9. D2 and I had eaten lunch with D1 in South Miami, and were hungry. So the three of us headed to our local IHOP, which is now open 24 hours, 365 days per year. This may be the best thing to happen in Pinecrest, ever.
Anyway, the running joke is that D1 loves IHOP, and somehow never gets to go with us. So, we sat there and D2 and Wifey texted her pictures of the blueberry pancakes she was missing out on. She texted back some spicy language about it being HER birthday, and yet she was excluded. It was exquisite. The pancakes were good, too, and an appropriate way to start the coming days of mass consumption...
Last night, this already thankful guy was even more absurdly thankful.
On the way to the car, we spotted a line forming at Best Buy. The IHOP manager told us the folks were there, and would stay there through Thanksgiving, to be in the store when they opened on midnight of Black Friday. Apparently, you can buy $300 flat screen tvs for $149 or so by doing that.
I guess that for those who are thankful for STUFF (crap, to me) that's the ultimate. Bereft of love, they have to fill the cavity with the material...Wifey, D2, and I shook our heads and laughed as we drove away.
Today, we have plans for a noon lunch on Key Biscayne. This is the 4th year in a row we will so gather, letting the chefs of a hotel prepare our feast.
D1's boyfriend Joel is coming, with his sister, her boyfriend, and his parents. D2's fine young man Josh is coming down as well, so there'll be 10 of us there.
Joel's mother emailed Wifey, saying how much she looked forward to meeting us, as she really dug D1, and was sure the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
So, of course, I already like this lady hours before meeting her. Class. Pure class.
Her email reminded me of the party we threw when we first moved into the 'hood --our annual homeowners' meeting. One of the neighbors had a gorgeous flower arrangement sent over that day, with a note that she was sure the evening was going to be special. Wifey and I were floored, and knew then we had found the right place to live.
Probably not coincidentally, the neighbor, like Joel's mother, was raised in the Midwest...
After brunch, D2 and Josh are headed to Josh's place in Weston for T Day DINNER. So D2 gets 2 feasts. I have a spot reserved on my couch to watch the Fins play the Cowboys.
Tomorrow, D2 will get a ride to Barry's, and he will drive her to the Canes game, where we will all convene. My friend Norman turns 50 this weekend, and his tailgate party will also be his birthday celebration. I'd bring his gift with me, but it'd get drunk, so I'll drop it off later...
Saturday, we're having Joel's family over for bagels and lox and mimosas. I was at the liquor store last night, and got a great recommendation of sparkling wine for these drinks. We'll find out if Hebrew Hoosiers dig our local bagels, baked with care by Palestinians at House of Bagels...
And so my favorite time of the year is here in full swing. I have less than 3 months to go for D2's 20th birthday, whereupon I will have succesfully raised 2 daughters without teen pregnancies... After that, all is, like the fine accompaniment to today's turkey, gravy.
If there's a luckier man than me, I don't know who he is.
I got sick of all the "I'm thankful for" messages on FaceBook (tm) and so posted that I thought we should reflect on all we DON'T have. I mean --look at Jay Z. Billionaire, married to Beyonce, flies around in a private jet, gives away millions in charity. Compared to him, my life is that of a lowly schlepper!
Ha. I feel just the opposite, of course, but then again, I always did. Back in the early days of Wifey, when times were tight (and our buttocks were, too) I was also happy and thankful.
Our runneth over cup REALLY filled up in 1988. D1 came along, a few days after T Day that year, and taught us both the true meaning of love. Wifey and I both knew love, of course, but never the unconditional kind. I mean, she loved me lots, I'm sure, but had I, say, schtupped her best friend Edna (sorry about that, Edna) I think her love for me would have waned pretty quickly.
But not so with our children: we love them always, above all, no matter what. And D1 was the first, and now she's about to turn 23!
Last night, Wifey woke up from a long afternoon nap, occasioned by having to take her mother for outpatient hand surgery at 6 am, and came downstairs. It was nearly 9. D2 and I had eaten lunch with D1 in South Miami, and were hungry. So the three of us headed to our local IHOP, which is now open 24 hours, 365 days per year. This may be the best thing to happen in Pinecrest, ever.
Anyway, the running joke is that D1 loves IHOP, and somehow never gets to go with us. So, we sat there and D2 and Wifey texted her pictures of the blueberry pancakes she was missing out on. She texted back some spicy language about it being HER birthday, and yet she was excluded. It was exquisite. The pancakes were good, too, and an appropriate way to start the coming days of mass consumption...
Last night, this already thankful guy was even more absurdly thankful.
On the way to the car, we spotted a line forming at Best Buy. The IHOP manager told us the folks were there, and would stay there through Thanksgiving, to be in the store when they opened on midnight of Black Friday. Apparently, you can buy $300 flat screen tvs for $149 or so by doing that.
I guess that for those who are thankful for STUFF (crap, to me) that's the ultimate. Bereft of love, they have to fill the cavity with the material...Wifey, D2, and I shook our heads and laughed as we drove away.
Today, we have plans for a noon lunch on Key Biscayne. This is the 4th year in a row we will so gather, letting the chefs of a hotel prepare our feast.
D1's boyfriend Joel is coming, with his sister, her boyfriend, and his parents. D2's fine young man Josh is coming down as well, so there'll be 10 of us there.
Joel's mother emailed Wifey, saying how much she looked forward to meeting us, as she really dug D1, and was sure the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
So, of course, I already like this lady hours before meeting her. Class. Pure class.
Her email reminded me of the party we threw when we first moved into the 'hood --our annual homeowners' meeting. One of the neighbors had a gorgeous flower arrangement sent over that day, with a note that she was sure the evening was going to be special. Wifey and I were floored, and knew then we had found the right place to live.
Probably not coincidentally, the neighbor, like Joel's mother, was raised in the Midwest...
After brunch, D2 and Josh are headed to Josh's place in Weston for T Day DINNER. So D2 gets 2 feasts. I have a spot reserved on my couch to watch the Fins play the Cowboys.
Tomorrow, D2 will get a ride to Barry's, and he will drive her to the Canes game, where we will all convene. My friend Norman turns 50 this weekend, and his tailgate party will also be his birthday celebration. I'd bring his gift with me, but it'd get drunk, so I'll drop it off later...
Saturday, we're having Joel's family over for bagels and lox and mimosas. I was at the liquor store last night, and got a great recommendation of sparkling wine for these drinks. We'll find out if Hebrew Hoosiers dig our local bagels, baked with care by Palestinians at House of Bagels...
And so my favorite time of the year is here in full swing. I have less than 3 months to go for D2's 20th birthday, whereupon I will have succesfully raised 2 daughters without teen pregnancies... After that, all is, like the fine accompaniment to today's turkey, gravy.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Bah, Early!
So the awful economy has caused yet another calamity: even earlier than usual holiday crap. I noticed some X mas and Chanukah decorations going up in the Sunniland parking lot right around Halloween. Now, as Thanksgiving approaches, the annoyance is in full swing.
A great debate is taking place in the retail world. Is it ok to open stores on T Day? This takes away a sacred day of celebration for the American family, all so that stores can make more money in advance of Black Friday. The answer is, of course, yes --some are opening T Day.
Some of my liberal, anti corporate, rich FaceBook (tm) friends are posting about boycotting Black Friday, to show support for the schleppers who have to work the Wal Marts and Targets instead of being home with their children. I posted that I WOULD boycott (I'd never be caught dead in a mall that day at any rate) but wished to preserve my right to listen to the Steely Dan song.
I guess my distaste with all things holiday goes back a long while. My parents never quite bought into the whole gifts at the holiday thing. My mother liked to proclaim that I got stuff I wanted all year -- it was silly to hide telescopes and bicycles for a special day. She was right, of course.
But then, we'd be invited to my brother in law's Irish family Christmas celebrations. I remember being about 9, and his brother Michael and sister Kathy sat around the tree, and were each given a PILE of toys. There was usually some pathetic thing, like a slinky, for me...
We'd leave the cigarette smoke filled split level house, into the chill LI December air, and get into our car. My parents would laugh at the whole scene, and I was expected to be in on the joke. I am now, of course, but at 9 or so, I was PISSED! I think then I understood what became one of my favorite expressions: "treated like the red headed stepchild..."
At home, there'd be an electric menorah, and maybe some latkes...In high school, my friend Debbie's wonderful Italian grandparents had a feast on Christmas Eve, and I was invited. We'd gorge ourselves on fresh seafood, and sausage and pasta. One year I went to midnight mass with them...waiting the whole time for the priest to call me to the front and ask me why my people had killed the man all of this hooplah was for. It never happened, luckily...
When the Ds were little, my sister the Queens Jewess made a bigger deal out of Christmas than any minister in Alabama dreamed of. The whole house was decorated with multiple trees, and entire minituare villages with twinkling lights and Christmas music (all the good songs were written by Jews, I'd tell my girls).
She and my brother in law would buy the Ds many gifts, and Wifey and I would spend the entire car ride home debriefing them about the holiday. Yes, they could keep the doll houses and stuffed animals, and thank their aunt and uncle for them, but, no, we didn't worship Jesus Christ...and somehow, in my sister's mind, the trees and lights and Christmas hams weren't about Jesus -- they were just "warm family expressions" that happened to coincide with the rest of the world celebrating...
One year, after my rabbi friend brainwashed me that attending these events was tantamount to sending our little Jewish girls to Lourdes Academy --we fled to the Bahamas over Xmas week. The Ds had a blast, and I paid high season rates for our room at Atlantis, and we visited Graycliff with my partner Paul and his kids and some of their friends...
Looking back, this move was an insult to my sister and brother in law that marked the beginning of some hurt feelings that took many years to get over.
I asked Rabbi Yossi if missing a meal around a Christmas tree was worth all the hurt and schism it caused in my family. He responded: "Absolutely!"
And so I don't go much for the Jewish stuff, either...
And so, here comes another season to endure. I rarely go shopping, so I don't have to get annoyed at the malls, and, as usual, December 25th we WILL honor the birthday of the Ds and my own, personal savior: Wifey.
D1 won't be here. She's planning to go to Indiana with her boyfriend and his family. I'm sure D2 will be busy with her boyfriend and other friend, too.
So I'll take Wifey to a movie, and then, probably, to Tropical Chinese, where several generations of Miami Jews can be found on December 25th...
And soon enough, it will be 2012, and the music will fade...
A great debate is taking place in the retail world. Is it ok to open stores on T Day? This takes away a sacred day of celebration for the American family, all so that stores can make more money in advance of Black Friday. The answer is, of course, yes --some are opening T Day.
Some of my liberal, anti corporate, rich FaceBook (tm) friends are posting about boycotting Black Friday, to show support for the schleppers who have to work the Wal Marts and Targets instead of being home with their children. I posted that I WOULD boycott (I'd never be caught dead in a mall that day at any rate) but wished to preserve my right to listen to the Steely Dan song.
I guess my distaste with all things holiday goes back a long while. My parents never quite bought into the whole gifts at the holiday thing. My mother liked to proclaim that I got stuff I wanted all year -- it was silly to hide telescopes and bicycles for a special day. She was right, of course.
But then, we'd be invited to my brother in law's Irish family Christmas celebrations. I remember being about 9, and his brother Michael and sister Kathy sat around the tree, and were each given a PILE of toys. There was usually some pathetic thing, like a slinky, for me...
We'd leave the cigarette smoke filled split level house, into the chill LI December air, and get into our car. My parents would laugh at the whole scene, and I was expected to be in on the joke. I am now, of course, but at 9 or so, I was PISSED! I think then I understood what became one of my favorite expressions: "treated like the red headed stepchild..."
At home, there'd be an electric menorah, and maybe some latkes...In high school, my friend Debbie's wonderful Italian grandparents had a feast on Christmas Eve, and I was invited. We'd gorge ourselves on fresh seafood, and sausage and pasta. One year I went to midnight mass with them...waiting the whole time for the priest to call me to the front and ask me why my people had killed the man all of this hooplah was for. It never happened, luckily...
When the Ds were little, my sister the Queens Jewess made a bigger deal out of Christmas than any minister in Alabama dreamed of. The whole house was decorated with multiple trees, and entire minituare villages with twinkling lights and Christmas music (all the good songs were written by Jews, I'd tell my girls).
She and my brother in law would buy the Ds many gifts, and Wifey and I would spend the entire car ride home debriefing them about the holiday. Yes, they could keep the doll houses and stuffed animals, and thank their aunt and uncle for them, but, no, we didn't worship Jesus Christ...and somehow, in my sister's mind, the trees and lights and Christmas hams weren't about Jesus -- they were just "warm family expressions" that happened to coincide with the rest of the world celebrating...
One year, after my rabbi friend brainwashed me that attending these events was tantamount to sending our little Jewish girls to Lourdes Academy --we fled to the Bahamas over Xmas week. The Ds had a blast, and I paid high season rates for our room at Atlantis, and we visited Graycliff with my partner Paul and his kids and some of their friends...
Looking back, this move was an insult to my sister and brother in law that marked the beginning of some hurt feelings that took many years to get over.
I asked Rabbi Yossi if missing a meal around a Christmas tree was worth all the hurt and schism it caused in my family. He responded: "Absolutely!"
And so I don't go much for the Jewish stuff, either...
And so, here comes another season to endure. I rarely go shopping, so I don't have to get annoyed at the malls, and, as usual, December 25th we WILL honor the birthday of the Ds and my own, personal savior: Wifey.
D1 won't be here. She's planning to go to Indiana with her boyfriend and his family. I'm sure D2 will be busy with her boyfriend and other friend, too.
So I'll take Wifey to a movie, and then, probably, to Tropical Chinese, where several generations of Miami Jews can be found on December 25th...
And soon enough, it will be 2012, and the music will fade...
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Sabado Gigante
What a banner Saturday I had! I read the paper and drank my coffee, and then got a call from D1, up uncharacteristically early, on her way to a Yoga class outside in the Grove. Did I want to go to the Book Fair with her? Of course I did!
My blessings with the Ds truly fill a cup that runneth over. They like me, and want to hang with me!
I picked up D1, and we drove to my office, and then boarded the People Mover for the Book Fair.
We love the People Mover. It's a driverless transit system that has several loops around Miami. It's free, and used to be a joke, since few folks rode it, except people like me --young lawyers who used to kill some time after court and before returning to my office --in the late 80s --it had amazing views.
Still does. D1 and I enjoyed the ride, and I bored her with some of my deep history of Miami talks...
We got to the Fair, and immediately did the most important activity --got some fair food. We bought delicious Greek salads with lamb, and shared a table with 2 lovely lesbians and their clearly adopted children. (The Lesbians looked to be from Minnesota or Oklahoma --the kids from a far more Southern latitude).
We then walked, and bought some books (D1 a history of the Brickell family --I bought a history of Burdines to give to my mother in law, who worked at the store for nearly 20 years). Wifey saw my purchase this am, and I asked if she thought Rachel would like it. "Probably not --she only likes stories about the Holocaust!" Ha! Serves me right for trying to be a stellar son in law -- I keep wasting my time in that regard...
Anyway --back to the happy day: D1 and I ran into Dr. Dave, and chatted with him about his recent trip to the sub continent. D1 and I agreed, after hearing about it, that India was not on our list of must see places...
I dropped off D1, who sent me a lovely text, and then headed home in time to watch my beloved Canes on TV. Yawn!
Norman picked me up, and then we fetched his S 3 --Benjamin --a UM sophomore. Norman, like me, is blessed with wonderful kids. Benjy is a musical prodigy and, like his brother Michael, equipped with a fine sense of humor.
We drove, the three of us, to Sunrise --boring Benjy with tales of the U from back in the day, when Norman and I were undergrads...
We arrived at the Sawgrass Cheesecake Factory, and met Jim. Now our foursome ate, drank, and watched the end of the Canes game, which our boys won on a last second field goal. Double yawn...the best thing about this football season is that it's nearly over...
We then walked to the hockey arena (I think it's the BankAtlantic Center, but I never keep up on the corporate names). We laughed. A lot.
Even Benjy, not yet 20, gets the Borscht Belt humor his father Norman, Jim, and I treasure. We're politically INcorrect. Jim regaled us with a tale about his boy playing hockey with a kid from a race not generally known for producing hockey players. We concluded the child has an Uncle DaQuan with a vicious sense of humor...
The Panthers won a close game. The arena was wonderfully chilly.
We said goodbye to Jim, and then enjoyed our ride back to Coral Gables --more tales of the U and the ZBT fraternity.
Norman dropped me off, and Wifey was fast asleep. She had a banner day, too --spending it with her dear friend Cara and, I later learned, analyzing and discussing all that is wrong with men... The Wifey equivalent to a great Canes game!
Today, the TV beckons. The Dolphins are on -- and this season they are a perfect backdrop for a Sunday nap...
It's truly the most wonderful time of the year.
My blessings with the Ds truly fill a cup that runneth over. They like me, and want to hang with me!
I picked up D1, and we drove to my office, and then boarded the People Mover for the Book Fair.
We love the People Mover. It's a driverless transit system that has several loops around Miami. It's free, and used to be a joke, since few folks rode it, except people like me --young lawyers who used to kill some time after court and before returning to my office --in the late 80s --it had amazing views.
Still does. D1 and I enjoyed the ride, and I bored her with some of my deep history of Miami talks...
We got to the Fair, and immediately did the most important activity --got some fair food. We bought delicious Greek salads with lamb, and shared a table with 2 lovely lesbians and their clearly adopted children. (The Lesbians looked to be from Minnesota or Oklahoma --the kids from a far more Southern latitude).
We then walked, and bought some books (D1 a history of the Brickell family --I bought a history of Burdines to give to my mother in law, who worked at the store for nearly 20 years). Wifey saw my purchase this am, and I asked if she thought Rachel would like it. "Probably not --she only likes stories about the Holocaust!" Ha! Serves me right for trying to be a stellar son in law -- I keep wasting my time in that regard...
Anyway --back to the happy day: D1 and I ran into Dr. Dave, and chatted with him about his recent trip to the sub continent. D1 and I agreed, after hearing about it, that India was not on our list of must see places...
I dropped off D1, who sent me a lovely text, and then headed home in time to watch my beloved Canes on TV. Yawn!
Norman picked me up, and then we fetched his S 3 --Benjamin --a UM sophomore. Norman, like me, is blessed with wonderful kids. Benjy is a musical prodigy and, like his brother Michael, equipped with a fine sense of humor.
We drove, the three of us, to Sunrise --boring Benjy with tales of the U from back in the day, when Norman and I were undergrads...
We arrived at the Sawgrass Cheesecake Factory, and met Jim. Now our foursome ate, drank, and watched the end of the Canes game, which our boys won on a last second field goal. Double yawn...the best thing about this football season is that it's nearly over...
We then walked to the hockey arena (I think it's the BankAtlantic Center, but I never keep up on the corporate names). We laughed. A lot.
Even Benjy, not yet 20, gets the Borscht Belt humor his father Norman, Jim, and I treasure. We're politically INcorrect. Jim regaled us with a tale about his boy playing hockey with a kid from a race not generally known for producing hockey players. We concluded the child has an Uncle DaQuan with a vicious sense of humor...
The Panthers won a close game. The arena was wonderfully chilly.
We said goodbye to Jim, and then enjoyed our ride back to Coral Gables --more tales of the U and the ZBT fraternity.
Norman dropped me off, and Wifey was fast asleep. She had a banner day, too --spending it with her dear friend Cara and, I later learned, analyzing and discussing all that is wrong with men... The Wifey equivalent to a great Canes game!
Today, the TV beckons. The Dolphins are on -- and this season they are a perfect backdrop for a Sunday nap...
It's truly the most wonderful time of the year.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Talkin' Torah
MY friend Rabbi Yossi is nothing if not relentless. Although I'm not religious, and reject most of the invites for events at his shul, he keeps on and on...
He got me to agree to come to a weekly Torah discussion at our new neighbors' house. I call these folks the young billionaires, since they're on their way their. Ben and Rachel are in their late 20s and founded an internet sales company that just moved to Miami, and they have 300 employees and are growing.
Ben, and his brother Eli, are sort of modern, religious hippies --various and sundry young geniuses are always milling about their house, either staying while looking for housing in town, or passing through. Some of them are retired Israeli military types -- they smile, but I can tell they know how to kill me with the tip of their pinkies...
Anyway, Ben and Rachel generously provide food and drink every Thursday night (the first night of the month is for couples --the other three are for men) and Yossi calls me no less then 3 times to remind me (and my friend Jeff) to go.
Last night, the Torah section, or portion, was about Abraham and his sons and the meanig of marriage and daily prayer.
We discussed how Abraham, in addition to being the first monotheist (and father of the Jews) was also, in many ways, the father of all of Western Civilization. He was the first to leave his land, to go forth, to become a stranger in a strange land == and this concept of seeking and discovering opened the world to all its modern ideas.
We also talked about the tripartite nature of marriage --the feminine, the masculine, and the Godly part --the Torah talks a LOT about marriage, as it's the basis of our society.
I reflected on marriage, of course --what a serious business it is, and how so few of us take it seriously.
Rabbi Yossi likened the three daily prayers (morning, afternoon, and evening) the the stages of a marriage. Morning is easy --a new day has dawned, optimism reigns -- a marriage is all honeymoon. Evening is ok, too --the work day is done, the soul cries out for rest and reflection --marriage is going out for a Saturday night dinner and socializing.
But the afternoon, when the day drags --that's the toughest time of the day to take time to thank God, and, in a marriage, it's the long, boring, time --when it's easy to get untracked.
I thought about how many friends of mine have trouble with that part -- when the physical desire wanes -- and they realize they have to be friends with their spouses if the marriage is going to last...
Jeff, always one with humor drier than a martini, got into the car and remarked that all this talk about marriage (he's nearing the 25 year mark, like I am) makes him truly savor nights like we had --with only guys...
Abraham's heroism is remarkable. I relate to where he was in his life --happy, prosperous, things all comfortable and good --and yet he struck out, based on God's instruction --to an uncertain future.
I wonder whether I'd answer the call. Rabbi Yossi says the call comes each day --to do more for one's fellow man, to learn more, to give more.
Thoughtful stuff, for a Thursday night...
He got me to agree to come to a weekly Torah discussion at our new neighbors' house. I call these folks the young billionaires, since they're on their way their. Ben and Rachel are in their late 20s and founded an internet sales company that just moved to Miami, and they have 300 employees and are growing.
Ben, and his brother Eli, are sort of modern, religious hippies --various and sundry young geniuses are always milling about their house, either staying while looking for housing in town, or passing through. Some of them are retired Israeli military types -- they smile, but I can tell they know how to kill me with the tip of their pinkies...
Anyway, Ben and Rachel generously provide food and drink every Thursday night (the first night of the month is for couples --the other three are for men) and Yossi calls me no less then 3 times to remind me (and my friend Jeff) to go.
Last night, the Torah section, or portion, was about Abraham and his sons and the meanig of marriage and daily prayer.
We discussed how Abraham, in addition to being the first monotheist (and father of the Jews) was also, in many ways, the father of all of Western Civilization. He was the first to leave his land, to go forth, to become a stranger in a strange land == and this concept of seeking and discovering opened the world to all its modern ideas.
We also talked about the tripartite nature of marriage --the feminine, the masculine, and the Godly part --the Torah talks a LOT about marriage, as it's the basis of our society.
I reflected on marriage, of course --what a serious business it is, and how so few of us take it seriously.
Rabbi Yossi likened the three daily prayers (morning, afternoon, and evening) the the stages of a marriage. Morning is easy --a new day has dawned, optimism reigns -- a marriage is all honeymoon. Evening is ok, too --the work day is done, the soul cries out for rest and reflection --marriage is going out for a Saturday night dinner and socializing.
But the afternoon, when the day drags --that's the toughest time of the day to take time to thank God, and, in a marriage, it's the long, boring, time --when it's easy to get untracked.
I thought about how many friends of mine have trouble with that part -- when the physical desire wanes -- and they realize they have to be friends with their spouses if the marriage is going to last...
Jeff, always one with humor drier than a martini, got into the car and remarked that all this talk about marriage (he's nearing the 25 year mark, like I am) makes him truly savor nights like we had --with only guys...
Abraham's heroism is remarkable. I relate to where he was in his life --happy, prosperous, things all comfortable and good --and yet he struck out, based on God's instruction --to an uncertain future.
I wonder whether I'd answer the call. Rabbi Yossi says the call comes each day --to do more for one's fellow man, to learn more, to give more.
Thoughtful stuff, for a Thursday night...
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Happy Anniversary to Us
November 15, 1994 was a big date for me. That's the day my partner Paul and I founded our law firm: Paul & Dave, P.A. I wrote to Paul, reminding him of our 17th anniversary. Did I get a box of candy, or flowers? Not at all, though a bottle of Ketel One would have been the more appropriate gift.
The years truly have a way of flying by. All the good times and riches and son of a bitches (to steal from Jimmy Buffet) we've encountered are starting to mesh in my memory.
And yet, I clearly recall the beginning. We left our old firm after the Big Man told Paul he would no longer pay him the same percentage of the fees he generated. I think the Big Man and his partner figured that I, 11 years younger than Paul, and already on a lower shared fee scale, would bring in enough business, and could handle the associate duties. They didn't know Paul and I had already planned to leave...
The plan, such as it was, was that Paul would find us space, get situated, while I stayed behind to watch over our interests. I couldn't do it. A few hours after Paul resigned, I went in to the Big Man and told him I was leaving, too.
I met Paul at our satellite office, Tobacco Road. He was expecting to hear the buzz about his departure --instead I told him I was now unemployed like he was. He laughed --he already knew that, despite my calm, agreeable demeanor, no one gets to tell me what to do!
I passed a bum on the way to my car, and he asked for money. I gave him a dollar, but told him that our salaries were the same --actually, he was earning more than I was.
Paul and I started searching for space --North Miami, Coral Gables, Lincoln Road (in retrospect, Lincoln Road would have been the most fun choice, and probably would have put us out of business fastest, although Wifey might have been replaced by a struggling young model from the Midwest...)
We ended up moving into an office suite in the former Centrust Building --Miami's signature tower, which was lit at night with multicolor floods... It still is.
We assembled our staff, with the ensuing dramas there, and worked day and night. Failure was not, to use the cliche, an option.
We gave charity. We were absurdly blessed with good luck. I did a freebie case for a woman, who cried in gratitude when I told her I wasn't going to charge her the $1000 fee she owed, and that woman ended up referring us close a HUGE amount of business...
We were totally on the make. Everyone we met got our pitch, and a firm brochure, and, probably, a gourmet dinner.
We played, royally. We traveled the world. We sported our friends and families on the greatest trips thay would ever take in their lives --always top of the line.
And, fortunately, we saved and saved, and, lived below our means...
It was a heady time...
The years truly have a way of flying by. All the good times and riches and son of a bitches (to steal from Jimmy Buffet) we've encountered are starting to mesh in my memory.
And yet, I clearly recall the beginning. We left our old firm after the Big Man told Paul he would no longer pay him the same percentage of the fees he generated. I think the Big Man and his partner figured that I, 11 years younger than Paul, and already on a lower shared fee scale, would bring in enough business, and could handle the associate duties. They didn't know Paul and I had already planned to leave...
The plan, such as it was, was that Paul would find us space, get situated, while I stayed behind to watch over our interests. I couldn't do it. A few hours after Paul resigned, I went in to the Big Man and told him I was leaving, too.
I met Paul at our satellite office, Tobacco Road. He was expecting to hear the buzz about his departure --instead I told him I was now unemployed like he was. He laughed --he already knew that, despite my calm, agreeable demeanor, no one gets to tell me what to do!
I passed a bum on the way to my car, and he asked for money. I gave him a dollar, but told him that our salaries were the same --actually, he was earning more than I was.
Paul and I started searching for space --North Miami, Coral Gables, Lincoln Road (in retrospect, Lincoln Road would have been the most fun choice, and probably would have put us out of business fastest, although Wifey might have been replaced by a struggling young model from the Midwest...)
We ended up moving into an office suite in the former Centrust Building --Miami's signature tower, which was lit at night with multicolor floods... It still is.
We assembled our staff, with the ensuing dramas there, and worked day and night. Failure was not, to use the cliche, an option.
We gave charity. We were absurdly blessed with good luck. I did a freebie case for a woman, who cried in gratitude when I told her I wasn't going to charge her the $1000 fee she owed, and that woman ended up referring us close a HUGE amount of business...
We were totally on the make. Everyone we met got our pitch, and a firm brochure, and, probably, a gourmet dinner.
We played, royally. We traveled the world. We sported our friends and families on the greatest trips thay would ever take in their lives --always top of the line.
And, fortunately, we saved and saved, and, lived below our means...
It was a heady time...
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Election
I think the whole sorority thing is pretty silly, but the Ds have enjoyed their time there. And, I have to admit, I AM impressed by some of the charity work they do: UF has a Dance Marathon each Spring, and last year that event raised nearly 3/4 of a million dollars for UF Children's Hospital.
Still, much of the sorority thing is an extension of middle school social mores, with cliques forming, power plays, etc...
D2 decided to run for some office, and drew an opponent. According to D1, who analyzes these things like George Stephanopolous analyzes American politics, D2 was the superior candidate...and had the clear vote of the "cooler" girls, whatever that means. The election was last night.
I got an IM from D1, learning that, surprisingly, D2 lost to the "dorky" opponent. D1 was VERY upset for her sister, and theorized that D2 lost because of a "revenge of the nerds" factor. D1 feared this rare loss in life would greatly hurt D2.
Wifey and I sprang into action! I emailed D2 a tale of one of my life's biggest disappointments, when I was denied a job offer from the prestigious law firm where I clerked. I was shocked, that summer of 1985 -- I had worked my tail off, charmed everyone, and, most important, just KNEW the job was mine...
Like D2, I was sort of spoiled by getting most of what I wanted in life, based on charm and a deep aggressiveness disguised by that charm. D2 is a LOT like I am in that way.
Well, the firm ended up offering the job to 2 of the 4 clerks. One, who I'll call Chris, since that's his name, ended up rejecting THEM, in favor of another firm where he is now senior partner, and provides my friend Barry and I with countless hours of making fun of him because of what an impressive looking, yet underlying twit, he is. The other candidate, Susan, stayed at the firm a few years, and then left to clerk for a Federal Magistrate, where she remains today.
My fellow loser, Charlie, ended up VERY succesful in Atlanta, as a Labor lawyer.
So there, I empathized with D2...
Wifey made an emergency call to the Midnight Cookie store in Gainesville --to deliver a batch of fresh baked goods to D2 with the message that, of course, she was ALWAYS our winner, in everything.
D2 texted, and called, and told us how much she appreciates and loves all of us.
I was teary eyed, too. I couldn't care less about the stupid election, of course, but cared immensely that D1 was so fiercely protective of and caring about, her sister.
The Ds are quite different, in many ways, but they ARE each other's best friends, and will be for life. That happened to be one of my main parental goals, and Wifey and I have been blessed with success in that department.
So the family system worked. One of our number had a disappointment, and the other 3 scrambled into action.
I am humbled and proud.
And D2, calling late last night with a mouthful of cookie, reported that said cookies were scrumptious...
Still, much of the sorority thing is an extension of middle school social mores, with cliques forming, power plays, etc...
D2 decided to run for some office, and drew an opponent. According to D1, who analyzes these things like George Stephanopolous analyzes American politics, D2 was the superior candidate...and had the clear vote of the "cooler" girls, whatever that means. The election was last night.
I got an IM from D1, learning that, surprisingly, D2 lost to the "dorky" opponent. D1 was VERY upset for her sister, and theorized that D2 lost because of a "revenge of the nerds" factor. D1 feared this rare loss in life would greatly hurt D2.
Wifey and I sprang into action! I emailed D2 a tale of one of my life's biggest disappointments, when I was denied a job offer from the prestigious law firm where I clerked. I was shocked, that summer of 1985 -- I had worked my tail off, charmed everyone, and, most important, just KNEW the job was mine...
Like D2, I was sort of spoiled by getting most of what I wanted in life, based on charm and a deep aggressiveness disguised by that charm. D2 is a LOT like I am in that way.
Well, the firm ended up offering the job to 2 of the 4 clerks. One, who I'll call Chris, since that's his name, ended up rejecting THEM, in favor of another firm where he is now senior partner, and provides my friend Barry and I with countless hours of making fun of him because of what an impressive looking, yet underlying twit, he is. The other candidate, Susan, stayed at the firm a few years, and then left to clerk for a Federal Magistrate, where she remains today.
My fellow loser, Charlie, ended up VERY succesful in Atlanta, as a Labor lawyer.
So there, I empathized with D2...
Wifey made an emergency call to the Midnight Cookie store in Gainesville --to deliver a batch of fresh baked goods to D2 with the message that, of course, she was ALWAYS our winner, in everything.
D2 texted, and called, and told us how much she appreciates and loves all of us.
I was teary eyed, too. I couldn't care less about the stupid election, of course, but cared immensely that D1 was so fiercely protective of and caring about, her sister.
The Ds are quite different, in many ways, but they ARE each other's best friends, and will be for life. That happened to be one of my main parental goals, and Wifey and I have been blessed with success in that department.
So the family system worked. One of our number had a disappointment, and the other 3 scrambled into action.
I am humbled and proud.
And D2, calling late last night with a mouthful of cookie, reported that said cookies were scrumptious...
Monday, November 14, 2011
The Weekend at the College ...
So on Friday I fired up the 2 year old Hyundai, and Wifey and I hit the open road. First stop: the Denny's in Hallandale, to fetch my partner Paul and his son Alex.
I hustled Wifey out of the house, telling her repeatedly that Paul and I have always shared a military-like punctuality, in which early is on time and on time is late! Wifey reminded me that this behavior bordered on, or actually crossed into, the obnoxious, but she complied. We arrived at 1145, and, sure enough...no Paul!
Ah, old age. Paul's girlfriend Patricia dropped him off over 20 minutes late. I knew an era had passed...
Armed with Denny's turkey club sandwiches, we headed North, chatting happily and listening to Alex's I Phone App on Howard Stern, interviewing the virginal Gloria Estefan about her husband's penis size. I'm at least as adolescent as any guy, but I just never found Howard Stern that funny. Funny like the obnoxious kid in Hebrew School, of course, but no funnier...
We cruised into Gainesville, and headed for the AEPhi house. Handsome Alex, who looks ten years younger than he is, set some sorority hearts aflame, and we greeted D2 and her roommate Ali.
We also got a hearty welcome from bubbly Carly, with her happy demeanor and gorgeous blonde hair. She and D2 have been friends since Middle School, and now take the college journey together.
We went back to the hotel, and met Mike, his boy Chris, and Chris's friend Jason, a certified sports trivia genius. The kid is 16 or 17, and was quoting scenes from Canes games that happened well before he was born. I was way impressed.
The group, now including D2's terrific boyfriend Josh, mustered at Dragonfly, Gainesville's best sushi restaurant. The grown ups (or at least those with real IDs) drank adult beverages, and we waited for our table, We then feasted on sushi and each other's company. Paul's nephew Grant was there, too, and it turned out that he knew Josh from their Broward Jewish teen years --March of the Living -- and enjoyed their reunion.
Paul pointed out, correctly, that these are truly the good old days --with our families' kids all happy and soaring, including, I reminded him, his beautiful granddaughter!
Saturday, Mike, Chris, Jason and I headed to the Flying Biscuit for a hearty new Southern (their style) breakfast, and then met Paul, Alex, and Grant to caravan to Tally. Wifey left for the sorority mother/daughter day, which included Zumba, dueling pianos, and dinner. D2 reported later that it was "Moms Gone Wild" - a veritable menopausal nonstop party of singing and dancing, including, apparently, one mom who seductively squirmed atop a piano like she was in the "Fabulous Baker Brothers" movie...
Our day was, conversely, one of testosterone (except, it turned out, for our Canes).
Ah, my friend Mike --always the adventurer. Instead of the boring interstate, he took us on a route of a country road. It turns out that Newberry Road in Gainesville heads west and then North all the way to Tally.
We passed the small towns, and counties I didn't even knew were in Florida. Gilchrist? There were several prisons, Hardees instead of McDonalds and Burger Kings, gun shops, and CHURCHES. And then more churches! We marvelled at the fact that they all stayed in business, with seemingly small town populations.
If I ever move to NW Florida, clearly I have to become a minister --that's where the money is. Oy vey.
We rolled into town, and Paul and Alex jumped into Mike's Expedition --Grant went off to a friend's apartment --and we found a tailgate lot. We were amazed that it was free parking --next to the FSU basketball arena --and realized later why: it was a good mile away frm the stadium.
Still, Mike grilled, we drank beer, and admired the comely young FSU co eds. I remembered my visits to the campus in the early 80s, and nothing has changed: FSU, for some reason, seems to attract gorgeous women.
Several were dressed as sexy Seminoles. We started to question our affiliation with the Canes...
And then came the game. It turned out to be a contest between 2 crappy teams. The Canes proved crappier. We lost. It was actually pretty boring, especially for a game that ended 24-19. The most passion was raised by spectacularly bad calls by the refs --most against UM.
Mike waited on line 45 minutes to hit the bathroom. Any thoughts about buying a soda were fantasy. Miami has no on campus stadium, and therefore no real college game day atmosphere, but we DO have the better tailgate parties (Norman has stone crabs!) and the plusher stadium. As I become an old codger, things like being able to pee when required take on greater importance.
The Canes may be mediocre, but the Club Section at Joe Robbie rocks, in an AARP sort of way...
Sunday, the rest of our crew had either flown or early drove home. Wifey and I picked up D2, and we headed to Ivy for some gourmet omelettes, and a recount of the weekend's activities. We learned that maybe some of the Moms weren't quite ready to give up their 20s --trying to party harder than their daughters...
Wifey and I, as usual, marvelled at our darling D2. She's within shouting distance of 20, getting a 4.0 GPA, gorgeous, strong, and funny. Our cops runneth over.
And even though she was 350 miles away, D1 was not to be excluded. She texted me that while walking in her Brickell neighborhood, she saw a Dad on a bike with a toddler in a helmet behind him, and though of the two of us, 20 years ago...
Her sister warned me she's probably angling for something...
Wifey and I left for Miami. She suggested we stop in on ancient Mom, which we did. We found her fully dressed and made up, even though on Sunday she usually has no visitors. She thought it was Monday, and her caregiver Louise was to come take her to an appointent. Just as well...we enoyed our visit, and brought her some smiles...
So it was a fine weekend at the college, which turned out like we planned.
Good friends and family --as good as it gets.
I hustled Wifey out of the house, telling her repeatedly that Paul and I have always shared a military-like punctuality, in which early is on time and on time is late! Wifey reminded me that this behavior bordered on, or actually crossed into, the obnoxious, but she complied. We arrived at 1145, and, sure enough...no Paul!
Ah, old age. Paul's girlfriend Patricia dropped him off over 20 minutes late. I knew an era had passed...
Armed with Denny's turkey club sandwiches, we headed North, chatting happily and listening to Alex's I Phone App on Howard Stern, interviewing the virginal Gloria Estefan about her husband's penis size. I'm at least as adolescent as any guy, but I just never found Howard Stern that funny. Funny like the obnoxious kid in Hebrew School, of course, but no funnier...
We cruised into Gainesville, and headed for the AEPhi house. Handsome Alex, who looks ten years younger than he is, set some sorority hearts aflame, and we greeted D2 and her roommate Ali.
We also got a hearty welcome from bubbly Carly, with her happy demeanor and gorgeous blonde hair. She and D2 have been friends since Middle School, and now take the college journey together.
We went back to the hotel, and met Mike, his boy Chris, and Chris's friend Jason, a certified sports trivia genius. The kid is 16 or 17, and was quoting scenes from Canes games that happened well before he was born. I was way impressed.
The group, now including D2's terrific boyfriend Josh, mustered at Dragonfly, Gainesville's best sushi restaurant. The grown ups (or at least those with real IDs) drank adult beverages, and we waited for our table, We then feasted on sushi and each other's company. Paul's nephew Grant was there, too, and it turned out that he knew Josh from their Broward Jewish teen years --March of the Living -- and enjoyed their reunion.
Paul pointed out, correctly, that these are truly the good old days --with our families' kids all happy and soaring, including, I reminded him, his beautiful granddaughter!
Saturday, Mike, Chris, Jason and I headed to the Flying Biscuit for a hearty new Southern (their style) breakfast, and then met Paul, Alex, and Grant to caravan to Tally. Wifey left for the sorority mother/daughter day, which included Zumba, dueling pianos, and dinner. D2 reported later that it was "Moms Gone Wild" - a veritable menopausal nonstop party of singing and dancing, including, apparently, one mom who seductively squirmed atop a piano like she was in the "Fabulous Baker Brothers" movie...
Our day was, conversely, one of testosterone (except, it turned out, for our Canes).
Ah, my friend Mike --always the adventurer. Instead of the boring interstate, he took us on a route of a country road. It turns out that Newberry Road in Gainesville heads west and then North all the way to Tally.
We passed the small towns, and counties I didn't even knew were in Florida. Gilchrist? There were several prisons, Hardees instead of McDonalds and Burger Kings, gun shops, and CHURCHES. And then more churches! We marvelled at the fact that they all stayed in business, with seemingly small town populations.
If I ever move to NW Florida, clearly I have to become a minister --that's where the money is. Oy vey.
We rolled into town, and Paul and Alex jumped into Mike's Expedition --Grant went off to a friend's apartment --and we found a tailgate lot. We were amazed that it was free parking --next to the FSU basketball arena --and realized later why: it was a good mile away frm the stadium.
Still, Mike grilled, we drank beer, and admired the comely young FSU co eds. I remembered my visits to the campus in the early 80s, and nothing has changed: FSU, for some reason, seems to attract gorgeous women.
Several were dressed as sexy Seminoles. We started to question our affiliation with the Canes...
And then came the game. It turned out to be a contest between 2 crappy teams. The Canes proved crappier. We lost. It was actually pretty boring, especially for a game that ended 24-19. The most passion was raised by spectacularly bad calls by the refs --most against UM.
Mike waited on line 45 minutes to hit the bathroom. Any thoughts about buying a soda were fantasy. Miami has no on campus stadium, and therefore no real college game day atmosphere, but we DO have the better tailgate parties (Norman has stone crabs!) and the plusher stadium. As I become an old codger, things like being able to pee when required take on greater importance.
The Canes may be mediocre, but the Club Section at Joe Robbie rocks, in an AARP sort of way...
Sunday, the rest of our crew had either flown or early drove home. Wifey and I picked up D2, and we headed to Ivy for some gourmet omelettes, and a recount of the weekend's activities. We learned that maybe some of the Moms weren't quite ready to give up their 20s --trying to party harder than their daughters...
Wifey and I, as usual, marvelled at our darling D2. She's within shouting distance of 20, getting a 4.0 GPA, gorgeous, strong, and funny. Our cops runneth over.
And even though she was 350 miles away, D1 was not to be excluded. She texted me that while walking in her Brickell neighborhood, she saw a Dad on a bike with a toddler in a helmet behind him, and though of the two of us, 20 years ago...
Her sister warned me she's probably angling for something...
Wifey and I left for Miami. She suggested we stop in on ancient Mom, which we did. We found her fully dressed and made up, even though on Sunday she usually has no visitors. She thought it was Monday, and her caregiver Louise was to come take her to an appointent. Just as well...we enoyed our visit, and brought her some smiles...
So it was a fine weekend at the college, which turned out like we planned.
Good friends and family --as good as it gets.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Tallahasee Lassie
We're off, in a few hours, to the great North of Florida. Wifey has to be at UF for D2's mother/daughter sorority weekend, and the Canes happen to be playing FSU, so I hit upon the idea of combining the two events.
My friend Mike is driving up later with his boy Chris, and Chris's friend, and Wifey and I plan to fetch my partner Paul and his boy, Alex. Paul and Alex want to visit their nephew and cousin Grant, who is a UF freshman (or will be in January --he'll be transfering in from the community college), and so a bunch of us all have reasons to visit Gainesville en route to FSU...
Tonight is men's night out on University Avenue. The Gators are off at South Carolina. I actually feel bad for them about that team, lead by Steve Spurrier, their prodigal son, who has made SC a better team than the Gators...
Saturday we'll make the 2 hour drive North, to, essentially South Georgia, and tailgate before our underdog Canes give it a go against the Noles...
I haven't been to Tally in 20 years. In 1991, my old boss Ed's pilot Tom owed me a favor for handling some traffic court cases for him, and he agreed to fly me, my brother in law Dennis, and friend Mike up to Tally to watch the Canes. We flew up on his Cessna 400, and watched what became a historic game, now known as "Wide Right I."
20 years gone by...D2 was still in utero, and D1 was an adorable toddler. My hair was brown, and my belly a bit less, um , prominent.
Wifey looks forward to some major bonding time with D2. She missed most of D1's sorority weekends because of a long time bad back, but Wifey's now back, and ready for travel!
Sunday, Paul and Alex are flying back, and so the rest of us will hopefully convene at the Flying Biscuit for a farewell breakfast. The whole wheat peach pancakes ought to be plenty to sustain us for the long drive home...
So, Go Canes! I already received a great email --D1 sent a photo of my granddog Mads wearing a UM cap.
And go, D2 --loving UF, but keeping her Canes fan cred. Just as well --the Gators are in for a long, dry spell with their Gomer Pyle-sounding new coach.
The road beckons...
My friend Mike is driving up later with his boy Chris, and Chris's friend, and Wifey and I plan to fetch my partner Paul and his boy, Alex. Paul and Alex want to visit their nephew and cousin Grant, who is a UF freshman (or will be in January --he'll be transfering in from the community college), and so a bunch of us all have reasons to visit Gainesville en route to FSU...
Tonight is men's night out on University Avenue. The Gators are off at South Carolina. I actually feel bad for them about that team, lead by Steve Spurrier, their prodigal son, who has made SC a better team than the Gators...
Saturday we'll make the 2 hour drive North, to, essentially South Georgia, and tailgate before our underdog Canes give it a go against the Noles...
I haven't been to Tally in 20 years. In 1991, my old boss Ed's pilot Tom owed me a favor for handling some traffic court cases for him, and he agreed to fly me, my brother in law Dennis, and friend Mike up to Tally to watch the Canes. We flew up on his Cessna 400, and watched what became a historic game, now known as "Wide Right I."
20 years gone by...D2 was still in utero, and D1 was an adorable toddler. My hair was brown, and my belly a bit less, um , prominent.
Wifey looks forward to some major bonding time with D2. She missed most of D1's sorority weekends because of a long time bad back, but Wifey's now back, and ready for travel!
Sunday, Paul and Alex are flying back, and so the rest of us will hopefully convene at the Flying Biscuit for a farewell breakfast. The whole wheat peach pancakes ought to be plenty to sustain us for the long drive home...
So, Go Canes! I already received a great email --D1 sent a photo of my granddog Mads wearing a UM cap.
And go, D2 --loving UF, but keeping her Canes fan cred. Just as well --the Gators are in for a long, dry spell with their Gomer Pyle-sounding new coach.
The road beckons...
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Speedy Delivery, Speedy Delivery...
I used to love that Alka Seltzer cartoon --the little delivery boy zipping around, to show how fast Alka Seltzer works on your heartburn. Or, as my friend Jim used to say when the Canes were losing: "Christ --I need a bicarb!"
So last night, Wifey shared a small anecdote. She had a visit from an old college friend, whose sister lives not too far away. The sister doesn't work, and is an empty nester like we are.
The sister dropped off the friend, and Wifey invited her in. The sister is an old friend, too, who we've socialized with. She begged off the invite -seeming frazzled and in the middle of things, although it was around 6 pm.
I get a big kick out of folks who truly have little to do, and act as if they're working in a MASH unit. What causes this? Self importance? Denial of their sedentary natures?
Wifey and I met at Shula's. I got a ride from my office roommate Brian, as I was car-less yesterday. Wifey was a bit annoyed at the disrespect.
I guess the alternative is the sister really doesn's like Wifey or me. 3 years ago, we had her and her husband over, with other friends, and the talk turned to politics. I made the mistake of saying I didn't like Obama too much, and the talk got ugly...maybe she has lasting anger...
Whatever. Wifey and I both find more and more annoyance with people as we age. She's actually better at keeping up with friends from the past than I am. I just let folks go, unless I truly enjoy their company.
Tomorrow we're heading up North. D2's sorority is hosting mother'daughter weekend, and I'm using Gainesville as a base for a trip to Tally to watch the Canes play the Noles.
I'm driving up with Paul, Alex, and Wifey, and my friend Mike is taking his boy Chris and Chris's friend. We'll drop Wifey at the sorority house, and then have a men's night at a few UF area sports bars. Saturday we'll drive to Tally and tailgate.
I haven't been there since the amazing Wide Right I game. It doesn't seem that long ago, but it was...
It's nice to have time to spend with friends. And I may even need some Alka Seltzer on Saturday...
So last night, Wifey shared a small anecdote. She had a visit from an old college friend, whose sister lives not too far away. The sister doesn't work, and is an empty nester like we are.
The sister dropped off the friend, and Wifey invited her in. The sister is an old friend, too, who we've socialized with. She begged off the invite -seeming frazzled and in the middle of things, although it was around 6 pm.
I get a big kick out of folks who truly have little to do, and act as if they're working in a MASH unit. What causes this? Self importance? Denial of their sedentary natures?
Wifey and I met at Shula's. I got a ride from my office roommate Brian, as I was car-less yesterday. Wifey was a bit annoyed at the disrespect.
I guess the alternative is the sister really doesn's like Wifey or me. 3 years ago, we had her and her husband over, with other friends, and the talk turned to politics. I made the mistake of saying I didn't like Obama too much, and the talk got ugly...maybe she has lasting anger...
Whatever. Wifey and I both find more and more annoyance with people as we age. She's actually better at keeping up with friends from the past than I am. I just let folks go, unless I truly enjoy their company.
Tomorrow we're heading up North. D2's sorority is hosting mother'daughter weekend, and I'm using Gainesville as a base for a trip to Tally to watch the Canes play the Noles.
I'm driving up with Paul, Alex, and Wifey, and my friend Mike is taking his boy Chris and Chris's friend. We'll drop Wifey at the sorority house, and then have a men's night at a few UF area sports bars. Saturday we'll drive to Tally and tailgate.
I haven't been there since the amazing Wide Right I game. It doesn't seem that long ago, but it was...
It's nice to have time to spend with friends. And I may even need some Alka Seltzer on Saturday...
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Sleepless in Miami
My California sister was here for 4 nights, and I decided to send her off in a decidely local way --a stone crab dinner.
So D1, her boyfriend, Wifey, my sister, and I headed over to Trulucks, where Monday night is all you can eat claws...and this year, they've switched to large ones (with a healthy price increase, of course).
We had a few cocktails, and then feasted. My sister Sue had a blast --she doesn't drink much, so the 2 Scotch and sodas sent her into the no worries land. We laughed and told stories --a magical evening.
Wifey, my sister, and I then headed home, knowing we had a 5 am alarm to leave the house in time to get Sue to Lauderdale airport for her FLL-DWF-FAT connection. I LOVE Fresno Air Terminal's abbreviation --who wouldn't?
I was deep in REM by 11, and then, 3 hours later, heard a distant ringing. At first, I thought there had been a power surge, which causes some rapid phone rings, which I've learned to ignore after nearly 11 years living in Villa Wifey.
But no --it was a regular phone ring.
I hate late night calls so much that I pay $5 per month for a service that only lets identifiable numbers to call my house. It has completely eliminated the occasional hang ups we used to get...
I answered. It was my ancient mother. She thought it was 2 pm, and was wondering why I hadn't arrived yet (she had been told I would stop by after dropping Sue at FLL).
Sue, sleeping downstairs in D2's room, heard the ring, too, and took over --trying to explain to Mom that it was the wee small hour of the morning...
Well, it did it for me. I was up most of the rest of the night.
I drove Sue to FLL, and we said our goodbyes. It had been a nice visit. Each time she comes to South Florida, we wonder if it's her goodbye to Mom, but Mom keeps on going and going --losing more of herself each week.
As I was driving out of the airport, Mom called --telling me she was now very tired, and not to come over. Ha. As if.
I drove to Delray, and learned that the delis don't open until 8 --I guess few people in the area work, and the oldsters aren't very early breakfast goers...
I waited at the Grammercy, and bought a few bagels and nova and took them to Mom's. Sure enough, she was fast asleep, so I checked her mail and made sure a brewing tragedy in her life (her care giver thought her parking spot was being "stolen" since the bumper painting project left Mom's space blank). No, assured President Irving Hershkowitz (his real name, of course), your mother's space is hers "forever."
Mom finally woke, and hungrily ate her bagel. I gently asked why she called me at 2 am, and she brushed it off. I then pointed to the outside, and tried to explain that she could call me when it was light out, and not when it was dark.
This was a reprise of Wifey's stern lessons to our Ds. Wifey, to whom sleep is more important than anything else, maybe even chocolate, trained the girls as toddlers that they were to stay in their own beds until it was "light out."
To this day, when I say goodnight to my Ds, it's "See you in the morning" and they respond "When it's YIGHT out!" in memory of their toddler speak.
Somehow, when explaining this to a nearly 92 year old, it's not nearly as cute.
So, Sue is back in the San Joaquin Valley, my oldest sister Trudy is home in Hypoluxc, and Mom is fading, fading, like the final scene in an old movie.
So D1, her boyfriend, Wifey, my sister, and I headed over to Trulucks, where Monday night is all you can eat claws...and this year, they've switched to large ones (with a healthy price increase, of course).
We had a few cocktails, and then feasted. My sister Sue had a blast --she doesn't drink much, so the 2 Scotch and sodas sent her into the no worries land. We laughed and told stories --a magical evening.
Wifey, my sister, and I then headed home, knowing we had a 5 am alarm to leave the house in time to get Sue to Lauderdale airport for her FLL-DWF-FAT connection. I LOVE Fresno Air Terminal's abbreviation --who wouldn't?
I was deep in REM by 11, and then, 3 hours later, heard a distant ringing. At first, I thought there had been a power surge, which causes some rapid phone rings, which I've learned to ignore after nearly 11 years living in Villa Wifey.
But no --it was a regular phone ring.
I hate late night calls so much that I pay $5 per month for a service that only lets identifiable numbers to call my house. It has completely eliminated the occasional hang ups we used to get...
I answered. It was my ancient mother. She thought it was 2 pm, and was wondering why I hadn't arrived yet (she had been told I would stop by after dropping Sue at FLL).
Sue, sleeping downstairs in D2's room, heard the ring, too, and took over --trying to explain to Mom that it was the wee small hour of the morning...
Well, it did it for me. I was up most of the rest of the night.
I drove Sue to FLL, and we said our goodbyes. It had been a nice visit. Each time she comes to South Florida, we wonder if it's her goodbye to Mom, but Mom keeps on going and going --losing more of herself each week.
As I was driving out of the airport, Mom called --telling me she was now very tired, and not to come over. Ha. As if.
I drove to Delray, and learned that the delis don't open until 8 --I guess few people in the area work, and the oldsters aren't very early breakfast goers...
I waited at the Grammercy, and bought a few bagels and nova and took them to Mom's. Sure enough, she was fast asleep, so I checked her mail and made sure a brewing tragedy in her life (her care giver thought her parking spot was being "stolen" since the bumper painting project left Mom's space blank). No, assured President Irving Hershkowitz (his real name, of course), your mother's space is hers "forever."
Mom finally woke, and hungrily ate her bagel. I gently asked why she called me at 2 am, and she brushed it off. I then pointed to the outside, and tried to explain that she could call me when it was light out, and not when it was dark.
This was a reprise of Wifey's stern lessons to our Ds. Wifey, to whom sleep is more important than anything else, maybe even chocolate, trained the girls as toddlers that they were to stay in their own beds until it was "light out."
To this day, when I say goodnight to my Ds, it's "See you in the morning" and they respond "When it's YIGHT out!" in memory of their toddler speak.
Somehow, when explaining this to a nearly 92 year old, it's not nearly as cute.
So, Sue is back in the San Joaquin Valley, my oldest sister Trudy is home in Hypoluxc, and Mom is fading, fading, like the final scene in an old movie.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Reunited and it Feels So ...
I stopped going to school reunions after my high school's 20th. After having my ear bent by a classless guy who has won the NY State lottery, and boasted about he was as smart as I was since he was richer than I without putting in 7 years of higher education and countless hours of honing my professional craft, it hit me that there's a reason I don't keep in touch with many old classmates. Plus, it probably bothered me that the fellow, who I'll call Stu, since that's his name, was right to make me feel like a schmuck.
My 10 year high school reunion was fun. First, I had moved to Miami, and hadn't made it back much to NY (not at all to LI), and I was caught up with my classmates that we were truly, at 28 grown ups, with an actual 10 years under our belts to give us justification for true nostalgia. Plus, the next door neighbor girl, got drunk and literally humped my leg, telling that she had always wanted me and maybe tonight was the night, so that was great for some laughs and my newly married ego...
Anyway, so my law school's 25th reunion was coming up, and I had no plans to go, but my friend Norman convinced me to. I figured, what the hell -- it'll be a few drinks, it's close by, and at the very least will provide some great battle of the sexes schadenfreude. As men age, though they get bald, gray, and fat, if their wallets bulge more than they did as young guys, they're desirable to a growing pool of ladies. Ladies as they age, well, not so much...
I parked over at the law school, at Norman's wise suggestion, as the Homecoming Parade was blocking the streets in front of the Lowe Museum, and strolled through campus. There was a great buzz there, with Homecoming in full swing --the temporary Rathskellar was packed with students and alums, and decorations festooned (love that word) the trees...
I arrived early, as usual, and got in line at the bar. The bartender recognized me from other UM events, and poured me an extra tall Absolut. Mike arrived, and I got him a drink, too. Soon Norman made it in as well.
Out of our class of about 450, the total reunion attendance was about 15. 4 of them were women, and 2 of those, Stacy and Marcia, looked terrific. Marcia has become good Facebook (tm) friends with Wifey, and we talked about getting together with her cool, Uganda born, ethnic Arab husband, who I really liked. When we talked about his native country, and the fact that Wifey was born in Israel, he said the only good thing to happen in his native land was Operation Thunderbolt, when the Israeli commandos rescued hostages at Entebbe Airport. I really want to get to know this fellow better...
Stacy, who I took out on a few dates in college, was there with her new husband, a very handsome rich guy's son. Although I have little memory of this, apparently I wrote Stacy some bad poems in an attempt to woo her, since I was poor and Stacy was, even in 1981, going out with older guys with Porsches who lived on Grove Isle, and she still has them. She talked about this, as she did once before at another party 10 years ago attended by Wifey (still one of Wifey's least favorite evenings), and she did it again!
This led to a text message the next day from Norman, who said he thought he'd avoid the Canes game in favor of staying home to read poems about unrequited love...Among my manifold blessings, having friends with strong senses of humor is near the top of the list.
But back to the reunion...after my SECOND over filled Absolut, Norman, Mike and I headed over to Shula's in South Miami for the most delicious burgers in Florida --3 types of ground beef, with bleu cheese and carmelized onions --ah life was grand.
So it turned out to be a fine evening, after all. I learned nothing, except that the friends I see are terrific.
The reunion football game was yesterday, and I skipped it to host my California sister at the South Miami Art Festival...the Canes squeaked out a win over Duke, 49-14. They were able to do it without my Club Seat cheering.
Days of future passed...
My 10 year high school reunion was fun. First, I had moved to Miami, and hadn't made it back much to NY (not at all to LI), and I was caught up with my classmates that we were truly, at 28 grown ups, with an actual 10 years under our belts to give us justification for true nostalgia. Plus, the next door neighbor girl, got drunk and literally humped my leg, telling that she had always wanted me and maybe tonight was the night, so that was great for some laughs and my newly married ego...
Anyway, so my law school's 25th reunion was coming up, and I had no plans to go, but my friend Norman convinced me to. I figured, what the hell -- it'll be a few drinks, it's close by, and at the very least will provide some great battle of the sexes schadenfreude. As men age, though they get bald, gray, and fat, if their wallets bulge more than they did as young guys, they're desirable to a growing pool of ladies. Ladies as they age, well, not so much...
I parked over at the law school, at Norman's wise suggestion, as the Homecoming Parade was blocking the streets in front of the Lowe Museum, and strolled through campus. There was a great buzz there, with Homecoming in full swing --the temporary Rathskellar was packed with students and alums, and decorations festooned (love that word) the trees...
I arrived early, as usual, and got in line at the bar. The bartender recognized me from other UM events, and poured me an extra tall Absolut. Mike arrived, and I got him a drink, too. Soon Norman made it in as well.
Out of our class of about 450, the total reunion attendance was about 15. 4 of them were women, and 2 of those, Stacy and Marcia, looked terrific. Marcia has become good Facebook (tm) friends with Wifey, and we talked about getting together with her cool, Uganda born, ethnic Arab husband, who I really liked. When we talked about his native country, and the fact that Wifey was born in Israel, he said the only good thing to happen in his native land was Operation Thunderbolt, when the Israeli commandos rescued hostages at Entebbe Airport. I really want to get to know this fellow better...
Stacy, who I took out on a few dates in college, was there with her new husband, a very handsome rich guy's son. Although I have little memory of this, apparently I wrote Stacy some bad poems in an attempt to woo her, since I was poor and Stacy was, even in 1981, going out with older guys with Porsches who lived on Grove Isle, and she still has them. She talked about this, as she did once before at another party 10 years ago attended by Wifey (still one of Wifey's least favorite evenings), and she did it again!
This led to a text message the next day from Norman, who said he thought he'd avoid the Canes game in favor of staying home to read poems about unrequited love...Among my manifold blessings, having friends with strong senses of humor is near the top of the list.
But back to the reunion...after my SECOND over filled Absolut, Norman, Mike and I headed over to Shula's in South Miami for the most delicious burgers in Florida --3 types of ground beef, with bleu cheese and carmelized onions --ah life was grand.
So it turned out to be a fine evening, after all. I learned nothing, except that the friends I see are terrific.
The reunion football game was yesterday, and I skipped it to host my California sister at the South Miami Art Festival...the Canes squeaked out a win over Duke, 49-14. They were able to do it without my Club Seat cheering.
Days of future passed...
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
F.O.S.
So yesterday the theme seemed to be poop. First, Wifey spent the day prepping for today's capsule endoscopy test, also called the pill cam. This might be the single coolest medical diagnostic test I've ever heard of.
After "clearing the way" with laxatives, you swallow a vitamin sized pill that has lights and cameras. You wear a belt, which is the receiver. As the pill makes its way on its fantastic journey, it transmits continuous photos, which the belt receiver picks up. The doc then inputs the data into a computer, which generates a full color movie of your ENTIRE digestive tract.
Contrary to what I jokingly told Wifey, you don't have to retrieve the camera. It makes its way into the septic tank, or sewer, where it will undoubtedly be discovered in thousands of years by future generations, who will then download the remaining images and decide that Wifey's intestines were the source of 21st century wisdom...
Anyway, I left for a few hours to meet with Lourdes and Carole, 2 of our banker friends. Lourdes reviewed my account, and explained in great detail why it made sense that I paid her bank to manage my money and get returns far below the S and P index...this shan't go on much longer, I decided.
But then our conversation at the Gables coffee shop turned to politics. Lourdes, lovely and earnest and out of Central Casting for Cuban Miami, explained that her parents, who fled Communism and Socialism, have a keen eye for knowing when government evil is brewing. And, all of this socialist stuff El Presidente Negro surely fits the bill...
Now, I'm no Obama lover. In fact, I'm thinking more and more that he's turned into Jimmy Carter, in my opinion the worst president in the past 100 years, but I can never, ever, pass up the chance to point out hypocritic bullshit...
I asked Lourdes how old her exile parents were. In their 60s...And so, I asked, being so ardently anti socialist, each month, when their SOCIAL (that bad word) Security checks come, or they get their MediCARE (another commie word) benefits, of course they dutifully take the checks outside and burn them in the cacha china?
Silence. Then..."But they WORKED and PAID..." I assured her that they've probably already taken more out than they put in, especially on the medical side.
The Cubans have a great expression for this: Come mierda 00literally "shit eater." Instead of saying a bullshit artisit is "full of shit," they claim he eats it...
I love tweaking the true believers --liberals, too. When Obama was running against Hillary, I found myself at my own dining room table, with some serious libs, supposedly feminists, who had decided to toss Hillary under the bus, in favor of the Illinois senator.
When I pointed this out, the evening went from pleasant discussion to outright post menopausal venom...I haven't had those folks over since then.
So, as the Fat Man said in the timeless book "House of God," when asked why he became a GI specialist: there's gold in shit.
I'm sure Wifey will be fine. I'm hoping we can get a DVD of her pill cam test. I will SO play it on a loop on our flat screen, next time we have a party.
It's like the Vapors' song, "Turning Japanese," where they sing about having a doctor taking pictures of their woman's insides as well as outsides...
So let there be less poop, both literal and figurative, today.
After "clearing the way" with laxatives, you swallow a vitamin sized pill that has lights and cameras. You wear a belt, which is the receiver. As the pill makes its way on its fantastic journey, it transmits continuous photos, which the belt receiver picks up. The doc then inputs the data into a computer, which generates a full color movie of your ENTIRE digestive tract.
Contrary to what I jokingly told Wifey, you don't have to retrieve the camera. It makes its way into the septic tank, or sewer, where it will undoubtedly be discovered in thousands of years by future generations, who will then download the remaining images and decide that Wifey's intestines were the source of 21st century wisdom...
Anyway, I left for a few hours to meet with Lourdes and Carole, 2 of our banker friends. Lourdes reviewed my account, and explained in great detail why it made sense that I paid her bank to manage my money and get returns far below the S and P index...this shan't go on much longer, I decided.
But then our conversation at the Gables coffee shop turned to politics. Lourdes, lovely and earnest and out of Central Casting for Cuban Miami, explained that her parents, who fled Communism and Socialism, have a keen eye for knowing when government evil is brewing. And, all of this socialist stuff El Presidente Negro surely fits the bill...
Now, I'm no Obama lover. In fact, I'm thinking more and more that he's turned into Jimmy Carter, in my opinion the worst president in the past 100 years, but I can never, ever, pass up the chance to point out hypocritic bullshit...
I asked Lourdes how old her exile parents were. In their 60s...And so, I asked, being so ardently anti socialist, each month, when their SOCIAL (that bad word) Security checks come, or they get their MediCARE (another commie word) benefits, of course they dutifully take the checks outside and burn them in the cacha china?
Silence. Then..."But they WORKED and PAID..." I assured her that they've probably already taken more out than they put in, especially on the medical side.
The Cubans have a great expression for this: Come mierda 00literally "shit eater." Instead of saying a bullshit artisit is "full of shit," they claim he eats it...
I love tweaking the true believers --liberals, too. When Obama was running against Hillary, I found myself at my own dining room table, with some serious libs, supposedly feminists, who had decided to toss Hillary under the bus, in favor of the Illinois senator.
When I pointed this out, the evening went from pleasant discussion to outright post menopausal venom...I haven't had those folks over since then.
So, as the Fat Man said in the timeless book "House of God," when asked why he became a GI specialist: there's gold in shit.
I'm sure Wifey will be fine. I'm hoping we can get a DVD of her pill cam test. I will SO play it on a loop on our flat screen, next time we have a party.
It's like the Vapors' song, "Turning Japanese," where they sing about having a doctor taking pictures of their woman's insides as well as outsides...
So let there be less poop, both literal and figurative, today.
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