The Chill Weekend

 We had a rare grandson-free weekend, but since we get to see them all the time, it was fine. Joey took Little Man to Naples for the opening party of his brother's new soccer team, and D1 spent a lovely day with Baby Man doing local projects and visits.

Mike texted me Friday -- Chris had a wedding and couldn't attend the Pitt game on campus -- was I in? I was, and I fetched Mike, we drove to the U and parked in his preferred spot, and then went into the Hurricane 100 Room for pregame food.

Mike's Dad and his partner Arnie were founders of the new arena, and Mike took over, and part of the benefit is entrance to the room -- there's a bar there, and they serve food during ACC games. Mike is doing Dry January, like a surprisingly high number of my friends -- so no cocktails -- but still a nice time.

We walked past some hip hop guy who had attracted a big crowd, though I had zero idea who he was, and found our seats next to Arnie and Ronnie -- nice to catch up with them. We spied Norman and his Dad Max across the arena -- and it warmed me: Max is 97 and still up to attending. Norman is a lucky son, indeed.

The Canes dominated, and with about 10 minutes left, Mike left -- Loni and Chris and Rachel were fetching him for an early dinner. I watched another 5 minutes, saw the Canes had a comfortable lead, and pulled a classic old man move: leaving early to avoid any traffic. It worked, and the Canes, via WVUM sportscast, began to unravel, but they stayed ravelled enough to win by 4 points.

Sunday I got in my 10K steps, and got a FaceTime from Josh, to share the "vibes" of the Miami Half Marathon after party with me. There was no after party for my walk, but I DID take my first bike ride in awhile -- now that D2 and Jonathan have taken back most of their garage clogging stuff, I have access to the bikes and air compressor again.

I cruised around, savoring my 'hood as I always do, reflecting on those who have come and gone in the 23 years we've lived here. Valentine's Day is approaching, and I always look back on VDay 2001. I set up a table on our front patio, plugged in a boom box, and brought in Di Napoli for Wifey and the Ds, as the dogs slept underneath us. It was a lovely evening, and I felt like a Kennedy in this house I still love.

We're planning another of those this VDay -- with Mike, Loni, Jeff, and Lili. I'll bring in soom Root and Bone and we can toast to all of us being together for now more than 4 decades -- how 3 boys met in grad school and somehow are now Dads to 7 (6 girls and one boy) , granddads to 3, with another due in June.Sunrise, sunset indeed.

Wifey had invited over her friend Ronnie last night, and I brought in the politically incorrectly named Takee Outee, and mixed Ronnie a few cosmos and myself a few clean martinis. We watched the end of the AFC Champ game, and the entire NFC champ game -- Ronnie loves football and drinking and so I love having her as a guest.

This am I drew Dryer Vent duty, on account of Wifey gets up after the fellow wants to come. We haven't had him come with the industrial vacuum to suck clean our duct in years, and I noticed the dryer in, in fact, not drying so well.

Years ago, we had him move the vent connection to a high spot behind the dryer, making for an easier cleanout. Hopefully he doesn't find any missing animals...

D2 told me D1 and her men invader her house yesterday, and they had a lovely time with the boys. I can't describe how happy that makes me -- their closeness. And the Ds are already all over the 'hood -- D2 reported that she spotted a Great Pyranees mix dog walking, and had been previously alerted by D1, who spotted the dog and its owner earlier. 

Yes -- North Dade is where it's at for them, and I love that.

But South Dade remains just fine with me...

Quotidian Week

 Nothing much happened the latter part of this week, which, as my Dad used to say, was just the way he liked it!

Wifey did give us some future lore, yesterday. D1 had asked her to fetch the Little Man from school, and Wifey got confused and fetched the Baby Man instead. D1 aged a bit when she rolled up a few minutes after Wifey had gone, and asked for her toddler, to be told "Someone else just fetched him!" Luckily, Wifey sent a picture, so D1 knew her youngest was fine.

They met on Biscayne, D1 got the Baby Man, and Wifey went to get the Little Man. All's well...

In fairness, they DO kind of look alike...

It reminded us of a similar mix up, from D2's preschool days. The staff would deposit your kid into the car seat, which they did for Wifey, and she drove off, to hear a voice saying "You're not my Mommy."

Indeed, D2's lookalike  Tania had been placed -- they had identical haircuts, and truly looked a lot alike. Wifey drove back and picked up the correct child. Funnily, Tania and D2 ended up classmates and sorority sisters at UF years later. I don't think they got mixed up anymore...

We have a weekend planned of a lot of nothing. D1 and her men are busy, and D2 and Jonathan have lots of new house stuff going on. I will walk a lot and watch football, unless something else pops up.

Next weekend we have a birthday -- D2 turns 32. Negotiations are underway about the restaurant to celebrate. Last year it was Il Gabbianno -- this year the early indications are steak.

Wow -- 32. For me that was 1992 -- the year D2 was born. It was an amazing year for me -- made my first big money, converted all our crap into insurance cash thanks to Hurricane Andrew, and, most importantly, welcomed D2. Watching that beautiful baby -- wow -- I daren't have dreamed the amazing woman she'd become, with an amazing husband and very large dog. Life happens.

So there's beauty in the usual, as usual. I have a Zoom shabbat at 6 -- so I can have my first cocktail since Sunday not alone. Wifey may invite over Ronnie, who lives in Deering Bay -- she's a fine drinking partner, too, though Wifey will have to drive her home.

Here's to the usual -- may it continue.

Life's Too Short

 What a weekend we had! Friday Paul and Patricia hosted a stellar shabbat -- great food, martinis with a view of the Bay from their lovely balcony, and, most importantly, delightful friendship.

Saturday Joelle and Kenny came by near sunset, and I got a roaring fire going in the firepit -- one of my favorite possessions. I poured us cocktails, and we talked of our upcoming cruise -- from Barbados back to Miami. We toasted our kids and grandkids, and of times to come. Wifey drove us to Platea, best restaurant in Pincecrest, and we shared a steak and some fish and great sides. I even had a glass of Malbec, along with Kenny, to keep the lovely buzz going.

It was deliciously cool, and I lit another fire -- this time sitting alone with a hot herbal tea, thanking the Big Man, and thinking about a nasty business dispute. I had an epiphany.

I called Paul the following morning, and we agreed -- no fighting. We were right, and a young lawyer was taking big advantage of the fact that his name was on a contract instead of the colleague who was SUPPOSED to have signed -- but so what? Life's too short to fight over money. My dear friend Mirta would say that's spoken by a man with plenty of money -- but it's true. We agreed to resolve the matter as the young fellow wanted -- and I was to learn two nights later a reason for his aggressiveness instead of fraternity.

But Sunday came first -- and D1 and Joey brought Little Man and Baby Man -- and we spent a delightful afternoon -- "peacock hunts" around the 'hood, feeding the pond fish and turtles, and even some quiet time watching "Paw Patrol."

The Little Man has transformed amazingly the past 3 months -- from a pain in the tuches late toddler to a delightful, inquisitive little boy. He rarely has tantrums anymore, and can be reasoned with when he doesn't get his way. Baby Man is a delight -- happy and quiet -- his older brother does most of the talking.

Joey asked me to make some martinis -- and I laughed. I used to have to drink when I was with MY suegro -- to handle his aggressiveness. But Joey assured me he, instead, enjoys my company and getting buzzed together. I believe him.

After D1 drove away, Wifey and I collapsed -- having small kids is for young people. Mike told me he just ran into a former classmate of ours -- our age -- with a new wife and 2 year old baby. My hands sweated at the thought of that -- better Mike D than me!

Sunday night we had our HOA Exec Meeting, and discussed the 'hood. The Exec Committee is 7 post menopausal women and me -- never one who menstruated.  I try to keep things light -- a few of them get my humor, and at least one finds me cumbersome. I don't blame her.

And then last night I met Mirta, my sister of another mister. It was terrific to catch up -- her oldest boy moved to S Carolina with a girlfriend Mirta really digs. It's great to hear about him spreading his wings.

So the epiphany, like many, isn't really that profound -- life is too short to fight unless you truly have to.

And I need to remember the lesson I seem to keep forgetting -- true friends are rare. I need to pull in my inner circle -- and not think others are truly members.

The great Harry S Truman said that if you want a friend in D.C. -- get a dog. Probably the same is true of the practice of law. And that's just fine with me -- I like dogs!

Everybody Funny...Now You Funny, Too

 I've lost two fairly close friendships over my life, which I guess is not a bad record for this vicinity, to borrow from the naughty Irish limerick. Both ended because of money.

The older friend, a fellow I ran with in college, lived a colorful life -- 4 marriages to three different women. After his third divorce, where he paid wife #3 and #4 a ton of money, he came to me for a large loan, to start a business I knew would come under intense government scrutiny, on account of it relied on Medicaid and Medicare. I refused -- and asked why he didn't ask his ex, but soon to become new wife again, for some of the millions he had given her. He said she refused. She was very savvy.

Well, I said no as well, and he was terribly hurt that I turned him down. He wrote a long email explaining how hurt he was, and I told him I was sorry he felt that way. That was adios.

Later, I learned at lunch from an even older friend of his that he had blown off said friend while his wife, a mutual childhood friend, was dying of cancer. So I felt maybe I wasn't such a jerk for refusing the loan, afterwards. The good news is, I wished him well, and I think he's doing quite well.

The second loss was John, who I call Fredo, on account of his betrayal of our little group of lawyers. His treachery hurt deep -- and caused us years of annoyance, concluding with a trial where we recouped some of the losses from his actions. But I forgave him in my heart -- he's older and not in the best of health, and I assume I will learn of his death sooner than later. I won't go to his funeral.

And now presently there is an existential threat to two more friendships -- also about sharing fees. It isn't just about the actual numbers, but rather learning a younger lawyer I considered a friend and mentee harbored long held, totally incorrect thoughts about past dealings.

I want to think the fellow said these things as mere negotiation tactics, as when I pointed out my "broken promise" about a case close to 10 years ago wasn't a promise I could have even made, as his deal was with a lawyer other than me, he seemed to accept that.

We had a lot to do with his current spot, heading to a partnership with an even closer friend, and last night I asked the older guy to "leash his dog." My friend essentially shrugged his shoulders, saying he was powerless.

WHAT???? Back when this event took place, my friend was the fellow's boss, and in an episode of clerical incompetence, let the young guy sign HIS name to a contract instead of signing his own. And now we have a mess.

I was as upset last night as I've been in quite awhile -- much more about the potential loss of friendships than about the money. Money is important -- always is. Hell -- we just booked a cruise for early March, and Wifey told me last night she booked another one with her friend just over a month later. So I got bills...

And then I went to bed, and thought long and hard. I have to follow the advice of "Frozen" and let it go.

This matter will be worked out, or it won't. Hell -- I bought some new suits recently, to account for my corpulence, and if I have to wear them to court, so be it.

But tonight is shabbos, and we have great plans: Paul and Patricia are hosting us, with Dr. Barry and Donna and possible young Josh, at their place in Aventura. Paul and I have pledged to leave the unpleasantness outside, and focus on our manifold blessings.

Of course, the worst thing about living in Miami comes into play: traffic. What used to be a half hour drive is now 1.5 hours to get to Aventorture, as our friend Allison calls it. But that's ok -- there'll be a few stiff Stolis awaiting my arrival, and an evening with two of my brothers.

We all funny -- but in the good way -- laughter and warmth. And that's what I choose to embrace.

Ready For My Chippendales Closeup Now

 So wonderful Dr. Jeremy Green, dermatologist to the stars as well as my humble family, cleared me of skin cancer worries in December. I thought I was done with seeing him until next December, but I noticed a rather unsightly dark hyperpigmentation bump pop up on the side of my face, joining several others which were not as unsightly. I figured I would go for a facial, and get it removed, but Wifey and the Ds told me that was a job for Dr. Green.

I called on Monday, figuring I'd get in to see him in a few months, but the receptionist said there was a cancellation for the following day -- would I like it? Would I, would I, as my late Mom's favorite joke punchline went. So I was off to San Remo for the second day in a row.

On Monday, Norman was nice enough to invite me to go to the Panthers game with him, and I fetched him at his office, right across from Dr. Green's. We joked that we were celebrating MLK Day by watching the whitest sport there is, NHL, but indeed the Ducks have a single African American player. He, along with the sax player who played the national anthem, may well have been the only 2 black guys in the arena.

Still, we had a great time -- eating some decent kosher hot dogs and chilling, literally, in the stands. The Cats lost in OT, but we still had a great time.

I mentioned to Norman that if he had extra tickets later in the season, I'd love to take my grandson, since Norman had already outfitted him and his baby brother with Panther swag. Norman sent his 4 tickets and parking pass for a game in March, which happens to be Kids Day, and the family is VERY excited. My friends rock, despite being called assholes a few months back. I guess you can't please everyone.

Anyway, I drove back to the Gables, and told the receptionist and later Dr. Green's PA that I needed the unsightly tags removed since I was auditioning for the Chippendales, and they required no blemishes anywhere. I also had a large tag above my ample belly. The two ladies may have spit up their coffee, and I poker face asked what was so funny. Didn't they think a 50 lb overweight guy could be a Chippendale? Hadn't they seen the classic SNL skit where Chris Farley competes with studly Patrick Swayze for the final spot on the roster? The PA had, the receptionist had not, but she said she would, since she thought Farley was hilarious and Swayze hot -- RIP to both of them.

Dr. Green came in, and we deconstructed the Canes latest transfer portal moves -- agreeing the late QB pickup could be a game changer. He said he wanted a cut of any of my NIL earnings from the Chippendales, and I agreed, reminding him not to plan on any sort of real money from that endeavor, even following the Speedo calender they might well put together.

I went to pay the bill, figuring it would be north of a thousand dollars, as he charges for each surgical removal, and the checkout person said "$150 for today." He really digs me and my family -- hell -- for $150 some salons these days give you a haircut.

I immediately came home and went online with Big Daddy's Liquors in the Grove, and sent him a special edition Johnnie Walker Blue, with a card saying "The Best Whisky for the Finest Doc." Yeah -- he's my main man crush. He's also Wifey and the Ds main man crush -- boyishly handsome and charming.

So right now I look like was was in a knife fight with an assailant with a VERY small knife -- but I should heal in a week or so -- and be pretty again.

Meanwhile, on Sunday the family had a great Circle of Life time together. Wifey and I returned Betsy to D2 and Jonathan in their new house in the Shores! It's beautiful. Joey came by on bike with Baby Man, who happily toddled around the mostly furniture-free spaces. Jonathan came home from his new spot -- Home Depot -- and we three toasted. It was a beautiful new beginning.

Then it came time to honor the past. We gathered at the public Bay access at 96th Street as D1 scattered the cremains of her beloved Madeleine, and read inspiring words. The rain and wind kicked up, as if, D2 noted, the sky was crying. We huddled together and said our goodbyes, as the Little Man struggled with his pink umbrella in the wind -- thankfully not getting the gravity of the sadness of the moment.

We retired back to D1 and Joey's house, and brought in pizza, and toasted the passing of a great dog again.

After, I dropped D2 and Jonathan home -- the drive took 4 minutes -- and Wifey and I came home.

New beginnings and the passing of dear pets. 62.5 year old men still trying to look pretty. Yep -- plenty of stuff still happens.

Today is Just For Me

 People are funny -- few more so than my late Mom Sunny. Although she lost the love of her life, my Dad, when she was just 62, she lived a blessed life. Dad had left her financially secure, and given the high interest rates of the early 80s, she made very decent money without risk -- bank CDs did it for her.

She made a very full life for herself. She volunteered at Delray Hospital each week -- as a rather aged candy striper. She would transport patients, help with filing. She got multiple thousands of hours awards, and she took it seriously. Very little would allow her to miss those Fridays at the hospital.

Other than that, she had essentially no commitments she had to keep -- she traveled the world, and spent much time with her family and friends. She was blessed.

And she was funny. Every so often, she would announce "Today is just for me!" We would point out that just about EVERY day was just for her -- she didn't have to work or baby sit. But in her mind, certain days were set aside for that.

Wifey and I honor Mom all the time with her adorable, hilarious sayings. For example, 4:30 p.m. is "Grandma Sunny Time." That's because were once driving back to our house, the car was quiet, and she signed and said "Ah -- it's 4:30." Wifey asked -- so what? "Oh nothing -- I was just looking at my watch."

Mom had an internal dialogue that was endearing.

And so today is also "Just for me" in honor of Mom.

I, too, am blessed -- my time is mostly my own. Last night, on our Zoom, Drs. Eric and Barry were comparing tales of having to put up with jerky and incompetent supervisors. Man -- that resonated with me -- I am fortunately free of that. My career hassles are all bearable -- negotiations about fee splits, low pressure consulting on cases -- occasionally some PR with clients to get them to retain our group.

If I dealt daily with direct supervisors who affected my life -- well -- no bueno for me.

Still, today is a particularly lazy one. D2 and Jonanathan moved into their new house yesterday, and are thrilled. The Ds already had some hangout time -- D1 timed it -- the drive is less than 5 minutes.

That makes me one extremely proud Daddy in the USA -- I always hoped they'd both live in Miami, but to have them a long walk apart -- well -- my cup runneth over.

Tomorrow we're going to gather in the afternoon for the dispersal of D1's beloved dog's cremains. It'll be a sad event -- not sure how, or if it'll be explained to the Little Man -- D1 and Joey will have to figure that out.

I think afterwards there'll be the first celebratory martini at D2 and Jonathan's house.

Monday, Norman invited me to celebrate MLK Day with him -- ironically in one of the whitest ways possible -- attending a hockey game. Hey -- why not? I don't imagine too many African American folks eat latkes on Chanukah, right?

But today -- essentially nothing is on the schedule -- except the Dolphins playoff game at 8 pm. They're playing at KC, and it is supposed to be the coldest game they've ever played. No one gives than a snowball's chance in hell -- but you never know.

We have the energetic enormous pup Betsy here -- I guess I'll take her for a walk in a bit. Yesterday she got 2 miles and savored every moment.

Today, like all days, is just for Betsy, too...

The Year In Earnest

 So Larry David jokes that you shouldn't be allowed to say "Happy New Year" after January 5th. I think about it each time, during the last week, I got exactly that greeting -- typically from people I indeed have not seen since last year.

But 2024 is in full swing. Business is being done, home renovations are nearing completion. D2 and Jonathan are set to finally move into their new house on Friday -- after a 3.5 year slog involving a townhouse that was part of a fake deal. I think Wifey may be more excited than D2 is -- at least she's more verbal about it.

My job is to fetch the enormous puppy tomorrow, and keep her with us lest the stress of the move get to her. She's large but sensitive.

My other job tomorrow is to fetch Little Man, and meet D1 and Baby Man for a friend's birthday party. I can do this! Wifey begged off, since our friend Allison was due to visit, to keep on de-cluttering, but poor Al had a fall and is sidelined for awhile.

So just over half a year from now I turn 63. 63 plus 2 months is as far as my beloved Dad got on this planet. I think about him each day -- remembering him as an old man to my 20 year old self. Despite the obvious things, I really don't FEEL like an old man. I wonder if he did.

He savored his kids and grandkids as I do. He was happy to not travel to much -- same with me. The trips he and my Mom took were typically at her insistence -- and after he died -- she truly saw the world.

Wifey loves to cruise, and I wouldn't mind if I never took another one, but she knows how to change my view, and so planned one with Joelle and Kenny. We're flying to Barbados in late February, spending 2 nights, and then cruising back to Miami.

The line is a pretty new one -- an offshoot of MSC called Explora. They're supposedly smaller ships with great service. Give me good friends, martinis,and decent food, and I'm a happy guy. Also, the ports are places we've never been, like St. Kitts.

Later in March, D1 booked a family vacay at a resort in Marathon. I look forward to time with the Baby Man and Little Man -- lots to talk about marine life and ecology. Little Man is already a sponge -- he loves to learn. Baby Man loves to be adorable.

Wifey, ever restless, is already planning ANOTHER cruise -- but this one exclusively X chromosomed. She mentioned something about April. I heartily endorse this, and will happily dog sit.

I'm writing this today at Stu's corner Brickell office. So many people are walking past -- as well as the occasional food delivery robot. Where are they all going? Where do they come from?

It's nice to sit here and watch their wheels go round and round...

Serbian New Year's

 A FaceBook (tm) memory popped up today, in which my college friend Jean recalled a tradition we had at the Honors Dorm at UM: Serbian New Years. We hosted epic parties there, in long demolished Building 22, and a few years before my time, a group of the kids realized they missed celebrating NYE with their friends, as it fell during Winter Break. But one of them realized that, supposably (as we malaprop in Miami), the Serbs celebrated New Year's AFTER our traditional January 1, and so Building 22 began hosting Serbian New Year's.

It took place the first Saturday after we all returned from Break, and basically mimicked a regular 19-22 year old party at the time -- 18 was the drinking age then, and we did our share. At midnight everyone would kiss, or pair off for more than a kiss, and we would all wish each other Auld lang syne.

And then, the following Sunday morning, the first guy up had to go around waking everyone for the Hangover Bowl, a game played at one of the intramural fields. Unlike our typical flag or touch football games, this one was full out tackle -- without any helmets of pads, of course. Even Honors students could be fools...

Anyway, my first was January of 1980, and I sort of just helped to block, and caught a few passes. I guess I was a slightly above average player, which given my group, wasn't saying much. This was a bunch of future scientists, doctors, and lawyers. As smart as we were, few were smart enough to realize that Finance or the budding industry known as Tech were the ways to go...

The next year, somehow I became quarterback for one of the teams, and I got the absolute crap knocked out of me . I got off a few decent passes and a few short runs, but mostly got sacked -- hard! My friend Sandy's boyfriend, later husband Cricket, had played high school ball, and he sacked me particularly viciously. But I broke no bones, and afterwards enjoyed the keg of beer we had brought to the field.

And then came Monday. I woke up and literally couldn't move. EVERY muscle in my body hurt. I skipped classes, and somehow made it to the infirmary, where a doc asked me if I realized how stupid it was to play tackle football without helmets or pads. I did then, I responded. He prescribed a muscle relaxant, I think methocarbamol, if I recall correctly, and I took it around 11 am and went to sleep. I awoke, and my clock radio showed 2 p.m. I honestly thought I had slept 3 hours, but it was 2 pm the NEXT DAY!

I had never in my life done that before -- slept that long. I guess having a 19 year old prostate gland allowed it, and Barry said he checked on my breathing every once in awhile, but man -- that stuff did the trick. And most of the pain was gone -- and I had a newfound appreciation for what the Canes players went through -- football was a tough game!

The following year, over Winter break, my parents gave us an old recliner chair to have in the apartment. We looked forward to chilling, studying, and napping in it. Alas, that January's Hangover Bowl would change things.

Our roommate Mike, a blonde Italian guy from Long Island and also pre med, WAS a good athlete. He caught a pass, and took off running. Roy chased him -- also fast, and tackeled him from behind. We all heard a terrible crack. Mike went one way, and his lower leg the other -- compound fracture of his fibia and tibia. We ran over to him. By then, I was an English Major, no longer pre med, and I looked and said to Eric and Barry "It doesn't look too bad." They looked at each other with a glance that said "Good thing Dave isn't going into medicine -- can't that moron notice that Mike's foot is essentially hanging loose?"

We called 911, and the paramedics drove Mike the short distance to Doctor's Hospital. The orthopedic surgeon on call was excellent -- Kalbac. He was the Canes and Dolphins team doc. Mike's divorced parents flew down from Long Island, and Kalbac put the bond fragments back together over an hours long procedure. He was released a week or so later in a full leg cast, with crutches.

That was, as far as I know, the final Hangover Bowl.

Mike rehabbed over the Fall, 1982 semester. The only way he was comfortable was in the recliner I had brought -- so the chair became, essentially his. It worked out well -- whenever he would make his way, with crutches, up the three flights of stairs, we would clear out and give him "his chair." Poor guy was in a cast until the Summer, I think.

He ended up no worse for the wear -- getting into med school in Alabama, which we all found funny, since he was SO Long Island -- heavy accent, Jets and Mets fan. But he took to the South, and for years has been a Professor of Infectious Diseases at Arkansas -- married with 2 now grown kids. He remains a Canes and Jets fan -- we see each other on FaceBook (tm) although I last saw him in person when I was in law school and he came for a visit to Miami -- probably 1985.

But Jean's memory triggered mostly nice ones. Man -- to be in college. I was responsible for exactly one person -- myself. Life was about getting good grades, making bucks during Summer jobs, and my friends. I was close to my parents, but they had their own lives -- full ones -- retired in Delray.

Everything changed that Summer after the final Hangover Bowl -- Dad died in July of '82, and now all of a sudden I had an elderly mother to care for. Ha -- she was my age now, 62, but to my 21 year old self, seemed like a little old lady who had never paid a bill nor balanced a checking account. We sort of learned adulting, to use a millennial term, together.

The following year, I met Wifey, and 4 years later, we would marry and start our grown up lives together.

But man -- the freedom of my college years. Sorry Mike's leg got shattered, but he healed up fine. And those Serbian New Years parties, in Building 22 on the Coral Gables campus? They were good times. Damn good times.

The Only Thing Wrong With Dogs

 My family is rather dog crazy -- Wifey has made it clear we will ALWAYS have them. The Ds inherited this love, too. D2 has Betsy, and enormous now 4 year old puppy, and D1 had Madeleine. So sadly, today was Madeleine's last day.

Oh boy did D1 adore that dog. During a visit home from UF, some neighbors came trick or treating with an adorable Spaniel named Peca -- Spanish for freckle. D1 asked them the breed, and learned Peca was a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. D1 was smitten, and vowed to get one.

She did -- finding a breeder in West Palm Beach, and on the drive home from Gainesville for Summer break after her junior year (I had flown to GNV to make the drive home with her) we stopped somewhere in West Palm, and D1 chose a little female puppy.

She mostly slept in D1's lap on the way home, and D1 named her Madeleine, after a beloved story about French orphans. I could tell D1 was quickly falling in love.

There was an issue, though -- Cavs were known for heart defects, and Wifey and D1 took the pup for a check. The vet said she was fine -- no issues that would mean a premature end. And boy was he right -- Mads made it to within days of 15 -- the last vet told D1 she was the oldest Cav he had ever treated.

But 15 is still too short -- for a dog who gave so much love and support. D1 is beside herself.

But the memories live forever. Madeleine was with D1 during her senior year at UF, all through grad school at FIU, and D1's various apartments and roommates on Brickell. When D1 was sick, there was Madeleine cheering her up, and D1 took her everywhere.

She became a therapy dog, and D1 would take Mads to local libraries, where kids would read to her. Turns out that kids who don't read well are reluctant to read to people, but eagerly read to dogs -- Mads did that for several years.

She was truly D1's companion from young adulthood, through careers, and marriage, and up to D1's becoming a mother of two sons. The humans in the house all adored her -- you couldn't avoid it -- Madeleine was so sweet and warm -- growling just a bit, and snapping with very few teeth when one of the boys would bother her.

But it was mostly pure, unconditional love that came from this little dog -- and we are all so grateful for that.

A few weeks ago, it looked like the end -- Mads had stopped eating. But it was a bout of pancreatitis, and she re-surfaced -- happily eating special meatballs D1 made for her, and wagging her tail.

Wifey and I knew that the end is often porpoising -- up and down -- and a few weeks later, indeed the time had come.

D2 is comforting her sister, and Wifey is on her way -- picking up the adorable 4 year old from Winter camp, and then heading home.

It's really one of the most unfair things in life -- that dogs live such short spans. But wow -- they pack so much love into those years.

So I like to hope there indeed is a Rainbow Bridge -- and Madeleine has crossed it, maybe to meet up with our other beloved dogs. My childhood dog Missy. Wifey's beloved Sunshine. Midnight and Alfred, the Lab and Cocker that taught Wifey and I we could indeed parent together. Honey -- the world's best Labrador, who brought our family love for 16 years! Molly, the comical Bassett Hound I bought for Wifey to soften the blow of D1 going away to college, and who lived just past that 4 year stint. And Bo the special needs Spaniel and Vienna, the strange rescue dog, who are still with us, albeit slowing down, and of course Betsy, D2's beloved girl.

They have meant, and mean, so much to us. Madeleine, we all love you very much.

Wouldn't You Like To Fly In My Beautiful Balloon?

 So today marks an anniversary for Wifey and me: 37 years of lawful marriage. Wow. Lot of water over and under the bridge of life, and plenty seeped through the dams.

For our first anniversary, January 3. 1988, I surprised her with a hot air balloon ride. We got up VERY early, and drove to Cutler Ridge, now Cutler Bay, and met the balloonist at a Denny's. We drove to the Redland, where his assistant was waiting, they inflated the craft, and we were helped into the gondola. It was a gorgeous Miami January morning, and we slowly drifted West, over fields and big farm estates. A highlight was swooping low over a yard where a woman was nude sunbathing -- startled when we called out a hearty "Good morning!" Balloons are fun.

After about an hour, we put down in a field, and the captain opened some champagne, telling us it is traditional to toast after one's first balloon ride. We complied, and then drove home to our tiny Kendall house, to awaiting dogs -- Midnight, the Black Lab, and Alfred, the Blonde Cocker Spaniel. It was a lovely way to celebrate.

I guess we DID celebrate in the ensuing months, because D1 was born in late November of that year. We dug her. We then moved to a bigger house, in the Fall of 1990, and in February of '92 D2 joined the band. We're all, thankfully, still together -- with a couple of sons in law born in South America, and a couple of grandsons, born at Holtz Childrens/Jackson Memorial, under the watchful eye of its Chief Medical Officer, Uncle Barry.

A few months ago, I met a young doc at the gym with the name of Lipson -- the same name as the "relief Rabbi" who married us after Mark Kram, a fake rabbi with no Jewish soul, bounced at the last minute for a free trip to Israel. Yeah --we have long memories. Sure enough, Dr. L was the Rabbi's daughter.

On NYE, I emailed him -- thanking him for his services 37 years earlier, and telling him of our family, and asking "See what you started?" He graciously responded, and asked for a prayer for peace in Israel. Claro que si!

So the vows Wifey and I wrote said we'd shelter each other from the storms of life, as Dylan sang. And indeed we have -- some literal -- like Hurricane Andrew -- and some existential -- like health crises, and the decline and death of our parents.

Tonight, the plan is much simpler than a balloon -- just dinner at Captain's Tavern, near our house. Wifey will get the lobster tail, and I will probably get the halibut, which I love ordering just for the halibut.

We will toast the years past, and, Big Man willing, still to come.

We've been married so long, the hotel, the Downtown Hyatt, was only a few years old. It's slated for demolition soon, to be replaced by a 60 story monster. So is the way of our beloved Miami -- nothing lasts too long here.

But our marriage has -- and long may it run.

And it's been indeed a lovely flight in that beautiful balloon of life...

2024

 So we expected Kenny, Joelle, and Adam, along with special appearance by Moxie the Rescue, around 6:30-7. Wifey went out to get some cheese and dessert -- our guests were bringing Shorty's barbecue.

I got the Sonos going, and lit a fire in the pit -- it was a lovely chilly evening -- and then I poured myself an Absolut, and Wifey some Prosecco! She actually agreed to toast with me before the guests -- a happily unusual event.

We toasted our amazing family, and the new year, and our upcoming 37th!!! anniversary. It was lovely.

Our guests arrived, and we sat in the dining room eating and catching up. Afterwards, we retreated to the firepit, with blankets for the women, and wine refills. Adam told us about his Psych grad studies -- he looks forward to being an actual therapist someday. We joked that with his Ashkenazi neurotic birthright -- he will be prepared!

The guests left at 9:30, with Joelle and Wifey planning to follow up about a possible cruise for us in March. Indeed, they did that today -- looks like we'll be going to Barbados, staying a few days, and cruising back to Miami. The Carribbean doesn't thrill me, but with dear friends and a nice, smallish ship, it'll be a fine time. Plus, I always HAVE wanted to see that oldest synagogue in the new world -- still standing in Barbados.

Wifey and I stayed around the fire, and to prove my love for her, played Joni Mitchell on the Sonos. Songs about ex lovers. She IS much less whiny than Taylor Swift, so she's got THAT going for her...

I kid. Joni is very talented, and Wifey loves her, like I do Springsteen. So last night I endured...

This am Wifey slept in, and I left for the Zoo. Someone told me it's where it's all happening. Why can't my brain work without song lyrics or movie lines?

Joey and his parents, my wonderful consuegros, arrived and parked right next to me, with a napping Little Man. But he soon awoke, and we picked up the pedal car Joey had reserved. It was delightful -- Little Man in front, asking all manner of questions about all the animals and enjoying it immensely.

D1 and Baby Man opted out, on account of Baby Man is "too squirmy," and Wifey slept in. But we 5 savored the first day of the year -- seeing most of the Zoo, and stopping for lunch. Little Man is too young to get some of my sense of humor, so I refrained from telling him his chicken tenders might have been some of the birds we had just seen, tenders.

We saw all the animals, and I DID joke with Little Man that he would see a rarer animal tonight -- his brother, the "Wild Baby Man." He liked that idea...

After we walked through the Amazon, there came a highlight. Little Man LOVES owls, and they have some rare species of eagle that looks like an ENORMOUS owl. He really dug that critter.

We said goodbye, and I left for home. Bowl games awaited, which were the proper level of boring to give me my first nap of the new year. I awoke to the College Playoffs, which are on as I type. I guess I'll pull for Michigan -- no long term grudges against their program.

But it was a banner first day of the year -- gorgeous weather, and a curious and beautiful 4 year old who is just realizing the world holds limitless wonders -- especially rocket ships and dinosaurs.

I was inspired early this am, to rhyme my new year's greeting. 2024. The world has misery -- will there be more? I guess we have to take the tour, or like seeing a fine vintage wine, wait for the pour.

Yeah -- I was inspired by Sinatra's "Wee Small Hours," and know I'm nobody's poet, but the end of one year and the beginning of another is the time to take stock.

What to leave in, and what to leave out, as Seger sang.

So here's to a great year. Big Man willing -- let it be the best ever.