So D2 and Jonathan are aloft, headed back to NYC just in time for the arrival of a "polar vortex" which should bring absurdly low temperatures. They're flying home with Jonathan's sister Eva, and her husband Yoni, who were both here in Miami for the Bar Mitzvah we attended today. It was a lovely but too short weekend with D2.
After a perfect pick, we spent the day Saturday doing errands -- D2 got some new contact lenses, and I splurged and bought the first new glasses in about 10 years. Then D1 came over, and we all headed to see ancient Suegra. She was in great spirits -- it's been awhile since she had both her beloved granddaughters visit at the same time.
The Ds left -- each headed to a different wedding. On Sunday we all reconvened at a restaurant in Wynwood called KYU, which is pronounced Q. I didn't think I'd like it -- it had hipster vibes, but it turned out to have delicious food, and not crazy expensive. We celebrated D2's birthday a week early, and then drove home in the rain. We got up early today to drive back to Sunny Isles, now called Sunny Isles Beach, though you can't see the beach for the wall of enormous condos that line Collins Avenue where much cooler motels like the Castaways and Aztec used to be...
The event was Jonathan's nephew Jeremy's Bar Mitzvah -- held in a shul where Joey's parents hosted a pre wedding shabbat before their wedding 2 Septembers ago. The service was nice, though the Argentine rabbi saw no need for too much English. After the service we went to the party room and had a lovely breakfast.
Jonathan's family was warm and welcoming -- his 5 siblings and their kids were there -- some from as far away as Canada and LA. We caught up, and talked happily about D2 and Jonathan's wedding. I told everyone D2 would be deciding soon when the wedding was happening, and where. I made that up -- she still has no idea. She'll figure it out, with the help of the Lizards, the nickname given to Liz and Lizzie, D1's wedding planners, who are on the case.
D1 and Joey are off to Bogota on Thursday, to visit Joey's grandmother and aunts and uncles. We'll have the spoiled Spaniel here, taking up residence with the strange rescue dog and special needs Spaniel.
I'll FaceTime (tm) D2 on Sunday, her actual 27th birthday. And then we'll head over to Key Biscayne, where there's a lovely 5th birthday party planned for my brother Paul's grandson Roger. Wow. Half a decade since that boy was born.
His parents Alex and Danielle stayed with us following Roger's birth, rather than schlep each day back to Miami Beach. It was quite a time. It surely doesn't seem like 5 years have gone by.
It's a chilly night in Miami. I think I'm going to go outside and build a fire in my firepit. I'll look up and thank the Big Man for a wonderful time with my Ds and their men. We mark the days together. We're supremely blessed.
Monday, January 28, 2019
Saturday, January 26, 2019
A Perfect Pick
Years ago, "Seinfeld" taught us that a certain subset of people, neurotic Jews, took great pleasure in arranging a perfect pick -- that is, an efficient and successful fetching of someone arriving at the airport. Well, early this am, I accomplished this.
Wifey and I met D1 and Joey for a lovely dinner at Spillover in the Grove. D1 and Joey alternate Friday night dinners with their parents. Joey's Mom Jacqui hosts actual shabbat dinners, and we take the kids to local restaurants. What can I say? Wifey just ain't no challah back girl...
So we met in the Grove, and caught up with them. We're seeing them again on Sunday for a one week early dinner for D2's birthday, but we learned about their upcoming trips -- they're headed to Bogota on Thursday to visit Joey's family, and Joey then has a series of golf and business trips, followed by a visit to Spain.
Joey and his brothers learned they can become Spanish citizens, along with US citizens. Since they can trace their grandparents' time living there, they are eligible. They all studied and took difficult tests, and then have to be sworn in in Spain. The benefits are Euro passports -- they can travel freely on the Continent, and it makes other things easier, too.
D1 told us that her friend Rebecca, granddaughter of Polish Holocaust Survivors, became a Polish dual, too, but had birth certificates proving her grandparents nationality. Wifey doesn't have those from her parents, and besides -- I'm not a fan of re-pledging allegiance, even partially, to a country so complicit with the Nazis...
Wifey is automatically Israeli, being born there, and the Ds are, too -- if they so choose. I guess I can always claim dual citizenship, too -- I can be a US citizen as well as one of The Bronx...
Anyway -- we walked the happy young folks to their car, and headed home. D2 and Jonathan were due into MIA at 1130. Then politics became local.
The Trump shutdown caused major delays. Fortunately they eased as the day went on, but the flight was still going to take off 2 hours late. New arrival at MIA was set for just after 1 am.
I took a nap. And then I went upstairs, where Wifey was falling asleep, and took another one. Now I was ready for the early am pick.
I made myself a cup in the Keurig, and checked my FlightRadar app. The plane was landing in 5 minutes, from over the Bay. As soon as I saw it touched down, I texted D2 "Welcome Home!" She responded with a "Ha."
She said they had no checked bags, and so I left for MIA. There was no traffic at all. It took about 15 minutes. Just as I arrived, D2 called -- she and Jonathan had just stepped outside, on the Departure Level.
I swooped in. We all hugged. I told Jonathan to come home with us, and drive to Aventura in the am. He declined -- his family wanted to see him, too.
It was a perfect pick -- worked out splendidly.
And D2 and I caught up -- she's been traveling a lot, too. Last week was Mexico City, for a wedding. She's here this weekend for another wedding, in Parkland, along with a Bar Mitzvah, for her future nephew, up in Sunny Isles/
We glided home. The dogs were happy to see D2, but after a short while wanted to be allowed to go back to sleep.
Today it's a cool, rainy day. D2 is sleeping in. She'll borrow the car and drive to Aventura. We'll reconvene tomorrow night.
It's always wonderful to get the Ds both back to the 305. And last night I did it with a perfect pick.
Wifey and I met D1 and Joey for a lovely dinner at Spillover in the Grove. D1 and Joey alternate Friday night dinners with their parents. Joey's Mom Jacqui hosts actual shabbat dinners, and we take the kids to local restaurants. What can I say? Wifey just ain't no challah back girl...
So we met in the Grove, and caught up with them. We're seeing them again on Sunday for a one week early dinner for D2's birthday, but we learned about their upcoming trips -- they're headed to Bogota on Thursday to visit Joey's family, and Joey then has a series of golf and business trips, followed by a visit to Spain.
Joey and his brothers learned they can become Spanish citizens, along with US citizens. Since they can trace their grandparents' time living there, they are eligible. They all studied and took difficult tests, and then have to be sworn in in Spain. The benefits are Euro passports -- they can travel freely on the Continent, and it makes other things easier, too.
D1 told us that her friend Rebecca, granddaughter of Polish Holocaust Survivors, became a Polish dual, too, but had birth certificates proving her grandparents nationality. Wifey doesn't have those from her parents, and besides -- I'm not a fan of re-pledging allegiance, even partially, to a country so complicit with the Nazis...
Wifey is automatically Israeli, being born there, and the Ds are, too -- if they so choose. I guess I can always claim dual citizenship, too -- I can be a US citizen as well as one of The Bronx...
Anyway -- we walked the happy young folks to their car, and headed home. D2 and Jonathan were due into MIA at 1130. Then politics became local.
The Trump shutdown caused major delays. Fortunately they eased as the day went on, but the flight was still going to take off 2 hours late. New arrival at MIA was set for just after 1 am.
I took a nap. And then I went upstairs, where Wifey was falling asleep, and took another one. Now I was ready for the early am pick.
I made myself a cup in the Keurig, and checked my FlightRadar app. The plane was landing in 5 minutes, from over the Bay. As soon as I saw it touched down, I texted D2 "Welcome Home!" She responded with a "Ha."
She said they had no checked bags, and so I left for MIA. There was no traffic at all. It took about 15 minutes. Just as I arrived, D2 called -- she and Jonathan had just stepped outside, on the Departure Level.
I swooped in. We all hugged. I told Jonathan to come home with us, and drive to Aventura in the am. He declined -- his family wanted to see him, too.
It was a perfect pick -- worked out splendidly.
And D2 and I caught up -- she's been traveling a lot, too. Last week was Mexico City, for a wedding. She's here this weekend for another wedding, in Parkland, along with a Bar Mitzvah, for her future nephew, up in Sunny Isles/
We glided home. The dogs were happy to see D2, but after a short while wanted to be allowed to go back to sleep.
Today it's a cool, rainy day. D2 is sleeping in. She'll borrow the car and drive to Aventura. We'll reconvene tomorrow night.
It's always wonderful to get the Ds both back to the 305. And last night I did it with a perfect pick.
Friday, January 25, 2019
Key West
So my sister of another mister Mirta was due over to house and dog sit, and Wifey and I took the SUV to LOL, for breakfast. We knew we had a three hour drive ahead of us, and didn't want to risk starvation.
I took 152 Street to the Turnpike, and soon enough we were on the Overseas Highway, headed for Key West. I never tire of the drive -- the colors of the sea and Gulf are surreal, and driving through the unique Keys mix of luxury and weathered, white trashiness, is wonderful. We drove straight through, and in less then three hours pulled into the End of the Line.
Our room wasn't ready at the Pier House, so we left the bags and started to walk. I paid homage to my late father in law: he was famous for making dry runs to any new destination the day or so before he had to go somewhere new, and so we walked to the Key West Theater. It was only an 8 minute walk from the hotel.
We went down Greene Street, and popped into the Gallery there -- seeing an old acquaintance, Nance Frank, who owns the place. She looked up a Mario Sanchez poster we had bought in 2000. She said she'd buy it back from us for three times what we paid. Nah -- I really like it -- colorful Key West street scene.
Nance brought us up to date on the local arts scene. She was having a big event for her new hot artist, Peter Vey. I asked if he shouldn't change his first name to Oy. The Jewish Conch appreciated the humor.
We got a call that our room was ready, and so headed back and to the Beach Grille, where two free drinks awaited. We also had some fish sandwiches, and toasted our arrival. Around 7, we left for the theater.
The Key West Theater is a renovated church, originally built in the 1800s. Of course, since it's Key West, there is a scandal in the history: the minister killed his wife and children there when they learned of his adulterous affair. Supposedly now there are ghosts...
We didn't see any of those, but we DID see a crowd where Wifey and I were the youngest -- hundreds of folks in their late 60s through 70s -- little makeup on the women, and all Grateful Dead follower-type garb on the fellows. We loved it.
In Miami, we're typically the oldest people when we go out, especially in Brickell, or Midtown, or Wynwood. It was a nice change to be the kiddies at the show.
And then Jorma and Jack came on. They were terrific -- as two musicians who have played together for 60 years ought to be. The music took me back to the Planting Fields on Long Island, where my friends and I listened to Hot Tuna, in the 70s.
HT turned me onto the Blues. After I heard their music, I started listening to Muddy Waters, and Son House, and Jimmy Reed. Tobacco Road in Miami became my favorite bar when I came to UM. Robert Cray played there. So did Diamond Tooth Mary. I still love the Blues, and recalled Hot Tuna was why.
They played 90 minutes, and took a break. Then they played another 45. They ended, and instead of leaving the stage, Jorma said "Just make believe we're leaving and you're going to call us back for an encore. We're too old to go through that, and think of the time we all save!" And so they played another few songs. Wifey really dug them, too. We left elated, and walked home on Duval Street, among the very drunk, and a few young hookers.
Wednesday we slept in -- so much so that D2 had called from NYC and couldn't believe I didn't text her back until 10. Roosters crowed all night, but I slept through their call. It was an epic great night's sleep.
We decided to walk the mile to Blue Heaven, down Whitehead Street. I related tales of my cases to Wifey, with the colorful cast of Key West lawyers and judges.
Blue Heaven was packed -- at least a 2 hour wait. Nah -- we had been there several times -- weren't going to do it. We went to a French cafe across the street, and I saw an empty table. The host said the wait was 30 minutes. "No -- I'm saving that table for a party of 4," he said dismissively. We dismissed him and his attitude.
We walked down Thomas Street, and the Blue Macaw beckoned. We got a table on the street, and listened to a singer we couldn't see -- she was hidden behind banyan trees. Wifey thought she sounded like a black woman; I envisioned Maria Muldaur. I got up to check - we were both wrong -- she was a pretty blonde.
After breakfast, we walked past the Southenmost Point -- tourists lined up for the picture with the buoy.
We found a quiet spot, between the Southernmost Hotel and the Reach Resort, and walked to the water. I spoke to my parents for awhile -- Dad intended I commune with his spirit at the sea, instead of a graveyard. I honored his wish -- still amazed that he's gone nearly 37 years, and Mom gone nearly 6.
And we walked and walked and walked -- all through the quaint streets, back towards the Bight. We put in over 4 miles.
I thought about taking a sunset sail, but it was overcast and windy -- I didn't want to invite seasickness to our little vacation.
So at 4:30 I headed to the Chart Room, and ordered a Stoli Orange martini. A nice couple at the bar was visiting KW for the first time, from rural Minnesota. We became fast friends -- I told them the Chart Room's history, including the fact that it was where Jimmy Buffet got his start, and also it was the first place in the US where Bob Marley played.
Wifey joined us, and joked that she thought my personality was far more Minnesota than Miami. She's funny.
We left our new friends, and headed to Mallory Square. We watched some of the performers, but, alas, no sunset that night. So we headed over to Bagatelle, our favorite restaurant.
The food was delicious -- a lobster tail and grilled grouper, with asparagus and sprouts. Our waiter took a photo where we replicated a pose from a picture of us in Key West from 1984. We posted it on FaceBook -- sort of a before and after.
I thought we looked exactly the same as we did three and a half decades before, except for my gray hair. Wifey thought I needed to get my eyes checked...
We went to a cookie store on Duval, and I bought us a cookie to share -- for $7. You haven't really been to Key West unless you get ripped off somehow.
We fell asleep, again to the rooster crowing. I guess no one had told him his gig was for mornings only.
Yesterday we awoke, had coffee on the balcony, and checked out. Wifey napped through Marathon and Tavernier, and awoke as we approached Islamorada. She looked up breakfast places on Trip Advisor, and one was straight ahead -- the Midway Cafe.
It was lovely -- brightly painted, and owned and run by women. They all seemed very happy -- I inferred it was because they were all lesbians and had no men to drag their lives down.
The waitress saw my UM shirt, and said her daughter wished to go there, but needed scholarships, as the new total yearly charges were about $60K. A couple at the next table asked, in accented English, if that was true -- college in the US cost that much. It was indeed, true, I told them.
They were Swedish, and explained that college was free in their country, as was health care. Scandanavian show offs! We had a nice talk -- I told them Americans hate taxes, but we pay them anyway -- we just don't like them being called taxes.
They were headed from KW to Miami, staying on South Beach. They asked for suggestions on what to see. I told them about the Wynwood Walls, and Panther Coffee. They were very appreciative and happily Socialist...
I called my California sister, and Wifey and I talked to her all the way from Islamorada, over the Card Sound Bridge, and back to South Miami Dade. We're getting together in April for the first time in years -- in Half Moon Bay, where my nephew and niece live.
We stopped at Aldi, so Wifey could grab a few things. And then a happy homecoming to appreciative dogs -- Mirta texted to make sure we had arrived. We had.
So it was a lovely trip, with music, and food, and drink.
Tonight we're meeting D1 and Joey for dinner in the Grove. And then I have a stint with DadBer Late -- which is Uber by Dad when there is a late trip. D2 and Jonathan are coming in near midnight -- they want to work today before coming home for the weekend.
The Ds and their men have different weddings tomorrow night -- on Miami Beach, and in Parkland. Sunday we plan to celebrate D2's 27th birthday one week early.
So it's been a fine January -- great way to start 2019. And I will definitely listen to more Blues -- thanks to Jorma and Jack.
I took 152 Street to the Turnpike, and soon enough we were on the Overseas Highway, headed for Key West. I never tire of the drive -- the colors of the sea and Gulf are surreal, and driving through the unique Keys mix of luxury and weathered, white trashiness, is wonderful. We drove straight through, and in less then three hours pulled into the End of the Line.
Our room wasn't ready at the Pier House, so we left the bags and started to walk. I paid homage to my late father in law: he was famous for making dry runs to any new destination the day or so before he had to go somewhere new, and so we walked to the Key West Theater. It was only an 8 minute walk from the hotel.
We went down Greene Street, and popped into the Gallery there -- seeing an old acquaintance, Nance Frank, who owns the place. She looked up a Mario Sanchez poster we had bought in 2000. She said she'd buy it back from us for three times what we paid. Nah -- I really like it -- colorful Key West street scene.
Nance brought us up to date on the local arts scene. She was having a big event for her new hot artist, Peter Vey. I asked if he shouldn't change his first name to Oy. The Jewish Conch appreciated the humor.
We got a call that our room was ready, and so headed back and to the Beach Grille, where two free drinks awaited. We also had some fish sandwiches, and toasted our arrival. Around 7, we left for the theater.
The Key West Theater is a renovated church, originally built in the 1800s. Of course, since it's Key West, there is a scandal in the history: the minister killed his wife and children there when they learned of his adulterous affair. Supposedly now there are ghosts...
We didn't see any of those, but we DID see a crowd where Wifey and I were the youngest -- hundreds of folks in their late 60s through 70s -- little makeup on the women, and all Grateful Dead follower-type garb on the fellows. We loved it.
In Miami, we're typically the oldest people when we go out, especially in Brickell, or Midtown, or Wynwood. It was a nice change to be the kiddies at the show.
And then Jorma and Jack came on. They were terrific -- as two musicians who have played together for 60 years ought to be. The music took me back to the Planting Fields on Long Island, where my friends and I listened to Hot Tuna, in the 70s.
HT turned me onto the Blues. After I heard their music, I started listening to Muddy Waters, and Son House, and Jimmy Reed. Tobacco Road in Miami became my favorite bar when I came to UM. Robert Cray played there. So did Diamond Tooth Mary. I still love the Blues, and recalled Hot Tuna was why.
They played 90 minutes, and took a break. Then they played another 45. They ended, and instead of leaving the stage, Jorma said "Just make believe we're leaving and you're going to call us back for an encore. We're too old to go through that, and think of the time we all save!" And so they played another few songs. Wifey really dug them, too. We left elated, and walked home on Duval Street, among the very drunk, and a few young hookers.
Wednesday we slept in -- so much so that D2 had called from NYC and couldn't believe I didn't text her back until 10. Roosters crowed all night, but I slept through their call. It was an epic great night's sleep.
We decided to walk the mile to Blue Heaven, down Whitehead Street. I related tales of my cases to Wifey, with the colorful cast of Key West lawyers and judges.
Blue Heaven was packed -- at least a 2 hour wait. Nah -- we had been there several times -- weren't going to do it. We went to a French cafe across the street, and I saw an empty table. The host said the wait was 30 minutes. "No -- I'm saving that table for a party of 4," he said dismissively. We dismissed him and his attitude.
We walked down Thomas Street, and the Blue Macaw beckoned. We got a table on the street, and listened to a singer we couldn't see -- she was hidden behind banyan trees. Wifey thought she sounded like a black woman; I envisioned Maria Muldaur. I got up to check - we were both wrong -- she was a pretty blonde.
After breakfast, we walked past the Southenmost Point -- tourists lined up for the picture with the buoy.
We found a quiet spot, between the Southernmost Hotel and the Reach Resort, and walked to the water. I spoke to my parents for awhile -- Dad intended I commune with his spirit at the sea, instead of a graveyard. I honored his wish -- still amazed that he's gone nearly 37 years, and Mom gone nearly 6.
And we walked and walked and walked -- all through the quaint streets, back towards the Bight. We put in over 4 miles.
I thought about taking a sunset sail, but it was overcast and windy -- I didn't want to invite seasickness to our little vacation.
So at 4:30 I headed to the Chart Room, and ordered a Stoli Orange martini. A nice couple at the bar was visiting KW for the first time, from rural Minnesota. We became fast friends -- I told them the Chart Room's history, including the fact that it was where Jimmy Buffet got his start, and also it was the first place in the US where Bob Marley played.
Wifey joined us, and joked that she thought my personality was far more Minnesota than Miami. She's funny.
We left our new friends, and headed to Mallory Square. We watched some of the performers, but, alas, no sunset that night. So we headed over to Bagatelle, our favorite restaurant.
The food was delicious -- a lobster tail and grilled grouper, with asparagus and sprouts. Our waiter took a photo where we replicated a pose from a picture of us in Key West from 1984. We posted it on FaceBook -- sort of a before and after.
I thought we looked exactly the same as we did three and a half decades before, except for my gray hair. Wifey thought I needed to get my eyes checked...
We went to a cookie store on Duval, and I bought us a cookie to share -- for $7. You haven't really been to Key West unless you get ripped off somehow.
We fell asleep, again to the rooster crowing. I guess no one had told him his gig was for mornings only.
Yesterday we awoke, had coffee on the balcony, and checked out. Wifey napped through Marathon and Tavernier, and awoke as we approached Islamorada. She looked up breakfast places on Trip Advisor, and one was straight ahead -- the Midway Cafe.
It was lovely -- brightly painted, and owned and run by women. They all seemed very happy -- I inferred it was because they were all lesbians and had no men to drag their lives down.
The waitress saw my UM shirt, and said her daughter wished to go there, but needed scholarships, as the new total yearly charges were about $60K. A couple at the next table asked, in accented English, if that was true -- college in the US cost that much. It was indeed, true, I told them.
They were Swedish, and explained that college was free in their country, as was health care. Scandanavian show offs! We had a nice talk -- I told them Americans hate taxes, but we pay them anyway -- we just don't like them being called taxes.
They were headed from KW to Miami, staying on South Beach. They asked for suggestions on what to see. I told them about the Wynwood Walls, and Panther Coffee. They were very appreciative and happily Socialist...
I called my California sister, and Wifey and I talked to her all the way from Islamorada, over the Card Sound Bridge, and back to South Miami Dade. We're getting together in April for the first time in years -- in Half Moon Bay, where my nephew and niece live.
We stopped at Aldi, so Wifey could grab a few things. And then a happy homecoming to appreciative dogs -- Mirta texted to make sure we had arrived. We had.
So it was a lovely trip, with music, and food, and drink.
Tonight we're meeting D1 and Joey for dinner in the Grove. And then I have a stint with DadBer Late -- which is Uber by Dad when there is a late trip. D2 and Jonathan are coming in near midnight -- they want to work today before coming home for the weekend.
The Ds and their men have different weddings tomorrow night -- on Miami Beach, and in Parkland. Sunday we plan to celebrate D2's 27th birthday one week early.
So it's been a fine January -- great way to start 2019. And I will definitely listen to more Blues -- thanks to Jorma and Jack.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Death By Overwork Paying For Car Repairs
Years ago, the Herald ran an obit with a man with my name -- he died in Hollywood in his 80s. A few friends saw it, and there was laughter about my premature demise, but I cut out the obit and wrote across it "Cause of Death: Overwork Due to Paying For Car Repairs."
This was because I had just paid another several thousand to fix one of Wifey's many car accidents. I don't think she's had a car over the last 20 years or so that she hasn't crashed in some way -- ranging from backing into her friend Maureen's Volvo, since Maureen was dumb enough to park right in our driveway behind the garage -- to the near tragic, where she plowed, backwards, into a car with a Mom putting her little girl into a car seat -- fortunately unharmed.
No kidding -- there have been more than 20 of these, and each time I dutifully pay and arrange all the repairs, rental cars, payments to others -- just to keep our insurance rates down. If we reported all of these incidents, we would truly be uninsurable.
Well --sure enough, it happened again, to her newest SUV. She backed into a pole. She was probably on the phone and not focused, and she never listens to those backup alarms -- they tell her she's getting near the hedges behind our garage, and she can happily tap them...
To avoid the anger and annoyance, I told her to just take care of it -- get it fixed, don't tell me the price. I'll just make believe this latest mishap hadn't happened. Ha. As if!
So last month she took the car to the local body shop, next to Shorty's, and a few days later fetched the repaired car. It was around $1000, I later found out. But when I drove the car, I saw it had a "Parking sensors need cleaning" light. I told her she had to get this fixed, too, and to get it done in the coming three weeks -- I wanted to take her absurdly low mileage lease car for the long-ish trip to Key West -- I pay for the miles -- might as well use them.
So she took the car back -- two weeks ago. Wifey doesn't leave the house that much, so I guess the two weeks didn't seem that onerous. I would ask, and it's as if I reminded her "Oh yeah -- I called and they're waiting for the parts." I did ask the cost, and she said the owner told her it would be "another few hundred."
Well, yesterday, still no SUV. I realized I had to indeed be the 50s era husband, and take control over something the little lady couldn't do. So I called the owner -- told him I was coming to get the car -- I needed it for a trip, and besides, what the hell was taking so damn long to fix a simple thing?
I can hear a con man immediately, and the fellow started fast talking about needing new sensors, and a new computer, and he had taken it upon himself to have the car brought to the Lexus dealer for repairs...
I asked him how much. All totaled -- it would be around $2000.
There's a problem with that, I told him -- Wifey had never signed a written authorization, and Miami Dade Law says no written authorization, no payment over $100.
"So you're not paying me for the parts I already ordered, let alone ALL the labor?" Nope, I said.
I had Wifey drive me to the shop, and I was fixing for a major hassle -- I figured he wouldn't release the car without at least a $500 check.
But he came in, knew right away what was up, and handed me the key fob.
I believe he realized I knew what had indeed happened -- his shop probably broke the sensors when they fixed the bumper, and he was going to try to dupe the naive housewife from Pinecrest into paying thousands for it.
Somewhat knowledgeable husband stepped in and foiled the plot.
So we have the SUV back, and it gets turned in in 5 months. I'll get the sensors fixed somewhere else -- so much for having Wifey fix her own mess. Maybe that thing happens in husbands' dreams, but not in my reality.
As the classic movie "Some Like It Hot" ends, the rich suitor of the transvestite Jack Lemmon learns the object of his love and lust is a man. He utters the classic ending lines, "Nobody's perfect."
And so it is among long married couples --Wifey's comically high number of car crashes is just what comes along with loving her for over three decades.
She always points out that she has saved me thousands of dollars over the years by rarely, if ever, ordering drinks at dinner. And that's true -- those martinis add up over time.
As for this latest, I'm just glad I stepped in, despite my reluctance, and stopped a major ripoff by a con man repair shop owner.
So we're off, later, for Key West, in the sensor-less SUV. The thing still has a working backup camera. Wifey ignores the sensors, anyway, so we can do fine without them.
Oh -- and like the 50s era couple we truly are -- I'll do the driving.
This was because I had just paid another several thousand to fix one of Wifey's many car accidents. I don't think she's had a car over the last 20 years or so that she hasn't crashed in some way -- ranging from backing into her friend Maureen's Volvo, since Maureen was dumb enough to park right in our driveway behind the garage -- to the near tragic, where she plowed, backwards, into a car with a Mom putting her little girl into a car seat -- fortunately unharmed.
No kidding -- there have been more than 20 of these, and each time I dutifully pay and arrange all the repairs, rental cars, payments to others -- just to keep our insurance rates down. If we reported all of these incidents, we would truly be uninsurable.
Well --sure enough, it happened again, to her newest SUV. She backed into a pole. She was probably on the phone and not focused, and she never listens to those backup alarms -- they tell her she's getting near the hedges behind our garage, and she can happily tap them...
To avoid the anger and annoyance, I told her to just take care of it -- get it fixed, don't tell me the price. I'll just make believe this latest mishap hadn't happened. Ha. As if!
So last month she took the car to the local body shop, next to Shorty's, and a few days later fetched the repaired car. It was around $1000, I later found out. But when I drove the car, I saw it had a "Parking sensors need cleaning" light. I told her she had to get this fixed, too, and to get it done in the coming three weeks -- I wanted to take her absurdly low mileage lease car for the long-ish trip to Key West -- I pay for the miles -- might as well use them.
So she took the car back -- two weeks ago. Wifey doesn't leave the house that much, so I guess the two weeks didn't seem that onerous. I would ask, and it's as if I reminded her "Oh yeah -- I called and they're waiting for the parts." I did ask the cost, and she said the owner told her it would be "another few hundred."
Well, yesterday, still no SUV. I realized I had to indeed be the 50s era husband, and take control over something the little lady couldn't do. So I called the owner -- told him I was coming to get the car -- I needed it for a trip, and besides, what the hell was taking so damn long to fix a simple thing?
I can hear a con man immediately, and the fellow started fast talking about needing new sensors, and a new computer, and he had taken it upon himself to have the car brought to the Lexus dealer for repairs...
I asked him how much. All totaled -- it would be around $2000.
There's a problem with that, I told him -- Wifey had never signed a written authorization, and Miami Dade Law says no written authorization, no payment over $100.
"So you're not paying me for the parts I already ordered, let alone ALL the labor?" Nope, I said.
I had Wifey drive me to the shop, and I was fixing for a major hassle -- I figured he wouldn't release the car without at least a $500 check.
But he came in, knew right away what was up, and handed me the key fob.
I believe he realized I knew what had indeed happened -- his shop probably broke the sensors when they fixed the bumper, and he was going to try to dupe the naive housewife from Pinecrest into paying thousands for it.
Somewhat knowledgeable husband stepped in and foiled the plot.
So we have the SUV back, and it gets turned in in 5 months. I'll get the sensors fixed somewhere else -- so much for having Wifey fix her own mess. Maybe that thing happens in husbands' dreams, but not in my reality.
As the classic movie "Some Like It Hot" ends, the rich suitor of the transvestite Jack Lemmon learns the object of his love and lust is a man. He utters the classic ending lines, "Nobody's perfect."
And so it is among long married couples --Wifey's comically high number of car crashes is just what comes along with loving her for over three decades.
She always points out that she has saved me thousands of dollars over the years by rarely, if ever, ordering drinks at dinner. And that's true -- those martinis add up over time.
As for this latest, I'm just glad I stepped in, despite my reluctance, and stopped a major ripoff by a con man repair shop owner.
So we're off, later, for Key West, in the sensor-less SUV. The thing still has a working backup camera. Wifey ignores the sensors, anyway, so we can do fine without them.
Oh -- and like the 50s era couple we truly are -- I'll do the driving.
Sunday, January 20, 2019
A Lovely Weekend -- Cold is Coming
It was actually a productive work week, as I spent a good amount of time with Stu and Vince, strategizing on cases, and moving things along.
Friday, I called car-less Wifey, to see if she wanted to go out. She has been car-less since her latest fender bender, while fixed, left the bumper sensors out of whack. It's been a full week now, and neither the body shop nor the dealer can figure it out.
I fetched Wifey and we headed to Titanic. It was nicely crowded -- the students are back at UM. We shared a seafood board, and in honor of the coming cold wave, I had some soup.
Saturday I met Paul and Alex and the kids -- we chased them around the Falls, and later Greer Park. Alex noted that Pinecrest has so many great parks for kids -- any grandkids we're lucky to get will enjoy visiting here.
I came home as the floor polishing guys were finishing up. We have travertine floors, and you're supposed to have them cleaned and sealed every few years. Somehow, we haven't done it for a decade. Wifey had called our acquaintance Isaac, a floor guy, for a referral. He sent over Ivan, who gave us an estimate. Ivan has one arm.
Wifey was going to get another estimate, and I pulled her aside. Are we really NOT going to give the job to a one armed floor polisher? Wifey agreed, and Ivan and an assistant did a fine job. The dogs waited outside, still sitting on their usual couch, but this time with a clear view of birds and squirrels...
We got ready and headed to the Gables. Paul got a hankering for prime rib, and wanted to meet us at Christy's. You never have to ask me twice to go there, and as an added benefit, he and Patricia invited Allison. They fetched her at her temporary digs in Aventura -- she's moving to a townhouse in Cooper City next month.
The conversation was delightful -- we talked about crazy old times, and compared notes on our generations of kids -- Allison started late -- her twins are high school freshmen.
Before our party arrived, I toasted Wifey, and our time together. I told her I was glad we stayed together. She agreed.
D2 and Jonathan are in Mexico City, for Jonathan's best friend's wedding today. D2 texted us photos of great looking food, and a cool Anthropology Museum. D1 and Joey are enjoying their weekend, too -- D1 got the great news that her biggest client had renewed her for another year.
Today a strange morning light was in the sky -- an burnt orange, as the sun rose. It was followed by rain showers, and now a cold front is here. Tonight will dip to the 40s.
Seasons change, and so do we.
Tonight Mike is hosting an AFC Championship Game watch. I think I'll have Wifey drop me off on the way to visit her mother. I can skip a week -- my suegra will still be there, I'm sure.
So it was a fine weekend -- still is. And we're ready for the cold.
Friday, I called car-less Wifey, to see if she wanted to go out. She has been car-less since her latest fender bender, while fixed, left the bumper sensors out of whack. It's been a full week now, and neither the body shop nor the dealer can figure it out.
I fetched Wifey and we headed to Titanic. It was nicely crowded -- the students are back at UM. We shared a seafood board, and in honor of the coming cold wave, I had some soup.
Saturday I met Paul and Alex and the kids -- we chased them around the Falls, and later Greer Park. Alex noted that Pinecrest has so many great parks for kids -- any grandkids we're lucky to get will enjoy visiting here.
I came home as the floor polishing guys were finishing up. We have travertine floors, and you're supposed to have them cleaned and sealed every few years. Somehow, we haven't done it for a decade. Wifey had called our acquaintance Isaac, a floor guy, for a referral. He sent over Ivan, who gave us an estimate. Ivan has one arm.
Wifey was going to get another estimate, and I pulled her aside. Are we really NOT going to give the job to a one armed floor polisher? Wifey agreed, and Ivan and an assistant did a fine job. The dogs waited outside, still sitting on their usual couch, but this time with a clear view of birds and squirrels...
We got ready and headed to the Gables. Paul got a hankering for prime rib, and wanted to meet us at Christy's. You never have to ask me twice to go there, and as an added benefit, he and Patricia invited Allison. They fetched her at her temporary digs in Aventura -- she's moving to a townhouse in Cooper City next month.
The conversation was delightful -- we talked about crazy old times, and compared notes on our generations of kids -- Allison started late -- her twins are high school freshmen.
Before our party arrived, I toasted Wifey, and our time together. I told her I was glad we stayed together. She agreed.
D2 and Jonathan are in Mexico City, for Jonathan's best friend's wedding today. D2 texted us photos of great looking food, and a cool Anthropology Museum. D1 and Joey are enjoying their weekend, too -- D1 got the great news that her biggest client had renewed her for another year.
Today a strange morning light was in the sky -- an burnt orange, as the sun rose. It was followed by rain showers, and now a cold front is here. Tonight will dip to the 40s.
Seasons change, and so do we.
Tonight Mike is hosting an AFC Championship Game watch. I think I'll have Wifey drop me off on the way to visit her mother. I can skip a week -- my suegra will still be there, I'm sure.
So it was a fine weekend -- still is. And we're ready for the cold.
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
In My Mind I'm Going to Key West
The weather is beautiful, the Ds and their men are well, and in my mind I'm already in Key West. Luckily for me, my large carcass is driving there in six days.
I first visited the island in '84, accompanied by Wifey. I fell in love. Cynics said the place was "already over," since there was commercial development on Duval Street. I still had a wonderful sense when there -- the lovely conch houses, Hemingway's House, the colorful bars with music spilling into the street.
Wifey and I checked into a guesthouse called Duval House. It had a private pool. We skinny dipped, as I recall -- we were 23 and 27, and it was allowed for that age person. We walked the streets, and rented bicycles -- drove to the ocean, and stared out at it.
One day, Wifey left her sunglasses in the room, and I went to fetch them. As I was locking up, a young fellow about my age greeted me with an enthusiastic hello. He asked when I had gotten to the island -- I said the day before. How about him? "Well, I'm supposed to leave today, but I COULD stay a few days longer," he said, smiling slyly at me. It hit me. He found me hot, and was willing to extend his, um, vacation for me.
"Well," "my girlfriend and I have been having a great time, and I'm sure you'll find plenty to do if you stay longer. See ya." He looked disappointed. Ah, Key West...
I've been well over 50 times since then -- maybe closer to 100. I had several cases based there, and would often travel for business. I'd always stay a few days before or after the deposition or meeting.
Years ago, we took my sister and brother in law. It turned out that it was a Parrothead weekend -- the gathering of Jimmy Buffet fans. They walked the island in hilarious outfits -- but said Buffet never attended these things -- only sent his best.
Well, we were walking on Duval, and people started running towards Sloppy Joes. There was a stage set up next to the place,and sure enough, here was Buffet and his band giving a free concert. It was delightful -- everyone swayed and danced and sang along. An older guy on a Harley chatted with us -- he had just retired from PA and ridden to the end of the line. He offered my sister a ride. Wifey choked with laughter at the thought that her unapproachable looking sister in law was being picked up. My sister pointed to her husband -- nah, thanks for the ride, but I already have an old man. Key West.
I haven't been in a few years, and I've missed the place. Some folks love cruises, or Vegas, and go again and again. For me, it's KW.
A band from my high school days, it turns out, is still alive: Hot Tuna. They're two guys -- Jorma Kaunenen and Jack Cassady -- they play guitar blues. My friend John, the retired CIA agent, reported on FaceBook that he had seen them in D.C. last Fall. I checked -- the only South Florida stop was Key West.
So Wifey and I will head down Tuesday, check into the Pier House, have a few adult beverages in the Chart Room, my favorite bar, and then maybe dinner at Bagatelle. We'll see the show, and exercise our license to chill on Wednesday -- maybe a sunset sail Wednesday night. Thursday it'll be breakfast at Blue Heaven, and then back up the Overseas Highway.
I'm already excited, and it's only Wednesday.
I first visited the island in '84, accompanied by Wifey. I fell in love. Cynics said the place was "already over," since there was commercial development on Duval Street. I still had a wonderful sense when there -- the lovely conch houses, Hemingway's House, the colorful bars with music spilling into the street.
Wifey and I checked into a guesthouse called Duval House. It had a private pool. We skinny dipped, as I recall -- we were 23 and 27, and it was allowed for that age person. We walked the streets, and rented bicycles -- drove to the ocean, and stared out at it.
One day, Wifey left her sunglasses in the room, and I went to fetch them. As I was locking up, a young fellow about my age greeted me with an enthusiastic hello. He asked when I had gotten to the island -- I said the day before. How about him? "Well, I'm supposed to leave today, but I COULD stay a few days longer," he said, smiling slyly at me. It hit me. He found me hot, and was willing to extend his, um, vacation for me.
"Well," "my girlfriend and I have been having a great time, and I'm sure you'll find plenty to do if you stay longer. See ya." He looked disappointed. Ah, Key West...
I've been well over 50 times since then -- maybe closer to 100. I had several cases based there, and would often travel for business. I'd always stay a few days before or after the deposition or meeting.
Years ago, we took my sister and brother in law. It turned out that it was a Parrothead weekend -- the gathering of Jimmy Buffet fans. They walked the island in hilarious outfits -- but said Buffet never attended these things -- only sent his best.
Well, we were walking on Duval, and people started running towards Sloppy Joes. There was a stage set up next to the place,and sure enough, here was Buffet and his band giving a free concert. It was delightful -- everyone swayed and danced and sang along. An older guy on a Harley chatted with us -- he had just retired from PA and ridden to the end of the line. He offered my sister a ride. Wifey choked with laughter at the thought that her unapproachable looking sister in law was being picked up. My sister pointed to her husband -- nah, thanks for the ride, but I already have an old man. Key West.
I haven't been in a few years, and I've missed the place. Some folks love cruises, or Vegas, and go again and again. For me, it's KW.
A band from my high school days, it turns out, is still alive: Hot Tuna. They're two guys -- Jorma Kaunenen and Jack Cassady -- they play guitar blues. My friend John, the retired CIA agent, reported on FaceBook that he had seen them in D.C. last Fall. I checked -- the only South Florida stop was Key West.
So Wifey and I will head down Tuesday, check into the Pier House, have a few adult beverages in the Chart Room, my favorite bar, and then maybe dinner at Bagatelle. We'll see the show, and exercise our license to chill on Wednesday -- maybe a sunset sail Wednesday night. Thursday it'll be breakfast at Blue Heaven, and then back up the Overseas Highway.
I'm already excited, and it's only Wednesday.
Sunday, January 13, 2019
Sweetie -- You LOVE This Place
So yesterday brought absurdly beautiful weather -- mid 70s, lovely breeze blowing. Wifey and I enjoy going to the Beaux Arts Festival at UM -- we try to visit each year -- and she suggested maybe we take it in followed by the weekly visit to my ancient suegra.
I drove over to campus, and admitted I was a bit lost. I knew the place intimately, but they've put up new parking lots near where my old apartment was. I finally figured one out -- next to what used to be the Health Center, and we found a space.
The construction there is heavy. They're building a new state of the art housing complex on the lake. Apparently no one uses "dorms" anymore. It makes sense -- it now costs nearly $70K per year to attend UM, and that demographic isn't accepting the cell-like rooms of my generation. The new complex is all single rooms, with yoga studios, and meeting areas and gardens to grow your own organic food...
We walked to the festival. The sun beamed. The grass was very green. I smiled. Wifey noted how much I truly love being there -- she was right. There was a line of folks waiting to take a picture by the metal "U" sculpture. They were classy...
No festival is complete without festival food, and I found an arepa -- joking that we needed to honor our future son in law Jonathan's Venezuelan heritage. Then we went to the Greek stand, and got some delicious chicken pitas.
I led Wifey to the law school quadrangle, where we sat in the shade and ate. The area used to be called "the slab," since it was just a slab of chatahoochee pavement, but now it has a fountain and landscaping. I never enjoyed the academics of law school, but socially it was great. I toasted the ghosts of Mike, Jeff, and Norman's younger selves...
Then came the art. We ran into some people we know. We caught up. We were invited into the UM Ceramics booth -- they were selling the creations of the students. I struck up a conversation with a professor -- nice older lady. I asked if the mugs could indeed be used for drinking. She said they could. So I bought a green one.
Wifey and I are on a strict no clutter rule, which Wifey routinely violates. But the thought is we already have so much crap, we aren't buying any more. But an exception is coffee mugs. And I added to our collection.
We strolled around, and then headed to the car. We bought some Girl Scout cookies for the suegra. She still loves sweets. I remembered buying a box of them in college, and coming back to my apartment and eating the whole box, with a tall glass of whole milk. Those days are long gone...
I drove us to the Palace, and secured my spot in the gazebo. Wifey wheeled Rachel out. She was talkative -- as usual -- but particularly repetitive -- she asked when D2 was getting married no fewer than 10 times. Wifey laid down on the bench, and fell asleep. Rachel found this highly insulting. I found it highly hilarious, and snapped a photo to send to the Ds. Wifey struggled to stay awake, but it was tough -- it was absolutely gorgeous weather, and her mother's droning on acted like a sleeping pill.
I let my suegra talk at me for about half an hour -- smiling and nodding. Occasionally I would write out a response on the phone and show her. After an hour, Wifey wheeled her back to the lobby -- dinner was coming soon.
Today we have plans to see Barry and his family -- brunch in the Grove. Scott is headed back to Maryland for his final college semester. As Willie sang -- ain't it funny how time slips away...
I remember the farewell breakfast at LOL. Four years in the past? Amazing.
I hope Scott gets similar feelings when he strolls around College Park. If you're lucky, college is really a sacred place in time.
I never tire of going back there.
I drove over to campus, and admitted I was a bit lost. I knew the place intimately, but they've put up new parking lots near where my old apartment was. I finally figured one out -- next to what used to be the Health Center, and we found a space.
The construction there is heavy. They're building a new state of the art housing complex on the lake. Apparently no one uses "dorms" anymore. It makes sense -- it now costs nearly $70K per year to attend UM, and that demographic isn't accepting the cell-like rooms of my generation. The new complex is all single rooms, with yoga studios, and meeting areas and gardens to grow your own organic food...
We walked to the festival. The sun beamed. The grass was very green. I smiled. Wifey noted how much I truly love being there -- she was right. There was a line of folks waiting to take a picture by the metal "U" sculpture. They were classy...
No festival is complete without festival food, and I found an arepa -- joking that we needed to honor our future son in law Jonathan's Venezuelan heritage. Then we went to the Greek stand, and got some delicious chicken pitas.
I led Wifey to the law school quadrangle, where we sat in the shade and ate. The area used to be called "the slab," since it was just a slab of chatahoochee pavement, but now it has a fountain and landscaping. I never enjoyed the academics of law school, but socially it was great. I toasted the ghosts of Mike, Jeff, and Norman's younger selves...
Then came the art. We ran into some people we know. We caught up. We were invited into the UM Ceramics booth -- they were selling the creations of the students. I struck up a conversation with a professor -- nice older lady. I asked if the mugs could indeed be used for drinking. She said they could. So I bought a green one.
Wifey and I are on a strict no clutter rule, which Wifey routinely violates. But the thought is we already have so much crap, we aren't buying any more. But an exception is coffee mugs. And I added to our collection.
We strolled around, and then headed to the car. We bought some Girl Scout cookies for the suegra. She still loves sweets. I remembered buying a box of them in college, and coming back to my apartment and eating the whole box, with a tall glass of whole milk. Those days are long gone...
I drove us to the Palace, and secured my spot in the gazebo. Wifey wheeled Rachel out. She was talkative -- as usual -- but particularly repetitive -- she asked when D2 was getting married no fewer than 10 times. Wifey laid down on the bench, and fell asleep. Rachel found this highly insulting. I found it highly hilarious, and snapped a photo to send to the Ds. Wifey struggled to stay awake, but it was tough -- it was absolutely gorgeous weather, and her mother's droning on acted like a sleeping pill.
I let my suegra talk at me for about half an hour -- smiling and nodding. Occasionally I would write out a response on the phone and show her. After an hour, Wifey wheeled her back to the lobby -- dinner was coming soon.
Today we have plans to see Barry and his family -- brunch in the Grove. Scott is headed back to Maryland for his final college semester. As Willie sang -- ain't it funny how time slips away...
I remember the farewell breakfast at LOL. Four years in the past? Amazing.
I hope Scott gets similar feelings when he strolls around College Park. If you're lucky, college is really a sacred place in time.
I never tire of going back there.
Saturday, January 12, 2019
Time Passages -- the D2 Trees
So much of our stress, I've come to understand, is our inability to live in the moment, to truly savor the present. At least in my case, my monkey brain always jumps ahead -- what's coming next, and how do I strategize best? What awful news is coming with that next phone call? Sadly, it's the birthright from my beloved Dad, a world class worrier.
I always try to enjoy the milestones in life -- birthdays, anniversaries, and especially the natural events that recur.
We have a bunch of plants around the house Wifey has named the D2 trees. They grow VERY tall, if we let them, and once per year bloom with gorgeous reddish and white flower clusters. And they always bloom around D2's birthday, in early February.
Each year I await the blooms, like folks up North await the first returning birds in Spring.
Sure enough, just this morning, as I went to fetch the paper, I saw the first small flowers showing -- right on schedule. D2 turns 27 in just over three weeks. By the time of her birthday, they'll be heavily in bloom, dropping the gorgeous clusters off the trees...
We had planned to visit NYC for D2's birthday, but she and Jonathan are coming the weekend before. Jonathan, being part of a large, loving Latin Jewish family, always has family events, and there is a wedding up in Parkland on a Saturday, and a nephew's Bar Mitzvah in Sunny Isles on a Monday morning.
I made reservations for the Full Squad for Sunday night -- a place in Wynwood D1 enjoys. I plan on a few martinis that night -- the better to stay in and appreciate the moment.
2019 is starting out with travel for my family. Next weekend D2 and Jonathan are headed to Mexico City for his best friend's wedding. Two weeks after that, D1 and Joey have a family trip to Bogota. Wifey and I are driving to Key West for two nights -- a favorite band of mine, Hot Tuna, is playing there.
I've been on a quest to see the old bands before they die -- we saw the Who, and Paul McCartney, and have tickets for ELO and the Rolling Stones.
I love Key West -- and have, since I first visited in 1984. Cynics say it's too commercialized, but I still get a wonderful sense of place there -- drinking in the Chart Room, and having breakfast at Blue Heaven with the chickens running underfoot.
We may take a sunset sail on our second night there -- the old schooner Western Union goes out each night -- that never gets old for me.
So I'm planning ahead, belying my hopes to stay in the moment. I think I'll brew another cup of coffee and go look again at the D2 trees...
I always try to enjoy the milestones in life -- birthdays, anniversaries, and especially the natural events that recur.
We have a bunch of plants around the house Wifey has named the D2 trees. They grow VERY tall, if we let them, and once per year bloom with gorgeous reddish and white flower clusters. And they always bloom around D2's birthday, in early February.
Each year I await the blooms, like folks up North await the first returning birds in Spring.
Sure enough, just this morning, as I went to fetch the paper, I saw the first small flowers showing -- right on schedule. D2 turns 27 in just over three weeks. By the time of her birthday, they'll be heavily in bloom, dropping the gorgeous clusters off the trees...
We had planned to visit NYC for D2's birthday, but she and Jonathan are coming the weekend before. Jonathan, being part of a large, loving Latin Jewish family, always has family events, and there is a wedding up in Parkland on a Saturday, and a nephew's Bar Mitzvah in Sunny Isles on a Monday morning.
I made reservations for the Full Squad for Sunday night -- a place in Wynwood D1 enjoys. I plan on a few martinis that night -- the better to stay in and appreciate the moment.
2019 is starting out with travel for my family. Next weekend D2 and Jonathan are headed to Mexico City for his best friend's wedding. Two weeks after that, D1 and Joey have a family trip to Bogota. Wifey and I are driving to Key West for two nights -- a favorite band of mine, Hot Tuna, is playing there.
I've been on a quest to see the old bands before they die -- we saw the Who, and Paul McCartney, and have tickets for ELO and the Rolling Stones.
I love Key West -- and have, since I first visited in 1984. Cynics say it's too commercialized, but I still get a wonderful sense of place there -- drinking in the Chart Room, and having breakfast at Blue Heaven with the chickens running underfoot.
We may take a sunset sail on our second night there -- the old schooner Western Union goes out each night -- that never gets old for me.
So I'm planning ahead, belying my hopes to stay in the moment. I think I'll brew another cup of coffee and go look again at the D2 trees...
Friday, January 11, 2019
Staying Put
One of the things I've learned about being married for over three decades is that women get restless. In Wifey's case, she worked for many years, raised our Ds, and is now in another stage of her life. Over the past year, she keeps saying she needs "change," and for her that has meant moving. She is "tired of the suburbs" and thinks we ought to go somewhere we can walk to things -- maybe Coconut Grove, or maybe to Morningside, which would be right next to D1 and Joey.
The problem is, I LOVE living where we do now. I truly feel I have found a special home, a true oasis from the craziness of modern life, a near acre property where I stroll each morning and feel like Jay Gatsby in a tropical setting. We have a gate at the front of the driveway, and each time I return home from far or near, it's as if my mother is welcoming me back into her arms. We've been here nearly 18 years -- the longest time I've ever lived in any one house. I really, really, really do not wish to move.
Part of the problem is my fear of sharing part of my Dad's fate. In 1979 my Mom was also restless, and she surprised Dad and me by returning from a trip to Florida to move her mother into a nursing home and announcing she had bought a condo in Delray -- we were moving. Dad loved Florida, and after he convinced me to come here as well, for college, he was happy with the change.
But he could never stand the military barracks-like condo Mom chose -- only since her brother and two sisters had bought there as well. My Dad had visited a retired customer of his at Admiral's Port, in what is now Aventura -- that was his speed -- upscale (at the time) building with a view of Biscayne Bay. But instead he went along with my Mom's call, and never liked living in Kings Point. Fortunately, he only had to put up with it for three years, as he died young.
The lesson for me, though, is as much as I wish to please Wifey, when my gut tells me I don't want to go along with something, I'm going to listen to it.
Part of the problem is the absurdly high prices in Miami. As I wish to have the freedom to work less in the future, I told Wifey I would NOT buy a place with very high real estate taxes. That would mean a house, still 7 figures, but half what our current house is now worth. And, it turns out, these days, in Morningside, that means a non-renovated, tiny place.
I see myself there, the first day, lamenting some annoying neighbor, and kicking myself for leaving Pinecrest.
Well -- the other day, we had a breakthrough -- Wifey has agreed we can stay at Villa Wifey. Coincidentally, USA Today published a list of the best cities to live in each of the 50 states, and our village was their choice for Florida. And for good reason.
The compromise (isn't there always a compromise in a long marriage?) is that Wifey gets to totally re-decorate. It's probably time -- I read that houses ought to get that done every 10 years or so, and we're already way past that. If it means we happily stay here, I'm all in.
I checked WAZE yesterday, and in times of lower traffic, we can make it door to door from our house to D1 and Joey's in 31 minutes. Yes -- not as convenient as the 5 minute trip Joey's parents have, but certainly not a big deal to me.
So if we're blessed to become grandparents, I will happily make the drive as often as Wifey wishes. And dare I dream into the future -- well, sitting at my pond with a grandkid, explaining a bit about Miami biology and ecology -- that wouldn't be such a bad thing.
I never forget how lucky we are that this is a "problem" for us -- a truly "First World" problem, as the writers call it.
Still, it gives me some inner peace to know that, for now at least, we are staying put.
The other night, after Wifey's agreement, we stood out on our balcony in the cool evening air. The sound was...crickets. Looking East, we could see many stars. It was so...peaceful.
Wifey agreed she could "rough it" for the coming years. So hopefully no more deluge of texts and emails showing condos and houses for sale, all of which I just delete and tell Wifey I reviewed carefully.
I look forward to the continued comical sound of squawking peafowl. I look forward to being able to NOT see neighbors when I so choose. I look forward to staying in a home that I truly fell in love with in 2000, and has been so good to us as we raised our family here.
It really gives me some peace of mind.
The problem is, I LOVE living where we do now. I truly feel I have found a special home, a true oasis from the craziness of modern life, a near acre property where I stroll each morning and feel like Jay Gatsby in a tropical setting. We have a gate at the front of the driveway, and each time I return home from far or near, it's as if my mother is welcoming me back into her arms. We've been here nearly 18 years -- the longest time I've ever lived in any one house. I really, really, really do not wish to move.
Part of the problem is my fear of sharing part of my Dad's fate. In 1979 my Mom was also restless, and she surprised Dad and me by returning from a trip to Florida to move her mother into a nursing home and announcing she had bought a condo in Delray -- we were moving. Dad loved Florida, and after he convinced me to come here as well, for college, he was happy with the change.
But he could never stand the military barracks-like condo Mom chose -- only since her brother and two sisters had bought there as well. My Dad had visited a retired customer of his at Admiral's Port, in what is now Aventura -- that was his speed -- upscale (at the time) building with a view of Biscayne Bay. But instead he went along with my Mom's call, and never liked living in Kings Point. Fortunately, he only had to put up with it for three years, as he died young.
The lesson for me, though, is as much as I wish to please Wifey, when my gut tells me I don't want to go along with something, I'm going to listen to it.
Part of the problem is the absurdly high prices in Miami. As I wish to have the freedom to work less in the future, I told Wifey I would NOT buy a place with very high real estate taxes. That would mean a house, still 7 figures, but half what our current house is now worth. And, it turns out, these days, in Morningside, that means a non-renovated, tiny place.
I see myself there, the first day, lamenting some annoying neighbor, and kicking myself for leaving Pinecrest.
Well -- the other day, we had a breakthrough -- Wifey has agreed we can stay at Villa Wifey. Coincidentally, USA Today published a list of the best cities to live in each of the 50 states, and our village was their choice for Florida. And for good reason.
The compromise (isn't there always a compromise in a long marriage?) is that Wifey gets to totally re-decorate. It's probably time -- I read that houses ought to get that done every 10 years or so, and we're already way past that. If it means we happily stay here, I'm all in.
I checked WAZE yesterday, and in times of lower traffic, we can make it door to door from our house to D1 and Joey's in 31 minutes. Yes -- not as convenient as the 5 minute trip Joey's parents have, but certainly not a big deal to me.
So if we're blessed to become grandparents, I will happily make the drive as often as Wifey wishes. And dare I dream into the future -- well, sitting at my pond with a grandkid, explaining a bit about Miami biology and ecology -- that wouldn't be such a bad thing.
I never forget how lucky we are that this is a "problem" for us -- a truly "First World" problem, as the writers call it.
Still, it gives me some inner peace to know that, for now at least, we are staying put.
The other night, after Wifey's agreement, we stood out on our balcony in the cool evening air. The sound was...crickets. Looking East, we could see many stars. It was so...peaceful.
Wifey agreed she could "rough it" for the coming years. So hopefully no more deluge of texts and emails showing condos and houses for sale, all of which I just delete and tell Wifey I reviewed carefully.
I look forward to the continued comical sound of squawking peafowl. I look forward to being able to NOT see neighbors when I so choose. I look forward to staying in a home that I truly fell in love with in 2000, and has been so good to us as we raised our family here.
It really gives me some peace of mind.
Wednesday, January 9, 2019
A Dog's Birthday
Wifey and I are not yet blessed with grandchildren, but we do have two fine grand dogs, and today is the 10th birthday of the oldest, Madeleine. And that dog has brought more joy and happiness to our family that I would have thought doggedly possible.
Mads is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, a breed I probably never noticed before. And then, probably in '07, for Halloween, D1 surprised us with a visit home from college. She enjoyed giving out candy to the neighborhood trick or treaters, and as we did so that evening, our neighbors, the Warmans, came by. They had their two kids in tow (one has since tragically died young of cancer) and an adorable little dog named Peca, which is Spanish for freckle. D1 fell in love with Peca -- asked all about her from her dog Mom, who happens to share D1's first name. The puppy seed was planted.
D1 found a Cavalier breeder in West Palm, and during one return trip from UF, in '09, we picked up Madeleine. She slept on D1's feet the entire way back to Miami. She always liked to sleep a lot.
D1 took Mads back to Gville for her senior year, and has been velcroed to her side ever since. They graduated together, and moved back to Miami, where both enrolled in FIU for a MS in Dietetics. Mads lived with D1 on Brickell, with various roommates, and helped her write her thesis, get through a tough internship, and first job at Jackson Memorial.
Wifey and I got to dog sit, often, and Mads was always a pleasure to have. The only wrinkle was that D1 wanted her to be a part of her wedding to Joey, and our orthodox rabbi put the kibbosh on that -- Mads didn't have enough money to contribute to his shul, which may have reversed his decision. So Mads waited patiently back at the East Hotel.
D1 got Mads certified as a therapy dog, and she has spent hours at children's libraries. Research showed that kids who might be embarrassed to read to humans have zero reluctance to read to dogs, as the dogs usually don't correct them (unless they're those way smart sheep dogs), and so Mads did a real public service. Also, she calms D1's clients -- snoring happily while the clients get advice about healthy eating.
Yesterday D1 dropped Mads off at the house, where she happily joined our other grand dog, Bo, and the strange rescue Vienna. D1 and Joey are leaving Friday for a staycation weekend in Lauderdale -- some snooty place where no dogs, even non threatening ones, are allowed.
Andy Rooney once said that the best people he ever met are dogs. And he's typically correct.
For this one little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, I honor her first decade, and thank her for all she has meant to my family, especially D1. Rock on, Madeleine.
Mads is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, a breed I probably never noticed before. And then, probably in '07, for Halloween, D1 surprised us with a visit home from college. She enjoyed giving out candy to the neighborhood trick or treaters, and as we did so that evening, our neighbors, the Warmans, came by. They had their two kids in tow (one has since tragically died young of cancer) and an adorable little dog named Peca, which is Spanish for freckle. D1 fell in love with Peca -- asked all about her from her dog Mom, who happens to share D1's first name. The puppy seed was planted.
D1 found a Cavalier breeder in West Palm, and during one return trip from UF, in '09, we picked up Madeleine. She slept on D1's feet the entire way back to Miami. She always liked to sleep a lot.
D1 took Mads back to Gville for her senior year, and has been velcroed to her side ever since. They graduated together, and moved back to Miami, where both enrolled in FIU for a MS in Dietetics. Mads lived with D1 on Brickell, with various roommates, and helped her write her thesis, get through a tough internship, and first job at Jackson Memorial.
Wifey and I got to dog sit, often, and Mads was always a pleasure to have. The only wrinkle was that D1 wanted her to be a part of her wedding to Joey, and our orthodox rabbi put the kibbosh on that -- Mads didn't have enough money to contribute to his shul, which may have reversed his decision. So Mads waited patiently back at the East Hotel.
D1 got Mads certified as a therapy dog, and she has spent hours at children's libraries. Research showed that kids who might be embarrassed to read to humans have zero reluctance to read to dogs, as the dogs usually don't correct them (unless they're those way smart sheep dogs), and so Mads did a real public service. Also, she calms D1's clients -- snoring happily while the clients get advice about healthy eating.
Yesterday D1 dropped Mads off at the house, where she happily joined our other grand dog, Bo, and the strange rescue Vienna. D1 and Joey are leaving Friday for a staycation weekend in Lauderdale -- some snooty place where no dogs, even non threatening ones, are allowed.
Andy Rooney once said that the best people he ever met are dogs. And he's typically correct.
For this one little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, I honor her first decade, and thank her for all she has meant to my family, especially D1. Rock on, Madeleine.
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Three Baby Girls in April of '92
Two of my dear friends from UM Law, Class of '86, are Mike and Jeff. We met as 1Ls, and all married up. D1 was the first child born to this group, and Loni and Lili, seeing how easy a baby she was, decided to have daughters, too. But Wifey and I beat them to the baby punch: D2 was born in February, 1992.
Amanda followed close behind, on February 29, 1992, meaning that she is today only 6 years old, and Melinda came in early March.
One of my happiest memories is a party Jeff and Lili threw at their house in South Miami, in April of '92. Maybe it was following Melinda's baby naming. We placed the three baby girls in their car seats on the living room floor, all wearing ribbons around their heads. Lili's father, Dr. Roberto Cano, long since passed, was taking photos, and I noticed most of them were of D2. I went up to him and asked if he could send us copies, and he was puzzled -- why would we want all those pictures of his granddaughter? I laughed -- and pointed out to him that Melinda was his, and that he was taking pix of D2. He laughed, and it really wasn't his fault -- they all kind of looked alike.
Those three babies all grew into amazing young women. Amanda and D2 remained very close friends -- it helped that they went to Middle School and High School together. Melinda went off to Dartmouth, Amanda to USC in LA, and D2 up to Florida. Amanda works in the entertainment business in LA, D2 is a corporate recruiter in New Jersey, and Melinda is getting a Master's in Architecture at Yale.
And today, the first of that trio of adorable baby girls is getting married -- Melinda is marrying a fine young man she met at Summer camp. Tom grew up in Israel and is now a nurse in New Haven. He's tall and handsome and very, very nice.
So this afternoon we'll head to Temple Beth Am, the VERY wealthy reform temple 10 minutes away. I know Jeff and Lili will be beaming. Mike and I will be drinking. It'll be a privilege to see our friend's wonderful daughter begin her life with her beloved.
And I know I'll have "Sunrise, Sunset" playing in my head. That song, better than any other I know, reflects the wistfulness of aging -- watching babies grow to become brides and grooms, as the years swiftly flow past.
The three young women turn 27 in the coming months. Their births seem much closer in time.
On NYE, Amanda came by our house with Ben after dinner at Joe's. I caught a glimpse of her and D2 giggling together at something. It brought me back in time.
It's lovely getting to mark the milestones of life. Today is a huge one. I'm lucky to attend.
Amanda followed close behind, on February 29, 1992, meaning that she is today only 6 years old, and Melinda came in early March.
One of my happiest memories is a party Jeff and Lili threw at their house in South Miami, in April of '92. Maybe it was following Melinda's baby naming. We placed the three baby girls in their car seats on the living room floor, all wearing ribbons around their heads. Lili's father, Dr. Roberto Cano, long since passed, was taking photos, and I noticed most of them were of D2. I went up to him and asked if he could send us copies, and he was puzzled -- why would we want all those pictures of his granddaughter? I laughed -- and pointed out to him that Melinda was his, and that he was taking pix of D2. He laughed, and it really wasn't his fault -- they all kind of looked alike.
Those three babies all grew into amazing young women. Amanda and D2 remained very close friends -- it helped that they went to Middle School and High School together. Melinda went off to Dartmouth, Amanda to USC in LA, and D2 up to Florida. Amanda works in the entertainment business in LA, D2 is a corporate recruiter in New Jersey, and Melinda is getting a Master's in Architecture at Yale.
And today, the first of that trio of adorable baby girls is getting married -- Melinda is marrying a fine young man she met at Summer camp. Tom grew up in Israel and is now a nurse in New Haven. He's tall and handsome and very, very nice.
So this afternoon we'll head to Temple Beth Am, the VERY wealthy reform temple 10 minutes away. I know Jeff and Lili will be beaming. Mike and I will be drinking. It'll be a privilege to see our friend's wonderful daughter begin her life with her beloved.
And I know I'll have "Sunrise, Sunset" playing in my head. That song, better than any other I know, reflects the wistfulness of aging -- watching babies grow to become brides and grooms, as the years swiftly flow past.
The three young women turn 27 in the coming months. Their births seem much closer in time.
On NYE, Amanda came by our house with Ben after dinner at Joe's. I caught a glimpse of her and D2 giggling together at something. It brought me back in time.
It's lovely getting to mark the milestones of life. Today is a huge one. I'm lucky to attend.
Saturday, January 5, 2019
Death on the Highway
I was thrilled when the Ds were accepted into UF. First, the place has become as selective as some Ivy League colleges -- one neighbor got into Cornell and rejected at UF (Cornell wanted her because she was Hispanic, and UF may have figured that she wasn't serious about attending -- she had come from a ritzy private high school).
And, as my father's son, I have become wildly skeptical of the whole college industry -- I am convinced that sending kids to private colleges is somewhat of a scam -- preying on parents' desire to be able to say "My kid goes to Duke" more than anything else. So, when they chose UF, which was essentially a free ride given Bright Futures and the prepaid plan, I was very happy.
Except for one thing: the drive to Gainesville. Years before, a PI lawyer I knew suffered an awful tragedy. His name was Murray, and his son Alan, a Palmetto grad, like my Ds, got into a crash on the Turnpike while driving back to Miami from UF, killing himself, and also a girl named Keri, who was a NMB High classmate of my partner Paul's daughter Tracy. Murray and his wife Cheryl were of course devastated -- both parents died not too many years later, ostensibly from cancer, but truly of broken hearts.
Their family plot is right across the road from my father in law's grave, and whenever we visit Richard, I'm sure to place three stones on the graves of Murray, Cheryl, and Alan.
So the drive to Gville scared the hell out of me. Often I would drive WITH the Ds, and then fly home, but for D1's years Continental Express ran a commuter flight to MIA, and I would insist D1 take it.
Later, when D2 was there, American Eagle started offering two daily flights, on a jet, no less, and we became frequent customers.
The best part of D2 graduating with her Master's in '15 was knowing I wouldn't have those long drives to worry about anymore.
And sure enough, yesterday my nightmare made the news. A church van from LA was stuck by a semi trailer that came across the median, also hitting another semi. Both truck drivers died, as well as FIVE kids in the van -- they were heading to Disney, of course.
I imagine the van moments before tragedy struck -- these were kids going to Disney world! Were they singing? Were they chatting about what rides they would take?
All I know is, an awful fate overtook them -- and their small town in the Bayou will never recover.
Last night we were so blessed -- Wifey and I met D1 and Joey for dinner at Amara, favorite chef Michael Schwartz's new place in Edgewater. We all have our health back after a December of illness - in D1's case, far worse than the rest of us.
We toasted (well, Joey and I did) and talked of our families, and the future. It was a delightful evening.
So I feel, deeply, for the families of the people killed on I-75. It could be any of us. We must be grateful when it isn't.
And, as my father's son, I have become wildly skeptical of the whole college industry -- I am convinced that sending kids to private colleges is somewhat of a scam -- preying on parents' desire to be able to say "My kid goes to Duke" more than anything else. So, when they chose UF, which was essentially a free ride given Bright Futures and the prepaid plan, I was very happy.
Except for one thing: the drive to Gainesville. Years before, a PI lawyer I knew suffered an awful tragedy. His name was Murray, and his son Alan, a Palmetto grad, like my Ds, got into a crash on the Turnpike while driving back to Miami from UF, killing himself, and also a girl named Keri, who was a NMB High classmate of my partner Paul's daughter Tracy. Murray and his wife Cheryl were of course devastated -- both parents died not too many years later, ostensibly from cancer, but truly of broken hearts.
Their family plot is right across the road from my father in law's grave, and whenever we visit Richard, I'm sure to place three stones on the graves of Murray, Cheryl, and Alan.
So the drive to Gville scared the hell out of me. Often I would drive WITH the Ds, and then fly home, but for D1's years Continental Express ran a commuter flight to MIA, and I would insist D1 take it.
Later, when D2 was there, American Eagle started offering two daily flights, on a jet, no less, and we became frequent customers.
The best part of D2 graduating with her Master's in '15 was knowing I wouldn't have those long drives to worry about anymore.
And sure enough, yesterday my nightmare made the news. A church van from LA was stuck by a semi trailer that came across the median, also hitting another semi. Both truck drivers died, as well as FIVE kids in the van -- they were heading to Disney, of course.
I imagine the van moments before tragedy struck -- these were kids going to Disney world! Were they singing? Were they chatting about what rides they would take?
All I know is, an awful fate overtook them -- and their small town in the Bayou will never recover.
Last night we were so blessed -- Wifey and I met D1 and Joey for dinner at Amara, favorite chef Michael Schwartz's new place in Edgewater. We all have our health back after a December of illness - in D1's case, far worse than the rest of us.
We toasted (well, Joey and I did) and talked of our families, and the future. It was a delightful evening.
So I feel, deeply, for the families of the people killed on I-75. It could be any of us. We must be grateful when it isn't.
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Thirty Two
NYE '86-'87 was our rehearsal dinner. We brought in Canton, of course, and gathered our wedding party at our tiny house on SW 125 Terrace. My in laws and mother were there, as well as then both out of state sisters and brother in law. My nephew and niece were in the wedding party. Funny how things change -- we haven't spoken in years and likely won't again. That's life.
On January 2, 1987, my bachelor party consisted of watching the Canes play for their second national title. They had a superior team and were going to dispatch Penn State. Vinny Testaverde decided to make it an interception fest, and threw a final pick to seal our loss. Mark, now a big shot brain surgeon in NY, turned to me and said "Wedding's off now, right?" Wifey found that not funny in the least. Nah, I said -- might as well go ahead -- my in laws already paid.
So the next day we checked into the Hyatt Downtown, and dressed, and then, that night, walked down the aisle to the chuppah set up.
Wifey's party were her friends Jeannette, Linda, and Mimi, and our then niece. Wifey's BFF Edna couldn't travel from Atlanta -- she was about to give birth to Erica, her delightful daughter. To this day Edna thinks we should have moved the wedding date.
Wifey is still friends with Jeanette and Linda. Mimi has fallen by the wayside in our life, though she still lives in Miami.
My men were Eric, Barry, Mike, Mark, lawyer Jeff and doctor Jeff, and my then nephew.
Wifey's parents walked her down the aisle. For me, it was my Mom, and her brother Marty -- my beloved Dad was gone 4 and a half years by then.
The ceremony was nice -- we had the rabbi, who was a relief rabbi, quote some Dylan. Our scheduled rabbi dropped out to get a free trip to Israel.
My father in law, large man, took out some flower arrangements as he came down the aisle. I remember that well. I also remember my mother's friend Mae giving a toast, in heroic couplets, which started out cute and then went on far, far too long -- as it turned out, exactly like Mae's friendship with my Mom...
Our friend Pat Travers, with three gold records, jammed with the wedding band, and was amazing, although Wifey's friend Eileen, very drunk, decided to make herself Janis Joplin and sang "Good Lovin'" while Pat and the band played "Gimme some lovin.'" An honest mistake, which the professional Pat immediately corrected...
We pledged to build a life together, and shelter each other from those storms. Mission, so far, accomplished -- Wifey and I have built a life together beyond our wildest dreams of that night thirty two years ago. And the storms -- as recent as last month -- we faced together, with strength and love.
So the snapshot of that wedding party shows how life changes. I'm still very close with most of my groomsmen -- just celebrated NYE with Mike and Barry, in fact. This Sunday, lawyer Jeff's oldest is getting married, and we will be there. Lawyer Jeff hasn't been a lawyer for 24 years -- he always WAS the smartest of our bunch.
I rarely see surgeon Mark, or doctor Jeff, but keep in touch with FaceBook, and do get together from time to time. The nephew has left the family and wants nothing to do with anyone. I hope he has friends like I do -- not sure how you get through this life without them.
I'm a very lucky man. And key parts of the luck have truly meant success or failure in life. Choosing Wifey was key, and I think she'd say the same about marrying me.
So happy 32, Wifey. Let's keep building our lives together. Daresay even with another generation of our family?
On January 2, 1987, my bachelor party consisted of watching the Canes play for their second national title. They had a superior team and were going to dispatch Penn State. Vinny Testaverde decided to make it an interception fest, and threw a final pick to seal our loss. Mark, now a big shot brain surgeon in NY, turned to me and said "Wedding's off now, right?" Wifey found that not funny in the least. Nah, I said -- might as well go ahead -- my in laws already paid.
So the next day we checked into the Hyatt Downtown, and dressed, and then, that night, walked down the aisle to the chuppah set up.
Wifey's party were her friends Jeannette, Linda, and Mimi, and our then niece. Wifey's BFF Edna couldn't travel from Atlanta -- she was about to give birth to Erica, her delightful daughter. To this day Edna thinks we should have moved the wedding date.
Wifey is still friends with Jeanette and Linda. Mimi has fallen by the wayside in our life, though she still lives in Miami.
My men were Eric, Barry, Mike, Mark, lawyer Jeff and doctor Jeff, and my then nephew.
Wifey's parents walked her down the aisle. For me, it was my Mom, and her brother Marty -- my beloved Dad was gone 4 and a half years by then.
The ceremony was nice -- we had the rabbi, who was a relief rabbi, quote some Dylan. Our scheduled rabbi dropped out to get a free trip to Israel.
My father in law, large man, took out some flower arrangements as he came down the aisle. I remember that well. I also remember my mother's friend Mae giving a toast, in heroic couplets, which started out cute and then went on far, far too long -- as it turned out, exactly like Mae's friendship with my Mom...
Our friend Pat Travers, with three gold records, jammed with the wedding band, and was amazing, although Wifey's friend Eileen, very drunk, decided to make herself Janis Joplin and sang "Good Lovin'" while Pat and the band played "Gimme some lovin.'" An honest mistake, which the professional Pat immediately corrected...
We pledged to build a life together, and shelter each other from those storms. Mission, so far, accomplished -- Wifey and I have built a life together beyond our wildest dreams of that night thirty two years ago. And the storms -- as recent as last month -- we faced together, with strength and love.
So the snapshot of that wedding party shows how life changes. I'm still very close with most of my groomsmen -- just celebrated NYE with Mike and Barry, in fact. This Sunday, lawyer Jeff's oldest is getting married, and we will be there. Lawyer Jeff hasn't been a lawyer for 24 years -- he always WAS the smartest of our bunch.
I rarely see surgeon Mark, or doctor Jeff, but keep in touch with FaceBook, and do get together from time to time. The nephew has left the family and wants nothing to do with anyone. I hope he has friends like I do -- not sure how you get through this life without them.
I'm a very lucky man. And key parts of the luck have truly meant success or failure in life. Choosing Wifey was key, and I think she'd say the same about marrying me.
So happy 32, Wifey. Let's keep building our lives together. Daresay even with another generation of our family?
Wednesday, January 2, 2019
Adios 2018
I was talking with my brother Paul early on NYE, and he asked my thoughts about the year that was ending. Without hesitation, I answered that it was a pretty good year that ended badly, at least for my family, in the health department.
And for D1, it was really the worst month of her young life. She fully recovered from a serious, limited condition, then had a bad stomach issue, which also resolved, and she thought normalcy had returned. Not so fast. She came down with the same type of nasty upper respiratory bug I had, which for me was the worst ever. She'll recover, but the damn thing will keep her down a bit longer.
The NYE plan I came up with was two orders of stone crabs -- one for the older folks here, and one sent up to Shorecrest for a party for the Ds and their men and Joey's brother and sister in law. Well, early on NYE, D1 called -- she was just so sick, the thought of anyone over was a bad one. So we had to scramble -- newly engaged D2 and Jonathan had to celebrate their first betrothed NYE in some way.
So Jonathan agreed to come here, and invited his friend Joey, who is getting married in Mexico at the end of the month -- but his fiancee was with her family in Mexico City. D2 and I trekked to Golden Rule, and found a mob scene -- but I had ordered ahead, and we watched as our 20 lbs of crab claws were carefully cracked. I needed to take out a mortgage to pay for the delicacies, but it was worth it -- the best we ever tasted, and even leftovers for Joey which Jonathan, now dubbed JonathanEATS, dropped off on his way back to Aventura.
The party turned out, well, great. I started drinking early, with D2 and Jonathan sampling some high level mezcal they had requested, while I poured myself martinis. I was inspired for some practical joking, and indeed called my rabbi friend Yossi with the young-uns there. I told him in a solemn voice that Jonathan had just told me one of his grandparents had converted. There was hesitation in Yossi's voice -- "really?" We're not religious, but know Yossi can't marry a couple unless they're both, to the eyes of his very orthodox sect, legally Jewish. So I could tell poor Yossi was thinking he was going to have to let down his friend. Nah -- just kidding. He laughed. We all did. It set the tone for a night of laughter.
Barry and Donna, and Norman and Deb, and Mike and Loni all showed, and we toasted several times with some champagne. The three young ones ate by themselves, but joined us for toasts. Later, Amanda and Ben, lifelong and since middle school friends of D2's, came over, following their dinner at Joe's. Miami loves NYE with stone crabs. We watched the Times Square ball drop. We feasted. It was a fine night.
I texted D1 and Joey "Happy '17!" The next am D1 questioned me. I explained it was the martinis -- '17 and '19 are both odd numbers -- I was close.
I fetched fresh bagels. Wifey came down, and D2 and Jonathan and I spent a most chill first day of the year -- though the young ones did take a nice bike ride, up to Wayside Market for lunch. I zealously guarded the couch, and napped to college football, before packing up the leftovers for Joey.
So, the Big Man gave us another year -- and I could have done without its final month. But even that is wrong of me -- D1 is stronger, for having endured her December horibilis, and will that much more appreciate the days to come. More than two weeks out from my nasty bug, I'm finally without the nagging cough. It's a pleasure.
And I'm up absurdly early today, but for a reason: D2 and Jonathan have a 6:45 am flight back to the City. Dadber is back for D2, and he runs all hours, though he was down on Xmas eve when D2 arrived. Momber took over. This am, Momber sleeps in.
And the celebrations aren't over -- Wifey and I have a 32nd anniversary to acknowledge, tomorrow. For us, that marks the true end of the holidays -- starting with TDay and D1's birthday, and running through January 3. I'm thinking low key this year -- probably some take in, and maybe sitting on the porch in the cool evening air, reflecting on the life we have built together over the past three decades.
All I know is, we've been doing what we set out to do on January 3, 1987. We used to be the ones to host NYE, and we still are. I love to mark the milestones in life, and the turn of a new year seems as good as any.
So I say goodbye, '18. As for the health scares -- good riddance. I'm hoping for a big change in '19 for all of us...
And for D1, it was really the worst month of her young life. She fully recovered from a serious, limited condition, then had a bad stomach issue, which also resolved, and she thought normalcy had returned. Not so fast. She came down with the same type of nasty upper respiratory bug I had, which for me was the worst ever. She'll recover, but the damn thing will keep her down a bit longer.
The NYE plan I came up with was two orders of stone crabs -- one for the older folks here, and one sent up to Shorecrest for a party for the Ds and their men and Joey's brother and sister in law. Well, early on NYE, D1 called -- she was just so sick, the thought of anyone over was a bad one. So we had to scramble -- newly engaged D2 and Jonathan had to celebrate their first betrothed NYE in some way.
So Jonathan agreed to come here, and invited his friend Joey, who is getting married in Mexico at the end of the month -- but his fiancee was with her family in Mexico City. D2 and I trekked to Golden Rule, and found a mob scene -- but I had ordered ahead, and we watched as our 20 lbs of crab claws were carefully cracked. I needed to take out a mortgage to pay for the delicacies, but it was worth it -- the best we ever tasted, and even leftovers for Joey which Jonathan, now dubbed JonathanEATS, dropped off on his way back to Aventura.
The party turned out, well, great. I started drinking early, with D2 and Jonathan sampling some high level mezcal they had requested, while I poured myself martinis. I was inspired for some practical joking, and indeed called my rabbi friend Yossi with the young-uns there. I told him in a solemn voice that Jonathan had just told me one of his grandparents had converted. There was hesitation in Yossi's voice -- "really?" We're not religious, but know Yossi can't marry a couple unless they're both, to the eyes of his very orthodox sect, legally Jewish. So I could tell poor Yossi was thinking he was going to have to let down his friend. Nah -- just kidding. He laughed. We all did. It set the tone for a night of laughter.
Barry and Donna, and Norman and Deb, and Mike and Loni all showed, and we toasted several times with some champagne. The three young ones ate by themselves, but joined us for toasts. Later, Amanda and Ben, lifelong and since middle school friends of D2's, came over, following their dinner at Joe's. Miami loves NYE with stone crabs. We watched the Times Square ball drop. We feasted. It was a fine night.
I texted D1 and Joey "Happy '17!" The next am D1 questioned me. I explained it was the martinis -- '17 and '19 are both odd numbers -- I was close.
I fetched fresh bagels. Wifey came down, and D2 and Jonathan and I spent a most chill first day of the year -- though the young ones did take a nice bike ride, up to Wayside Market for lunch. I zealously guarded the couch, and napped to college football, before packing up the leftovers for Joey.
So, the Big Man gave us another year -- and I could have done without its final month. But even that is wrong of me -- D1 is stronger, for having endured her December horibilis, and will that much more appreciate the days to come. More than two weeks out from my nasty bug, I'm finally without the nagging cough. It's a pleasure.
And I'm up absurdly early today, but for a reason: D2 and Jonathan have a 6:45 am flight back to the City. Dadber is back for D2, and he runs all hours, though he was down on Xmas eve when D2 arrived. Momber took over. This am, Momber sleeps in.
And the celebrations aren't over -- Wifey and I have a 32nd anniversary to acknowledge, tomorrow. For us, that marks the true end of the holidays -- starting with TDay and D1's birthday, and running through January 3. I'm thinking low key this year -- probably some take in, and maybe sitting on the porch in the cool evening air, reflecting on the life we have built together over the past three decades.
All I know is, we've been doing what we set out to do on January 3, 1987. We used to be the ones to host NYE, and we still are. I love to mark the milestones in life, and the turn of a new year seems as good as any.
So I say goodbye, '18. As for the health scares -- good riddance. I'm hoping for a big change in '19 for all of us...
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