Thanksgiving and 27 on 27 in NYC

So we left the big house and three small dogs in the care of Mirta, my sister of another mother, and D1, Wifey, and I were off to MIA. We set up shop in the Centurion Lounge, the new place AMEX gives to its customers, and it's really the only way to begin a journey -- open bar with premium drinks, gourmet food, etc... I had my share, and was feeling fine by the time we boarded the 737, although they took D1's bag at the plane entrance, explaining they would return it at the gate in NYC. They later changed their tune, sending us all to baggage retrieval, which was a mistake, as they in fact brought the bag planeside...D2's friend Ben heard our family name on the PA in LGA, some tensosity ensued, and the trip was off to a little mean start, mostly to my being a grouchy old dude. But, seeing D2, hugging her, and feeling the cooler NYC air, set things right. D1 stayed with her sister and D2's boyfriend Jonathan, and Wifey and I walked the few blocks to the Gansevoort Hotel. The name is Dutch for "We do, like all nice NY hotels, charge too much, but it could be worse." Thursday am I learned that coffee was not complementary, but they had an awesome 24 hour grocery called Bread and Butter right across the street, and they had fine java. We met up with Wifey's BFF Edna and her man Marc, in from Atlanta, and then were joined by Edna's girl Lauren, a NYC resident as well. We walked to D2's place, they gave the quick tour of their apartment, and then our group was off to T Day lunch. Wifey picked the Water Club, a big barge on the East River just a short walk from D2, and it reminded us all of the Rusty Pelican in Miami, although not tropical. We ate, drank, and were truly thankful for all our manifold blessings. After lunch we walked around, and waited for the night's festivities. Lauren hooked us up with reservations at the Comedy Cellar, a veritable place in the Village, and after a mix up with the number of us, as well as a glorious slice of NY pizza, we were seated and the show began. The Ds and Lauren and Jonathan were thrilled -- in the audience was an actor who plays McGlovin from "Super Bad," which Jonathan explained was THE movie that represents his generation's high school days. There were 4 comics, 2 very good, one boring, and the female one creepy -- telling strange abortion jokes and tales of losing weight, even though she was scarily skinny... The best of the lot was a black guy. Wifey later looked him up and learned he was raised in the Bronx Jewish, due to his step dad...Typical NY tale... Friday was the 27th, and D1's 27th birthday. We all ubered (in two cars, which I called TWO-ber) to Brooklyn to a restaurant in Brooklyn Heights called Friend of the Farmer. I was skeptical, as the place sounded to healthy and hipster, but in fact the food was amazing -- simple and delicious. I had a corn chowder and a tuna sandwich on some kind of multigrain bread. They brought out an apple pie a la mode with a candle for D1, and we sang and ate the pie -- more toasts to great things. Friday night we met D1's friend Sydney at a mussel place in the West Village, and then the Ds went out with her while Wifey and I headed back to the hotel for some time by the gas fireplace... Saturday was a day walking to Washington Square, and avoiding the drizzle -- we called it an early afternoon, and I watched college ball on TV while Wifey and Edna solved all world problems. Saturday night we went to Sammy's Romanian -- Ashkenazi soul food, and a hilarious DJ who sings and tells off color jokes, -- making fun of all there. Our group of 8 polished off 2 bottles of frozen Stoli. Marc drank the most, but not enough to try the chopped liver, which he claimed looked just like Alpo. It did, but was delicious. The ladies danced, and sang. Sammy's is essentially the best Bar Mitzvah anyone has ever attended -- music by a DJ who gets to tell dirty jokes. He changes the words of the standards ("It had to be Jew"), and everyone has a great time. Sunday the Ds shared smoothies, and Wifey led us to breakfast with Edna and Marc and Lauren. We said our goodbyes, and walked in the crisp, cool air to D2's place. We said goodbye to our temporary New Yorker, and were Ubered to LGA by a charming fellow from West Africa. So it was a fine trip -- the missions of giving Thanks over great food and celebrating D1's 27th were well accomplished. T Day starts off a busy time -- end of the year business stuff for me, Wifey and I headed to the Bay Area for a week with my Cali sister, and then, on the 25th, the day we all celebrate the birth of our savior -- Wifey. D2 is flying back XMAs night -- the best birthday gift Wifey could hope for. The Ds have joint New Year's plans -- Wifey and I have to figure that out -- and then on January 3 we celebrate 29 years of marriage. It's the most wonderful time of the year, as the song says, and we started it off right.

Peeved Pet

So last Friday Wifey left for Brickell, to spend the night with D1 so they could get an early start Saturday at the Wynwood Seed Festival. This was an event apparently sponsored by Whole Foods (I love when people call the company "Whole Paycheck") where D1 bought a booth to hawk her new Nutrition consulting business. After a long and tiring day, Wifey was too tired to drive home, and so spent Saturday night there as well. This meant I was responsible for two dogs, the fragile Spaniel, and the strange rescue dog. The strange dog, usually happy, is, to Wifey's observation, depressed. She's been peeing and crapping in the house, Wifey thinks, because the hot weather has prevented us from taking her on walks. All I know is, sure enough, Saturday am I came into the kitchen and was smacked in the face, frying pan-like, by the stench of fresh dog dropping. There's nothing as nice as cleaning it up before you have your morning coffee. And again, in the afternoon, there was more for me, when I returned from the Miami Book Fair. It's wearing thin. I really like dogs, but I'm starting to get over them. The truth is, if I lived alone, I would be dog-less. It'd be plenty for me to visit dogs at the Ds' places, without the hassle of caring for them, anymore. Unfortunately for me, as long as I live with Wifey, there WILL be dogs. This is non-negotiable with her -- she LOVES them, and they make her very happy. So I shall doggedly move on. Pet ownership gets a bit creepy, in my view, when the love people direct towards them replaces normal human interaction. I have a friend from LI who never had kids, and his cats became replacement kids. He talks about the stupid cat stories as if it was his child getting into MIT. Wifey points out that shows he's a warm person, deep down, but just one who is emotionally stilted towards other humans (Yoomans, as Wifey calls them). I guess... All I know is, as I age, and have less patience for people, I have less for pets, too. It's a good thing Wifey forces me to keep dogs. I could easily see myself becoming the mean old man, standing on my porch, shooting BBs at kids who come onto my lawn to retrieve baseballs... The good news is that the weather turned a bit cooler, and I was able to walk the sausage dog. Sure enough, no crap on the floor yesterday, or this am. We're leaving for NYC Wednesday, and Mirta, my sister of another mother, is house and dog sitting. I hope she is able to enjoy a crap-free house as well.

And I Wonder, Still I Wonder, Who'll Stop the Heat

We haven't seen a temperature beginning with a 6 in so long, I've forgotten what it feels like. Even though it's late November, some strange front has stalled over South Florida, and it's been rainy, humid, and hot - August-like. Wifey and I went for a walk last night, and after just a one time around the block, I was sweating. It was high 70s, and my Apple Weather app said it "felt like 92." And so it did. Wifey, more a lover of the heat than I, is tired of my complaining about it, and is actually looking forward to needing a sweater next week when we visit NYC... It hasn't been the greatest November, so far. D1 took over two weeks to finally get over a Mexican stomach bug. Her followup blood results came in yesterday, and showed all was normal. I got the news from Dr. Neil, who took such great care of her. I sent him two bottles of wine in thanks, and he told me he'd drink both when his three kids come to town next week for T Day... Now that D1 has returned to the world of the living, she's hosting a booth tomorrow at a Wynwood Food Festival called Seed Miami. Wifey is her unpaid assistant -- they plan to give out snacks and pens to promote D1's new Nutrition Consulting practice. I had tickets for the final Canes game, but Norman, the tailgate master, is out of town, and the game is at 12:30, and I had no one to take. So I gave the tickets to Mirta, my sister of another mother, and she in turn gave them to a friend, as Mirta has a party to attend. I plan to visit the Miami Book Fair, and maybe pop over to see Wifey and D1. The Canes can play without me. Dr. Barry was going to bag the game, too, but his nurse friend wants to go, so he will schlep from Broward to see this final contest. We're all excited about the new coach coming, and Canes basketball is here, and that team looks really good so far... D2 and I speak most mornings as she walks to work across town, and she is very excited about seeing her family. We're headed up Wednesday, and have T Day lunch plans with Wifey's BFF Edna, her husband Marc, and Lauren, her NYC daughter. We're going to the Water Club, a very old NYC place, on the East River at 30th Street. We can walk there from D2's place. My only requirements, as the women in our group vetted restaurants, was turkey and cocktails, and apparently the Club has both for us. The following day, D1 turns 27 on the 27th, and has some healthy restaurant picked out for that celebration. Saturday I plan to watch the final Canes game from NYC Canes outpost Brother Jimmy's, while Wifey and the Ds window shop 5th Avenue. I have a feeling they'll be shopping for more than windows... Saturday night we're all headed to Sammy's Romanian, for the heavy food and laughter from the Israeli DJ who keeps alive the spirit of Catskills tummelers from days long past. And it ought to be chilly -- at least chillier than here. I know I won't be complaining in January and February, when the rest of the US is miserable, and Miami is paradise. But I'm ready for a cool front...

Paris

So Wifey and I were coming home for a mini celebration -- of D1's final mending from the worst 2 week sickness of her life. She caught some kind of bug in Mexico which gave her the worst Monctezuma's Revenge -- probably other Mexicans were seeking revenge, too, for building Wal Marts on their Mayan lands. Anyway -- D1 left to return to Brickell and her life, and Wifey and I went down to BlackPoint Marina, where we sat and watched a surrealistic looking sky of ominous clouds and streaming dusk sunlight, and I had a pair of Tito's doubles and ate oysters and fish sandwiches. Wifey only had the fish sandwich. As we got home, the news was buzzing with talk of the Paris attacks -- ISIS had coordinated suicide missions at cafes, a music hall, and a soccer stadium, killing over 100 innocents. As all of us do in tragedies on the news -- we first thought of our relation -- D1 had spend a summer in Paris, and visited the very neighborhoods where this happened. Then we went one circle out -- did we know anyone in Paris? We did, and I called my partner Paul, whose lady is visiting with friends, but she was, thankfully, in Barcelona. Then FaceBook (tm) showed an friend in Atlanta, Lauren, had a son there studying, but he was safely accounted for. Still, we were saddened. People started putting French flags on their FaceBook (tm) photos. I refrained -- I feel badly for France, but they were victims here, and I don't like relating with victims. After they bomb the hell out of ISIS, maybe I'll Frenchify my photo. Dr. Barry emailed with a sad reflection about the world we're leaving for our kids and maybe grandkids. And he's right, but the world has ALWAYS been a dangerous place. In the past, PAris was decimated by plague, which they later learned was spread by ticks from rats. It's just that now the rats have changed, and they come from Syria and "Palestine" and Libya, and other, more distant sewers... My friend with the closest ties to international affairs is John, a retired CIA officer, who was active in Irag. His posts say our targeted drone attacks are simply not working, and we need to ally with states we can't stand, in order to coordinate suppression of the terrorists. I don't know. All I DO know is that awful things happen, and ultimately luck puts you inside or outside of an exploding restaurant. Maybe Hemingway had it right. He said the world was so messed up, the best a thinking man could do was find himself peace and relative safety, a "clean, well lighted place" where he could have a few drinks, and get on with the business of his own life. Of course, Hemingway blew his own head off with a rifle in his ranch in Idaho, so maybe he's not the best adviser. As a back drop to the sadness, we've had unseasonable rain and cloudy skies. Usually by mid November the wet season has passed. Not this weekend -- we've had almost incessant rain, and as I right, it's still coming down with northern looking grayness all around. And still there is hope, there is future. We're off in a few hours to attend a wedding -- one of D1's closest friends, Alyssa, is marrying her Honduran prince -- a fellow who treats her above rubies. We're fetching D1 and her boyfriend Joey, and heading to the Palms on Miami Beach, in a ceremony that, whatever the liberal rabbi's words, will signify one thing -- hope in the days ahead. Weddings mean that -- even if half of them lead to divorce. But today we'll celebrate hope, and joy, and put the tragedies behind. It's what we have to do as humans...

Reunion

After attending my 20th high school reunion, I promised myself I would no longer go to these things. I confirmed that just because I sat next to someone in Social Studies class, it didn't mean I needed to see him anymore, and those people from my various life stages I chose to keep up with, well, there was a reason for that. Still, nostalgia pulls strongly, and last month I got an invitation to attend a reunion of "former student leaders" at the U. I knew Dr. Eric and Dana would get the invite as well, as Eric was big in the student government back in the day, and the organizer of the event, the now Dean of Students, was Dana's old college friend. I emailed them and asked if they were going, and they said yes, so I responded that Wifey and I would attend as well. Well, Wifey bowed out, as we've been caring for a sick D1, who returned from Mexico with a nasty bout of Monteczuma's revenge. She's been staying with us since Monday, and her docs are trying to figure out the correct antibiotics for her bug. But one thing is for sure -- Mexico is OFF the list for any future travel -- it seems everyone we talk to has a bad story to tell of similar bouts. Anyway, I drove to the U, where I often go for walks and coffee, and headed to the new student union. I had a beer and waited for the get together to get going. It did, and I chatted with some friends I see at Canes games, as well as a few folks from way back when. One fellow, who I'll call Clayton, since that's his name, recognized me as the former president of a student group we were in, and we had a nice talk about some of our old professors. He didn't know about the spectacular fall of our old Honors Dean, and was fascinated and saddened to hear. Clayton now manages IT for a big Broward law firm -- I told him it was much better to do work for lawyers than to actually be one. He laughed and agreed. A young woman named Robin approached me -- recognizing me right away. I drew a total blank. I faked my way, and when she turned to talk with someone else, Eric reminded me. Her grandparents were friends of my Mom, in Delray, and I used to drive Robin up for weekend stays -- back to Coral Gables on Sunday nights. A glimmer or memory surfaced, and as we talked, got a little clearer. Robin returned to Connecticut after college, married a tax lawyer, and had two kids. Her daughter, who attended the meeting, is a senior at Emory, and her son, a high school senior, is jonesing heavily about coming to UM. We joked about how back in our time, getting into UM was no big deal. Now, this young man with fine academic credentials, is worried. We left the Union and headed to watch the parade, and the later scheduled boat burning, an old tradition where they paint the opposing football team from the upcoming game's logo on the boat, burn it, and watch it sink in Lake Osceola. A rain storm had passed, and in the low 80s temperature, it was miserable to walk outside -- the humidity must have been about 150%. Eric got called to see a patient at Delray, and it was a good excuse for me to leave, too. I skipped the parade and boat burning, returning home to a happily improved D1, watching taped shows with Wifey. So it was a reaffirmation that I'm over the reunion thing. I see the people I like as often as I like, and to get together to talk about the old days, -- well, I prefer doing that at tailgate parties where we all drink more heavily. The stories get better that way. There is value in the networking, though. I told several people about D1's new Dietetics practice, and two said they'd look her up and become clients. So that was worthwhile. But the U belongs to the students, and the occasional creepy older guy who enjoys walking there and drinking coffee on his way home. As for the organized events, though, well, that ain't me.

A Halloween For The Ages

A few years ago, to the Ds' lasting laughter, Wifey declared "I'm just not in the mood for Halloween this year." Still, we rallied her, put up some of our aging decorations, and gave out candy to the neighborhood kids. And so it has continued over the last years, as the Ds were off in Gainesville, though one year, I think 2009, D1 surprised us with a trip home, and she helped me give out candy to the kids. It was lovely. This year, due mostly to the epic pathology my mother in law has decided to heap upon her only daughter, Wifey again "wasn't in the mood." Mike and Loni announced they were hosting a party, so we simply put some bowls of candy in front of the gate, and left for our friends' house at sundown. I wore a vintage (late 90s) Canes Hawaiian shirt, and Wifey wore a purple blouse. She explained it was in homage to something she did in 1994. Our team had the longest home winning streak (58 games) in NCAA history, and after missing most of those games, Wifey decided to come. I guess I wasn't paying attention to her garb, but she wore a purple sweater -- and purple was the color of our opponent, Washington, that day. Sure enough, the Canes lost, and my friends blamed Wifey -- who wears the opposing team's colors? Several of my friends suggested we had to sacrifice Wifey, in order to start a new streak. I thought about it, but didn't do it -- the Ds needed their Mom, and, well, you just can't off a spouse that easily in America... The sacred Orange Bowl was demolished, and now our Canes have hit rock bottom again -- last week we lost to Clemson in the worst loss of the history of the program. We fired the coach, and were set for a Halloween night game with Duke -- listed as 13 point underdogs. So we went to the party -- it was terrific -- great costumes, and great food. Mike catered with Chick Filet -- I joked that with every chicken strip eaten, somewhere a gay marriage ended -- and we drank and ate and watched the Canes play well against Duke. In fact, the Canes never trailed, and it appeared the upset was in place. But then, late, the defense collapsed, as they do, and Duke drove to the goal line, and scored with 6 seconds left on the game clock. We gathered to watch the last kickoff, thinking we could shut off the game and return to the great food -- Lili made her famous brownies, which are as addicting as cocaine... And then we saw college football history. Rugby-like, the Canes returned the kickoff for a TD! A flag was thrown, and an epic 10 minute referee review started. Finally, the announcement came -- play was ok -- Canes won! The party erupted, and Wifey, to her credit, filmed the whole thing. It was appropriate for the woman at the end of a Canes era 21 years ago may have recorded a new rebirth of our team. Everyone left happy -- even the few Gator fans Mike allowed to attend his party. Mike's sister Jeannine was there, too, and whenever I'm with her I love to reminisce about her Dad -- one of my life's mentors. He would have loved being there last night. So it was a Halloween for the ages. We returned to our house, and the bowls of candy we left were empty -- and the bowls neatly stacked together. Today, we have to visit the ghoul of Wifey's life -- Halloween still lasts a bit longer -- and then we're going to Joe's with Norman and Deb -- a fitting end to an awesome weekend.