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.
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