Jabbed!

 So when they announced vaccinations for Covid were starting, I immediately went into my late Dad mode. He taught me that, from his years in the US Army, one can NEVER trust government to protect the individual. He survived his nearly 4 years of service through a combination of luck, savvy, and never volunteering. His lessons were imprinted on me.

I realized that the supposedly "for the greater good" rules were as solid as swiss cheese. I heard right away from a friend who got himself and his wife jabbed through a contact --I figured it was a pharmacist wife of a close childhood friend of theirs. Indeed it was.

Thankfully, my close doctor friends qualified right away, and got their spouses jabbed as well. But a not that sick, younger than 65 lawyer, and his wife, who is also younger than 65, seemed way down the list.

So I went into shuck and jive mode, to use a phrase I love but is no apparently no longer allowed because of racial undertones. Too bad -- these are plague times.

The details are comic, but too long, but the end result of my efforts was that I was indeed able to get a first dose of the Pfizer jab the second week of January, but, alas, Wifey was not. She got to the gates of the place but was turned away -- lacking my shucking and jiving ability. That's ok -- hopefully we'll get her shot soon.

But yesterday I got the coveted second dose, and it is a very major item now ticked off my to do list -- especially as I need to enter a phase of caregiving for a family member with a new health issue.

Of course -- I turned the event into a fun one. I was sporting my Canes gear, and the paramedic assigned to look over we recently jabbed seniors asked me if I felt ok. I faltered a bit, saying I felt maybe the vaccine had somehow sapped my thinking ability, and then let out a "Go Gators!" He and his two comrades buckled over in laughter. Gator jokes in Miami always kill.

I was invited, for the third Saturday in a row, out with Kenny and Joelle. Their brilliant and witty sons were home -- Kenny cooked up a big vat of Indian stew and rice. I received medical clearance from him to have a martini or two post jab -- his boy Adam insisted I have more than my usual just vodka and ice to celebrate. The drinks, like the dinner, were delicious.

We sat in their Florida room, socially distanced, but in wonderful conversation, about people and events from days long gone to the present. Kenny and I met when we were in 7th grade. A lot sure has gone on since then.

I came home to thoughts of the anti viral mRNA coursing through my immune system, ready to rally a huge F You to any corona virus that dares enter. Of course there are no guarantees, but it takes away a fear as I embark on a new phase of life.

Today, I think Joey is off to play golf, and D1 and the baby and the aging, spoiled Spaniel are coming over. Tomorrow, hopefully our life comes back to something closer to normal, given the health issue.

But at least I got done a nagging errand. High anxiety ought to have been an accepted co-morbidity, anyway.

As for my close family circle, Jonathan had and recovered from the virus. D2 never caught it, despite no quarantining from her husband. D1 is awaiting jab #2 -- she got the first as a licensed health care provider. Joey is on the list, too, as are my 4 consuegros -- I think Jonathan's Dad, 71, already got one jab.

Dr. Barry continues to talk me off the ledge regarding kids and Covid -- although some do get sick -- they almost always recover. Hopefully the grandson gets his jab in Spring or Summer.

Man -- a little piece of viral thread sure can have a huge effect on things. Hopefully we keep it at bay.

Whatever You Do, Don't Look Down

 So there's a risque riddle I first heard in college: what advice should be followed by both a tightrope walker and someone being intimate with an unattractive person? Whatever you do -- don't look down.

I thought about that the other day during one of my very long walks, and how the advice applies to the times we're now living in. Whatever you do -- don't keep thinking about all the negative things. It's tough advice to follow.

Even though I know it's bad for my soul and psyche, I doom scroll the news during the day -- the latest death tolls with the pandemic, and the fact that mutating variants of the virus may just laugh, microscopically, at the vaccines we now have.

Also, there have been two tragedies that hit me hard, even though I don't know the families directly. A UF freshman, Sophia, from right here in Pinecrest, was killed standing on the sidewalk on University Avenue -- a spot I've stood on many times, and the Ds literally hundreds of times. My friend Loni was her teacher at Palmetto High, and is just devastated by the news.

A week later, Norman was kind enough to pass along the news about a UM freshman -- a 4.0 pre med student killed in a car wreck up in Broward. His mother is a UM lawyer.

Yeah -- not good to add misery in a local level to misery on a worldwide level. But on the other hand, as the great character Tevye said, it also brings perspective. Compared to the unthinkable tragedies the Lambert and Travisano families are enduring -- well - our family issues are quite manageable.

And so I stroll my beautiful neighborhood, usually in the morning and then late afternoon or evening, trying to get to my daily 10 miles, and give thanks to the Big Man.

Yesterday was a hectic, by pandemic lockdown measures, day here at Villa Wifey. D2 came over to work with the enormous puppy, since she got word power was being cut for hours in her aging condo building. The joys of condo living -- especially in an 80s era structure -- something is always breaking in a big way.

Well, construction guys were here to install the new impact front door and two side windows we had bought last year. They put up a plastic sheet, and kept to just the front entrance area, but there was a LOT of loud banging and sawing and grinding. 

D2 retreated to a quiet area by the pool for her business calls, and then the gardener came, with a cacophony of my least favorite suburban sound -- the dreaded leaf blower. So D2 retreated into what we still call Grandma Sunny's room - actually a small bedroom built to be a maid's quarters -- but we never had a live - in maid. My dear mother took that room whenever she stayed -- it was small and cozy, with a full bath right outside the door -- she felt secure and comfortable there. So there was D2 on the single bed -- doing her work -- while the noise of the workers roared around her.

The installation crew got in the door, and, as I suspected, left the two windows for today. They'll be back in a few hours to hopefully finish. The young company co-owner, Charles, assured me it'd be a one day job -- I could tell there'd be no way. And that's fine -- storm season is months away.

But it just reaffirmed that I really, really don't like home construction projects. I joked with Wifey that next time we need painting -- it'll be time to move, instead of living through it.

The Ds Facetimed in the evening, and I was outside sitting in the dark. They asked me why. I told them I was savoring the quiet, after the tumult of the day.

I truly look forward when the plague is no longer front and center -- always hovering like an ominous storm cloud.

In the mean time, I'll just keep trudging on -- without looking down.

A Lot Can Sure Happen In A Year

 Today is D2 and Jonathan's first wedding anniversary. The thing I think I'll always remember about that evening is the light during the ceremony.

We gathered on the rooftop of the Betsy Hotel on South Beach -- across the sand from the spot near the ocean where I proposed the Wifey, and the hotel where we celebrated our 10th anniversary. We checked in there back in '97 following the Bris of my nephew of another brother, Scott. So a LOT of life events we've had surround that location.

But the light: it was sunset, and as the life giving ball fell over Downtown Miami, and to the West, the Everglades, somehow we were bathed in a yellow/orange that a Hollywood lighting director would have had a tough time recreating. It was clear and shimmering at the same time. At first, I thought my perception was due to the vodka we toasted with during the signing of the ketubah, or just my joy at seeing my precious D2 marry her besheret. But even Rabbi Yossi, who's done a few weddings in his tenure, mentioned it to me -- in fact, he said, it may have inspired him to do something he never did at a wedding before: refer to the Holocaust.

Both D2 and Jonathan are grandchildren of Survivors, and Rabbi Yossi noted that the two were very clear symbols of a people destined by an evil one for destruction, who nonetheless survived and indeed thrived. If you were lucky to be there and have a soul -- you were moved by his message.

Anyway, what followed was a night of feasting and drinking, and mostly, dancing. D1 and Joey had our precious 6 week old grandson in a room upstairs, and knowing that precious boy was in the house -- well - our cups runneth (ranneth?) over.

And then life played on. Joyfully, the grandson grew, and thrived. He's now a beautiful 13 month old boy -- already showing signs of who he will be -- curious, charming, and hilarious. He's close to walking -- he does so now holding on to a wheeled toy or grownup. He focuses on things, like his mother did. And then he looks up at you and smiles, and you melt.

Oh yeah -- another small thing happened: a once in a century, worldwide pandemic. Weeks after the wedding, we started hearing about this new virus. A year later, we're still battling it, and living in fear of it.

There was a political upheaval that brought us closer to civil war than at any time since the Civil War. Oh boy.

Thankfully, Science moved historically fast, and there are vaccines -- if we can get them into arms fast enough, life may return to sort of normal by Fall. Our country was wounded, but made it through. May Trump rot, along with those who continue to support him.

Closer to home, we've dealt with some health issues that were VERY scary. Here too, we seem to be on the path to recovery and healing, though like the recovery from the corona virus, it'll be a marathon and not a sprint.

Through my life, I was never one who felt famous people were really close to me. Celebrities would die, and I was like, oh well -- not my close friend or family. An exception to that for me was John Lennon -- I was a Beatles fan throughout my childhood, and his lyrics and struggles always resonated with me. When I found out he was killed, it truly shook me. And one of the reasons is one of his songs always meant so much: Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. I even bought the T shirt -- in Key West - in the 80s!

The line was from the homage to his baby son, "Beautiful Boy." I keep hearing that tune when I'm with my grandson -- to me he is truly beautiful. Last night, I was speaking with my California sister, and she was telling me how she rediscovered music after many years -- she sings in a local band now -- pandemic be damned! She recalled how as a kid, so much of my life was baseball --when did I last pick up a glove or bat? Well over 2 decades ago, was my answer. But maybe, just maybe, I'll be the one to teach that beautiful boy a thing or two about baseball.

But today, D2 and Jonathan celebrate. D1 and Joey just texted them: don't eat breakfast. Apparently there's a surprise delivery on the way. And tonight, the classic couple is headed to the classic Miami restaurant: Joe's -- only the second time each of them have visited. I love that -- a vision of a young beautiful couple looking back, and more importantly, looking ahead.

A lot can happen in a year. It did. Let this coming year be one of healing instead of sickness -- of renewal instead of rot.

As for D2 and Jonathan -- well, whatever comes -- they meet it together. And that is everything.

Fresno News

 So Wifey and I were watching some documentary last night, around 9:30 p.m., usually past my bed time, and my phone rang -- my California sister. I immediately thought something must be wrong -- it was a bit late for one of her calls.

She was breathless. "Do you know what just happened?" I did not -- but thought maybe while we were off live TV the morons had stormed the Capitol again. Nope -- "I just saw D1 on my local TV!"

What? Our daughter is indeed on TV a lot, but typically local -- and local in South Florida, certainly not the San Joaquin Valley. Wifey texted her. Sure enough, one of her OBs had relocated to Fresno, and was being interviewed about nursing mothers who were getting the Covid vaccine. The doc suggested the Fresno reporter interview D1, and they did -- I guess by Zoom -- and sure enough, there was our Miami daughter on California's Central Valley local TV. Truly, truly, a small world.

Meanwhile, we had a plan change, which is typically no big deal, but in times of plague, EVERYTHING seems a big deal. Our housekeeper was coming, and we usually decamp to one of the Ds' places. So I called. Jonathan had been on a plane to Tampa, and so D2 really didn't want her elderly, more Covid scary parents, coming to her place. And D1 and Joey and the beautiful grandson were in quarantine -- one of the staff members at the preschool tested positive, and so they're off limits for awhile.

But D2, logical and calm, reminded me we DO have a pretty big house -- maybe Miriam could just be asked to stay out of a few areas. So, sure enough, as I heard her car coming up the gravel driveway, I slinked out the garage, and began a 2.5 hour walk, catching up on some phone calls.

When I returned, I went up to the Football Watching Room and watched Impeachment hearings for a few hours. Wifey and the dogs were in the library. It was a Covid friendly situation -- we got through just fine.

At 4:30, Kenny came by, and we walked some more. He's had his second jab, and his wife Joelle got her first the day before. He's feeling less anxious than before, but now must schlep to Boynton Beach to fetch his parents to bring them to Baptist for their shots. Turns out Palm Beach County is the worst -- I'm guessing because most of the people there are seniors clamoring for their jabs.

Another couple I'll call J and L, since that's their initials, got their jabs. Their daughter signed up the 59 and 60 year olds, they went to Tropical Park, and got the vaccines -- no checking of IDs.

I joked with Dr. Barry on text that our wives were now the only 60 somethings in our group not yet vaccinated. Hopefully his health system will remedy that soon. The good news is, Wifey and Donna seem less uptight about the whole thing than most people.

For now, our appointments are the 22 and 28th -- so hopefully we get the juice in and working soon.

Little will change -- I have zero travel plans, and surely no need to even go back to the office yet -- but I know there'll be comfort in knowing we're 50% safe after the first jab and 95% safe after the second.

So -- today I have my second visit to the hair salon since Covid. My first haircut was a very serviceable job by my son in law Joey. Thereafter, Dania came to our house a few times. In early December I finally visited her shop -- very distanced, and good protocols. Still, I requested the first daily appointment, and I had to wait until today, so I'm clearly back in 60s Bob Dylan hair range, though he wasn't gray then, like I am now.

Uh. Haircuts and vaccines. This is what I talk about lately. Oh yeah -- politics, too.

And then, surprisingly, we get to discuss local news in Fresno...

Upcoming Beaux Arts Festival

 I've always really enjoyed outdoor arts festivals, and Miami has great ones. When I was an undergraduate at UM, they started holding one on campus -- the Beaux Arts Festival. They set up booths and a few food stands around the Lowe Arts Museum, and it was always a convenient cheap date for those of us living on campus.

Through the years, Wifey and I would always attend. We'd bring the Ds, in strollers and later on foot, and in recent years it became a lovely place to bring our many dogs as well.

I confess I'm not much into art, but over the years we bought a few pieces -- nothing expensive -- just old Miami framed photos, and a few pieces of ceramics, or yard decorations.

But there was the food. Ah. Over the decades the offerings included gourmet trucks. George Mira, the former great Hurricane quarterback, always set up his signature conch truck -- with fritters and salad. There were always delicious gyros, and kettle corn, and ice cream.

Over recent years, we'd visit with Ken and Joelle -- they'd buy pieces for their homes in Miami and Maine. A few years back, Paul and Patricia also came, and the six of us ended up having lunch on the Law School patio --away from the crowds who didn't know it was a great place with open tables. Paul lightly interrogated Kenny and Joelle about their work against child abuse offenders. I remember the conversation well.

Wifey and I also always attended the Coconut Grove Arts Festival -- well, until recent years. As Yogi Berra said -- it's too crowded now -- nobody goes there. But over the years we had some lovely days strolling Bayshore Drive, and eating lunch at what's now Regatta Park, the playground for our granddog Betsy.

We're getting into Festival Season in Miami -- late January through March we have the best weather. There'd be festivals in Pinecrest Gardens, and South Miami. Ah -- lovely.

Well this am, I got an email from UM. Despite the plague -- they're going ahead with Beaux Arts. One thing though -- it's virtual.

That was a punch to my still ample belly. Virtual? What -- you get to look at art online? Who gives a hell about that? What about the food?????

Are they going to have high definition videos of the sizzling conch fritters? Gyros overflowing with meat and yogurt sauce? Show the kettle corn, and tell you to imagine its sweet fragrance?

Oh well -- another stark reminder that times still suck.

I understand this desire to try to keep things as normal as possible. Thankfully greedy college presidents somehow got in a football season. An Op-Ed in the Times claimed the REAL championship should go to UCONN -- the only program with the guts to cancel their season.

As for art and street fairs -- I'd rather they just let them go for the year, rather than waste any time on ersatz replacements. I guess the artists still need to try to sell their creations, but somehow having a virtual Beaux Arts Festival mocks me. To the core of my appetite.

Jab Chaos

 So a few months ago, Dr. Barry learned that in Europe, they don't call vaccinations "shots," but rather, "jabs." Of course, the word is far more accurate. Shot conjures up a gun incident, or a quick drink of alcohol. Jab is much more like what it is -- so I have started and will always use that term.

And what a cluster Covid jabs have become! Some sites do those above 75, some above 65, and some any age with a host of co-morbidities. Fortunately for Wifey and me, at least at Baptist Health, that includes a Body Mass Index we both, even with my weight loss, exceed. And so we have appointments for January 20 and 28 -- I sort of lucked into them by navigating the quickly closing web page ass-backwards.

Meanwhile, D1 qualified as a health care provider, but drove to Hard Rock last week. The wait was 5 hours, and she had to fetch her boy, and so left. She has another try today at a clinic in Little Haiti, pretty close to her house. She's prepared to wait it out this time, with a fully charged IPad and a cursory ability in French, to chat with fellow line waiters...

On the other hand, Israel reports today they'll be all vaccinated by March. Of course, they're a much tinier country, but the real answer is their great health care system, which is fully electronic. When you live there, you have a choice between, I think, 6 HMOs, and people love them. Each year less than 1% of the people switch. I'm proud of them -- I wish we could do things that way here.

The guru, Dr. Fauci, said today he hopes by Fall there's a return to somewhat normal. That might strike out my plans for my 60th birthday in Key West. Oh well -- it should be the biggest disappointment.

My neighbor Allison and I chatted today. She got appointments for her jabs at the Miami Cancer Center. Apparently they reached out to all of their patients and invited them in. Allison thinks hers was a mistake -- she DID have surgery there last year, but was cancer free. Still, she ain't turning down the chance to join the jabbed club -- nor should she.

I'm thrilled many of my close friends, the doctors and over 70 set, have gotten their jabs. I hope they don't end up with any survivor guilt if we don't make it. Ha!

Another neighbor, who I'll call Alex, since that's his name, left his job as an academic doc, for a purely administrative job up North. Still, he made the list -- crowed on FB about getting his second shot. The wise ass in me noted I now feel safer when he jogs past me on his thrice daily runs. He really has a great job.

The best meme remains that when this is all over, we'll all get together and laugh about it. Well -- not ALL of us...

Today is Tuesday, and I've already walked 9.5 miles. Wifey's going to meet her Mom at the Palace -- I think my 96 year old suegra is getting her jab this week. 

My job is to wait for the Publix InstaCart (tm) delivery and put it all away. Afterwards -- maybe some MORE walking -- possibly today will be a 13 mile day.

Stupidly applied rules demand smart people find ways around them. I see that happening with the jabs. We'll see...

Is That Indeed A Light?

 What a tunnel we've been in, and are still in. The overarching reason has been the plague. An attempted overthrow of the US government wasn't very nice, either, but it appears that we're in for brighter times there irrespective of whether Trump leaves or is kicked out. I'm guessing he merely slinks away in 10 days.

Through persistence, I got Wifey and me on the list for vaccines at Baptist. They opened it up to those under 65 who are, well, fat asses. Wifey doesn't qualify, of course, so we'll have to fib about her BMI, but even with my weight loss, my BMI is still above 30, so I'm kosher.

Vaccines have been confounding, to say the least. I know I'm ageist, but the fact that my 96 year old mother in law is high on the list over a younger person who still contributes much to society has my gall. I understand -- the older, the more fatal COVID is. I also understand that our governor panders to the elderly -- they tend to vote for him.

Another bright spot is that D1 is on the list -- as a licensed health care professional. Her appointment is Tuesday in Little Haiti. She actually had an appointment last week, but it was a 3 mile long car line to get in, and she had to fetch her son, so she abandoned the effort. Hopefully she gets it done.

But the point is, if all goes well, by February's end, Wifey and I ought to be protected. As Dr. Barry noted, the disease has turned out to be, essentially, an annoyance to non issue to the young and healthy, so my anxiety level about our grown kids and baby grandson will be manageable.

And, plague aside, we had a lovely weekend. Friday D2 and the enormous puppy were here, so D2 could work while Miriam cleaned her apartment. I made her Daddy eggs for lunch, and we brought in some delicious Italian, from Tratoria Luna, for dinner. We ate outside as I participated in Dr. Eric's Zoom shabbat. 

D2 left, and I hosted a lovely Zoom happy hour -- with Scott and Sam in D.C. and Dr. Barry and Josh in the Pines. Eric and Dana joined in, too. We toasted the preservation of our nation -- Sam works for CNN in D.C. and gave us some great information. When I ended the meeting at 9, Wifey said "You really enjoyed that." Indeed I did.

Yesterday D1, Joey, and the grandson came over. It was D1's beloved Spaniel's 12th birthday, her Bark Mitzvah. She got some meat from a sandwich that had fallen -- a nice treat for the aging dog lady.

We took the humans to Pinecrest Gardens, formerly Parrot Jungle, and had a lovely time. Wifey had yearly memberships there for the Ds, and D1 had wonderful memories of the parrot shows. The little man loves the trees -- we joked he may grow up to be an Arborist.

Today is one of those Miami January days that are absurdly beautiful. I walked 6 miles in the cool morning air, and look forward to getting to my usual 10 later on. Maybe a fire in the pit awaits me tonight -- with a bowl of hot chili in the quiet, cool, evening air.

But at 2, we have a group Zoom. Jonathan's sister's baby naming -- little Naomi has joined the band. As Kenny noted, she's a baby conceived, carried, and delivered healthy during our worldwide pandemic. If she isn't a symbol of hope for the future, I don't know what is.

So, early in this new year in still crazy times, I have a lot of hope. May the Big Man bless baby Naomi and her family, and all of us, too.

Another Date Which Will Live in Infamy

 January 6, 2021 joins December 7, 1941, and in many ways, yesterday was worse. My parents' era Day was an attack by a hostile nation bent on destroying us from the outside. Yesterday's came from within. I was, like any of my intelligent friends, sickened.

I have a friend I'll call Rob, since that's his name, a featherheaded Trump supporter. Sure enough, on a friend's FB page, he noted that had yesterday's coup attempters not been Republican, they would have "looted and burned" the whole city. As if what they did, attempt to stop our democracy based on the love of a dictator, was no big deal.

Rob's ex girlfriend, now living in Colorado, is educated and informed. I messaged her -- how could she have lived with him? She responded that politics never came up, and when it did, she realized how stupid he was. He never read a single book -- just parroted back what he saw on Fox News and similar channels. He was, as she said, willfully ignorant.

We can no longer afford that. Yesterday showed how thin the line is between civility and anarchy. I guess an investigation later will discover why the D.C. police, knowing the monkeys were planning a Trump fueled rally, had all the force of a hired mall cop -- as opposed to the times they were prepared. Amazingly, only one idiot, a female protestor, was killed as she attempted to break through a door. I have zero sympathy for her -- but I'm sure she'll end up the vaunted martyr of the idiots.

Dr. Barry and I always get a kick out of NY Senator Schumer. He looks and talks more like the guy behind the counter of the deli than a US Senator. Turns out -- he's very smart and extremely well educated (2 Harvard degrees) but just chooses the Ed Koch-like, B and T style folksy demeanor. That's ok -- he's the one who identified yesterday as the second Day of Infamy. He was dead on.

I guess the only glimmer of hope is that Trump truly turned the government Blue. In Georgia, a Black man and a young Jewish man defeated two white, Christian, incumbents. Unbelievable. The Georgia GOP, at least, now realizes the deal they made with the Trump devil has kicked them out of power. May it be so with the rest of the country as well.

It won't. I just read that one of the protestors, really domestic terrorists, was a West Virginia state legislator. He flowed in with his fellow slime, and took selfies of himself in the Hall of Statues, saying "Patriot in the House, Baby!" He posted this on FaceBook, before taking it down, I guess realizing he was showing clear evidence of his committing a federal felony. I just really hope his state kicks him out of the legislature and sends him to prison. If they don't, they send the message that sedition is fine.

I voted for an old, years past her prime, former UM president to be my US Representative. She lost -- to a Spanish TV reporter who is much prettier but totally inexperienced and probably corrupt, too (she sponsored the Trump pardon of my convicted drug felon neighbor).

I accepted that my choice lost. I didn't go around shouting "Not MY Representative" or gin up baseless conspiracy theories about how Salazar "stole the election" from Shalala. And that's because there was no evidence that's the truth.

I can't believe the country we're leaving for my grandson. I hope it turns around. We defeated the Japanese and their axis of evil partner Nazi Germany. They're now strong allies of the US -- I'd probably only own a Japanese or German car!

I fear defeating this latest source of Infamy will be far more difficult. You can keep an outside enemy at bay. When the cops call the babysitter and say they've traced the call and the psycopath is INSIDE THE HOUSE -- well, we know what happens then.

In the meantime, I have committed to no longer lighthearted "Well, I guess you just have different views" with friends who in any way, shape, or form support Trump and what he's tried to do to us. We simply cannot afford it if we're to survive as a nation of freedom.

Because: Miami

 Years ago, the great humor writer Dave Barry said one of the best things about living in the 305 was how the strange and weird became commonplace. He wrote about telling his young son "Ok -- you can ride your bike, but only up to the Drug Dealer's house!" He described it like it was a normal family name.

Well, this am my neighbor Allison shared some prime local chisme (Spanish for gossip). I really like Allison and her husband Eric. They have a terrific young son, a high school senior, and two really enormous dogs. I'm talking like 150 pounds each -- true gentle giants. Eric was born and raised in Haiti -- a Waitian, as the Ds used to say (White Haitian) and Allison worked for the US State Department there. She's a Georgia girl who went to Michigan, and is a rabid Blue fan. We often talk about football.

Anyway, she told me her across the street neighbor, who I'll call Cesar, since that's his name, was one of the people Trump pardoned last week. Cesar bought his house from a woman who is now a State Senator, and he and his wife did a massive renovation. He now has it listed for $1M more than any house in my 'hood has sold for, and per agent friend Ann, it might be worth it. They used top materials and made it a place out or Architectural Digest meets Miami Vice.

Cesar owns a very successful pool supply company, but apparently at one point also dealt some weed. He ended up serving 14 months in Federal prison. Marijuana trafficking seems kind of quaint and old timey, like bootlegging or mayhem. But I guess they nabbed him some years ago. I guess he wants to vote again, and used his contacts with our new GOP Congresswoman, who beat Donna Shalala for the seat, to get his pardon.

His neighbor to the West is Frank, a retired D.C. government employee. Frank never gives details, but he has the aura of someone who may have been high up in either the CIA or FBI.

So now the convicted Federal felon is living across from and next to a couple of retired Federal employees. Ah -- glorious diversity -- all happy and peaceful in our tropical paradise.

I just hope Cesar doesn't have any lingering enemies, who are just laying in wait for the right time to launch a "Narcos" type revenge hit. It seems there's often some innocent schlimazel who gets killed as a bystander, and I walk past the house several times per day. I don't wish to be that schlimazel. 

Meanwhile, Wifey and I celebrated our 34th anniversary yesterday. We went to D1 and Joey's, and spent a delightful day outside with D1 and Jonathan and our grandson and 2 dogs. The Ds dear friend Alyssa surprised us with a visit -- all cured from COVID, which she and her husband Fredy caught.

On the way home, we stopped at the former Canton, now a Sushi Maki, but owned by the same family, for some nostalgic takeout. Wifey and I ate MANY meals there when we were dating, and newly married, and even now. The menu changed a bit, and the place is totally modernized, but the lo mein and Kung Pau chicken were fine, as was the "special wonton soup." But alas, they no longer send it home with noodles, in a nod, I guess, to healthier eating. We missed the noodles...

We sat outside in the cool breeze and reminisced about the past three decades plus since we married. Our last minute relief Rabbi read some vows we had written -- we borrowed from Bob Dylan and vowed to be each other's shelter from the storms of life. We had no idea the message would be literal.

With Andrew, our house mostly blew away in a scene recalling the black and white beginning of "The Wizard of Oz." Afterward, there were many more hurricanes to either endure or flee from. And now -- a worldwide pandemic!

We're thankful the plague is mostly just an annoyance for people the Ds and our sons in laws' ages, and, as Dr. Barry says, essentially a non issue for young children. But, as we're getting up there, as the Brits say, we hope to get the vaccine sooner than later.

Another 34 years? Nah -- Wifey pointed out -- that would make us too old and likely out of it. 25 more would be absolutely terrific.

Hopefully the plague or my neighbor's former enemies don't get me much sooner...