So Wifey was pressed into service up in Shorecrest, to help with the large toddler and marshmallow little brother, and Mike mentioned Amanda was in town and they were headed to Canes/UVA basketball game that evening.
I sent a text to them, including brother Chris -- how about we meet at Fox's for a pregame drink or several? I also invited D2, as she and Amanda are literally lifelong friends, and Jonathan. D2 had to work, and Jonathan was under the weather, and so they begged off.
I Ubered to Fox's, and Mike and Amanda were just pulling up. I adore that girl -- always have. She lives in LA following school at USC, and has a great job and great boyfriend who I have openly pressured to "put a ring on it." I believe it will happen soon.
Anyway, we sat down at the newly renovated classic place. Mike's Dad Ed, my mentor, bought me my first martini there -- probably around 1984, "This fucking big" he said as he held his hands nearly a foot apart. He asked if I was a gin or vodka man. I was neither -- I drank beer and college type stuff -- wasn't a martini like William Holden movie sort of thing? Ed was a vodka guy, and so I became one, too.
Chris showed up, and as we were ordering, the bartender said of Chris, "Oh I know what HE wants." What? Chris had become a regular? Sort of, he admitted -- he stops in a few times per month on his way home. The fact that the grandson of a wonderful Fox's regular is now one himself warmed me.
We also ordered reubens, and thumb bits, which are their famous tenderloin tips on French bread. Amanda had a salad. Mike got the frogs' legs -- an old favorite, which I have never, nor plan to ever, try.
It was a glorious night -- we tried to recruit Norman to come, pre game, but he had plans with his nephew and grand nephew.
We talked of times, past and yet to come. Amanda and Mike left for the game -- Amanda sent us a photo of her Dad having "2nd Dinner," as they provide food in the Hurricane 100 Club before ACC games -- and the Canes upset #6 UVA, or the Grapes, as we call them.
Chris drove me home, and I bored him with early tales of his parents and Wifey and me. He's a great sport about hearing those things over and over.
Meanwhile, earlier in the day, there was a meeting about a legal dispute, and I learned our opponent thought I wasn't Jewish and indeed said anti-semitic things in an email that I inadvertently forwarded to him. I found this hilarious.
Yes, African Americans can freely use the N word, and when I'm with fellow Chosens, I tend to use spicy, Yiddishisms. Wow. Dave the anti-semite -- that's the best Chanukah gift I ever received.
Meanwhile, Xmas draws nearer, which for us means Wifey's birthday. We confirmed lunch at the former Versace mansion -- the gorgeous, mini Versailles he built for himself where he lived until the nut case killed him on the front steps. Hopefully we have a better day than the former owner did.
It's indeed that most wonderful time of the year. Welcoming friends from across the country, planning celebratory meals, and being told I'm a hater of my own people. It's as good as it gets.
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