Shockingly Naive

 So after the rains the landscaping lighting stopped working -- pretty sure the time boxes got shorted out. The job can be handled by Nestor, our handyman, but he's been too busy lately, and so I decided to call the last electrician I used, Arcs and Sparks. They had done a bunch of repair work and I was happy with them.

I called Friday. No answer. So I went online, and found Mr. Sparky, who charges $59 for the visit fee, but were available to come Monday. I booked an appointment.

At around 9 today, two nice young Cuban American fellows pulled up in the Mr. Sparky truck -- one, Damian, an electrician, and the other, Ralph, a trainee. Damian looked at the timer boxes, but wasn't too interested in them. He then headed to the breaker panels, and removed the covers of the 2 main ones. I have a third for use with a generator I have never used.

Damian started explaining that my house, built in 1997, had "old equipment," including only a single grounding rod, and I really needed it upgraded. I told him I had zero interest -- just repair the broken landscape lighting.

He was smooth and insistent and finally said he could "diagnose" the landscape lighting for $350, and if 2 timer boxes needed replacing, it would cost $1250. Got it -- I told him to kindly replace the breaker panel covers and leave.

Well -- he could NEGOTIATE a lower fee for the repair -- he was already here, after all. I was nice but put on my serious voice; "Damian. You don't know me nor need to. Once I decide against doing business with a company -- that is FINAL."

Wifey, in her own world as always, asked if they could give an estimate for some motion detector lights out front. I tried to explain it to her -- her late father's mentation kicked in, and she kept insisting. Finally, I said "Wifey --we will NOT be doing any business with these nice young men." She finally let loose her pitbull-like grip.

I came inside and did a search about Mr. Sparky. Sure enough, there were many complaints -- they try to upsell each job, and scare elderly (hey -- that's ME now!) customers into jobs "so your house doesn't burn down."

A pox upon them. These days, there is so much work, and so few electricians, you really don't need to rip people off. I guess that's just Mr. Sparky's business plan.

Well -- they got $59 out of me. Damian actually emailed me -- pictures of my breaker panel with his suggestions about how it SHOULD look. Young dude is sin verguanca, or shamelss, as the Cubans say.

He mentioned that he and his wife couldn't afford Miami houses, and were planning a move to Tampa. Apparently Mr. Sparky rips customers off statewide. I hope he has no victims on the Gulf Coast.

Meanwhile, I called Nestor back. He can come later this week, and is more than qualified to fix the problem. He is also going to replace some concrete steps at the front of the house -- he did a great job on some at the back. The man knows his contracting.

As for these ripoff artists: I guess nothing should shock me anymore. Ha.

The Final Canes Game of 2022

 So Miami was hosting Pitt, and kickoff was 8, and so we planned a fun tailgate. I fetched Kenny at 5, and made it to the stadium in 20 minutes. I forget how living in the Grove knocks off a lot of time to get to points north, from our Pinecrest home which Cubans call Casa Carajo -- or, like, way the hell out there.

We parked, and Kenny brought a birthday gift for fellow 61 celebrant Norman, some really good Rye, and I brought vodka. Kenny also brought "street pie," which is key lime baked by a young fellow who lives with his parents in the Grove and sells them from a cart out front. It's great pie.

Barry and Josh arrived, joining Norman's older brothers, and nephew and great nephew. Soon Rob came, with delicious smoked sausage wrapped in bacon, and then Eric, Dana, and their boy Josh with some Reuben wraps. It was a lovely evening -- catching up with old friends like Dave and Maria, two law school classmates who have sons the same age as the Ds, and 2 granddaughters giving them the generational balance we have with 2 daughters and now 2 grandsons.

Dave still practices, and told me of appearing in front of a judge we know well, with an opposing lawyer our age, and the judge saying "So nice to have gray haired lawyers before me -- you guys know how to try a case." Dave said all the other lawyers there were 30 somethings. Maria leaned in and said "It's a young man's game, fellas."

They bought a vacation house up in Stuart, and they love going to dinner there -- they're often the youngest patrons. In Miami, with few exceptions, like Captain's Tavern, we're always the oldest diners at restaurants. No city for old men...

We trudged into the stadium, and the game was essentially over by the first quarter. It's Coach Mario's first year, and the team is plain bad -- they finished 5-7 -- worst record in 15 years. There's still optimism for the future -- I guess we'll find out. But a friend reminded me recently we saw 5 championships with our beloved Canes -- if that turns out to be it in our lifetime, we can't truly complain.

The bad game was a good excuse to walk to the Club, where Kenny, Barry, Josh and I sat at a corner table drinking sodas and talking about medicine, law, and life. We barely even watched the game on the TVs there -- and it was just as well. Canes ended up losing yuuuuuuge.

No traffic going out -- and I dropped Kenny home before midnight. It was still a terrific evening -- like fishing on a beautiful night and the fish don't bother you.

Today, Wifey is going soon to D1's, where D2 will muster and they are headed along with Jacqui up to Broward to see Hamiliton, for D1's birthday. Our baby girl is 34 today!

I was going to D1 and Joey's house, but luckily Joey's Dad Ricardo is hanging with him to watch the boys, and also excitedly watch World Cup soccer. If I went, I would have to see my Dolphins on an I Pad, so this gringo, non soccer fan is going to hang home, eating the last of the T Day leftovers and watching a hopefully much better than Canes team win one.

Unfortunately, we have a funeral to attend this week. Jeff's Mom Judy died Friday night -- she was 83. She had some health issues, but was expected to live quite a bit longer. I guess the Big Man had other plans. Normally a Jewish funeral happens right away, but she's going to join her husband Norton in an old Miami cemetery that's not a Jewish one, but has a Jewish section, and their first available appointment for the hole digging is Wednesday.

Judy got to have 5 wonderful grandkids, and at least meet her one great granddaughter on FaceTime.

The bible say a "complete life" is three score and 10 years -- or 70 -- so she got that as well as another Bat Mitzvah worth of more years.

Kenny and I discussed declining health with aging on our way home -- sadly, some people "live too long" with many ailments. That was certainly true of my Mom -- her final 4 years were no picnic -- and she made it to 93.

But, much as we think we have control over stuff -- we truly don't. 

So the only plan that makes sense is to savor each day we get on this mortal coil -- like eating and drinking with friends on a warm evening in the parking lot of the stadium formerly known as Joe Robbie.

In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning

 I really enjoy going to sleep and waking early -- especially if I get enough sleep! So was the case last night to this morning -- I guess the turkey really DOES have tryptophan, and it has a relaxing effect.

I have a solid hour until sunrise. I fed the dogs, put away a few wine glasses, and started a laundry. I do my own laundry, a fact many of my friends who also have housekeepers find funny. But Miriam wrecked a lot of my fine (Ha!) shirts, and I just find it easier to do. Of course, I don't iron or fold -- THAT is work inappropriate for our demographic!

Anyway, T Day 2022 is in the books, and was the best ever. My sole criterion is whether Wifey is uptight, which causes me to lose my welcoming nature, and Wifey was the proverbial cucumber the whole day. The only blip was that she thought the table and chair rental company would set up -- they just opened the two large tables and left the dishes and tableclothes there, but somehow together we rallied and got it done.

I took my am walk, and caught up with hilarious Ellen. She told a tale of a nasty realtor and used the C word, which always cracks me up when a woman uses it about a fellow member of her gender. I ran into Elissa, whose son Mathew was a Silver Knight nominee, and we chatted as well.

I came home, and nephew of another brother Josh texted -- in the 'hood for a turkey trot at Tropical Park -- did I want to meet for coffee. I wanted to meet him, but not leave the house into the tensosity of late T Day shoppers, and so invited him over. We drank coffee and discussed life, as usual. His family was hosting a small T Day later in the afternoon.

Josh left and Maria and Vladimir came -- Vladimir schlepped in all the heavy equipment, and Maria, a tiny little lady from Peru, set about preparing the feast. Vladimir left, and Maria set out a spread that looked like Norman Rockwell paintings of the horn of plenty. And the food was delicious.

Jonathan's parents, sister, and wonderful Grandma Judy arrived, and then Joey's parents and brother followed suit. Soon came Jonathan's other sister, brother in law Yoni, and their central casting adorable toddler, Naomi, with curly red hair!

 I mixed cocktails and poured wine, as D2 and Jonathan joined the party, telling guests Dave's rule. I make your first drink, and then you're responsible for further drinks -- knowing where the bar and supplies are. Joey and his Mom and brother went with G and Ts -- Jonathan tequila, and Yoni some Japanese whiskey. I cracked open a Stoli Elit for myself -- it was indeed an elite day.

We drank and everyone feasted on fruit and cheese, and then D1 and Joey came -- with ebullient toddler and chill baby brother. They were beaming, and the toddler realized there was a year younger girl toddler there, too, and made for some priceless scenes with her -- either sharing a toy or grabbing it away.

Everyone filled their plates, and I offered a simple toast -- all around the table were extremely blessed, and none more than me -- for the families my Ds brought to our lives. And then we dug in.

I wrestled control of the TV remote from the Columbians, who were interested in that silly World Cup thing, and once Brazil dispatched Serbia, I think, I put on real sports -- American football. Yoni, American Israeli, Alan, and I had some discussions about the actual sport -- especially the Dolphins surprising success of late.

The hours flew past. We re gathered in the dining room for birthday cake for D1 -- she turns 34 on Sunday. Then came the discussion about why Publix makes such awesome cakes. They are, in fact, delicious. After that, some more toddler play -- they realized it was enormously fun to jump from the ottoman to the couch, into the waiting arms of grandpas -- and then people started making their way for home.

We packed up a few with leftovers. Joey's Mom and I tearfully recalled how last T Day, there was question about whether D1 had a viable pregnancy. Well, the now nearly 5 month old bouncing baby gave the blissful answer.

And as we walked the matriarch Judy to her car, she grabbed me and reminded me that "our project worked out very well, didn't it?" She was talking about the marriage of her beloved grandson to my beloved daughter. Indeed it did.

Tiny Maria was cleaning up, and I realized her schlepper Vladimir wasn't coming back. Maria, too classy to share staffing issues, was going to do all the heavy lifting of the serving equipment herself. Not on my watch -- so I got my evening's exercise -- helping her load all the stuff back into her car. She hugged Wifey and me, though Wifey said "I'm so tired from doing no work, but can't get off the couch" and Maria hugged her anyway.

I gave her a large cash tip above the included tip and she was very appreciative. Not as much as we were for her work in providing a banner T Day.

Today, hopefully the tree trimmer is finally coming -- so I can get off the "worst pool"  list from our company -- the ancient ficus drops leaves each week, and the pool guy told me we are his toughest job. The tree guy was delayed by the storms, but hopefully today can do his work, so the pool tech won't dislike me as much.

I also have to call an electrician back -- the landscape lights  fried the timer box in the recent huge rains, I think, leaving night walks from the street to our house pretty perilous. Ah, homeownership.

So all in all, a lovely early am with the afterglow of a sacred family celebration. I am one blessed, rocking Daddy in the USA.

To Those Who Celebrate

 Wifey and I have a fundamental disagreement about pet ownership going forward. I love our guys -- a spirited, strange rescue named Vienna because she's sausage like, and Bo, a special needs Spaniel so named because he is bowlegged. They're getting on, as the Brits say, especially Bo, and, being a long view guy, we talk about the time when they cross the Rainbow Bridge.

I would happily NOT get another dog -- functioning only as a dog hotel for the Ds's dogs. Wifey made it clear that desire had no legs, or paws, I guess -- there will ALWAYS be a dog or dogs in her house, so that I can be the one to get up early to let them out and feed them.

On the other hand, as I age, I happily acquire more and more pet PEEVES, as is the right of aging, curmudgeonly men. And one has to do with FaceBook (tm) holiday greetings that come with an "I don't want to offend anyone" disclaimer. Many people, on their status, wish folks Merry Christmas, or Happy Passover -- adding "To those who celebrate." For some reason, that gets my goat, or rescue dog.

I am NEVER offended when a Christian wishes me Merry Christmas (or a self hating Jew for that matter), or Happy Easter. I know it's their holiday, and they wish to share the joy and happiness of it. It'd be the same if I was wished Happy Ramadan, or Kwanzaa, but that generally doesn't happen.

So -- to deal with that pet peeve, today I wished everyone Happy Thanksgiving, TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE. Only my closest FB friends, which is an oxymoron, will get the sarcasm. I mean -- who DOESN'T celebrate Thanksgiving, other than Brits or Canadians or my friend Lili who HATES turkey?

Ah -- quiet acceptance would be much easier. The Ds, in particular, wish I'd get the hell of ALL social media, given my snarkiness. I am already known as the wise ass of the Pinecrest NEXTdoor site, where my privileged neighbors complain often about the most Karen-like things. In fact, just this week someone complained about the second weed dispensary opening on SW 144th Street, and I added that since the Republicans were in control in Florida, weed places were springing up like, well, weeds. Of course, this brought angry rebuttals from dumb ass Trump types -- some saying that if Dems were in charge there would be MORE, and others saying I should be thankful.

Also, someone named Karen complained about her name becoming a meme for spoiled, entitled behavior -- and asked us all to stop using it. I responded that I got it -- my friends Adolph and Fidel and Che were fed up, too. So far -- no response.

So I guess I must add the freedom to express my sarcasm to the list of things to be thankful for this day. On a serious note, like F sharp, years ago my wise friend Steve, a Religious Studies scholar, quoted an old German Christian mystic named, I think, Eckhart, who said "If the only prayer you ever say is 'thank you,' then that is enough." I dig that.

So the two long tables are set, awaiting the arrival of the wonderful in laws our Ds have brought into our lives. I'm especially happy to see Judy, Jonathan's grandmother, who embodies the term matriarch. She survived the Holocaust as a child being hidden in a Hungarian convent, where she learned more about Catholicism than most born to that faith, and afterwards lived a life far more eventful and exciting than most Hollywood movies.

From the moment she and I met, we had a connection -- mostly since she had deemed that D2 would become another grandchild for her. This is long before they were engaged. I joked that it was too bad that we couldn't arrange marriages anymore -- but Judy didn't laugh.

Later, as we toasted the surprise engagement at a party in the Grammercy Park Hotel, she hugged me and said "We did it." 

This lady is amazingly generous, loving, and also VERY strong. Again -- I really look forward to catching up with her today -- with several of her grandkids, daughter, and a beautiful ginger great granddaughter -- close in age to our oldest grandson. Cuteness may abound today as well with these two toddlers.

As for the pet dogs? They'll get stashed away upstairs, in the room over the garage. I'll reward them later with turkey scraps.

My pet peeves get to attend the party.

My Single Errand

 I am unapologetically spoiled when it comes to hosting T Day. I choose to spend money on making the day easy and enjoyable. Wifey and I do not cook, so we hire caterers. This year, Wifey told me to hit the garage and bring in some folding tables and chairs. Nope -- not even doing that -- and so she made some calls and got a party rental company to do that, too.

I buy no clothes or jewelry for myself. I dress like I did in college -- actually, not as well, as I don't need to impress the ladies now. So when I splurge -- it's on experiences, and making them better for those I love.

But there was ONE errand, and I undertook it this am. D1's birthday is always near T Day, and Wifey ordered a pair of Publix cakes for the post lunch celebration -- would I go fetch them at Publix? Fine -- I would indeed.

I don't know that I've been inside a supermarket since Covid -- and Publix really is amazing. I walked to the bakery to get the cakes -- nope -- they streamlined the process. You go to customer service and pay there -- no line -- and they bring the cakes to you. I accomplished said mission.

The Pinecrest Publix has bad ingress/egress, and I got stuck waiting for traffic to leave. Right by my car, a young woman was standing with 2 girls and a sign. She was raggedly dressed and dirty, as were the girls. I immediately thought of an article I read -- there are gypsies in South Florida, especially this time of year, and do stuff like this as a scam. Indeed, the three looked Romany -- dark hair and all. The sign said "We are homeless -- please help so we can get a hotel tonight."

I decided to assist -- but with a life lesson instead of mere money. I motioned her over, and said "Look -- you have clearly made poor life choices, which have imperiled not only yourself, but your lovely, innocent daughters. You need to find a better man. My friends and I are all mules -- we support well our wives and children, so they don't need to be on the streets of Pinecrest. I strongly suggest you find your own mule."

Nah.. I handed her a $10 bill and wished her well --asking the Big Man to watch over her and her girls -- scam or not.

But I drove out indeed thankful -- for the life choices I made, mostly. More importantly, I am thankful for the partners my beloved Ds chose -- men who love them, enjoy their lives, but share my mule-ness at heart. The great Sydney Poitier said the measure of a man is how he takes care of his family. That's the single criterion in my book -- all else is apocrypha.

Wifey and I spoke last night with our Boston friend -- in the hospital most of each day for the past month with her stroke stricken boyfriend. She did plan to visit a friend's for T Day, and then a visit with her daughter and grandkids later in the evening. Still -- she sounded so lost -- not the future she had planned with her fine man.

Another dear friend will be spending T Day in the hospital with her 91 year old father -- recovering from a heart condition, and in in patient rehab.

Paul and I talked about our situations in that regard -- having acquitted our duties for our elderly parents. Paul's Dad died young -- a bit older than my Dad -- but without requiring long term care. His Mom had a more gradual decline -- as did my Mom and in laws.

We miss them, but think only warm thoughts -- zero guilt about the care we gave all of them when they needed it.

Our Boston friend knows that phase is coming for her parents, too -- 90 and 89. They're still in good shape -- snow birds now in Aventura for the Winter -- but for how long?

Tom Petty's great lullaby says "We're all right...for now." Indeed. And for that my gratitude is huge.

Thankful and Thoughtful

 As a guy married to the same woman for nearly 36 years, I tend to look for variety in other arenas. Then again, my friends are mostly the same for at least 3 decades, and I've lived in the same house for 22 years now. Ok -- so I'm very much a creature of habit.

But today, as I arrived for my every 4 month visit with Lucy, my hygeniest, variety was sprung on me -- she wasn't there. The woman who has had exclusive access to my gums for nearly 30 years was out -- temporarily, hopefully, with carpal tunnel syndrome. She hopes to return in 2023. Instead of Cubana Lucy, a nice Asian woman met me -- Karen.

Turns out, Karen is a Venezuelan trained dentist, so I knew she could navigate fine around my molars. She had a West Indian accent -- she's originally from Guyana. She was very nice, bright, and pleasant, and complemented me on my rear teeth care, though scolded me about the front ones: "Ya gotta be more careful there!" She may or may not have ended that entreaty with a "Mon!"

She's been in the US 6 years, after she abandoned her dental clinic in Caracas, after being robbed several times at gunpoint, and being told by the Commie police that she "deserved it" for charging patients for care. Oh boy -- she said she's still shocked at having to have simply just up and left a career she had built over decades. And she wondered about neighboring Colombia and their new Leftist president -- didn't the population see what happens with these guys?

After she was done, we wished each other a happy T Day. And I realized I had TONS to be thankful for -- just in the fact that no one ever took my law practice at gunpoint!

In the thankful Department, Wifey and I finally saw the little men yesterday -- first time in three weeks! The adorable toddler was doing his best to melt Wifey's heart -- he actually sat on the couch with her and watched some Disney videos -- and his eyes and nose -- whole profile -- are unmistakably D1's -- giving Wifey a recapitulation of 3 decades of love.

The baby was his gorgeous marshmallow self -- huge blue eyes taking in the world -- content to be part of the scene.

We ordered food, as the record setting November rain waned, and then I got an inspiration which turned into an adventure. Joey, the toddler, and I would drive the 5 minutes to fetch the food from Pinch, the local gastropub we love. Joey and D1 suited the toddler up in his yellow slicker and boots, and then, as we were leaving, the sky opened up -- Summer Miami T storm drenching of rain. Well, we were men and so pressed on -- thankfully no floods stopped us.

When we arrived, since we had promised the little guy he'd get to go inside the restaurant, we took him, and then, as I carried out the food in the paper bag, the soaking rain literally melted the bag, so that when I put the food on baby brother's car seat, the bag gave way and some various sauces replaced the 4 month old.

We nonetheless battled home, and feasted. Joey removed the seat cover and it went into the wash. I warned D1 her vehicle might smell like brussel sprouts and gourmet burgers for awhile. Luckily she didn't yell at me -- just rolled her eyes at the latest aging Dad stunt.

I have a sense that even though the toddler is not yet 3 -- he may remember our little voyage. He kept remarking in Spanish how the rain "was so hard."

Wifey and I left for home -- still pouring rain! Turned out the rainfall broke the old record for November 20 by a multiple of 3!

The good news is, drying out is expected by T Day.

There are manifold reasons to be thankful this and EVERY Thanksgiving. And as messed up as our nation is, it ain't Venezuela. I have a feeling that half the guests due at our house Thursday will agree.

I Don't Need Any Other Thing

 In college, Barry and I saw "The Jerk" together, and, since we loved Steve Martin so much, loved the movie. Years later I would get to meet Bernadette Peters, who co starred in it, and told her how much I loved the movie. I only saw it once, but recall vividly one scene:

Steve Martin is leaving home, and announces that he is going with nothing -- "I don't need anything." But in his hilarious way, he picks up stuff he indeed DOES need, like ashtrays, and umbrellas, and ends up naked but with his hands full of possessions as he slinks away.

I relate to that, as I always like to proclaim I am not into material possessions...BUT. I really enjoy my Sonos music system, and computer, and flat screen TV. I guess it's fair to say I have zero use for collectible stuff that has no utility -- if another Hurricane Andrew came and wrecked everything we own, other than the photos, I truly wouldn't care. I'd just get a better Sonor, TV, and I pad.

I also really like my Encode (TM) smart lock. It lets you in and out with a code, and I can unlock it from anywhere with my phone. Of greatest utility, I check its history on Wednesdays, to know when the cleaning lady Miriam leaves, so I can avoid my encounters where, thinking I speak Spanish better than I do, she gives me a list of stuff we need. I prefer to let Wifey and her Google translate do that job.

Well -- the Encode died -- at least the keypad part did. I called customer service and learned it was under warranty -- a full 3 years -- and ours was 2.5 years old. They were sending a replacement, but, alas, it was on back order due to Covid and the Chinese -- I wasn't clear. Wifey said no problem -- we would just go back to using the "inconspicuous frog." That was a metal frog that opened, and always held the front door key. One of D1's friends gave it that name and it stuck. The original frog broke, and Wifey bought a replacement, but I was sure Wifey would forget to put the key back, on account of we both forget to do lots of things, and somehow I would be asked to deal with someone needing access to our house.

So I went online and just bought a new Encode -- figuring when I eventually get the replacement, I'll give it away as a nice gift. And then I called Kobi the Israeli locksmith, and today he installed the new Encode. Ah -- equanimity returns to our small world.

So I don't need anything...except! And now there is electronic access again.

Meanwhile, D1 hosted a lovely 34th birthday gathering last night -- a "make your own chocolate" party at a shop in South Miami. Wifey and D2 attended, with a few friends, and had a blast -- lecture about the history of chocolate, and what makes for great stuff.

A ha! I pointed out to Wifey that it sounded like our trip to the truffle dog/winery in France, where we learned a lot about a delicacy -- and this event was right in South Miami! So really -- there was no longer any need to go to Europe for these types of experiences.

Wifey wasn't buying it. After the winery/truffle dog, we were still in a gorgeous medieval village. Last night, "I walked outside to a parking lot in a SUBURB." The word suburb to Wifey gets said like she is saying "death camp" lately. I rather like my suburb...

D1 and Joey are busy tomorrow, and so we will visit Sunday. We haven't seen out little men in nearly 3 weeks! Yeah -- having them out of town would be a non starter -- they need to be in our bailiwick. 

Luckily, the Canes are on tomorrow -- though they're likely going to lose big, at Clemson. That's ok -- they're playing possum for next year -- when they're really good.

After tomorrow there's one game left -- the Saturday after T Day. It's Norman AND Kenny's birthday, and both will be tailgating. The game is at night, so it'll be a fine final tailgate.

I really don't need anything. But I need tailgate parties...

Distinguished Young Men

 I really, really despise exercising. Other than walking, my natural state is stasis. But I have become convinced that if I don't do mobility and strength training, I shall end up oldER than I am -- before my time -- confined to a walker or some such indignity. It may well happen anyway, but at least I'll give it the old college try.

Several years ago, Kenny got me involved in a gym nearby -- Sensory Fitness. Kenny and I were the old guys in a workout class filled with, well, let's say non attractive challenged young Mom types, and I was the class dunce. So the owner, Enrique, suggested private classes, which I enjoyed. Enrique and I became friends.

As he got busier and busier as the owner, he foisted me off on Juan, a great young Brazilian fellow D2's age. I really like Juan, though weekly I tell Wifey "I HATE that MF" since he makes me move in ways contrary to my usual position on the couch.

Anyway, as men of different generations (they're millennials) I always talk about Captain's Tavern, a bastion of old person gringo dining in Miami. We talked for months about a field trip -- including Dr. Mike, the resident PT who has cured me of both a bad shoulder and 2 bouts of bad hips. And last night was chosen as the night it would occur.

Dr. Mike bowed out last minute for young Dad duties, but Enrique and Juan and I met at the bar. My son in law Jonathan, when I dragged him there, reported the sushi was as good as anywhere, and Juan agreed. Enrique and I shared some, and then ordered yellow tail and halibut. They loved the food,and we shared tales of our varying childhoods (Cuban Miami for Enrique, Sao Paulo then Miami for Juan, and the Isle of Long for me).

We're all married, and joked about how originally Joelle thought Enrique and co owner Guillermo were REAL partners -- not just co owners. Enrique loves that -- he happens to be an interior designer, soft spoken and well groomed, and got that a lot. Juan assumed the same thing when he went to work for the gym.

But we three are all decidedly NON homophobic -- in fact we agreed that single men ought to embrace the fact that handsome gay men are a good deduction in the competition for beautiful women. Yeah -- it was that kind of politically incorrect night.

Anyway -- lovely time, and I have to go meet Juan later this am. Paying for dinner was also a nice thing -- Monday I got a prepaid debit card in the mail from Chrysler Credit -- for $385! Turns out I had overpaid when I paid off the Jeep now owned by D2 and Jonathan. I get happy when I find a $20 in my jeans pocket -- getting nice dinner for several guys out money in the mail -- I won the lottery!

I plan to spend the balance this am -- breakfast with my nephew of another mister, Josh -- in the area for an appointment.

At 1, I have a wedding -- Norman's boy Michael getting married on Zoom. Actually, he and a few humans will be in attendance -- we watch by Zoom. It will be a nice and unusual Thursday afternoon -- watching THAT distinguished young man take a big step in his life.

My Sonos

 I'm very tech backward, but was convinced, after we did some redecorating, to get a Sonos sound system. Turns out it's become my favorite material possession.

The sound bar sits below our TV, and provides better sound than the TV has, and there is a second channel, if it's called that, that lets me play music in some speakers in my living room ceiling and front porch. I also bought a little portable unit that I can carry anywhere in the yard.

My typical morning, before Wifey wakes up and puts on old movies on the TV, is to have on WDNA playing softly in the background as I play or work on the computer. Some days, like today, I treat myself to old favorites like the Grateful Dead. As I type, Casey Jones is happily playing.

Sad news morning. I just read about a terrible shooting at the UVA -- 3 dead, and some loser nut gunman on the loose. Barry and Scott were just there a few weekends ago to watch the Canes beat The Grapes, as we call UVA. I followed along with the game from a Bouchon in Lyon -- and saw the Canes won in 4 overtimes by 2. I was perplexed -- didn't know OT rules, but Kenny figured it out -- have to go for 2 point conversions at a certain point in OT.

Oh boy. I don't like that people sacred to me probably walked right where a shooting took place a fortnight later -- but that's America these days.

Also, an original Marlin, Chuck Carr, died. I used to love to watch him play in the early days of the team -- he was a blazing speedster. He was 55.

We got to FaceTime (tm) with the adorable toddler and his marshmallow brother several times. D1 is speaking more and more English to him, and his Spanish accent is adorable. Thankfully the bad cold the French/Spanish sent me home with is on the wane -- I need to hug those little guys this week. The toddler offered Wifey and I his rice cake over the phone last night. We melted.

Meanwhile, an unpleasant encounter awaits: my visit to Bob Puig, urologist -- he with fingers like a longshoreman's. Covid had a benefit -- only telehealth for awhile -- but that has ended, and if I want my prostate shrinking meds renewed, he wants a very intimate encounter. Maybe today he'll offer to buy me breakfast first.

Our Boston friend has gone public on FaceBook about her boyfriend's tragic stroke, so I can now use her name, Sheryl. We spoke to her the other night -- she sounded, predictably, awful -- looking forward to more travels with her wonderful companion, and now making plans for a nursing home for him -- and he's 67.

The blackjack table of life sometimes deals out terrible hands.

Meanwhile -- there is some legal work to do this week -- depos in the continuing, craven fight for filthy lucre in a settled case stolen from us by Fredo. Fredo's sworn deposition has now proven totally false -- maybe his old firm will finally realize the untenable position he put them in and pay us our money down, as the old Calypso song goes. Whatever.

Also there is a mid week wedding! Norman's middle boy Michael is getting married up on my ancestral home -- the mythical Isle of Long. Very few live attendees will be there, but we plan to tune in at 1 on Thursday. A wise ass friend asked if I sent a virtual gift -- a photo of something off the registry -- but we sent a real one, of course. I look forward to someday meeting his about to be wife -- sounds like a very interesting woman, who shares his love of geneology and history. They've only just begun, as the Carpenters sang.

TDay is a week from Thursday, and Wifey tells me we're all set. I plan to set my Sonos on Sinatra -- I love my hero singing in the background as we greet those near and dear.

Ah -- at my age, simple tech victories are so satisfying.

Time Passages

 So Wifey joined me yesterday missing out on visiting the beautiful grandsons. She felt run down and was afraid she may have caught my French/Spanish cold, and didn't want to pass it on to the little fellers. We realized how lucky we are to have the family all in the 305 -- as much as we miss the boys, it'll just be a few more days before we're virus/bacteria safe. In the meantime, D2 and Jonathan stopped by and sent gorgeous photos of themselves holding the precious sobrinos. And the Canes finally won -- big -- so it was a tolerable Saturday -- made better by the delivery of Takee Outee.

That is really the name of the Chinese place -- clearly named decades before woke culture would have stopped that appellation in its tracks. Our longtime go to place, Canton, is now a revamped Sushi Maki, with only a few "Classic Canton" offerings, but Takee Outee is fine -- unsophisticated Cantonese -- wonton soup, chicken dishes, dumplings -- the soul food Wifey and I grew up on with our Ashkenazi families and courted to in the early 80s.

As we watched the game, I got a call from an old friend -- UM undergrad fellow a year behind me who went to Harvard Law, since, as I joked, he couldn't get accepted to UM. He's gone on to have a stellar career in Chicago and now back in Miami, and married another friend -- to whom I referred him for a divorce from his first wife. Telanovela stuff.

Anyway, they were calling about my connections to UM -- they have twins they want admitted there -- currently in early high school! The Mom is near Wifey's age, and still dealing with early teenagers. She put off having kids until her late 40s -- and fortunately was successful. They asked about our Ds, who they haven't seen in years.

I told them the Ds were nearing 34 and 30, and we had two grandsons! Wow -- how different life stages can be for parents of similar age.

Dave had the Canes game on tape delay, he asked me not to share the 4th quarter progress, but after a 99 yard interception return that iced it for the orange and green, I sort of yelled out. I figured as a Harvard guy he figured out things went well for our team.

But it got Wifey and I to talking -- we were done with the whole college admission thing with our Ds by 2009 -- 13 years ago. Now we've moved on the sacred grandchildren, and issues about buying houses, and careers, and extended families.

It's a nice spot on the plateau, to sort of pause and look around at the valley of our pasts.

So Les the Caterer got back with Wifey -- all seems a go for TDay. I truly look forward to it -- going to be about 20 of us, including 2 adorable toddlers and one baby boy. And then a few days later, D1 turns 34 -- Wifey scored some "Hamilton" tickets for the Ds, Wifey, and Jackie, D1's wonderful suegra. Joey and I will be watching the boys -- maybe I can lure Jonathan to join us, too, with promises of cocktails and no estrogen laced conversation for an afternoon.

It's truly high season for our family -- TDay, D1's birthday, then the HUGE birthday on 12/25 -- the one people all over the world gather to exchange gifts and spread cheer over the birth of a baby in what is now Israel -- a person who is our personal lord and savior. Of course, that's Wifey's birthday -- 12/25.

After that, it's NYE --probably go to dinner and have a few friends over for change of year cocktails like we did last year. And the season ends February 3 -- D2's birthday.

My sons in law and I realize we're the schleppers and mules -- dignified ones, albeit -- and our birthdays fall outside of the high season. And that's fine.

So my old friend Jeannie is dealing with high school sophomores. Wifey may start receiving social security at her "full retirement age" in April of '23. Jeannie is right behind -- but still working as a lawyer -- the better to pay UM's absurd tuition, I guess.

Time passages.

I Grow Old, I Grow Old...I Shall Wear The Bottoms of My Trousers Rolled

 So it's doctor season for me, as I wallow in the early part of old age, which some sage writer said about being 60. I typically see my internist in December for my "executive physical," which the MDVIP company offers -- they take 7 vials of blood and the doc tells you details like not just your cholesterol, but how much of it "clumps." Dr. Eric, my brilliant, Harvard trained friend, says a lot of it is bullshit.

This year I learned that my long time doc is retiring in January. She replaced my friend and prior long time doc David, who used to give us free MDVIP tuition in exchange for my helping him with legal matters. Truth is, I was sort of looking for an excuse to avoid paying the now $2K per year, and this will be my exit -- to Adam, a friend since Middle School of D1's, who has a practice in the Gables.

Last night I called my SECOND eye doc, the one who treats me for increased eye pressure, since I developed a nasty case of pink eye following a cold the French/Spaniards were nice enough to give me as a parting gift -- but wondered whether it WAS pink eye or a reaction to the pressure drops I've been taking. Dr. Matthew, more charming and better looking than Hugh Grant, though he's South African and not English, called around 9 and said it indeed sounded like pink eye, and they no longer recommended antibiotic drops. Even bacterial pink eye goes away on its own -- but he did tell me to take antihistamine drops to alleviate the symptoms, which I picked up on my way home from the long blood draw.

Monday am I see Dr. Bob, my urologist, for that annual exam. Covid was indeed a blessing -- I avoided seeing him and his dreaded enormous finger for 2 years, using telehealth instead, but I guess he missed my uniquely handsome prostate so much, and wants me in person. Oh boy.

The following Monday I see the dentist, and then the aforementioned handsome eye doc. Enough already!

Still, the alternative is far worse -- exemplified by our friend in Boston's boyfriend who is awaiting placement in a nursing home following a devastating stroke -- and he's 67. But he had it coming -- amazing shape, ate healthy, and played a LOT of golf. When the bell tolls, the ringer doesn't seem to care too much about diet and exercise.

There IS a big disappointment, though. I miss my grandsons a lot, and the resolving pinkeye will keep me away from seeing them this weekend. Ain't nobody got time for a 4 month old getting it. So I'll steal up to NE Miami during next week, and maybe fetch the adorable toddler from pre school and spend some quality time with him and his baby brother. And before long -- big T Day here at Villa Wifey. My most favorite time of the year.

So I had a noon appointment with our lawyer today -- prep for future depos on our fee dispute case -- but I switched it to a Zoom. I emailed my lawyer that my doc said I should only see in person people I REALLY don't like -- at least until Sunday. He was relieved I wasn't bringing my eye virus or bacteria to his office.

So age marches on. On the France trip, Dr. Kenny had a hilarious line. We were talking about marrying should the Grim Reaper take one of our spouses, and I said I would opt instead for friends with benefits. "What benefit -- like making soup?" As usual, he has a firm grasp of the human condition.

A Lovely Cruise -- And A Trip Home That Took Longer Than Columbus's

 So the remainder of the trip was one of fine food, drink, historical sightseeing, and great company with Joelle and Kenny.

A highlight for Wifey and me on the sightseeing front was in Avignon, during a lovely walking tour. Our guide showed us the Palace of the Popes -- turns out Avignon was the Vatican before the Vatican. We also toured a wonderful food mart, where we would return days later for Kenny and I to enjoy some delicious oysters.

But our small group was 2 late 60 Jewesses from LA, a lovely VERY Texas WASPY lady who was amazingly well traveled, Wifey and me, and Bob. Bob was wearing a U Tennessee sweatshirt, and he gave me business about my Canes colors - well deserved. He said his alma mater, UT, WAS back, and would surely beat Georgia the following day. They didn't.

But put a couple of college football fans together, and they talk a lot about their beloved sports -- Bob was from Chatanooga and had an accent that Faulkner couldn't have described as Southern enough.

Anyway, the guide walked past a very old synagogue, and asked if anyone wished to visit. Wifey and I said yes, as did the 2 Jewessess from LA. The Texan said "I'm a Baptist, but very much a Zionist -- Jews are my older brothers and sisters -- so I definitely want to see it." Bob was silent.

The guide knocked, and a woman answered -- and after giving us the required look over, let us in. I noticed something -- Bob kissed the mezuzah, and like me, put on a kippah! I asked what he was doing, and he said "What do you mean -- I'm Jewish!" Turns out he was ZBT at UT in the 60s and is a 4th generation Southern Jew -- his wife is from Asheville. I called him exotic, but then told him about my sons in law -- Jewish men from Bogota and Caracas. "Now THAT THERE is exotic!" Bob said.

The tour was great. They had uncovered a matzah oven from the early 1800s,  and it was not in use. The caretaker, a Sephardic lady who spoke French and Spanish (no Ladino) told us about the building -- they had regular services, though Avignon is no major center of French Jewry. Still -- it was a neat stop.

A low point, which turned out not so bad, was in Tain D' Hermitage, another village with medieval stuff to see. Wifey and I had a walking tour, which she opted out of, on account of her being Le Lazy that day. Kenny and Joelle had signed up for a more vigorous hike up a hill for an amazing view of the village, as well as a Mary statue. I kept up, though winded, and the guide warned us of the wet conditions -- especialy as we descended. Sure enough, at a slick patch of grass, my too ample tuches went down -- luckily just a sore back for a day or so. The following day, in Arles, a lady got hurt much worse -- she had to be taken by ambulance for a split open head -- luckily no worse damage.

We ate. So well. Gourmet food everywhere. Wifey LOVED the Lumiere Museum most of all. We had a farewell dinner in Avignon with our friends -- delicious gourmet Italian -- and the next day left on a train for Marseille, and an absurdly early flight the next am for Madrid.

I had another aging moment -- after going through security -- my wallet was missing. I wasn't even sure how to call the Best Western to ask if it had fallen out in the van. But as the gate agent was helping us, I checked a rarely used compartment in my carry on -- for some dumb ass reason, I placed the wallet there! Ah -- a relief, and we were off to Madrid.

Iberia got us there just in time to spend a full 7.5 hours in the enormous Madrid airport. Fortunately, our  tix got us into the Dali Lounge, which had showers, a nap room, and delicious food changed every few hours. Eventually, we boarded the Airbus for the 9.5 hour flight home -- it took an entire 24 hours from when we left out hotel.

Kenny and Joelle trained to Barcelona -- where they extended their trip until Saturday, and then fly non stop home to Miami. That would have been a much smarter thing for us to do -- but I did get to finally see "30 Rock," a funny show somehow I never watched when it came out.

MIA was packed, but our Global Entry got us straight through passport control. The UBer lanes were a mess, so we old schooled it and took a taxi through the rainy streets.

Ah -- so great to be home! And Wifey got her long awaited trip -- so good all around.

Of course, we returned to the political news that Florida is essentially all red now. I always try to look on the bright side -- no more having to pay for abortions, or gifts for gay weddings. Oh boy.

A late season storm was brewing -- Hurricane Nicole -- but word just came it was headed North of us -- so hopefully no tree limbs to clear.

I came to the office to avoid Miriam, our house cleaner, and since the storm ALMOST hit -- I get to be in a totally quiet space -- ain't no law work happening here for the rest of the week. It's like the vacation never ends!

Next up -- Wifey has to get her act together with the caterer for T Day -- coming sooner than later. Looks like 20 of us, give or take. The turkey won't be gourmet, but it will be surrounded with love. And that is pretty, pretty nice.

Le France

 So last Wednesday the non English speaking though affable Uber driver fetched us for the trip to MIA. I note this because though I love my city, it is rather absurd: more people in the Madrid airport speak English than they do at MIA. Anyway, after some picadillo at the Centurion, we had a lovely meeting. D2 had just arrived from LGA after a biz trip to NYC, and we got a live bon voyage hug. Technically, she wasn’t in transit and therefore not to be admitted, but the nice agent made an exception, and allowed it. I gave him a $20 on the way out, which he initially begged off, but I told him he had started our vacation beautifully-and he relented.

The Iberia jumbo Airbus was fine…2 more vodkas after the dinner did the trick and I slept a solid 7 hours across the ocean. Poor Wifey slept zero, and took a few days to come to herself after we arrived in Lyon via Madrid.

The affable cab driver, also fluent in English, gave a lovely tour, and told us he was born in our hotel. Turns out it was a hospital since medieval times, and just closed in the early 2000s, to be converted to a 5 star Intercontinental, with amazing preservation. Le Dome, the bar, gets consistently voted best hotel bar in the world, and indeed it’s like having cocktails in the Sistine Chapel. We met Kenny and Joelle, and we were off and running our trip …first activity, Le Passe Temps, a Michelin starred restaurant that was among the finest meals ever. Joelle knows wine, and had the best she ever had…and the charming sommelier truly loved to teach us about each of the Foods and wine. For Kenny and I, I dubbed the trip “From Levittown to Lyon,” and we all toasted our good fortune about being able to enjoy such a trip. Kenny and Joelle, atheists, were j just thankful. I thanked the Big Man. Wifey wasn’t sure.

Anyway, I’m typing this in a small coffee alcove aboard the SS Catherine…named for the actress Deneuve! But breakfast calls, though Wifey sleeps… we may just explore Avignon leisurely today , It’s already Day 6 of the cruise- more to come soon, But those croissants and fresh fruit call…

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