The Wake Of the Maelstrom

 So Ian has left the state and is a Cat 1 headed for South Carolina. Poor bastards in SW Florida got slammed -- the pix of Ft. Myers and Sannibel reminded me of the aftermath of Andrew. Worse -- due to our clownish state government, property insurance is in a shambles, and I know many will go uncompensated or meagerly compensated. This is in contrast to those of us with great coverage 30 years ago -- we jokingly called our storm "St. Andrew" for the financial windfall many of us received.

Ian locally blew harder than I realized. When I went outside Wednesday afternoon, there were quite a lot of large tree branches and limbs on the ground. Our lawn guy was here yesteday, and he brought a bigger crew for the cleanup, which lasted all day. He charged us, fairly, an extra $500 for the work, and now you can't even tell we had anything at all, save for the debris pile out front, which the county will pickup next Friday. So $500 in damages for a Cat 4 that passed us? Pretty, pretty, pretty acceptable.

And this am we realized the consolation prize for passing storms, especially those later in the season: gorgeous weather in the wake. The storms suck in all the nasty weather, and heat, and humidity. This am it was 67 and low humidity in the 305.

When I walked, at 9, it was still delightful -- 72 and lovely. I passed the huge house in the NE corner of our 'hood, which has been under construction for years. The owners spray painted on the wall the names of their kids along with "Trump in '24." I already advised my family that we have a new special place to let the dogs poop during our walks.

But speaking about passing storms -- today reminded me of Hurricane Wilma in 2005. It hit us in late October, and did a bit of roof damage and tree damage. Interestingly, the roof tiles were not broken, but were loosened by the winds -- eventually a company charged me $4k to re-fasten them down. I always remember the sole little guy who did it -- completed the whole house by himself in a single day!

We were without power for a solid 10 days. I sent Wifey and the Ds to Atlanta, and my friend and then across the street neighbor sent his wife Susan and their kids to Orlando.

The weather was so gorgeous, Pat and I stayed in our houses and lived like cavemen -- cooking on a hibachi, and drinking Middleton each evening to the music of an old school transistor radio.

One evening, he invited me to his country club, Riviera, and I met his old school, mostly WASP friends. We ate and drank there, and they liked me -- told Pat they thought I ought to join. No thanks -- I'm not a golfer, I told Pat, and I wasn't going to spend 6 figures just for a place to swim and eat.

But the club is in the Gables, which had a curfew, and at 10 we had to leave. I told Pat we would stop in MY country club -- Foxe's lounge. We had a nightcap, and I shared with him my memories of my first ever martini there -- courtesy of my mentor Ed.

Fox's closed years later, but just reopened a few months past. Wifey and I plan to get there one of these Thursdays for their famous prime rib night.

Anyway, I plan to walk more today to enjoy the weather. Canes are blissfully not playing tomorrow -- they need a serious re-group after their embarrassing loss to Middle Tennessee -- among the worst losses since I became a fan -- in 1979.

But the weather today shows, in nicely cliche form, what we know about life -- often the light follows the darkness. And today I will enjoy that cooler, dryer, light.

The Psyche Of The Con Man

 Well, the good news is that Ian left us mostly unscathed -- except for some tree limbs littering the yard. I hadn't even noticed the winds getting that high, but I guess up high they exceeded tropical force, and a few large branches are scattered around. Wifey called our yard man -- he's due by later today to make short work of the small mess. Otherwise -- just the normal pre-storm hype, the sound and the fury, signifying nothing.

Meanwhile, I attended the depo of the fellow I call Fredo, on account of how he betrayed our group for small financial gain. I logged onto the Zoom, and the TV lawyer, who I'll call Robert, since that's his name, was there -- greeting me with a hearty "Hello David --S'all good, man."

The reason for that is that I had mistakenly emailed our side, copying Robert, in which I referred to him as Saul Goodman -- the iconic character of the sleazy, TV advertising lawyer. He was telling me he had seen the email.

Sometimes I can still be very quick, and I responded "Yes, Robert -- he's your spirit animal." Robert prides himself on his quick wit, but he was a bit flummoxed -- he had zero in response. Just then our lawyer Scott logged on and began the depo.

The details aren't important, but the 1.5 hours of Fredo's outright lies, told in his charming Southern accent, were remarkable in that I was sure he truly believed his revisionist history about the final days of his association with our group.

He said he had told us he was leaving long before he did. I wondered how that jibed with the text messages I still have to him, all unanswered, in which I ask after his well being. In those final weeks, I could tell his life, at least financially, was crumbling. A lawsuit was delivered from Amex, claiming he had defaulted on $80K worth of charges. His lovely South American girlfriend had given him walking papers -- tired of his broke ass ways. His only daughter tolerated him -- the Ds and Wifey saw that when I took them to dinner and she, a lovely young woman, talked to him with great anger and contempt.

I had thought my friend was hanging from the ceiling in his never renovated Palmetto Bay house, or he was lying with half a head after a gunshot from one of his many firearms.

Nah. He had stolen the clients and moved on to Saul Goodman. And now, over two years after Saul had fired him, he was recreating history -- under oath!

Stu and I debriefed the depo last night. We agreed we had a lot of the blame even bringing this charming loser into our fold. Here he was -- Board certified guy, former test pilot, and he had been fired from the prior three firms he worked -- for, essentially, laziness. 

A dear friend had cautioned me. How did I explain that a 64 year old guy with his education and background was essentially broke at his stage of the career? I answered that he had to be a single dad, as his wife was dying and did die from cancer -- taking away his focus.

Turns out, per the secretary he brought from his last firm, who he ended up being unable to pay for more than a year, that the only taking he did was money from his daughter's trust account -- Fredo's inlaws had money set aside for their granddaughter, and Fredo helped himself to some of it.

Great guy. And yet, he had landed again, with a prestigious West Palm Beach firm, who hired him even though he's now 70. 

I predict they'll fire him, too -- probably by early next year -- and he'll sue them for age discrimination. That will be his last con -- I would give odds on it.

And so our case will drag on. I'm due to be deposed next -- by the lawyer who works for Robert that I call the Victoria's Secret Model, on account of the fact that she's a top 10 least attractive woman I have ever encountered. She's physically that way, coupled with a sour personality and dour expression.

It'll be a challenge to keep my snark in check -- but I plan to follow the advice I have been giving to clients for decades, and answer only the question asked.

I no longer despise Fredo for his actions. He betrayed us 4 years ago. I look forward to ending this final bit of business we must deal with for the sad allowing him into our circle, and then hearing nothing more about him -- ever.

Soon he'll be conning fellow ALF residents out of their cherry pie, I would guess. And that's how he'll end.

And So This is 5783 And What Have You Done?

 We rang in the new year Sephardic style, at Joey's parents' house last night. As expected, it was a joyous evening, highlighted by the nearing 3 year old toddler playing happily with his 4 year old cousin Layla. The two chased each other, and played under the color changing lights Jacqui and Ricardo have in their back yard, and our man devoured his chocolate cake, leaving adorable cake face photos.

Joey and his two brothers and sister in law were there, as well as dear friends of mi consuegros, who don't have kids, but love being around our rug rats. D2 and Jonathan were at Jonathan's parents' house, but we shared photos of the two events. Wifey and I drove home very happy and feeling grateful.

On the physical issues of an aging man front, my hip area pain is finally gone -- replaced with the stomach pain that came from 5 days of Naproxen! I swigged some antacid last night and this am for the first time in years -- reminding myself of how my dear Mom was a devotee of Mylanta for her ulcers. The good news is that I was only on the stomach tearing drugs for 5 days and think the issue will resolve, but it shows the whack-a-mole nature of medical cures.

Speaking of which, my nephew of another brother, a major consumer of medical care at only 24, texted this am after an overnight sleep test -- would I care to meet for an early breakfast? I would, and so put off the RH walk for awhile to open up LOL at 7. He was headed home after that for services; I was headed home for walking in my 'hood services.

I truly tried to bond and get something out of attending -- but I found myself having a wandering mind and wondering one -- what did those women behind the screen really look like? That told me I would do better online, and indeed plan to hear Kol Nidre and YK virtually in 10 days or so.

The internet has a TON of shofar blowings, so I can fulfill that mitzvah virtually as well.

Meanwhile, I have some stuff to maybe do this week work-wise. Our annoying slog of a case to get paid on a case stolen from us by John, who I now call Fredo, is supposed to heat up, with Fredo's Zoom depo Wednesday. I plan to attend, but have a strong feeling "an emergency" will crop up and Fredo will ghost it. We'll see.

Meanwhile, the good storm news is that Hurricane Ian has taken a pasadena away from the East Coast -- we're just due some prodigious rain this week. That's a sigh of relief, especially since it may be a Cat 3, which would have triggered "Dave's Storm Rules."

After living through Andrew, a Cat 5, I made a pledge -- any major storm would hit my home without my family here -- it's just too damned scary. Cat 1 and 2 are ok -- but once it becomes a 3 -- we would have decamped elsewhere -- no mean feat, with now many dogs and 2 small grandsons. Fortunately, this one isn't causing that.

So the new year is upon us. Will the Plague finally retreat? Are the Dolphins really this good? Are the Canes really that bad?

I guess the coming days before 5784 will tell us all.

Taking Stock

 So I had this morning all planned -- walk 3 miles, come home, get ready, and then head to Canes game. Thankfully latest reports show storm Ian will leave Miami alone. And then came a text, from Chris -- "Breakfast?" Hmmm...Walking in the heat, or breakfast with Chris and Mike. There are those who would have begged off the caloric intake, and instead chosen to sweat. I am NOT one of those.

And so we three -- they generations 2 and 3 of Hurricane lawyers -- met at Roasters South to catch up. We noted that the restaurant had crossed a boundary -- they now offer an omelette for $25. We lamented the closing of Ruben's Cuban nearby -- one could get a great breakfast there for $5. Ah, halcyon days...

To win points, I brought Wifey home half of my nova scramble, which she loves, and now I plan to chill until I leave around noon. Mirta bought me 2 bottles of Stoli Oranj for tailgates, and the first will be brought today. As a non Metro guy going alone, I also plan to stop by Pinecrest Bakery and bring pastelitos. Dessert and vodka -- two of the main food groups.

And then tomorrow is Rosh Hashonah -- Jewish New Year. 5783 is a'comin' -- and what have you done? I plan to take stock these Days of Awe -- culminating with Yom Kippur -- the Day of Atonement.

My nephew of another brother Scott joked on our text link that he was hoping for pulled pork at the tailgate -- to HAVE something to atone for. I responded that if the nearly 26 year old had to create dietary sins to have something to redeem for -- I had failed as an uncle!

I was reflecting on the power of words -- their effects last decades. Recently Wifey shared with me how she still bears resentment towards me for things I said in the 90s. And without details, she said some things to me back then, when we were raising young kids and life seemed to be far more fast paced and short on time, that still bother me.

I think about that when I watch young couples, and wish I could share that wisdom with them. This idea of "being honest" and "Sharing how I really feel" is for the birds. Truth is, if you plan to make a marriage last a long time, you HAVE to keep things in. Honesty is way overrated.

I saw my eye doc yesterday -- I need follow up for possible glaucoma. No big deal -- I may need drops, if that. And I read about it -- glaucoma causes blindness in 20 -70 years! 20 would get me to 81 -- what'll be left to see then, anyway? And 70 plus 61 is well off the consideration chart, of course.

The point is the years grow far more precious. It becomes crucial to decide, as Bob Seger sang, what to leave in; what to leave out.

Certain people are energy or joy vampires. Sometimes you have no choice, you MUST deal with them. But when you have the choice, avoid them like, well, Covid 19.

Other people are helium tanks. After you spend time with them, you're floating, or you truly learned something you didn't know before. These are the people to seek out.

So my resolution is to be more careful with my words. I will try not to wound. Years ago, Wifey and the Ds noted I have a power, because of my sharp mind and articulate nature, to truly erupt into "solar rays of cruelty." Rarely -- that is needed, but only to those truly deserving of it. It is a power that must be wielded wisely and judiciously.

Beginning tomorrow, how can I be better? How can I elevate those I care about? How can I avoid hurting them? What more can I do that is charitable?

It seems the Days of Awe is the right time to consider this.

Tensosity of The Storm Season

 So I've had calmer Friday mornings than today's. First, I saw Dr. Schimel, the eye doc who laser fixed my torn retina 3.5 years ago. He told me that my retinas looked fine, but I had raised pressure in my right eye -- he wants me to see the glaucoma guy in his practice.

I immediately thought of the Borsht Belt jokes about hyperspecialization among docs -- would this new doc, Matthew Brink, only treat LEFT eyes? But Dr. S said he'd either not treat me, or prescribe drops, since simple glaucomas take 20-70 years to cause blindness. So no big whoop.

And then the forecast changed -- a storm still just a depression is now forecast to hit Florida as a major hurricane. The good news for us is that the current track has it nailing the Gulf Coast, but it could change. Still -- the tension level rises -- Wifey already passively aggressively asking on the family texts if maybe NOW we should get a full house generator?

Nah. My friends Norman and Deb had one, and the thing crapped out after a day last time -- after they spent a ton on it. And the truth is, I don't really care to live in a 'hood without power anyway -- the last times we had fun staycations at local hotels. So that''s my continued storm plan.

Of course now there are 2 small boys in the calculus -- but D1 and Joey have 2 car seats, and if we need to relocate, we will. Hopefully this is just another scare for no reason.

Meanwhile, we DID have an unexpectedly nice Thursday evening. Wifey convinced me to go with her for a pedicure, and since I'm still having difficulty bending, I agreed. The nice Vietnamese lady did a fine job.

Afterwards, we walked to Flanagan's, and were told the wait was 30 minutes. Nah -- I ain't waiting for that kind of restaurant more than a few minutes. So we walked next door to Piola, a local Italian chain, and it was Ladies Night.

It meant free wine for Wifey (I drank her glass of pinot grigio) and they had a lovely duo playing live music -- a pretty woman keyboardist/singer and a fellow on horns. They were very good, although my age showed when I played "Name That Tune" and I said a few notes were from Santana/Rob Thomas's "Smooth," and the song was instead Camilla Carbello's newer tune. That's ok -- I got Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" correct.

Afterwards, we came home and watched "Top Gun II," which was, well, watchable. So it was a nice evening.

Tomorrow the Canes play, and I will be attending for my first time this season. I missed the opener up in Maine, and gave Paul my tix for the second game on account of muscle pain and going with D2 and Jonathan to buy their Jeep off lease.

Hopefully we won't all be coming home to storm prep.

Sunday is Rosh Hashonah, and we're invited to mi consuegros -- D1's in laws. Jacqui hosts a lovely time -- we've evolved into they do RH and we host T Day, on account of we're more gringo. D2 and Jonathan are going to mis otro consuegros, Lizbeth and David.

The Days of Awe. I was telling my totally non Yiddishkeit California sister about the High Holidays' true meaning, and it resonates with me. First we celebrate, and then soon after, atone and take stock of our lives.

I just hope I get to do these things from a house with working electricity...

Easily Suggestible

 I'm very easily suggestible, especially when it comes to food. A topic of conversation might just mention pizza, and my reptilian brain won't rest until I eat some. And so it was last night.

It was a pretty nondescript week around the hot and muggy 305. I met Paul for lunch on Wednesday on Brickell, and we strategized about our ongoing dispute with a lawyer I call Saul Goodman, on account of he's a sleazy advertising lawyer. And before we met, a funny thing happened.

I had an appointment for Covid booster #4 -- the new one that supposably (as they say in Miami) protects against newer strains of the Plague. The Walgreens on Coral Way was more of a cluster f than other Walgreens, which I avoid attending when possible. I sign up for delivery of my meds, to avoid the lines and ineptitude there. But you gotta appear for the jab.

Anyway, after I signed in, I was told to sit in a folding chair and wait, and I plopped down next to a 40 something woman also there for her new jab. We started talking, and it turns out she was a lawyer, too -- PI as well, who graduated 20 years after I did. We had a solid 20 minutes to wait, and so compared notes about the profession, and I mentioned that I was involved in my very first fee dispute in my entire career.

She said she had one, too, a case she settled for $25K and then the client wanted more, and hired some "loser with TV ads and billboards." The new lawyer got an additional $5K, and offered my new friend just a fraction of the fee. Yup -- in a classic small town/big city Miami story -- her adversary was Saul Goodman, a/k/a Robert the putz, too!

Luckily for her, he messed up -- ignored her lien, and distributed the funds to the client. When she called him on that bar violating act, he relented, and paid her what she was truly owed. Funny -- greedy jerks tend to act consistently.

Anyway -- our group got some very nice news this week, too -- Dr. Eric and Dana welcomed their third grandchild -- a beautiful baby girl! And on Friday we toasted their new arrival on our Zoom -- and that's where my suggestion came.

They reported that their son Josh and his wife Alex had gone to Tampa to celebrate Alex's birthday -- for the only reason most South Florida folks go there -- to eat at Bern's. They had a delicious meal, and from there the conversation with our group turned to great steaks -- my second favorite is the Palm in Bay Harbor. The seed was planted.

I knew I was hosting Dr. Barry and Josh last night to watch the Canes game. I would typically bring in pizza, but instead UberEated Platea, the great new Peruvian steakhouse that opened in Pinecrest.

They feature prime beef, and great fish and ceviche, and I ordered an enormous ribeye, sliced NY Strip, a sea bass, and ceviche with great sides. It arrived just after Barry had his Buffalo Trace bourbon, and I my Ketel one. Josh teetotaled so he could drive home.

We feasted -- the food was delicious -- and my steak craving was satisfied. Afterwards we retired to the Family Room, where Barry and I had our second cocktails, and we watched the Canes play decent defense and impotent offense on the way to a not unexpected loss to Texas A and M.

And so what. We had great conversation, with Josh providing updates from the younger generation, while Dr. Barry, Wifey, and I talked about our aging person issues, but kept trying to avoid dwelling on them.

The game ended well past midnight. Josh took the wheel for the trip back to Pembroke Pines. Donna and her sister in law Phyllis had attended Lady Gaga at Joe Robbie. I think they enjoyed their entertainment more than we enjoyed the flat playing Canes.

But we won the pre game meal! We typically win the tailgate -- even when the Canes fall short. And that's to me the important part of the enterprise.

Saturday I hope to attend my first game. I'll ask Mirta, my sister of another mister, if she would like to attend. If she is other wise engaged, I'll drive up myself. But -- I'm guessing we won't be having prime beef in the parking lot.

60 Is The Beginning of Old Age

 I forget what writer said that, but I fully subscribe to it. And I'm more than a year into this final chapter!

My itinerary today begins soon -- Wifey and I are driving up to Bay Harbor for Grandparents' Day at the adorable toddler's preschool. D1 said, if possible, I should stand in for Clio, a central casting lovely British 3 year old who speaks like a character in an English movie. Her grandparents are in the UK, and will only attend by Zoom.

After that, I have a 1 pm appointment with Dr. Mike, a physical therapist, to deal with my now more than 3 week bout of hip area pain. He tells me it's just a bad pulled glute muscle. As a young man, it would have improved in a few days -- now it's onto a second fortnight. Hey -- fortnight is a term only old men use.

Fortunately Wifey is doing better physically these days. As she drank her coffee, which I told her she would NOT get brought to her upstairs on account of my hip hurts most in the am, I told her I got the thinking of our former neighbor Alfredo. He's my age, and married a former stripper (Jewish girl from the Main Line in a Carl Hiassen twist) younger than his first wife produced kids. He has 5 little ones with her, including a toddler. There is NO WAY he can be an old man with such a young family, right?

Wifey smirked at me. She's a world class smirker, like her late mother, especially when I say something absurd. She knows I totally reject the idea of more kids at my age. The Ds are blessing enough, by far!

I think about my Dad, as always, an awful lot. At 61 he was retired, enjoying the fruits of his labors -- following WW II he worked three separate jobs to support his family. His only worries were of his kids, especially my California sister, who had married the absolute wrong guy. But Dad happily felt like an old man.

He reported that conversations in the Kings Point pool, among his fellow Greatest Generation cohorts, were which banks paid the highest CD rates, and which urologists were best.

Oh yeah -- I have another task today: I have to meet with banker friend Carole to give her a check to open a, wait for it, CD. Rates have come up a bit, and as an old man am far more risk averse, and thus not adding to my stock portfolio.

But still, my gratitude overflows. Each day is truly a gift from the Big Man, and I thank Him for it.

Speaking of religion, Rabbi Yossi called yesterday, to catch up and invite me to check on the construction of the new Center he and Nechama are building. It's a remarkable place -- shul, of course, but mainly a place where special needs kids meet with their "friendship buddies."

Yossi is 9 years younger than I, but with far more energy. In the midst of this huge project -- he's starting another: looking for investors and space to open a glatt kosher restaurant in South Miami Dade. I hope he succeeds -- and they get a liquor license. Vodka is almost always glatt kosher.

So soon we're off. Our oldest grandson is such a joy to be around. He savors his life. Last Sunday I told D1 and Joey I already see him as the president of his fraternity -- the guy who starts the party. D1 said "Oh --like his Grandpa Dave, eh?" Yes, I guess that was true.

As for today, it's just a lovely event. Many of the kids in that school have a medical condition first taught to me by Dr. Barry's colleagues when Barry was a Pediatric resident. The condition is called GLM -- which stands for Good Looking Mother. Thankfully it's a condition that is easily lived with.

Dad jokes. Another sign of old, or older age. And it's fine, though I could happily do without the hip pain.

A Literal Pain In The Ass

 So three Sundays ago, I must have hurt my right hip -- probably chasing after the adorable toddler grandson. I don't recall an actual injury, but when I got home that night, the hip hurt. I canceled my training session and instead saw a resident PT at the gym -- Dr, Mike.

He had me do some motion testing, and concluded it wasn't the joint itself, but the gluteal muscles on my right side that I strained. He gave me some massage and exercises to follow, and over the next two weeks, it got better. The pain was there in Maine, but just a bit, like when I got into or out of a car. I even played pickleball for the first time!

And then, Wednesday am, the pain was back -- with a vengeance. I don't know whether it was from the trip, but it was really bad -- for me, a normally pain free guy, anyway. I made an appointment to see Julio Robla's PA -- first appointment is 9/20. And then I called my family doc and she saw me.

She agrees it is likely muscular, and prescribed a relaxant, generic Flexoril. I took it and slept -- a lot . Most of yesterday, and last night. Unfortunately, it didn't do much, if anything, for the pain.

I DID walk today -- 1.4 miles, with a tinge in my high right buttock. And then I decided to skip tomorrow's Canes game --- noon kickoff, I was going to drive up to Joe Robbie myself, and Paul was looking for tickets for his son and nephew and their friends. 

Instead of the game, I'll meet D2 and Jonathan -- their Jeep lease is in my name, and you have to go to the dealership these days to purchase a vehicle off lease -- so the dealership can try to rip you off and steal additional fees. I am prepared to argue with those gonifs tomorrow -- and my butt pain will make me even more aggressive with the dealers.

Maine was lovely -- Kenny and Joelle had a full house. The first evening their radiologist couple friends were there -- along with their 2nd born son and his three friends. We all went to a local outdoor pizza place.

The next 3 nights and days were spent mostly cooking and cleaning up from the meals for the 8 of us -- two couples and the 4 young men. We went out on the pontoon boat and had a happy hour. Kenny and I went to town and bought lobsters for a boil on Sunday night. The weather was lovely.

Monday, the weather changed -- gray and rainy. We had a farewell lunch with our hosts, and Oxford taxi took us the 45 minutes to the Portland Jetport. Amazingly, we mad all connections through D.C. and got home late Monday night -- to two happy dogs.

D2 and Jonathan had fetched Betsty earlier, and met Talia, the lovely dog sitter. She's starting nursing school in January, and so can watch our pups again in late October, when we go away again -- to France, to celebrate Joelle's 60th birthday in the Rhone River.

The muscle strain I have would have been a 2 day recovery in my 20s, 30s, and maybe even 40s. Now it's going on week three, and I still have the literal pain in the ass.

As Tony S said -- yeah, but what are ya gonna do? Slog through it, is my only response.

To America's Whitest State

 So I spent a day in true schlepper fashion -- designed to make myself crave getting on a plane and getting out of humid hot Dodge.

After a few hours in the office, I headed up to NE Miami, fetched the nanny, and then drove to Bay Harbor to fetch the adorable toddler grandson. He had been told I was getting him today, and he smiled his impish smile, and followed me out to the SUV. He explained very clearly in Spanish that it was raining, and yet we had no umbrellas. He was correct.

Back at the house, I played with the 7 week old gorgeous little brother -- at one point getting the two bros on the couch to watch Coco Melon, which is the new version of the Wee Sing videos we used to play for the Ds -- bright colors, simple melodies, sweet morality messages.

After a few hours, I left for Miami Beach, across the Julia Tuttle. I drive it all the time, and each and every time I marvel at how gorgeous our city is. I passed Mt. Sinai Hospital, and recalled visiting both my Mom and father in law there in the final weeks of their lives -- before they each returned to Miami Jewish Home to die.

Then down Alton to D2 and Jonathan's place on the Bay, where I assumed control of the enormous dog, and caught up with D2. And then it was an hour back to Pinecrest.

Tomorrow our flight leaves at 8:30, you'll pardon the expression, as my old boss Ed used to say about early appointments. Wifey is none too pleased, but realizes the connection requires an early departure. We fly to D.C., change, and hopefully make our connection to Portland, Maine -- America's whitest state.

From the Portland airport, we have an hour Uber up to Oxford, and then 4 nights with our dear friends. Ought to be a lovely time.

I realized I haven't been on a plane since December of '19 -- nearly 3 years! Wifey took a single trip to Atlanta -- on her own, earlier this year, and got Covid after she returned.

Truth is, my desire to travel has fallen to dangerously low levels. Wifey has always been the one to goad us into going places -- unless they involved away Canes games, in which case I DID initiate -- and I'm glad she did. Because of her, we got to see many wonderful things. I still remember walking the streets of Istanbul! Really? I was there? It gave me, technically, the cred of having been to Asia.

We've seen most of the US, including Alaska. We've been to Central America, and South America. We've been to Europe many times -- France thrice -- and are due to go back in late October for a Lyon to Avignon river cruise.

The pattern for me is the same -- sort of resignation of having to deal with the hassles of travel -- and then I thoroughly enjoy the trip once we're there.

Part of the reason is I'm spoiled -- I LOVE where I live. My most sacred people are all within 60 miles or so, and each day I get up and walk through a tropical paradise -- though I prefer it when it's cooler.

So off in  a few hours to Oxford, Maine. As I drove across the causeway last evening, and looked at Miami's towering skyline, it occurred to me that a single one of those towers has a greater population than the entire town we're visiting.

I guess the change for a few days is healthy -- though it IS disorienting to me to only hear English spoken. But that's ok.