Finally A Dry Night!!!!

 I enjoy drinking, but know I'm not an alcoholic. After a few consecutive nights or days of imbibing -- I've had enough. I used to joke that one of my life goals, like seeing a game in every MLB stadium (that one died decades ago) was to go to Key West and stay drunk 3 days straight. Wifey knew that after the first afternoon/evening -- I would be done. She was correct.

I also never drink alone. To me, ETOH is a social thing, and it's extremely rare I pour a cocktail home alone. I don't think there's a thing wrong with anyone who does, but not for me.

Well -- finally -- tonight is my first dry one in a week. I have been a victim of circumstance, like Curly of the Three Stooges!

Sunday D1 and family were over, and Joey and I enjoyed martinis. Monday night, Wifey's friend Ronni was over -- she pointed out it was Memorial Day and we should order in Shorty's barbecue, which we did, and also she wanted 2 of my cosmos.

They're not really mine -- they're premixed Ketel One cosmos I discovered before last T Day, and women, in particular, seem to love them. As Ronni downed her 2, I had a few regular Stoli martinis.

Tuesday I planned to go dry -- just meet Dr. Barry for brunch -- but again circumstances led us to D2's afternoon sun dappled house for a Maker's for him, a Tito's for me, and a glass of wine for D2.

Ok -- Wednesday I would get my break -- until I didn't! Wifey invited Lili and her friend Debbie over for a short handed Mah Jonng evening. Out came the pre mixed cosmos, and I couldn't embarrass my guests by not joining them! They had a blast.

Ah -- finally -- Thursday -- no plans other than fetching Baby Man at his pre school and taking him for early dinner at Big Apple Deli in North Miami. It was lovely -- and then we drove him home as he and his big brother swam. I was SO tired, and Waze said the drive home was only 1 hour and 9 minutes, we left, around 5. I planned to get home and veg, as they say.

But then, right as I was stuck in traffic by UM, Chris texted -- Fox's with him and his Dad? I had turned him down the past 2 times and love Chris and Mike. Plus, Chris is about to become a Dad, and so his nights of carefree cocktail hours may be about to become abridged.

So I had Wifey drop me off, and I ordered a Diet Coke. Chris and Mike came in. I compromised with myself -- a couple of weak house vodkas and grapefruit juices -- barely drinking at all. Plus some great wings.

We talked of times past, and the idiot Trump, convicted. Mike is a staunch GOP-er and can't stand the guy. Chris is more middle of the road and can't stand the guy. What a mess our country is in politically.

But it was a great night, and Mike dropped me off -- barely buzzed.

So finally, tonight I can teetotal! In fact, as I sit, after 5 pm, I am indeed drinking an herbal tea. 

My temperance won't be long term. Tomorrow night we're meeting Barry, Donna, and my nephews of another mother at Motek in the Gables to celebrate their anniversary and Donna's birthday. I can't let my men down! We'll probably Uber, lest Wifey have to drive us home at night. With parking in the Gables expensive, anyway, Uber is terrific.

And then I can rest my liver for awhile -- unless circumstance pulls me right back in!

So Much For Vacation

 My dear brother Barry takes far too little vacation. He worked 25 of the past 26 Xmas periods in the PICU, since he felt as the only Jewish guy, better to give Xmas time off for his colleagues. Of course, that was when his boys were on break, and it would have been nice...

One year, Wifey put a stop to that. She called his colleague Patti, the head of the PICU, and asked if SHE could give Barry off. She did, and we all took a great cruise together. It was fun and memorable -- but by the following year, he was back in the unit.

Recently, he realized he had taken so few vacation days, he would lose them. I think there is a limit to how many can accrue to be taken "at the end." So last week he told me he was off -- maybe we might meet for breakfast. Of course we might.

I was looking to flee my house as the demolition was beginning on some new bathrooms, so we made plans to meet at Bagel Bar East up in North Miami. The drive was 40 minutes for Barry and an hour for me. We feasted, and I asked if he wanted to go visit D2, whose house was close, so that I might bring her a Greek salad for lunch. Of course! I figured we'd both stay until about 3 at the latest, to beat the traffic home, even though in Miami you can no longer ever beat traffic, you can just turn a 1.5 hour drive into a 1 hour drive -- one that years ago took 30 minutes.

Alas, D1 had other plans. She called around 3, picking up Little Man. There was a problem with Baby Man -- he had fallen off a bench on Saturday, hit his head and had a little bruise, and the school called -- he wasn't himself. D1, who as Barry agrees "knows too much medicine," feared it might be a traumatic brain injury.

I wasn't really concerned -- we had spent the whole day with them Sunday, and I knew typically serious stuff goes South pretty fast. Still, D1 couldn't get ahold of her pediatrician, and was very worried.

So Barry, D2, and I piled into D2's Jeep for the 4 minute drive to D1's house -- we arrived the same time as she did. The Baby Man seemed fine to me -- walking, laughing, and responding. Still, the highly trained Pediatric subspecialist was going to have a close look, and we went inside. Barry and I sort of rolled eyes at each other, but WERE concerned that both the teachers and D1, who know Baby Man best, said something was off. After assessing him, Barry asked D1 to take Baby Man's temperature. Sure enough -- nearly 102. That clinched it -- probably an ear infection, or bad cold, that accounted for his being a bit wobbly and cranky. We returned to D2's house -- concierge medical visit by well overqualified doctor complete.

Now it was the HEIGHT of rush hour, and we did the only logical thing: had D2 pour us a couple of drinks -- a vodka for me, Maker's for my brother. D2 had a glass of wine.

Barry explained to D2 that his mentor in NYC, at Peds Residency, told all the baby docs that over time, they would be able to see a sick kid from across a crowded ER. Since Barry became a Pediatrician in 1991 and a Critical Care one a few years later, he sort of has that skill down.

I remember years ago, visiting him when he was on duty. He told a nurse a patient was to be discharged. Oh -- good lab results. No -- Barry pointed out -- the kid was in his bed playing a video game. "Generally a kid playing a video game doesn't need to be in the PICU." I always recalled that lesson.

So my family stole Barry's first vacation day. I thought of Michael Corleone in III: "Just when I thought I was out -- they PULLED me right back in!"

I texted last night, though I can never really thank him enough -- though the day DID bring a couple of laughs. Barry always wanted daughters, and he got 2 through me -- though they can be a bit high maintainence.

The work continues at our house today, and I plan to hide in the library. Hopefully no medical consultations are needed.

Luck To Avoid Memorial (Then Decoration) Day

 Luck, or Fate, or the Big Man's Will -- whatever it is -- means everything in life. Today is Memorial Day, which was called Decoration Day before WW II since families decorated the graves of fallen soldiers with flags, and I always recall how close my father came to becoming one of the honored, which, of course, would have meant no me and now middle sister.

Dad was stationed in Texas in late September of 1944. Mom had gone back to NYC, pregnant with my oldest sister, who would be born in January of 1945. Dad was down -- he was being shipped out for Europe the following morning, after weapons training -- WW II was raging, and the final battles were on.

He went to the PX, or post exchange, and everyone there was in T shirts on the scorching night. Dad met a fellow Landsman at the bar -- their two Bronx or Brooklyn accents called to each other. I wish dearly I knew the other man's name, as he saved our family, but when I tried to research Dad's records during 1944 in the Army, learned that a huge fire at a storage facility in St. Louis in the 60s destroyed them.

Anyway, the two NYC Jews drank some beers. The other fellow was a bit older, and a college grad, which Dad later told me ought to have tipped him off that the fellow wasn't a mere Private grunt like Dad was. The fellow asked why Dad was so down, and Dad said he was shipping out tomorrow, had a pit in his stomach feeling that he would never meet his baby, due in a few months, and -- well -- was that reason enough?

The older fellow agreed, and said that was the hell of War, but each had to do his duty. By then, news of Hitler's atrocities against our people were coming out. Oh, Dad agreed -- clearly he was going to do his duty, but was still allowed to feel bereft about his likely fate.

The two men went to leave, and the older fellow put on his shirt. Dad was aghast -- the man was a high ranking officer! Dad stumbled, "Uh, Lt. Colonel, I had no idea!" The older man looked around, and said "We're a couple of NYC Jews in rural Texas. We're Hy and Max (a name I chose to give him). The older man wished Dad well, and they parted.

Early the next day, Dad lined up in front of the aircraft transport. The names were read, and the soldiers boarded. But when it got to Dad, the fellow said "Wait. Order change for you -- by Lt. Colonel Ginsberg (again a name I created). No Europe for you -- back to California."

Wow. Dad turned around, went to the train, and finished out his service stateside. The Paul Harvey "rest of the story was the next Summer. He ran into someone from their Texas Unit, and the fellow grew pale, saying "But you're DEAD!" Dad said obviously wasn't. The fellow explained that casualties in their Unit were 95% -- at the Battle of the Bulge.

Dad was very bright and funny, but not fleet of foot. I have to think his chances of surviving in that cursed, now holy, forest, were nil.

Dad told me this tale 30 years later, when I was in junior high, and learning about WW II. He had no idea who the officer was.

But I realized you need to be lucky, or blessed, to survive this life.

Being a Jew in Texas saved my Dad. Being a Jew in Poland killed most of Wifey's family, along with 6 million others. But my in laws were on the correct side of that steep bell curve -- they somehow survived.

So on this Memorial Day, I reflect on all of those who gave all, and thank the Big Man that my beloved father was not one of them. Talk about a close call...

Yahrzeit On The Most Shocking Death

 It was three years ago yesterday. Covid was still extant, and Wifey was nearly 4 months post her stroke. By then, we knew she was recovering VERY well, but still wasn't able to drive, and in PT. We had a thrice weekly routine: I would drive her to the new Hilton Hotel near Baptist, which leased space for outpatient PT, leave her there, walk around the pretty Baptist Lake, and then fetch Wifey. From there, we would drive West on Kendall Drive to the Palace, to visit her Mom, and then have a later lunch or early dinner.

I don't recall with complete clarity THAT many phone calls, but I remember the one that came in as we passed SW 97 Ave -- our friend Ruby called. Wifey was speaking, but not understanding. I heard: "What? Dead? How? When? How can this be????" And then she started crying out loud.

I pulled the car into the lot of the Italian place we often visited, which back in the day was Anthony's Pizza, the place Mike would fetch the Thursday night pies for the party his Dad hosted for us while we were in law school.

We put Ruby on speaker, and got the unbelievable and terrible news: Elizabeth had been found in her room in Utah, dead. I began to cry along with Wifey. Ruby said the Utah ME was doing an autopsy, but preliminarily, it seemed it was a heart attack while she slept.

We turned around and headed home -- neither of us had the wherewithal to visit a nursing home.

Elizabeth was our healthiest friend. She was 64 but could have passed for a 40 something. She ate clean and worked out constantly. This trip was with a group of women -- led by a guide -- hiking the mountains of Utah.

Later, more information came to us, after her cremation and the scattering of ashes at Ruby's North Carolina home. The autopsy showed indeed that critical vessels were totally clogged. But wait -- she had the year before SEEN a cardiologist -- and she was a nurse practitioner in Orlando!

Dr. Eric figured out what likely happened. She had seen the doc there for a possible rhythm disturbance -- and had the day long Holter monitor. She was fine. But Eric said her doc, like many, who explore ONE problem ignore many possible others. Had the doc given her a calcium score test, he would have seen the stenosis, which must have been present.

Also, Eric surmised, the day before her final sleep, she MUST have had symptoms -- shortness of breath, maybe nausea. But knowing the stoic Elizabeth, she likely chalked it up to the high altitude -- she lived in Orlando, and though a lover of mountains, hadn't visited the really tall, Western ones in awhile.

All of this was academic. The reality was that our dear friend -- truly a sister to us, was gone. Three years later it still seems unreal.

We had been speaking, a lot, in the time before her passing. She was knocked back by Wifey's stroke, and tried to get Wifey and her friend, to exercise more during their marathon phone calls. I suggested this, and somehow the friend interpreted this as my saying she was a "fat pig." Whatever. Elizabeth's passing shows that when the Big Man calls, you must go, regardless of exercise, clean eating, etc...

I also clearly recall our final conversation, a few weeks before her trip. We were chatting on our way to another of Wifey's medical appointments, at the UM Lennar Center, and as I walked my beloved campus while awaiting Wifey, spent the time with my sister. She had sold her wedding ring from the early 80s, to a rock and roll singer, as the ring bore no sentimental value. She thought it appropriate that the proceeds would pay for the upcoming trip -- and she wanted me to make sure that in the event something went wrong with the sale, and something happened on the trip, I would make sure her sister Ruby fetched the ring from the jeweler -- lest a stranger profit!

We made plans for a visit to Miami, now that Covid seemed more manageable. She always stayed with us, as staying with her sister and brother in law caused the tensosity so common in modern families. We loved having her -- she would have a nightly glass of wine with me while I had my martini -- and I would see the healthy foods she brought with her since we rarely stocked those -- special yogurts, supplements, etc...

Wifey ordered a sign that says "Elizabeth's Garden," and we placed it at the base of a tree near our front gate -- an area Elizabeth planted a circle of bromeliads while she visited. They're long gone, but I always right the sign after the landscapers knock it over, and I see it and smile as I leave or enter our property.

I met Elizabeth in 1983, shortly after Wifey and I started dating. They were FIU classmates in the late 70s, and had a life changing experience together, in 1981. They decided to vacation in Jamaica, and while there, Bob Marley died in a Miami hospital, and so they were there for the Marley funeral. Wifey still savors the pictures of the two 20 somethings on that trip -- the very literal picture of youth on an adventure together.

Yesterday Wifey and I watched the mediocre new movie about Marley, and it triggered memories for Wifey. I've heard so many details about the trip, I feel like I was there. Wifey and I honeymooned in Jamaica, coming up on 38 years ago, and I want to visit again. If and when we do, we will toast Elizabeth.

Meanwhile a lot happens in three years. Elizabeth would be sickened to see that Donald Trump has a serious chance of becoming elected again -- she loathed him. She would love playing with our grandsons -- the oldest one was barely walking when she died, and now is an accomplished swimmer and non stop talker, in Spanish and English. The little guy wasn't even a thought back in 2021.

Life continues to happen while we make other plans -- the Lennon line Elizabeth and I both adored.

She stays with us daily -- 3 years on after her shocking death.

And the Days Run Together, Each to Each

 So the crews left yesterday, the painters and Tio, who will lead the bathroom renovations, and I settled in for a quiet Friday evening. I had decided NOT to drink, as I did Wednesday, and then Thursday, when Wifey decided I needed to give her PT a cosmo.

I checked into Eric and Dana's shabbat Zoom, but they were at MIA, leaving for a trip to Hawaii via SFO. Their crew LOVES Boca and Jupiter and loves to throw shade on the 305. Their consuegra was saying she NEVER comes south of Broward anymore -- and I encouraged her -- we are SO damn crowded here, I figure every person I keep North of the Miami-Dade/Broward line helps. The exceptions, of course, are Victoria's Secret model-looking women -- we always have room for more of them.

Anyway, Eric and Dana checked in as they awaited the train to their gate, joking that it took them longer to get there than the drive from Boca. They signed off, and then Barry signed on --Wifey was outside.

Barry had a healthy cocktail in front of him, and asked if I was doing a dry Friday. My arm was twisted -- I plopped one of the giant ice cubes from the mold D1 got me (one says World's Greatest and the other Dad) and a few fingers of Stoli and we had our virtual Happy Hour.

We talked of upcoming weddings -- their boy Scott's is in March in D.C., and Mike and Loni's girl Amanda's is in LA in November. The great Larry David says he avoids "Destination Weddings" by replying simply "Too Far. Can't Go." Truth is I empathize, but for really close friends -- ya gotta go.

D2 and Jonathan are going to Amanda's as well, and so last night and today we booked the flights. D2 is searching for hotels now.

Flights aren't too expensive except for the douchebags who insist on flying First Class. Alas, I am become that douchebag -- I have become spoiled, have the money, and now fly that way. D2 reminds me I have the choice and she's right, but I reminded her that last year I paid for Wifey's expensive trip to Colorado for a wedding that I was banned from, and recently paid for Wifey's cruise. When I DO travel -- gotta be First Class, and D2 and Jonathan have to suffer along with me. They will endure.

How people prioritize spending money is funny. Paul NEVER flies first or Business -- he finds it a major waste of money -- but he also refuses to stay in less than a 4 star hotel. I'm more flexible there, but when it comes to the flight -- I rather enjoy knowing my carry on bag will have a place, and I have room for my less than svelte physique.

So come Halloween -- First Class to and from the City of Lost Angels.

I was last there in 2005 -- we took my Mom for her 85th birthday. It was, we realized then, her last trip -- she was barely mobile to get to and from anywhere, and had what could have been a catastrophic fall in our friend Cheryl and Neal's house in West Hollywood. She never got on a plane after that.

I really dig LA. My family's history began there -- Mom took a 3 day train from The Bronx to meet Dad, stationed in Pasadena during WW II. They married and moved into a bungalow (not in Hollywood, like Morrison sings about), but near Cal Tech. Mom got pregnant with my sister, and went back to NYC to have the baby, unsure when or if Dad would return. He did.

Dad often said he regretted not staying in LA after the War, but the routine path was returning to his home. Life was tough -- he worked 3 jobs, and they had to share an apartment with Hannah and Julie and their son Arnold. Mom and Hannah met in the park with their babies, and decided to become roomies in housing shortaged post War NYC. After a bit, they found their own place in Public Housing -- Dykman Street, in Northern Manhattan.

As Dad did better, and got down to 2 jobs, they were able to move to Queens -- a garden apartment in Glen Oaks -- the place they brought home a baby boy in 1961 as the Baby Boom was winding down. A year later, Dad borrowed $2K from his boss, Mr. Katz, and it was out to the 'burbs of Wantagh.

Hmm. Had Dad had a bit more moxie, I could have REALLY been a douchebag -- from Orange County, maybe. 

Anyway, the painters were back today, along with a plaster maven who replaced some rotted wood around one of the new impact windows we had installed. Tuesday am the demo begins -- I have been told to make myself scarce as the chipping hammer begins. The things I do to try to make Wifey happy...

Tomorrow we see D1 and her 3 men. She'll let us know if they're coming here, or she wants us up there. Either is fine -- the grandsons are the reason for the season.

Monday is Memorial Day, and I'll be thankful for those who died keeping this crazy nation extant. Dad came close to being a Battle of the Bulge statistic, but thankfully never went overseas. He knew plenty who did, though.

Tumult on a Friday

 So early this am, our affable painter Errico arrived. He is tasked with repainting our dining room ceiling to make it shiny, and a few walls to make rooms more dramatic, as well as touch ups all around the house. I really like him -- we've referred him to several people -- and when he arrived the other day I said he looked great.

"What do you mean? I'm gray and fat!" I told him I was as well, but he countered "Yeah -- but you're rich! That makes a big difference!"

So he and his helper are here, along with a crew demolishing the bathroom formerly known as "Grandma Sunny's" since that's the one she used when she stayed at our house. They're also going to demolish and refurbish the jack and jill bath the Ds used to share -- but neither has lived here full time since 2010. 

I think they're redoing a powder room, too, which I actually like, since the toilet in that one runs unless you return the flush handle to the horizontal -- a problem unsolvable since 90s era toilets were low slung -- one of the stupidest design ideas, especially for those of us aging and find them tough to get up from.

But my newfangled power toilets, in the jack and jill and Grandma Sunny baths, will remain -- each flush for me the "sound of freedom" from my job of plunging and sometimes snaking away clogs caused by, well, not me.

Apparently the serious stuff starts Tuesday, and our contractor friend told me maybe I ought to leave -- the loud chipping machine will be in use. She laughed when I noted things would get chippy. My brain remains very literal.

So after all of this is done, I'm guessing by my birthday in July at the latest, I should again have peace in my beloved house until Wifey figures out something else that needs upgrading. Whatever.

Also, next week, May 29th, is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 105 this year, but only made it to 63 and 46 days, I calculated that life span for me falls on September 3, after Labor Day, and I plan to throw myself a little party if the Big Man lets me meet and dare I hope surpass Dad's lifespan.

My sisters, 79 and nearly 76, long ago reached that milestone, but our Mom made it to 93 plus 14 days -- so they have a ways to go to ourlive her.

If by some strange fiat I make it to my 90s, well, no one will be more shocked than I. I would sign a contract TODAY for another 20 more decent years.

Time will tell. 

But for now, I hopefully get to live in a house with some spiffy new bathrooms. If not, Wifey and the Ds will hopefully make more money selling the place.

At least the toilet won't keep running...

Spontaneous Karaoke

 So last night I met Stu's staff Carla and Amanda -- whenever we settle a case, Paul and I thank them with a bonus check and typically lunch. I haven't been going to Brickell much lately, on account of the traffic is untenable and I'm old, and so asked the two Kendall residents if maybe we could meet at Captain's Tavern. They don't like fish -- how about Fox's? Well twist my arm -- one of my favorite places.

I ubered over, lest I be constrained in drinking. They did the same from their houses -- they're next door neighbors just west of Dadeland. They sat and we drank and ate, and caught up on matters firm related and otherwise. We go back quite a ways.

It was a pretty good crowd for a Wednesday, to borrow from Billy Joel, and the sound system was playing 70s and 80s, and as we all drank more and more, everyone was digging the music.

At the booth next to ours, a gorgeous young woman was sitting with her Mom, and either her OTHER Mom of Mom's female partner. Ah -- these new days...

The booths are the red naugahyde of days of old -- I always joke that I thought Naugas were extinct, and it must have been tough to get the material. I also tell the server, EVERY TIME, that Fox's was where I had my first martini, courtesy of Ed, Mike's Dad and a life mentor to me, who asked if I was a gin or vodka man. I was neither -- never had a martini, but since Ed was a vodka man, I became one, and have served in that proud army for 40 years now.

We shared some apps, including the famous thumb bits, which are beef chunks that look like thumbs on garlic toast. And we drank -- not sparingly.

The three women were celebrating the young one's recent graduation from a Music College in Boston, and they were joyous.

All of a sudden, the Eagles' "Hotel California" came on, and EVERYONE in the bar sang along. It was delightful -- a karaoke breaking out without the words on a screen. After it was done, we all applauded ourselves. The next song was Bon Jovi, and all of the women remarked how hot he was. I told Amanda and Carla that he is a regular with his wife at Casa Juancho, the famous paella place in Little Havana -- I saw him there. Both planned to make trips in hopes of getting a glimpse -- and were disappointed that I didn't go up to him. Nah, I said -- if it was Springsteen I would have -- Bon Jovi, not so much.

We chatted with the 3 celebrants. As the frustrated professor, I asked if they knew where Hotel California, the song and album, were recorded. LA, they guessed wrong. It was right here, in Miami at Criteria. The young music school grad said she would never forget that.

It was 10 or so, and we each left in our Ubers. I called D2 back -- she and D1 had called -- D1 on FaceTime, so Carla and Amanda got to see the grandsons. D2 and I talked about an upcoming Fall wedding in LA -- I think it will be a partial family trip. D2 joked that I always make things sound "SO FUN," which was D1's complaint as a little girl when I would get her to go on errands to places like Home Depot with me, by promising Dairy Queen or Toys R Us at the end of the trip.

I got dropped off at the gate, and as I walked up the gravel path, Wifey was turning in -- home from a mah jonng session in West Kendall. Luckily I avoided getting run over, and we compared our evenings.

It was a nice Wednesday night.

Finally Some Rain

 So after a beautiful season of cool weather that lasted into the beginning of May, the heat came on. Strong. And it was dry -- walking around outside I was reminded of my two trips to Vegas, one in June and one in July. And rain was a distant memory -- just hot all day and all night -- most evenings the mercury didn't reach down to the 70s.

I walked only in the early mornings, and stayed in, mostly. But finally, this afternoon, there's a raging thunderstorm, and a forecast for a more normal weather pattern -- 90 as a high in the day, and down to 70s at night.

Wifey is busily at work, now with TWO friends helping to declutter and decorate. The painter came today -- apparently our dining room ceiling needs to become high gloss. What do I know?

Also, the perfectly working bathroom fixtures have to go, along with the tile in fine shape. The compromise of marriage, I am told. I'm sure I'll admire the modernization, and with the Bull Market, our assets can handle the spending, so there it goes.

Meanwhile, a nice young fellow came today from our homeowner's company -- to inspect our bathrooms and roof. We've somehow kept our insurance, including windstorm, with only modest premium increases. Not so our neighbors Jeff and Lili -- USAA wanted over $35K to insure their home.

If that happens to me, I'll drop the storm coverage, too -- keeping only a policy that gives us fire and theft coverage and the essential component, liability coverage. Wifey started asking me all about this, got bored, and walked away. I wish someone else would take care of it, too -- Wifey is correct, as usual.

The inspector was nice -- I guess I'll find out in November if Frontline wants to drop me or try to rob me. That's ok -- the truth is the house is built much better than the one we had "mistroyed," as 3 year old D1 said, in Andrew. And with the absurd values, we can afford to replace the roof -- it only has 3-5 years left, anyway.

Finally, I was never sure that a catastrophic storm would leave our carrier solvent, anyway, and as a "non registered company" we wouldn't get the $300K coverage the state provides. Ah -- the joys of homeownership in South Florida.

So soon the painter will be painting, the contractors will be banging, and my peaceful house will no longer be. As I have figured out, though, with women of a certain age, they need CHANGE. Men of a certain age, at least this one, want NO CHANGE. And in the war of change versus no change, change seems to win.

Meanwhile, life goes on. Old friends posted a photo of their son, who used to be friends with D2, on Facebook, at his wedding. He married a dude, so I inferred he was gay. At least I still have those intellectual functions intact.

All I could think of was the great line Jack Nicholson spoke about being gay: "If I could just stomach the sex part -- it would have made my life so much easier."

Eh -- probably not true. I know plenty of gay guys who would demand even MORE decoration projects than Wifey. And I probably couldn't get away with being overweight and poorly dressed, either. So I got that going for me.

Time to retire to the front porch, and watch some of that beautiful Spring rain. It indeed nourishes.

Wacky Neighbors

 So Friday Wifey drove to NE Miami to have lunch with her friends, shop at some boutique they enjoy, and then stop by Villa D1 and Joey to spend the final hours with the grandsons before their parents returned from SF. Our consuegra Jackie was knackered, as the Brits say -- she was the general of the operation -- and relieved to be able to go home.

Meanwhile, Allison had called, saying she was coming Saturday to finish the decoration of our outside areas - Wifey had told her she was busy Friday. But I wasn't! C'mon down, my sista -- we'll enjoy a fun Friday Happy Hour as we awaited Wifey. She agreed, and came by with her MANY special needs dog gummy -- poor guy -- a testament to Allison and her heart that she adopted him.

So Allison moved around the new furniture, added some stuff she had bought at Home Goods, and then we got down to the serious business of cocktails and catching up. I ordered in sushi, with pad thai for Wifey since she HATES sushi, and we sat in the kitchen drinking and eating, with the debriefing, finally, of the cruise they had taken together.

And there came a knock at the front door. It was our across the street neighbor Monica, Vienna, the strange rescue dog in tow. Vienna, though we thought she was past her wandering ways -- was NOT -- and Monica was bringing her home. I invited Monica in and offered a martini -- at first she politely declined, but I am THAT guy who used to lure people to parties -- and I still got it.

She called her husband Steve, and the party was ON!

They moved in years ago, when Pat and Susan moved to PA, and though we talk outside and like them, never had the chance to really socialize. They're an interesting couple. Monica is from D.C, and the daughter of a long time State Department attache -- she's lived all over Latin America -- and has a degree from UM. Steve is Miami born and bred -- appears like a boat guy, which he is, but then you learn he and his family OWN several marinas from Bay Harbor up the coast. Truly the millionaire next door type.

They have 3 kids -- a girl who works locally after graduating FIU, a son starting law school following his recent graduation from FSU, and a high school senior who goes to Catholic school.

Steve is VERY conservative, as I knew from our brief chats, and Monica more middle of the road. We avoided politics.

But we talked a lot -- of OLD Miami, and the places we all partied. And they drank. A LOT. A 1.75liter Stoli bottle was drained. Steve acquitted himself very well on my Maker's Mark. We laughed and reminisced. I stopped drinking after martini 3, and was glad I did. Wifey walked everyone to the front gate around midnight.

Yesterday was a slow, morning after the night before, sort of day. Allison finished her tasks, and we brought in pizza. Allison didn't know I still have a big vinyl collection and a working turntable in my man cave above the garage, which is newly habitable again after weeks of a working dehumdifier, and we played Steely Dan and Springsteen and Norah Jones, as Wifey perused old photo albums of our family trips in the late 90s and sent the pix to the Ds.

Allison and Gummy left around 10, but as she was packing up, noticed some flying objects. Sure enough, her room and the guest bath had a swarm of carpenter ants. I luckily had some foggers, and set off three. I realized our bedroom ACs share those two lower bedrooms, and so Wifey and I camped out in the Family and Living rooms. But success: this am the counters and floors looked like the Egyptian Air Force after the IDF finished with them. I'll vacuum up the bodies later, after the airing out finishes.

I think the problem stemmed from no exterminator visits for the past months. Our long time guys hadn't come, and Wifey called, a few times, and then got that "Hey wait -- it's been a long while" look.

So this am I am online asking neighbors -- I'll take over the exterminator duties -- I prefer to not have a night of dogfighting carpenter ants in the future.

Today seems like a good day to stay inside -- it's still hot as hell. Supposably, as the Miamians say, the heat is lightening a bit next week -- I'll resume my walks. But today -- AC will be my friend.

Steve and Monica cook, and they want to have us over for dinner, which is nice. I know what to bring -- vodka and Maker's. 

It Takes A Small City

 Hillary Clinton used to love to quote the old African saying, that it takes a village to raise a child. In D1 and Joey's case, it takes a medium sized city.

They're away for 4 nights in SF, and have an army of us helping with child drop off and pick ups and of course babysitting. Joey's mother Jacqui is the general -- she's been spending all the nights there, with nannies. D2 is helping with a lot of the NephewUbering, and I am a mere private in this army -- I fetched D1 on Monday, and will do so again tomorrow afternoon.

D1 and Joey realize how lucky they are, and are savoring a few days away. Joey has work, and D1 is chilling with her dear friends Hannah and her husband Joe, along with an adorable girl with the same name as D2! We call her D2-2.0.

Wifey is headed up this afternoon to spell Jacqui a bit, and will go Friday as well, following a meet up with her friends that happens to be in D1 and Joey's hood.

Meanwhile, I've been doing a bit of unofficial pro bono work this week -- I spoke to no fewer than 3 clients about possible cases, explaining to each why they do NOT have cases -- at least ones my posse could handle for them.

One woman, a nurse, told me how her father had died from a clear medical error at a Lauderdale hospital. He was in his 70s and single, and I explained to her that under Florida law, when an adult dies from malpractice, only a spouse or kids 25 or younger can claim damages. The fellow was retired, and so his estate has no claim, either.

Another friend, a doc, told me about a patient he had who lost 4 fingers as a result of a delay at a public hospital, also in Broward. The fellow, now called Lefty (oh, that is so nasty of me) consulted with a lawyer who told him that given the damage caps, his case made no economic sense. I concurred, and told my doc friend I couldn't help him.

And the third potential client, a woman we represented years ago, wanted her mother to sue as the result of a botched pacemaker procedure. Even though we settled a case her family had for millions, decades ago, she went to two other law firms first -- her son had a lot of lawyer friends. Can't help her, either.

Meanwhile, at Villa Wifey, the decorating/updating is nearly finished -- our friend Allison is coming tomorrow for a few days for the last touches.

Of course, this means that Wifey says we ALSO need updating of our kitchen and guest bathrooms. Luckily -- no major construction -- just one new bathtub and new tiling with some new plumbing fixtures. Oh yeah -- we need our dining room ceiling painted, too, since it's such a "Regal space" and needs that.

Whatever. We've decided to stay for the duration -- might as well make Wifey happy. I'm happy when stuff simply works, and there are no leaks.

My California sister called with the sad news that her friend of 20 years died. I never met her -- she was 82. Sue says she "can't wrap her head around death." I reminded Sue someday she won't have to -- death seems to be quite good at wrapping itself around you!

I was blessed/cursed to be the only one of my parents' kids to be with them when they died. Dad died in my arms. Mom had passed probably 15 minutes before I arrived at her room -- I was there to kiss her cooling forehead goodbye. 

In both cases, it gave me closure, painful as it was. I guess if you aren't actually touching a dead relative, it remains somewhat of an abstraction.

Well -- hopefully the Reaper stays away for quite awhile.

For now -- I got grandparenting chores to do -- even as a lowly private!

The Heat Is Back

 We really lucked out this year weather-wise, so far. It was unseasonably lovely until just recently -- and now the heat is back.

Wifey and I left to meet Joelle and Kenny last evening, and I counted: she complained about the heat 7 times -- she was sweating going from the house to the car, walking the few blocks from Joelle and Kenny's to the restaurant, etc... I reminded her that the more she complains, the more likely it is to get cooler. Ha!

We still had a lovely dinner -- Koko's, upscale Mexican. The place was packed, with people, as usual, younger than we were. I think our server was about 10. Probably early 20s, but as we get older, the kids look younger. Afterwards we went back to their place to clean out their ice cream supply, as they were due to leave very early this am for Maine. Wifey was weather-jealous.

Today I walked a bit later than usual, and it WAS hot, though not yet humid. It reminded me of Vegas -- a dry-ish heat. I'm sure Miami's heat's friend humidity will be along any day now.

Yeah -- but what are ya gonna do? In my case, this means pool season. I return from a sweaty 2 mile walk, strip down naked, and then jump into the cool water. Our pool gets a lot of shade, and the water never gets bathtub temperature, as many pools around here do. It's SO refreshing, and a constant reminder why I can never live in a condo. My skinny dipping in a community pool would result in arrest instead of relaxation.

Probably by late July/early August, I'll be ready for a cool down. Our friends with houses in Western NC and Maine have invited us, and we appreciate it, but I kind of like being served and pampered by a hotel staff. I figure maybe I'll come up with a travel suggestion for a change -- typically that's Wifey's Department.

I just need someplace where the night time temperatures have a 5 as the first number. We're not likely to see any temps starting with a 6 until at least early October, if then.

As for today, the family is due here at 330. D1 has taken orders for Joanna's -- Little Man has been requesting bagels, and though it is Mother's Day, in our family every holiday is Grandchild's Day. 

We look forward to a boisterous house with dogs and kids and young people. And then, by tonight, quiet again. This empty-nesterhood suits us rather well.

Hillary Clinton used to quote the African saying that it takes a Village to raise a child. In D1's case -- more like a small city. She is going to SF with Joey this week for a few nights, and we're all pitching in with Little Man and Baby Man pick ups and drop offs. My job is Monday and Thursday. 

Nestor the handyman was here yesterday assembling some outdoor furniture, and a new huge patio umbrella that covers the table by the pool. I'm guessing the stuff won't get too much use now for several months. 

So here's to a great MD. The days are hot, but exquisite. And before long, football will be back! Before then, the Marlins beckon. And they play in a nice, cool, retractable roof stadium.

Mother's Day

 So the weekend of honoring our "Birth Persons" is upon us. That's really a term in our Woke era. I'm told by someone on good authority that Miami's largest Children and Women's hospital now uses the term "pregnant person" instead of "pregnant woman." Really.

This brings back a class I still recall from 9th grade, where we learned what euphemisms were. Sanitary landfill instead of garbage dump. Woke culture is a sanitary landfill.

Anyway, there's of course a tinge of sadness for Wifey and me, since we ain't got not living mothers no mo. Both Rachel and Sunny lived long, full lives --Rachel's chock full of tragedy, unlike Sunny's. They loved their families fiercely. So this MD, we will of course toast to their memory.

Jonathan's cousin is coming from LA, and so he and D2 asked if we might celebrate MD Saturday instead of Sunday. Indeed! In fact, food delivery services are more normal the day before -- so we welcomed the date edit.

The plan is for the group to arrive post Baby Man nap, around 3, and I will pour adult beverages for my wonderful sons in law, and maybe Prosecco for D1 and D2. As an added benefit, Joey has promised he will lead a clean out of our garage, long an extra storage facility for both Ds and their families. A lot of stuff was D1 keeping baby stuff for her sister, but after several years in the musty garage, a lot has to be tossed. Will we actually able to get a single vehicle in our 2.5 car garage, for the first time in years? I guess we'll see.

It's funny -- I store and schlep for NO ONE except the Ds. Kenny and Joelle left their car here for a few weeks while they were away -- that was ok -- just had to move it a few times to let a roofer do the work. But actual storage? No way, no how.

Anyway, we plan to celebrate D1, a mother extraordinaire, as Paul would say, and D2, a dog mom of excellence, and hopefully someday a human Mom, too.

And of course Wifey -- the reason for our MD season, who gave so much of herself to our beloved Ds that I appreciate and honor her forever, despite her many marital trespasses against me. Ha. 

Speaking of MY Mom, she left us with an adorable legacy: Grandma Sunny Time. That's 4:30 p.m. It comes from a trip back home from somewhere, with the Ds and my Mom in the back seat. The SUV was quiet, and all of a sudden my Mom sighed, and said "Ah -- it's 4:30."  The Ds asked so what. "Oh nothing," she replied, "I was just looking at my watch."

My Mom had an inscrutable internal dialogue going on at all times, and the truth is, the time must have meant something to her. But to us, 4:30 will forever bring a smile.

And, indeed, Wifey and I will be leaving this afternoon at Grandma Sunny time for the Grove, for an early dinner with Joelle and Kenny. They're leaving VERY early tomorrow for Maine, for their beloved lake house, and we thought we'd have a farewell event. I think Joelle will get to celebrate MD with both her sons in Maine this year. MD will be tough for Kenny -- this will be the first since his beloved Mom Toby passed away. I plan to toast the 3 missing Moms tonight -- Joelle's blessed to still have hers with us.

So thanks to all the formerly pregnant people who carried us and brought us to this world. In my case, I always knew my Mom was beautiful, and being loved and adored by a beautiful woman imbued me with self confidence that probably exceeds my abilities and accomplishments. And that's ok -- it served me well -- I truly never doubted my ability to get what I wanted.

And somehow, what I have, in the form of my amazing family, is far more precious than what I ever knew I wanted. I guess that's why Mother's Day is so important to me.

Restlessness Changes With Age

 So I remain a lay observer of the human condition, following the advice of my late, great Organic Chemistry professor, Harry P. Schultz. He always reminded us that regardless of our scientific acumen, we are all students in the study of human nature.

And I have made an acute observation, as I approach my 63rd birthday. I am forbidden by domestic law from EVER mentioning Wifey's age -- I'm not even allowed to state that she was born in Israel while Dwight D Eisenhower was president of the US. Ha -- I was born when Kennedy was POTUS.

Anyway, the issue is restlessness -- the need to find "something else" or "something better." I had a LOT of male friends who were restless in our 20s, 30s, and 40s -- it often led to divorce. Sometimes it was the wife who was restless, but more typically the husband was having a cliched mid-life crises, and he thought he could calm himself with a younger wife.

But later, to my observation, if the man had achieved a degree of success by his late 50s or early 60s, he tended to want to keep the status quo. His kids were grown and gone, and he enjoyed empty nesterhood, except for those with failure to launch, or boomerang kids. They make do.

But the wife -- after the kids are grown -- seems to want CHANGE. She often can't pinpoint exactly what change she wants , but KNOWS she wants change.

I think Family lawyers will back me up in this observation -- typically later life divorces, after the kids have grown, are initiated by the wife.

I realize I'm a dinosaur, and not taking into account same sex marriages, let alone those involving the entire LGTBQRSTUVW spectrum. I always add "RSTUVW" since I assume future permutations of sexuality will be discovered and accepted as we move forward. I assume the same sex marriages have their own dysfunctions, but in my circle, we're old male-female phenotypes.

Here at Villa Wifey, I see this. Our house, to me, is perfectly fine -- Wifey spent over 6 figures from the time before Covid until recently -- but I am now told we need an updated kitchen and all new bathrooms.

If left to my own devices, I would do nothing -- we rarely host anymore -- surely only the occasional overnight guest -- but I am being told I am wrong. I probably am.

Wifey announced we would no longer be hosting Thanksgiving -- my favorite holiday. Even though the past years we had it catered, and even had a party delivery company bring tables and plates and silverware, Wifey still hurt her back, somehow, and is now out of the T Day biz -- looks like D2 and Jonathan are on deck for this year -- though I will pay for a caterer.

Nonetheless, yesterday I was told our dining room "needed refreshing" -- maybe a custom ceiling painting, or wallpapering? I don't know.

I have one friend whose wife's happiness depends solely on his. Years ago, Wifey asked her what made her truly happy, and she turned to her husband for the answer. 

Yeah -- my buddy is a unicorn.

For the rest of us aging husbands, we have to navigate dangerous waters -- far more perilous, at least for me, than the shoals and currents of younger marital days.

But as we know, typically the wives outlive the husbands. As I learned just this week, an old work friend Howard has left the party. I'm sure his widow Lynn is doing just fine with the remaining proceeds of his long legal career.

Can't I just be left quietly alone, without the tumult of home construction? Apparently the answer is a resounding "No!"

Turning Up Dead

 So it's been a pretty busy grandparent few days around here. Sunday Wifey and I spent a lovely day with the boys and their parents, and Monday I drove back to the Shores area to fetch Baby Man with D2 -- Joey's out of town and D1 needs some family Uber help.

After the fetch, we had a great Monday night getty -- Jonathan came home early, and Dr. Barry and Donna and their boy Scott all convened at D2's house - Scott in town from D.C. for a few days. I checked the vodka supply for martinis, and realized there was a serious shortage. But UberEats delivered some Tito's and a bottle of Maker's in precisely 25 minutes -- from the North Miami Big Daddy's.

It occurred to me I never want to live in an area too far from delivery services -- I have become QUITE spoiled. What if the vodka shortage happened at a rural outpost? It may have been tragic.

Anyway, we caught up, and then caravanned to New Schintzel House, which was happy to have our party of 6 on a slow Monday night. It was lovely.

Yesterday, Wifey felt up to another drive, and we fetched Baby Man at his preschool, and went to D2's again -- he happily played and watched his favorite, Elmo, on the big screen TV. Then we dropped him at his house, and made the traffic drive home, so Wifey could greet her at-home PT, who is helping with neck pain.

But the other day, I learned an old business contact turned up dead. It was the second time this happened. The first time was with a Jewban fellow named David, with whom we handled a LOT of cases during our busy days. We lost touch with him after we turned down a chance to handle his wife Rosa's claim against a condo, and a few years went by. And then, at the funeral of our friend Jeannette's father, also a Jewban named David, as we stood in the pouring rain graveside, Wifey noticed another stone and said "Look -- that fellow has the same name as your old friend."

Well, it WAS the old friend -- he had died a few years before, as we learned as Wifey did a quick search in the car afterwards. He was in his 70s. It struck me how a fellow who was so much a part of our work life -- handling big cases, and partying afterwards, was now permanently lying in the Jewish cemetery beneath the loud flight path of jets landing at MIA. 

The other day, I was looking for another obit for a friend -- guy named Howard who had died at 59. I typed in "Miami, Howard, Obituary" and found him -- along with ANOTHER former lawyer with whom we had a lot of cases!

Howard and Alan were major advertising lawyers -- huge billboards and lots of TV ads, with a building  on US1 that everyone passed. We handled a lot of cases with them, too.

The first time, Howard called me for a second opinion -- he was going to settle a near drowning case of a little girl for the $300K of homeowner's coverage -- did I agree? Well, I researched the incident, learned an old boss of mine was a lawyer involved, and he let on that the incident happened during a Boy Scout meeting, and of course we knew that the pool fence had been removed by the homeowners/meeting hosts the day before the meeting, to make the pool look better for an impending home sale.

We took the case and settled for many millions of dollars for the poor family -- and the little girl, left in a vegetative state, died months after we settled. Howard and Alan really dug us after that.

Anyway, over time, we sort of gave Alan and Howard over to Stuart, and all was well, until it wasn't. They had sent Stu a med mal case, and the Mom wasn't happy with the glacial pace of the litigation -- she decided to fire Stu, and reached out to an old acquaintance who she knew -- turned out to be Paul, from an Israel trip years before!

We convinced her to NOT fire Stuart, and we would get involved, which we did -- it was a complicated med mal case defended by the best med mal lawyer in town -- Norman!

Paul got the case settled, and I held the clients' hands, as the parents were in the throes of a nasty split.

When the case settled, I guess Alan and Howard assumed we had saved the case and worked it for free. They assumed wrong, and they were upset when they had to take a haircut on their share of the fee. That ended them sending any new cases to Stu, or us.

Poor Alan got sick afterwards -- with a rare neuromuscular disease that killed him cruelly and slowly -- kind of like ALS. Stu attended his funeral.

Howard sold the firm, to a fellow named Jon, a former classmate of mine, and the building was sold, too -- a real estate firm is there now. I assumed Howard and his wife Lynn lived happily ever after -- just a block north of my 'hood.

And then I saw Howard had died LAST year, at 74! I have no details, but Wifey looked up the house -- Lynn had sold it, and will probably enjoy a comfortable and happy widowhood. Not a bad gig...

So you never know who's gonna die on ya. Jim Morrison famously said no one here gets out alive.

So RIP, Howard. He and Alan were best friends as well as partners -- they used to leave the office daily, go to Howard's house for lunch and then pump iron, followed by some herb, before returning to the office.

Maybe they're doing that in the Hereafter. It's nice to think so...

The Beach And Baseball

 So there are 2 activities I don't do often, but each time I do, say the same thing: "Boy -- I really like this -- why don't I do it more often?" The activities are visiting the beach and going to baseball games.

Both are so readily available for me. Decent beaches are 30 minutes or less away, and baseball provides either the Canes or Marlins. Truth is, I prefer MLB, and last night I attended the first game of the year.

Kenny wanted to see the Fish before he left for the Summer in Maine. Norman was in - Dr. Barry was invited, too, but gave some lame excuse about having to work late. Man -- really? 60 years old and still letting people boss you around? He needs to work on that.

So I drove to the stadium, and Kenny and Norman each Ubered -- Kenny from home in the Grove and Norman from his office in the Gables. Norman scored awesome seats right behind home plate for $18 each, using some app that doesn't tack on big fees like Ticketmaster does.

We each procured some large beers, and peanuts from a vendor, and Kenny got a burger and I got a hot dog, which to me is part of the experience.

The Marlins, playoff team last season, lost most of their starting pitchers to injury, and are in last place. They hosted the Rockies, also in last place. But the atmosphere was nice, the roof was closed so the weather was perfect, and the Marlins won -- first series they've won so far. They ended up sweeping Colorado today -- so maybe this is the start of a run for them!

My negative threadmates make fun of my optimism on the Canes thread, but I don't care. As I explained to them, likely one or more of us will be dead within 10 years, maybe tragically, so why not be optimistic while we're still vertical? No one responded to that.

The only negative for me: I bet $10 on the raffle, and learned today I didn't win the $2500 prize. My optimism really is skewed -- when I buy a lottery ticket, I assume I will win and am always mildly surprised when I don't. Hey -- what can I say?

We stayed for the whole game, as the pitch clock has truly made the games faster, and then I drove Kenny home, and dropped Norman at his office.

It was a delightful day, and then I came home to find Wifey asleep on the couch. I covered her, and left her old movies on, with the volume lowered. Alas, a half hour she came upstairs and freely shared with me how much her neck and arm hurt, and how it had been an awful day because a doctor wants her to do a sleep study and she opposes it.

Oh well -- I guess the fantasy of a ballpark has to end when you get home...I hope Wifey gets better soon --she's had a rough slog ever since she returned from her cruise. Hopefully she gets better -- we sure have lots of great stuff to enjoy if she feels up to it.

To that end, after D1 and Joey return from a trip to SF, we WILL take Little Man and Baby Man to the Marlins. Little Man was there 2 seasons ago. We'll pick a time that doesn't conflict with strict nap schedules, and go.

They already get to go to the beach often. I ought to do that, too.