Meals With Bros

 So yesterday turned out to be a challenge to my healthy zero calcium score, and it was worth every spec of cholesterol.

I stopped by the local Amerant Bank to sign papers for a new CD -- paying 5.25% now. Finally -- more money on savings for we older folks with cash! Unfortunately I committed lots of money to a much lower paying investment -- 3.5% -- but that investment may assist in the quest for more grandkids, so you can't put a price on that!

I met Kenny at Whisk, a gourmet gem in South Miami. I had suggested Deli Lane, which has a big parking lot. Instead, I had to search for street parking. When Kenny arrived, I reminded him that a sage man noted that 60 is the beginning of old age, and he and I were nearly 15% past that status. One of the hallmarks of cranky old men is avoiding places due to inconvenience, and Kenny motivated me to get past that for lunch at the superior food place. I was glad he did.

We talked about milestones in life -- we're getting ready for a field trip this coming Juneteenth -- an appropriate way to mark the day for a couple of white guys. We took a field trip in 1978 -- from LI to Riverdale, in the Bronx, so Kenny could hear information about Wash U, the school he ended up choosing. We two honors students forgot about the toll thing, and had little cash between us. Luckily, Kenny had some M and M boxes from a band fundraiser, and the proceeds got us to Brooklyn, where a stop at his aunt's house got us the funds needed to get home. We fondly recall our stupidity to this day.

I'm thinking the next trip, to Maine, won't be one where we run out of money.

I came home to a lovely Bo nap, so named because I share the sofa with the snoring Spaniel, as I fall asleep to Mayday: Air Disaster, my favorite documentary about the many and varied ways airplanes fall out of the sky, and the fascinating investigations of the causes.

I awoke to a text from Barry. He was at a faculty retreat in North Miami, and had a later function at his partner Mike's house at 730 in Schenley Park. Would I be up for an earlier than usual Happy Hour? Would the Pope be up for an Easter Mass? 

I ordered DiNapoli, and cracked open the Stoli Elit, and mixed some serviceable martinis. Wifey joined us, to provide entertainment in the form of explaining to Barry the decades of cruelty I showed to her best friend , including an ill fated trip to Key West a few months back, which resulted in the rescinding of my invitation to her daughter's upcoming wedding in Colorado this August, lest I drunkenly ruin the whole party.

In truth, the mother and stepfather detest the groom to be and I unfortunately have experience with a good friend paying for her daughter's wedding to clearly the wrong guy -- the ensuing years have turned out very bad. So I'm actually relieved to be missing this joyous event. I'm a better dogsitter than guest at an event where I'd be as welcome as the proverbial turd in a swimming pool.

But the true lesson to me is that going forward, maybe Wifey doesn't need to be a part of my friends' and I partaking of ethanol. We enjoy the buzz, and don't need or want it killed.

Barry, ever the peacemaker, and to the best friend the only one of my friends MAYBE not an asshole (David -- ALL of your friends are assholes with the possible exception of Barry), suggested that maybe envy of Wifey's life and blessings is a source of these feelings. Wifey shut that down fast. -- No, it was me and my despicable actions over the past 20 years.

Hey -- if I've learned anything in nearly 62 years on this planet - it's to take a hint, especially when the hint is the very direct "You're not welcome here!"

Barry reminded us of some of his issues at work, involving brain dead toddlers, recurrences of terminal leukemia in beautiful children, and other assorted examples of true human misery, and how silly it is to focus on slights and insults. I called him Rick from Casablanca -- "the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans..." and so it is.

Speaking of happy things: D1 is off in Chicago with her dear friends -- girls she met in Middle School, and are now all married and some with babies. She is sending back pictures in the Art Institute and Rush Street, and having an awesome time, the better to clear her head for the lifelong job of motherhood.

And my son in law Joey, who I was THRILLED to have marry our girl, is getting by just fine -- I think I may mosey over there later to bring in an early dinner and pass some time with the grandsons.

Luckily, I haven't been banned from that house.

Ha. Wifey's friend is right: I sure CAN be an asshole. Sarcastic and apathetic. Whatever.

To use another fellow asshole friend Paul's language: I know who I am, and I know who I am NOT.

And meals with my brothers just strengthen that -- buzz kills or not.