Staycation All I Ever Wanted

Last Winter, D2 and I went to NYC for a few days, and had a blast. We saw "Book of Mormon," had Chinese on Xmas eve in Midtown, and visited museums and stores. But the weather was AWFUL, as expected there in December. This year was total staycation, and it's been fine. Wifey and I saw 2 movies, and we had a great Wifey birthday dinner Christmas night at Tropical. Our friends Mark and Sheryl came to stay, and we've been enjoying their company. Today we had a great LOL breakfast, before I headed to the office for a few hours. Last Saturday, while D1 was down at Ocean Reef playing tourist, D2 announced she had never been to Mimai's most famous restaurant -- Joe's Stone Crab, and could we go? Of course we could, so Wifey, D2, and I headed across the causeway to Miami Beach. We parked and went in, expecting a typical no wait for lunch tables, and instead found the place PACKED. There must have been 100 folks waiting for a table -- it looked like the typical dinner wait. I suggested we just go to the takeaway section, and eat our claws outside, but D2 wanted to at least see how long the wait was. I bellied my way to the front, and the host asked me for my name. "Shula," I answered, invoking the legendary coach --"party of three." The host said "Now THAT'S a famous name," and without missing a beat replied "Oh -- he's my uncle." Next I knew, he led me to a waiting area, called over Wifey and D2, and seated us immediately, near a window. D2 was impressed , telling me that was a total gangsta move. We are happily, and I figured out what happened. The host, who knows EVERYONE in Miami, probably realized I wasn't the nephew of the great one, but if I WAS, and he didn't give me preferred treatment, it might get back to The Don. On the way out, I gave him the signature tip in the handshake, and we were all happy... The day before the Joe's victory, I did another rare thing -- I allowed myself to be the subject of a clothes intervention by my ladies. I tend to not dress well, and it started to really bother my Wifey and Ds. So we went off to Nordstron, where they were having a big men's sale, and met Stacey -- the Ds' former camp counselor, now an assistant manager at the store. She acted as my personal shopper -- bringing me pants and shirts, and I ended up buying some non embarrasing jeans and slacks, and shorts, and shirts. We celebrated at Yardhouse, and then Wifey left for an accupuncture appointment. The Ds and I went into a Cole Haan store, where they too had a big sale, and I learned my favorite everyday shoes were no longer being made, as Nike and Cole Haan went their separate ways. So I bought 2 pairs of my signature loafers, and began to worry what I would do in a few years after they wear out. Tomorrow night is New Year's Eve, and Wifey and I are meeting Sheryl and MArk and another 10 couples for Captain's Tavern dinner, followed by a house party over in Galloway Glenn. A piano playing cardiologist will entertain. Yes -- it's pretty cool staying in the 305 this time of year...

Memories of Childhood Christmas

So in the mid to late 60s, it was still somewhat of a rarity -- especially in the working class suburb where I grew up --my sister married a non Jew. It wasn't a big deal to my parents --especially my Dad, as he was pretty anti religion, although proud of his Jewish heritage. My Mom's fear was that Dennis, like the Irish husbands she knew of through friends, might drink too much...supposedly Mom said to him something like "Welcome to the family...but if you ever drink too much and hit my daughter, I'll get you!" I'm not sure whether she actually said this, but it would be vintage Sunny. She gave me her wedding ring to give to Wifey on our engagement, and when Wifey proudly showed it to Mom, she said "Oh --it looks beautiful on your hand. Wear it forever in good health. But if you ever divorce my son, the ring comes back to me!" That was Mom -- sweetness, but tough on the inside to the point of stubborness... Anyway, so with Dennis came Christmas at his parents' house. I remember the beautiful tree and lights, and everyone drinking and smoking -- a lot! And I was friends with Michael and Kathy, and we ran around together, happily. And then came the exhange of gifts -- and since Kathy and Michael were the youngest, there were a TON. There was always a small one for me, but those two raked them in. I remember complaining to my Mom, and she said "You are NOT deprived! You get toys all year -- just not on one silly holiday." I understood, but still -- when an 8 or 9 year old sits on the sideline while his compatriots are opening train sets, and baseball games, and even, one year, an electric car -- well... Looking back, I think it may have set me on a course where ultimately I didn't care much for material gifts, to the point where our Chanukah "gift exchange" is very moderate... But mostly I remember the times happily. Dennis had favorite family friends -- Betty and Bill -- and sometimes we'd go to their Levitt house. I remember one year Michael got a new baseball glove, and he and I went out into the freezing night to have me pitch to him so he could break it in. For some reason I remember how freezing the weather was -- snow crackling under our feet. After Christmas, of course , comes New Year's Eve. As a kid, my parents went out, and I stayed home with a sitter. I remember staying up late to watch Johnny Carson, and his show featured different kinds of flasks where you could hide booze. I watched and thought there was nothing more urbane than going to an event and sneaking a drink through an umbrella that was truly a flask... The last New Years we lived in NY was 78 going into 79. Since we were moving that Spring, my parents threw a party for their friends and neighbors -- catered by Kwong Ming, our go to Chinese place. My friends and I sat downstairs in the playroom munching on egg rolls and ribs, and then left, fake IDs in hand, for some grown up activities. I seem to recall we went to a local bar called Tabard Ale House, followed by ringing in the new year in my friend Mark's upstairs room -- a converted Levitt House attic where his parents rarely ventured... This year is my first as an orphan -- Sunny is gone now. We're heading out to celebrate Wifey's birthday with a movie and then Tropical Chinese. There will be the yearly minyan there -- Jews eating Chinese food on Christmas is now as common a cliche as kissing under the mistletoe... The memories are nice, though, especially since they're so warm and loving.

Lazing into 2014

So today is Wifey's Birthday Eve, a holiday Hispanics celebrate by roasting pigs and exchanging gifts. Alas, we shall not -- maybe dinner with the Ds if we can overcome our laziness. I really, truly planned to go into the office today. I worked out with my trainer, and then was going to come home, change, and head in. Alas, my dear pal Vince texted -- could we meet for lunch, as no boob or butt jobs were scheduled for today. We could, I said, and so met for sushi. When I arrived at the restuarant, I had a really bad senior moment. The lady at the next table, eating with her 2 boys, greeted me and asked after both Ds and Wifey. She looked familiar, sort of, but I couldn't place her. Then she asked whether I'd spoken to Larry, and how he was...I was now completely dumbfounded, but faked my way along, until a light went off: she used to work for a rehab expert we know, and her boys went to school with the Ds...Oh, what a drag it is getting old... So Vince and I caught up, and he cracked me up, as usual, with tales of being single and in the mid 50s. He met one lady online, who looked promising. He met her for dinner, and to his horror, she looked about 70. She allowed that she HAD lied -- she claimed to be "really" 59 -- but Vince doubted that as well. Back to the dating board... Tomorrow is Christmas to the Christian and Christian wannabee world, but to us, it's Wifey's birthday. D1 is working, so D2 and I will take Wifey to see "Wolf of Wall Street." We then have reservations at Tropical Chinese -- we'll meet Vince and his 2 kids (even though they celebrate X mas, by tomorrow night, they want out of the family thing), and D2's boyfriend, and my friend Kenny, whose wife took his boys out of town while he slaves away over a hot X ray machine...Dr. Barry is invited, too, if he can pull himself away from the ICU for kids for an hour or so... Saturday we plan to go watch the Canes play their bowl game at Mike's house. We thought about going to Orlando for the game, but since D2 heads back to Gville early this year, for grad school orientation, we bagged the trip. Plus, the game is in a crappy stadium in a crappy neighborhood -- Mike's creative appetizers and even more creative cocktails seem to make more sense... And then comes the final week of 2013. We'll sort of glide into the new year. D2 has plans with her friends that include a party limo and hot South Beach hotel, at a greatly discounted rate, thanks to a buddy in the entertainment business. D1 is up in the air, and we plan to reprise last year's activity: dinner with 10 other couples at Captain's Tavern, and then a house party a few miles from home. Last year, a cardiologist/pianist played show tunes, and we all sang along. It was a lovely, low impact way to ring in the new year. 2014 will be the first without my mother here. Things change, and things remain.

Car Talk

I thought I was done with car purchases for awhile...my man sized Buick lease has another year, and the little girlie Lexus had 30 more months, but then... Wifey's bad back keeps rearing its head, and she claims that sitting low in the little hybrid hurts. Plus, she visited her friend Edna in Atlanta, and after driving in Edna's Lexus SUV proclaimed her back much better, so, it was off to the dealer... We drove to North Miami Lexus, which is the largest dealership in the US. The place sits on a good 20 acres, and has a gym, spa, restaurants, etc...It's really something to see. The local Lexus dealership is crowded and hard to park at -- plus, my trainer friend Susan raved about an internet salesguy named Jorge at North Miami... After sitting for awhile, the news came back better than I thought: breaking the girlie Lexus lease 30 months early wouldn't cost THAT much...so Wifey picked out her SUV and we did some paperwork. I drove Wifey to the nursing home to visit her father while they prepped the new vehicle -- 20 minutes south on Biscayne Blvd. I then drove back in time to watch the Dolphins ruin their season by getting steamrolled by a crappy Bills team -- I was glad I didn't waste the whole afternoon watching them. I gave in the keys to the little girlie Lexus, and drove off with a normal sized SUV -- a 350. Wifey picked black exterior and black interior. And the truth is, the thing drives like a magic carpet. Lexus truly does it right -- zero road noise, and the suv handles beautifully. I fetched Wifey, and we drove home -- with her combination birthday and anniversary gifts gliding over the highway... As I told D2, it's an object lesson: you have to make the spouse happy -- no matter the cost. If Wifey ain't happy, ain't no one in the house happy. And in her new Lexus -- she's happy...

Outmaneuvered At The Restaurant

So D1's boyfriend Joel graduated UM Law, with both a JD and LLM, and his parents Marc and Cindy came in from Indiana to celebrate. D1 chose our old favorite Christy's for dinner, and D2 and Jonathan came along, too. Bad Miami traffic prevented the Midwesterners' on time arrival, so Wifey, D2, and I sat in the bar and watched the Heat play, appropriately, the Indiana Pacers. Shortly afterwards, Joel, D1, Mark and Cindy arrived, as did Jonathan. We toasted Joel and his wonderful accomplishment. My toast was that I already had a great life, though not as great as the Ds, and their boyfriends, but after I graduated from UM Law, things got even better. I wished the same for Joel. We got our table and ate, and I had 2 more martinis, and shared a prime rib with Wifey. I got up to check the basketball score and use the men's room, and tracked down our waiter Avi, who, in typical Miami fashion, had an interesting background: a Sephardic Jew whose Israeli parents moved to Puerto Rico to work in agriculture, where Ari was born. I told him he was the first Sephardic Jewish Boricua I ever met... I handed Ari my credic card, told him to take care of the bill, add 20% for himself, and quietly slip me the receipt. This is my signature move when I've been drinking and simply don't want to deal with splitting the bill after a great meal. Plus, even though I treated Joel's family to T Day 3 years past, his parents hosr D1 all the time -- even paid her full fare to Vegas last year. I wanted to thank them by picking up this tab. We sat some more, and enjoyed this shining moment, and then Ari appeared -- he handed the bill over my head, to Marc. No, I protested, I get it. Ari looked at me sadly and said "Sorry, Dave --you were outbid." Marc had pulled my same move, and when he found out what I had done, insisted that HIS card trump mine, and handed Ari some cash. I smiled, toasted Marc with what was left of the final martini, and told him he was OSG --Old School Gangsta. I also told him I learned in college that the nice Midwestern guys were often much slicker than New York boys like me... It was a classy move, of course. Marc is a classy guy, and his boy is that way, too. We've taught D1 well -- she knows what to look for in a man. And last week I happily lost a delightful chess game, at our favorite restaurant.

Home Design

After our house was "mistroyed," as 3 year old D1 called it, by Hurricane Andrew, we had to build it almost from the ground up. We learned first hand that home building/ remodeling NEVER goes well and smoothly. Recently, my sister told me she decided to use the small inheritance from our Mom to re do some of her kitchen -- a relatively small job. Sure enough, she reported to me the two workers turn out to be Dumb and Dumber, work short hours, and are taking FAR longer than they said they would. My sister and brother in law have been kitchen-less longer than they had planned. Coincidentally, one of Wifey's acquaintances came by the other night. She's a well accomplished house decorator and designer, and offered a gratuitous assessment of OUR kitchen: it's FAR too small for a house our size. She said she'd knock down a wall here and there, and expand here and there... We spend much of our family time in the breakfast knook -- which my mother in law hilariously mispronounces as breakfast "knock." It's a tight area -- you have to squeeze to sit around the standard sized granite table we brought from our last house. The designer would somehow "Fix" that area too, she said. It occurred to me that I LOVE our breakfast knock -- especially when Wifey, the Ds, and I are seated around it -- laughing and sharing with each other. There's usally simple takeout food on that table, as Wifey suffers from an inability to cook, but it doesn't matter -- what does is the warmth we all share. So in all due respect to the designer -- I ain't touching a thing. As long as the Ds and their laughter and smiles decorate our too small kitchen -- it's nicer to me than any space I could see in "Architectural Digest." I plan to leave things just as they are. The acquaintance, by the way, is divorced and rarely sees or speaks to her grown kids. Wifey has been to her place, and tells me it has views of the Bay and is "Spectacular." Somehow, I have zero desire to visit...

When I Grow Up I Want To Be Max

So my friend Norman needed eye surgery, and his exotic, foreign wife (from Canada) was in her native land, tending to her aging mother, and Norman needed a ride. I volunteered, and on our way to UM he told me his Dad Max wanted to join us. Se we swooped over to tony Gables Club and fetched Max. The surgery was scheduled for 7:30, but Norman's doc was snowed in his native Baltimore, and wouldn't be arriving until 10:30 or so. So Norman, Max and I toured a bit -- stopping in to see Dr. Barry at the Children's Hospital. They finally took Norman about 10, but we knew it would be a long haul. Now, one might think the prospect of waiting around with an 86 year old retired accountant and real estate investor for 5 staight hours would be a drag. One would be DEAD wrong. It turned into one of the best days I've had in a long while. First, Max was a child in the BRonx, like my parents, before moving to Miami Beach when he was in high school. I dig men of his generation -- he servied in the Navy during WW II -- and then set about the noble task of building a great life for his large family. But more significantly, Max is so wise, and sweet, and, well, COOL. We talked non stop, about Miami history, and raising kids and grand kids and great grandkids. We talked about business, and how you can always make more money by being a jerk, but that the costs of so doing are astronomical. We're both Hurricanes who travel frequently to Gainesville -- for me, to see the Ds, for Max, to attend NUMEROUS graduations of grandkids and their spouses. I asked Max's advice on dealing with a business deal with an old friend that's become difficult -- and he was spot on. Again, the theme was how important it is to be kind, as well as right. And I noticed something else: Max had no bad words for anyone. We talked about a man he knew, and whose daughter is an old acquaintance. Like Max, the man was very succesful -- he owned a landmake seafood restaurant on the Miami River. The man and his kids were angrily estranged. I told Max that this man had exactly the opposite family experience from Max. Max recounted how generous the man was in giving to his shul, but remarked that maybe the fellow was a "bit peculiar." That was as far as he would go... Norman came out of recovery and looked like someone had stuck a needle in his eye. We drove home, as all Norman's sons and siblings and sibling in laws called to check on him. This am, I told Norman how much I owed him --even though it was over him getting poked in the eye. And I reflected on one of Max's sayings: "The poorest man in the world is one who wins $100 million in the lottery, and has no friends or family to spend it on." Sometimes a stick in the eye can have very positive effects.

Was It All So Simple Then?

Yesterday turned out to be a day of looking back. I fetched my man Buick after an oil change, and breakfast with Wifey at Mitch's WestSide. The food was horrible, and the place empty -- I'll stick with LOL from now on. Anyway, I started to get ready to head to the office, and then I was the victim of circumstance: "Casino" was playing on cable. "Casino" is one of about 10 moves I watch multiple times -- and, sure enough, before I knew it, 2 hours had passed and the thought of driving to the office had faded. Fortunately, I knew my partner Paul was putting in another of his 50 hour weeks, so I wouldn't be terribly missed... And then I got a call from my old friend Todd. Todd is a Miami native who became a very succesful appellate/trial support lawyer, married a lawyer, had two kids, and then settled into a very comfortable life up in Broward. But his dislike of being a lawyer proved too strong, and he moved his family to Colorado, started writing children's books, and little by little, withdrew from the law business. Since he's left, he took a grad program in pain relief psychology, and has begun treating patients. His wife bakes gluten free cookies... Todd told me he caught up on my blog, and barbed me good naturedly about its happy, all is great and food is served at the Ritz Carlton - content. He's dead on -- I rarely share the darkness in life publicly. Living with anxiety and sadness, as we all do, seems enough without having to share it publicly -- and Todd knows that. Still, we talked for quite a time about the tracks we were on, as middle class Jewish guys who were EXPECTED to become doctors or lawyers -- and how our kids seem freed from that constraint. Todd's son, D2's age, got his degree from Colorado, but is now a full time chef at an Italian place in Boulder. His daughter is a rising academic -- probably Sociology. And Todd and I are still looking for real jobs -- after being spoiled by the relative easy money of law --it's tough to stomach lesser gigs. And we talked about the colorful characters in our past professional lives -- agreeing that lawyers tend to be, as a group, self important blow hards whose primary method of birth control is their personality... And then the nostalgic day continued: Wifey came home from a visit to her Mother, and finally fetched the DVD transfers she made from our old family VHS tapes. We watched one -- it jumped from D1 being two, at a 29th birthday party Wifey had for me where she invited a stripper...and not just ANY stripper, but Wifey would be too angry to have me share that silly story. Yes, this took place with D1 there as a baby, and my Holocaust Survivor in laws in attendance as well -- clearly an event at the top of Wifey's bad ideas department. But the happier videos were D1 opening gifts, and then a time jump to the JCC Summer camp where a gorgeous D2 was 3 and singing with her camp mates... My -- the two decades have flown by. And then there was the final nostalgic event of the day: news came of Nelson MAndela's death. The FaceBook (tm) posts flowed from many of my liberal friends -- writing as if they lost a treasured grandpa. I used to view the world that way -- liberal equals good -- but things to me are no longer so simple. I remembered how Mandela embraced, literally, Arafat, Gadaffi, and Castro. To me --that took away his sainthood. True -- he did a lot for his people -- but was he a truly GREAT man? Not to me. I find most political elections are a choice between who is less of a turd versus who is more of one. But I miss those carefree days of naivite -- when I could truly think guys like Mandela were great in every way. In so many ways, it truly WAS so simple then...but it's still exquisite now.

The Watch Man

I rarely buy stuff for myself, and don't really price material stuff, but I've always sort of dug watches. I like the way they look, and that they have actual utility. Plus, I contemplate time much of the time -- how it moves, and seems to shorten as we age, and bend when we're bored, or fly by as we watch our children grow. Watches just keep ticking along. One of the creepiest guys I know, a former lawyer roommate who's into killing animals in Africa, is also a watch collector. This gave me pause, as I have a strong aversion to having anything in common with this guy, other than our shared alma mater. But I realized that was silly. I mean, as Mel Brooks taught us, dancing isn't bad even though the Fuhrer was quite the dancer... Years ago I bought myself a gold Omega -- a thin watch that I rarely wore. D1 had her eye on it, and asked for it when she graduated with her Master's degree. We had several links removed from the band, and she now wears it. I bought both Ds Rolex's when they turned 21, and Michelle watches when they turned 15. D2's Rolex was made in 1948, and apparently updated several times. It runs like new, and she enjoys wearing it. My daily watch is a used Steel Tag Heuer that I bought for $400, as well as a Breitling my buddy Joel gave me. He found it at the bottom of the Miami Dade Jail's lawyer locker -- probably forgotten by some out of state counsel. After a sign posted in the lost and found got no response, he kept it. I offered to buy it, and he gave it to me. I had a few links put in, and wear it often, but it's really large and clunky... So ...last Sunday an acquaintance in the business came by with a bag of used Rolex's, and I treated myself to a 2004 submariner, with a blue dial. I paid about half of what a new one goes for. Wifey and the Ds were very happy. They ALWAYS want me to buy stuff for myself. I typically resist, but I wanted this watch, and bought it. I figure after shelling out big bucks for D1's 25th birthday party, it was ok. The last time I indulged myself was when I bought a new Ford T Bird. It sat mostly in the garage, and when Wifey's bad back reared its head, and she no longer wanted to ride in it, became expendable. I sold it to Car MAx at only a slight loss, given its pristine condition. It's funny -- I splurged on that car AFTER I bought my California sister a new Toyota. So maybe that's how I'm wired -- after I take care of others, I treat myself. Well, time marches on, and now I'll get to mark it gazing at a pretty blue Swiss face.