So D1, despite being a little, flaca, adorable young Mom, is a PRODIGIOUS producer of milk for her babies. She would pump after nursing the now 3.5 year old, and store her milk in an additional freezer she bought, as well as our garage freezer.
When it became clear she had more than anyone little one needed, she set about the mitzvah of donating it -- to new mothers who either couldn't breast feed, or had stopped, and had babies that needed the real stuff.
Around that time, there was a classic storyline on our beloved show "Curb," in which Larry David opens a "spite store" to compete with "Mocha Joe's," and he names it "Latte Larry's." I enjoyed the subplot so much, that Josh, my nephew of another mother, bought me a "Latte Larry's" coffee mug, which I enjoy to this day.
I was inspired by this, and when D1 asked me to help in the distribution of her frozen milk, adopted the moniker "Leche Dave." When the recipients would come by the house, or I would have to schlep the bags of frozen milk back to the house, I assumed the name Leche Dave.
One of D1's high school friends became my top customer. They reconnected on a Mom Page, and the young lady had a son with reflux -- he could only keep down breast milk. Alas, the Mom was a busy PT locally, and found it tough to keep up with the baby's needs, so on several occasions she and her husband came by. He was a terrific guy -- a sergeant in the Doral Police Department, and I was pretty, pretty confident that if any of us got traffic tickets in Doral, they might be handled in a gentlemanly manner.
Well, Leche Dave went into retirement -- but then was pulled back in when D2 had her second baby. The prodigious production continued, and a few months ago D1 absolutely FILLED our garage freezer -- to the point I had to construct jenga-like structures on the shelves to fit it all in.
I reminded her it was there, and D1 went back to work -- and found an old co-worker from the restaurant she worked while in grad school -- a Colombiana who needed the milk for her second baby.
D1 asked me yesterday if I was home. I was, having returned from a trek to the East Everglades, where Baptist West Kendall is located. I was getting a calcium score test, at my own request, to learn how likely I am to drop like my Dad did. Hopefully I inherited my Mom's cardiovascular genetics -- she lived to 93 with zero heart problems.
Anyway, D1 texted, and told me I would hear from Andrea, and so I prattled on on my desktop -- feeding my news junkie habit and going down rabbit holes in the quest for knowledge. Plus I did some financial stuff -- trying to keep ahead of the constant uncertainty in the markets.
After a few hours, D1 texted that mission was accomplished -- and maybe we ought to rename our street "Leche Dave Avenue." No -- I corrected her -- Andrea had never called. How could this be, D1 queried -- Andrea had thanked her.
And then came the answer: Andrea simply drove over, and was greeted by Wifey, who directed her t the garage freezer. Wifey reported that Andrea was pretty and lovely. Great -- I missed a perfect viejo verde moment!!!!
I questioned Wifey. She just gave away precious milk to a random young woman who drove up? She wasn't in the Leche Dave loop. What if the woman was a thief -- looking to sell our daughter's hard pumped milk on the White Market????
Wifey was nonplussed -- the young girl said D1's name, and Wifey assumed, correctly, the pickup was legit.
But I was sad. Leche Dave had been worked around. The good news is that the baby is just turning one -- and D1 will probably remain humanly cow-like for another year.
Leche Dave may well schlep again!
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