Twin Signs to Stay Home

So Wifey drove to Orlando with D1 yesterday, the better to catch up with our comically busy girl.  I learned when the Ds were in college that long car rides, where they're captive for hours, are the best place to really learn what's up with their lives. Wifey's bad back kept her from many of these, so I told her the O Town trip was a chance to make up for lost car time.

D1 is meeting with BBYO.  I had thought it was her sorority.  Whatever. Wifey's staying with her buddy Elizabeth, whose sister Ruby is also there for a wedding.  I'm sure these three ladies are enjoying each other's company.

I had planned to head to the office -- Stu and I had a conference together with a new client, and Barry and I would meet for dinner.

Barry emailed that he had a late meeting, so no dinner for us, and then Stu called to tell me his cold was keeping him home.  I took it as a clear sign -- no need to head to Brickell today.

Instead, I am keeping the dogs company in my big, quiet, and empty house.  There are worse ways to spend a Friday...

My alternate plan is to head to Shula's on Red Road, get a seat at the bar, order a martini and dinner, and watch ESPN Sportscenter.  Then again, tonight will be a loud happy hour, and I'd have to fend off the advances of hungry for love women gathered there, so maybe I'll just get take out instead.  This is my big decision for the day.

As predicted, the news cycle about the Parkland shooting is thinning.  Local TV is back to their regularly scheduled programs, and even the cable news channels are already interspersing coverage of other stories with the Parkland datelines.

I made the mistake of watching a video of a man whose 14 year old daughter was killed.  That hit too close for me.

My idiot GOP FaceBook friends are predictably blaming Obama for the shooting.  Last night I took the rare step of de-friending someone -- Alan -- an older guy. He's become quite the neocon, and during the height of the flurry about the shooting he was posting weird pro-life crap.  I told him I wished terribly that the loser who birthed the kid who grew up to be the Parkland shooter had opted for abortion instead of adoption.  And then I sent Alan to FaceBook purgatory.  His late wife Helene would have agreed, I think.

The Ds are right. I spend too much time there.  I need other, more productive outlets for my commentary.  Maybe, while I'm in NYC next month for the ACC games, I'll casually stroll into the Onion offices and offer my services.  I'm sure they have a deficit of wise ass writers.

In any event, today shall now be one of reflection, and dog petting.  I thank Barry and Stu, my two dear friends, for saving me traffic today.