Bachelor Weekend

Since Wifey's bad back episodes i and II prevented her from taking many trips to Gville to see the Ds, she decided to take advantage of her pain free state and go visit D2 for the weekend. It had been quite awhile since she took off, leaving me in stewardship of the house and dog. I dropped her at MIA Friday, and headed to the office. We had some interesting clients: former political prisoners in Cuba, who learned that they were slave laborers building stuff for a European company that profited from their travails. We're looking into suing the company. Our discussion with our appellate whiz, who my friend Joel immediately noticed looks like a mad scientist, was a throwback to law school days -- analyzing treaties, and constitutional issues. I enjoyed it. Friday night I met Joel and my friend John in the Grove for happy hour at Taurus -- the remains of a venerable watering hole. We enjoyed ourselves -- talking about law, and life. Yesterday I had breakfast with Vince. He gave me his Canes tickets, since a business meeting prevented his game attendance, and I dropped the tix off at Joel's in the Grove. From there, I Buicked up to the stadium, and a fine Norman tailgate. I drank almost nothing, and Scott correctly noted the tailgate parties are far less fun when I don't drink. I now have a challenge for the remaining two games. The game was ponderous -- Canes slept walked through it, and still won. We were favored by 24, and barely pulled it out. Next weekend is mighty FSU -- and Canes could easily get embarassed. We'll see. Paul had with him 2 guardian ad litem kids -- one of whom is now 18 and aged out of the system. I drove this young lady home from the game, and we talked. Wow. What a different life she had than the Ds. My Ds hear my advice and philosophy so often, they're probably sick of it. This young lady had none. But she's headed for college, and, as I told her, about to finally write her own book on adulthood. I wish her Godspeed... I then met Monica and Joel at Christys. We saw an article about our favorite place turning 35, and decided to say happy birthday by having some grear Caesar salads there. I had my usual Flintstone sized prime rib -- 1/2 went home with Joel, for sustenance as he writes his final law school papers today. We celebrated D1's first adult job -- clinical dietician at Jackson Hospital. She'll be going through orientation with a fellow young dietician from UF, as well as Chelsea, a newly hired physical therapist. Chelsea and D1 were freshman roommates at UF in '06. They started college together, and now start careers together. Sunrise, sunset... Meanwhile, in Gville, Wifey and D2 are bonding, and headed out last night with D2's boyfriend Jonathan and some sorority sisters. And today, D1 is headed to see her grandpa at the home, and then meet me for a dog Halloween party at the old parrot jungle. From there, I'll fetch Wifey at MIA. So the weekend went well. And, best of all, I did NOT visit Target...

Has it Come to This?

So I spent yesterday in class, learning to become a Guardian Ad Litem. On Tuesday I have my court observation, and then Florida will set me loose, to advotact on behalf of a child in Dependency Court. I called Wifey on the way home, and asked her on a Saturday night date. "Wherever you want," she said, as I pulled tha man sized Buick out of the 'hood. I started driving to Sea Siam, our regular Thai place, and she said "Are we going to Sea Siam???" No way -- I shall NOT be that transparent of a man. So I showed her I'm still capable of wild surprises: we went to Thai Toni --the OTHER Thai place. Sure enough -- the food wasn't as good, and the place nearly empty. But now I was feeling like a true wild man -- out on a Saturday night with his babe. I wanted to be home by 8 to watch the Noles game, but it was only 7. "Ready for another adventure?" I asked Wifey. She was. So I drove north -- all the way to 104th Street, to visit the new Super Target that opened. Wifey loves Target. We parked, and walked inside. The place, amazingly, looked like, well, a Target store -- only maybe a little bigger. We bought some bleach, and Nutella for Wifey, and some Benadryl, which helps me sleep. We laughed, and talked about the Ds when they were toddlers -- how D1 NEVER walked alone in a parking lot, but D2 would... So this was our Saturday night. Should I just go ahead and kill myself now? Is this what life holds for suburban empty nesters? Nah -- it was ok. And the Noles won big -- the better to fatten them up before the Canes go up to Tally to play them. Next weekend Wifey's heade to Gville -- to visit D2. D2 invited Wifey on the condition that her mother "not be annoying." So maybe I'll go to the early Canes game, come home, nap, and then head out after midnight to South Beach == and a table at Liv. My posse and I can buy some $1000 bottles of Hennessey, and make it rain... Nah -- I'll probably just watch more football. But NO Target next Saturday night...

Cleaning Out

Stuff's been on my mind a lot this year -- how useless it all is. My sister Sue is in the get rid of stuff for old and dead people, business. She runs estate sales in her California town. The take away lesson: people buy stuff, and later they, or their heirs, are lucky to get 5-10 cents on the dollar for it. Wifey and I have far too much stuff. Some of it has nostalgic value -- like photos of my Dad and Mom, and some trinkets attached to their lives -- but honestly I wouldn't be upset if it all went away. As I age I have less tolerance for clutter, and the stuff just seems to clutter our house. On our latest trip, Wifey and I bought nothing to take home. We're on the same page about stuff. We'll look at some cute thing, but then see it a year or so later in the garage, waiting to be sent to Goodwill. Wifey has a much harder time getting rid of stuff than I do. In her strange logic, she says one of the reasons she wants to move to a smaller house is that it would "force her" to de clutter, and get rid of stuff. As it is now, she just tosses it into one of our spare rooms, or garage. Still, I'm a man of action, and I plan on simplifying before the end of the year...get ready, Goodwill -- a HUGE stash is on your way.

Giving Back

My father took amazing care of his family --from working 3 jobs after WW II, to always having time to go to my baseball PRACTICES, as well as games. But he never really had time for charities. Part of this was his distaste for being a "joiner," as he called it -- being part of a group (other than his family). This came out of his distaste for all things military and bureaucratic. I guess giving up nearly 4 years of his life to the US Army as a young man was plenty for him. Ancient Mom was different. She joined my PTA, and an Israeli education charity called ORT. In retirement, she drove disabled folks to appointments, and rang up 3000 hours as a candy striper at Delray Hospital. I'm proud to say my family has followed Mom's lead. D2 does charity work mostly through her sorority, and Wifey is always helping "the aaaaaanimals" when she can -- volunteering at shelters and such. Yesterday was a big day for D1 and me. D1 got up early, and drove to Homestead, with spoiled spaniel in tow. She took her to a Junior League event at a battered woman's shelter -- the kids and adult victims, who can't have pets while escaping from lousy bastards, get to bond with the volunteer dogs. While she was there, I was in an 8 hour training for my latest project: Guardian Ad Litem volunteer. Even though my partner Paul works 80-90 hours per week as a lawyer, not slowing down a BIT, he still finds about 20 hours per week to do this work. He joined the program almost 3 years ago, and is now a leader: the go to guy in Dependency Court for several judges, who rely on his investigations and advice about where abused and neglected kids should be placed. He convinced me to join, and since I work LESS than 70-90 weekly lawyer hours, I agreed. I took an online course, and now yesterday was a full 8 hours. Next Saturday is the same, and then I get my first case. The class was surprisingly interesting. Our trainer was a 24 year old linebacker sized man named Darion, who has a degree in International Languages from Seton Hall. he's wise, caring, and impressive beyond his years. I was the only man among the 8 participants, and Darion and I bonded right away. He moved to South Florida last year, to Coral Springs, but realized it's not the place for a young, single professional: he's got a place in Bay Harbor Islands lined up, and hangs on Brickell, where he belongs. The other folks were a 60 something labor lawyer, who's bored as an empty nester, and several young ladies who were themselves "in the system" as kids, and now as succesful young adults, want to give back, too. So some new experiences are coming. Working as a lawyer for no money...Ha. What a concept. I'm a lucky man to have the time...

Vermont

We got 2 vehicles at the Burlington Airport, and left for Stowe. We stopped at the Von Trapp Lodge for lunch. I ate a schnitzel and drank an October beer and looked out at the glorious colors. This was a classic New England Fall. From there, we found the Stone Hill Inn, and checked in. It was a gorgeous place -- 9 rooms on rolling hills. The place was built in the late 90s, so has all the modern conveniences, but looks like it was there for a hundred years. Our innkeepers Linda and George bought the place 2 years ago, after long corporate careers. We liked them immediately, and George told us some great places for Eric and Marc to photograph. We drove to a covered bridge, and later a hike to a waterfall. Eric and Marc snapped away, and Wifey and I enjoyed the autumn sun. Our Dolphins were on Monday Night Football, and we asked George for a local sports bar. He told us to go to the Sunset Grill. We did, and as I looked around, saw a familiar name on a plaque. Sure enough, the place was owned by Rich Haab, an old Levittown classmate. He came over and told us he went to the Culinary Institute, and then was a ski bum. He bought the place in '88, and has run it since then. The Fins lost, but we left for the Inn, and some fine Scotch Eric bought. The next day we hiked some more, and then drove for some excellent coffee. Another 2 days followed the same way: gourmet breakfast, outside leaf peeping, and then wine and cheese with Linda and George and the other guests at 5:30. The Inn attracts a fine group of guests -- we met folks from the UK, and Texas, and Wisconsin. Most were newly empty nesters like all of us, and we shared tales of college and grad school, and how we grew up with far less parental involvement than we gave our kids. One couple was from Michigan -- there to marry -- in front of the fall foliage and waterfall. We toasted them the night before... The final day we had breakfast and said goodbye to Linda and George. Eric and Dana drove to take more photos; we 4 stopped at the Ben and Jerry plant for a silly and boring tour. The only highlight was when I asked the pun spewing guide why there was a big dead rat on the floor of the factory...I didn't really, but should have... From there we drove to Burlington, and the huge come down of checking into La Quinta. It was no Stone Hill Inn. We drove to Church Street -- a cold weather Lincoln Road -- and walked and ate pizza. Eric and Dana met us, and then left to photograph a sunset over Lake Champlain. We found an excellent local bistro, near the Quinta, and had our farewell dinner. Our flight out was at the absurd hour of 6 am, and so we dragged ourselves to the airport. In Atlanta, Marc and Edna said goodbye, and Eric, Dana, Wifey, and I hung in the Delta Club. We then left for our flight to Lauderdale, while Eric and Dana waited their West Palm flight. We flew back to the non Fall South Florida weather -- but with a winning Canes game the next Saturday -- it was more than tolerable.

Fall (Continued)

Saturday we cabbed back down to the Village, and met Lauren and Joe for an awesome breakfast. Our merry group was joined by our friend Crazy Sheryl and her man Mark, along with Sheryl's boy Andrew. We went to an awesome Israeli breakfast place, and then walked the Village. We made it to Hi Line, an old abandoned El track now an amazing city park. From there we decamped back to the hotel, where Mark, Andrew, and I drank at the bar, while Sheryl shopped at closed Avenue of the Americas (it's a market on Fall Sundays) and Wifey napped. Sheryl and Mark left, Andrew in tow, and that night we all met for dinner at Fig and Olive, in Midtown. It was Edna and Mark, and Lauren and Joe, and Dr. Eric, Dana, and Jen -- now a grad student at NYU. We laughed and caught up. The restaurant was , well, NYC -- overpriced and just ok. I'm really spoiled here in Miami -- we seem to have better value in good food here. Maybe I just know my way around better. Sunday Wifey and I had breakfast at a classic Greek place -- and it was great except for their having copious amounts of grapefruit in the fruit salad. Since we were near Brooklyn, the Canarsie in Wifey came out -- she whined loudly to the Central American waitress about this fact. She really didn't realize the passion she expressed in explaining to the waitress that fruit salads were NOT all about grapefruit. The waitress shrugged, brought her another one, and set about waiting on the many other New Yorkers who make up a tough crowd... Grapefruit ussue behind us -- we cabbed to Queens to see the museum of the Moving Image. We enjoyed it -- it's pretty new, and part of a redevelopment of the movie and tv industry in Queens -- the original center of the industry until they decamped to Hollywood... Afterwards, we walked Steinway Street, and gor great pizza and souvlaki. Steinway used to by mostly Jewish working class, and is now WAY diverse. Plenty of gay guys were about, too -- gentrifying the neighborhood. We cabbed back to Colombus Circle, and walked in Central PArk in the glorious Fall afternoon. I showed Wifey Strawberry Fields, which she enjoyed, and then lied to her about the distance of the walk back to the hotel. I told her it was short -- it was, in fact, about 1.5 miles. Wifey made it, though, and brought us turkey sandwiches and watched the finale of "Breaking Bad." The next am, our group met and cabbed to JFK, where Jet Blue (tm) whisked us up to Burlington, Vt, for the start of our foliage tour.

Fall Foliage

So Wifey and I fired up the man car, and headed to Lauderdale Airport. We got there and double remembered our parking spot -- as we age, things we took for granted are daunting. We got on the Delta Airbus and cruised to Laguardia. We arrived just minutes after Edna and Marc, and our vacation was under way. The foursome shared a cab to the City, and we checked into the Kimpton Muse. It was a hip hotel, and when Wifey and I saw our room, for $380 a night, I politely asked the clerk if we could have an upgrade. Sure -- she said -- we can give you a room with a view of the street instead of a brick wall, but the room is the same size, and noisier. Besides, she said without saying, most of our guests are so busy seeing the city or having hotel relations, the room size doesn't matter. We kept the same room... We walked around Times Square, and had pizza, but not real NY pizza -- we went into an upscale place, and the pizza was dry flatbread type. But then we stopped at Junior's for cheesecake, and it was the real deal. That night we met Edna's daughter LAuren and her boyfriend Joe. They live in the East Village, in a tiny 1 bedroom, on the ground floor. They pay, I think, over $3500 per month. Ah, NYC... Joe is a charming guy Lauren met when both attended Oxford for their Masters degrees. He works in finance, and Lauren works for a global non profit. I met Lauren when she was one, and it has been one of my life's pleasures to watch her grow into a beautiful, accomplished, and charming 30 year old. When I met Wifey, in September of '83, she had just returned from Atlanta, where she met Lauren. Wifey showed me the pictures with near disgust: "My best friend has a BABY, and lives in the SUBURBS!" Wifey was aghast at how someone who was, in Wifey's view, so cool and hip, like Edna, could end up a suburban housewife. Funny how life turns out... We went to a Village Italian place, where many actual Italians talked loudly. Edna was way annoyed -- she wanted to talk to her daughter, and instead heard only echoed Italian. But we laughed, and walked home among the buzz of the Village -- clearly the coolest place, still, to live in the City. Our first night away was over, and still no real Fall...