It's D1's last Spring Break Saturday, and appropriately she's spending it at the beach with some fellow Breakers. The sun is shining gloriously, and I'm sure they're enjoying each other's company, as the windsurfers and sailboats glide by. They went to Virginia Key, my old college stomping ground.
Yesterday, D1 signed D2 out of school, and the two drove up to Aventura in search of a prom dress. I called my partner Paul, and told him to BOLO for these 2, and he ended up meeting them, along with his girlfriend and her sister, and taking them all out to lunch. They adore their "Uncle Paul."
Today, our friend Elizabeth is on her way here from Orlando. She's on Spring Break, too, from her Master's program at UCF. We're so proud of her. She went back to school to get a Bachelor's degree, and now is going further. I can barely focus on anything anymore, and somehow she's found the discipline to study and get an advanced degree, while still working full time to boot!
We're headed out to the Design District tonight, for their Gallery Walk. They have it each month, and it's a lovely event. The stores and galleries stay open late, and serve wine, and buskers fill the sidewalks playing music.
D1 may come along, but not D2. She's off to a "future Gator" party at her friend Carly's, even though she's not sure she wants to go to UF yet. In the meantime, it seems like each trip to the mailbox brings yet another acceptance, or scholarship offer. Yesterday Maryland tried to lure her with money. She just shrugs and says nothing. The only thing that gets a rise out of her is when her mother eats subs she was saving for later...
So tomorrow it's back to UF for D1. She's in the home stretch of her 4 years at Gainesville. She's excited about starting her Master's program at FIU (solamente 20 minutos de Hialeah) and apartment hunting. It looks like she's going to join the new trend of the local young professional types, and move to Brickell Avenue. The condos there are filling up with 20 and 30 something renters, profiting from the poor investor slobs who paid too much for their apartments, and are now leasing for amounts about 1/2 of what they had hoped to secure.
Another Saturday night...
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Busy Busy Busy
I have a friend who rarely has time to meet me for coffee. I ask him to meet me every month or so, and he is always "busy." Dr. Barry, my truly busiest friend, is a father, husband, and has, essentially two full time jobs. He always seems to find the time to get together.
The first fellow hasn't worked in over a decade and a half. He's been out on the type of generous disability policy they used to sell in the 80s, and haven't since that hair band era. He volunteers a lot, and is on many community committees. In his view --very busy.
I always chuckle at people's own distorted view of how much they truly have to do. My mother, nearing 90 and with truly, objectively, nothing she HAS to do, always says she keeps busy.
I used to be busy. When I started my law firm in 1994, I'd work long hours, and then in the evenings socialize with folks who might send me business. Ah --busy-ness! Then I'd come home to Wifey and the Ds, and always find the time to enjoy with them.
These days --not so much. My firm is slow, and I have PLENTY of time . I'm enjoying the pace. And I'm proud of it.
I guess the remnants of our Protestant work ethic make laziness a sin. Whenever someone calls me, they say "Well, I KNOW you're very busy, but..." Not really, no. I have plenty of time!
The old cliche of "If you need something done, ask a busy person to do it" is very true in my case. When I was overloaded with stuff to do, there was always a way to fit in another task or commitment.
Now, I notice that when I ask someone with truly little going on to take on another job, it throws them for a loop.
I spoke to an old acquaintance recently about empty nesterhood. He has 2 kids a little older than the Ds --his boy is a 4 year old lawyer, and his daughter approaching 30. He's the founding partner of a successful law firm, and he said that he's been working more than he ever did. "What am I going to do --spend all that time with my WIFE???" He asked the rhetorical question as if it was akin to volunteering for more dental work.
We'll see. I guess we'll always see. But for now, I'm just sitting on the dock of the proverbial upper class suburb dock of the bay. And I like it.
The first fellow hasn't worked in over a decade and a half. He's been out on the type of generous disability policy they used to sell in the 80s, and haven't since that hair band era. He volunteers a lot, and is on many community committees. In his view --very busy.
I always chuckle at people's own distorted view of how much they truly have to do. My mother, nearing 90 and with truly, objectively, nothing she HAS to do, always says she keeps busy.
I used to be busy. When I started my law firm in 1994, I'd work long hours, and then in the evenings socialize with folks who might send me business. Ah --busy-ness! Then I'd come home to Wifey and the Ds, and always find the time to enjoy with them.
These days --not so much. My firm is slow, and I have PLENTY of time . I'm enjoying the pace. And I'm proud of it.
I guess the remnants of our Protestant work ethic make laziness a sin. Whenever someone calls me, they say "Well, I KNOW you're very busy, but..." Not really, no. I have plenty of time!
The old cliche of "If you need something done, ask a busy person to do it" is very true in my case. When I was overloaded with stuff to do, there was always a way to fit in another task or commitment.
Now, I notice that when I ask someone with truly little going on to take on another job, it throws them for a loop.
I spoke to an old acquaintance recently about empty nesterhood. He has 2 kids a little older than the Ds --his boy is a 4 year old lawyer, and his daughter approaching 30. He's the founding partner of a successful law firm, and he said that he's been working more than he ever did. "What am I going to do --spend all that time with my WIFE???" He asked the rhetorical question as if it was akin to volunteering for more dental work.
We'll see. I guess we'll always see. But for now, I'm just sitting on the dock of the proverbial upper class suburb dock of the bay. And I like it.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Floored
Now that Wifey and I are about to be true empty nesters, we've started talking about our future. First up, we plan to take a "Great job, Brownie!" celebratory trip. We're talking about either a week in Paris, or a Canadian Maritimes cruise.
I have a strange desire to see the Maritimes. It dates back to the 3rd grade, at East Broadway Elementary School. We used to watch film strips, which were slide shows accompanied by a scratchy record sound track. There was one about the Bay of Fundy, with its world's greatest tidal changes. That stuck with me, and I retain a strong desire to go there.
The other issue is whether to move to a smaller house, or a different part of town. We moved to where we live because of the great public schools, and now that is no longer a concern, places like Coconut Grove or Coral Gables beckon.
Nah! We've proclaimed we're staying put, since we love living here so much. Then again, at least in my case, the proclamations aren't worth the paper they're not written on...
So we're doing a few home improvements. First, we had the downstairs area painted, including the kitchen cabinets. Done!
Next, we needed to replace the warn carpets on the second floor, which are 10 years old and looking like something out of a busy government office.
As I'm cheap when it comes to myself, I thought we'd just re carpet, but then Wifey and I went to Norman and Deb's house, and saw their new dark wood, wide plank floors. I decided that we'd go that way.
It took Wifey some time to do her comparison shopping, and research, but she finally hired a company to do the work. The salesman visited, and told Wifey he had sold the previous owner of our house the carpet. He remembered they wanted the cheapest one they could get, as they knew the house was going to be sold, and just wanted a new looking upstairs. Well, it lasted 10 years!
The workmen started yesterday, and they're doing a great job. All of the bedroom furniture was moved, and they left our mattress on the floor last night for Wifey and I to sleep.
We laughed as we went to bed, sleeping on a mattress on the floor, like we did when we first moved in together, back in 1985. Things DO come full circle.
So, as Paul Simon sang, one man's ceiling is another man's floor. That has no relevance here, but I always loved the line.
Here's to years to come with Wifey --wherever we find ourselves.
I have a strange desire to see the Maritimes. It dates back to the 3rd grade, at East Broadway Elementary School. We used to watch film strips, which were slide shows accompanied by a scratchy record sound track. There was one about the Bay of Fundy, with its world's greatest tidal changes. That stuck with me, and I retain a strong desire to go there.
The other issue is whether to move to a smaller house, or a different part of town. We moved to where we live because of the great public schools, and now that is no longer a concern, places like Coconut Grove or Coral Gables beckon.
Nah! We've proclaimed we're staying put, since we love living here so much. Then again, at least in my case, the proclamations aren't worth the paper they're not written on...
So we're doing a few home improvements. First, we had the downstairs area painted, including the kitchen cabinets. Done!
Next, we needed to replace the warn carpets on the second floor, which are 10 years old and looking like something out of a busy government office.
As I'm cheap when it comes to myself, I thought we'd just re carpet, but then Wifey and I went to Norman and Deb's house, and saw their new dark wood, wide plank floors. I decided that we'd go that way.
It took Wifey some time to do her comparison shopping, and research, but she finally hired a company to do the work. The salesman visited, and told Wifey he had sold the previous owner of our house the carpet. He remembered they wanted the cheapest one they could get, as they knew the house was going to be sold, and just wanted a new looking upstairs. Well, it lasted 10 years!
The workmen started yesterday, and they're doing a great job. All of the bedroom furniture was moved, and they left our mattress on the floor last night for Wifey and I to sleep.
We laughed as we went to bed, sleeping on a mattress on the floor, like we did when we first moved in together, back in 1985. Things DO come full circle.
So, as Paul Simon sang, one man's ceiling is another man's floor. That has no relevance here, but I always loved the line.
Here's to years to come with Wifey --wherever we find ourselves.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Pet Emergency
So it was a quiet Sunday night at Villa Wifey. The Oscars were on TV, and the D2 and 2 of their friends were over. I was happily feeding my news junkie habit, scanning the web sites of major and minor news outlets, and then...
The Basset Hound came in from outside, laid down, and started acting strangely. Now, the Basset is a strange creature to begin with, so it really takes something to have her appear even stranger. But, alas, her legs and head started shaking, like she was having a seizure.
Our immediate thoughts turned to poison toads, which abound in Miami. Dogs eat them and then their owners wish they hadn't. Upon Perry (one of D1's friends and a budding journalist) suggestions, I took Molly outside, and stuck a hose in her mouth, to wash away any toad toxins. The dog perked up a bit, but then, a few minutes later, started shaking again.
Now, I figured we'd wait until Monday, but then the chorus came of "But Daddy --what if she's dying???:" The fact that the Ds are 18 and 21 changes nothing in my house --they might as well have been 8 and 11.
Wifey sort of half heartedly volunteered to take the dog to the ER, but, Ha! As if! I knew I was the one.
I drove over to the Pet ER, which luckily was very close to our house. By the time I got there, Molly looked fine, but I figured I might as well get her checked.
I took her inside, and there was a Mom, little girl, and stricken looking boy, about 9. He looked at Molly and asked, sadly "What's wrong with YOUR dog?" I told her she was shaking, and we wanted to make sure she hadn't eaten anything poisonous. He volunteered "Our dog swallowed one of my Mom's pills. He's either going to be fine tomorrow, or he's going to die."
Isn't that true of all of us, I thought.
The vet came out, and I liked him immediately. He looked like a taller and less Semitic version of Zach Efron. He was about 6'3", and Canadian. He examined Molly, and could tell it was no frog or toad. He didn't seem too concerned.
He drew blood, and reported that the lab machine was in need of recalibration, and it would take "aboot" 30 minutes. I love how Canadians say that!
I waited and watched "Animal Planet" about catfish in the Amazon that eat humans who fall into the river. I wished the boy with the pill popping dog was there --he would have found the show extremely cool. I also texted D1, telling her that she and D2 outght to have been in my place, dealing with the young, handsome vet.
Around midnight, Dr. Aboot-Dreamy cam back to the waiting area, and told me all Basset levels were normal. He explained that sometimes seizures just happen, and they're no big deal. They are for humans, since they can strike when we're driving, or swimming. I told him we didn't plan on letting Molly drive, and she wasn't much in the pool...
I came home to the waiting other 2 dogs --the ancient Lab, and the hopping puppy Cavalier. It appeared from their excited sniffing that they were hearing Molly's version of the veterinary adventure.
The whole ordeal only cost about $200. Wifey commented that they were cheaper than our regular vets.
It appears the Basset will live to drool another day...
The Basset Hound came in from outside, laid down, and started acting strangely. Now, the Basset is a strange creature to begin with, so it really takes something to have her appear even stranger. But, alas, her legs and head started shaking, like she was having a seizure.
Our immediate thoughts turned to poison toads, which abound in Miami. Dogs eat them and then their owners wish they hadn't. Upon Perry (one of D1's friends and a budding journalist) suggestions, I took Molly outside, and stuck a hose in her mouth, to wash away any toad toxins. The dog perked up a bit, but then, a few minutes later, started shaking again.
Now, I figured we'd wait until Monday, but then the chorus came of "But Daddy --what if she's dying???:" The fact that the Ds are 18 and 21 changes nothing in my house --they might as well have been 8 and 11.
Wifey sort of half heartedly volunteered to take the dog to the ER, but, Ha! As if! I knew I was the one.
I drove over to the Pet ER, which luckily was very close to our house. By the time I got there, Molly looked fine, but I figured I might as well get her checked.
I took her inside, and there was a Mom, little girl, and stricken looking boy, about 9. He looked at Molly and asked, sadly "What's wrong with YOUR dog?" I told her she was shaking, and we wanted to make sure she hadn't eaten anything poisonous. He volunteered "Our dog swallowed one of my Mom's pills. He's either going to be fine tomorrow, or he's going to die."
Isn't that true of all of us, I thought.
The vet came out, and I liked him immediately. He looked like a taller and less Semitic version of Zach Efron. He was about 6'3", and Canadian. He examined Molly, and could tell it was no frog or toad. He didn't seem too concerned.
He drew blood, and reported that the lab machine was in need of recalibration, and it would take "aboot" 30 minutes. I love how Canadians say that!
I waited and watched "Animal Planet" about catfish in the Amazon that eat humans who fall into the river. I wished the boy with the pill popping dog was there --he would have found the show extremely cool. I also texted D1, telling her that she and D2 outght to have been in my place, dealing with the young, handsome vet.
Around midnight, Dr. Aboot-Dreamy cam back to the waiting area, and told me all Basset levels were normal. He explained that sometimes seizures just happen, and they're no big deal. They are for humans, since they can strike when we're driving, or swimming. I told him we didn't plan on letting Molly drive, and she wasn't much in the pool...
I came home to the waiting other 2 dogs --the ancient Lab, and the hopping puppy Cavalier. It appeared from their excited sniffing that they were hearing Molly's version of the veterinary adventure.
The whole ordeal only cost about $200. Wifey commented that they were cheaper than our regular vets.
It appears the Basset will live to drool another day...
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Basketball Jones
So I had plans to see the Canes play their last game of the year, to celebrate Dr. Barry's boy's 12 year birthday. Then Friday, my banker friend Carole called, with 3 Heat tickets for Saturday night.
The D2 really enjoy Heat games, to see and be seen, especially on a Saturday night, and especially with Carol's bank's 5th row courtside seats. So I agreed. Wifey was a little disappointed she couldn't go, too, as she enjoyed the game last year: "That Wade is SOOOOO sneaky."
I met Carole at the Canes game, to get the Heat tickets, and she invited Barry, Josh, and I to her bank's skybox! Wow. Her Seminoles won a close game, but Barry and I were at least a bit anesthetized by 2 Heinekens.
Afterwards, we left for 5 Guys, where we met Jim and his adorable 5 year old Jake. Jim, a numbers guy even though he's a lawyer by training, immediately realized it was 5 guys at "Five Guys." We ate, laughed, and Jim (Dolphins) and Barry (Jets) ground each other about each other's teams: "Fins resigned that Hall of Famer Pennington, Jim --how exciting is THAT?"
It was an exquisite afternoon to me, who, as much as I adore my Ds, enjoys a day with some borrowed sons, too.
And then on to the Heat, with the Ds. Carole joked that she was replacing Wifey. I answered that as long as she gets all these prime sports tickets, we might work something out.
The D2 had a blast! It was a close game, and D Wade took it over for the home team. Even a non basketball fan (like Wifey) can appreciate watching him play. He's the best, in my opinion, since Jordan.
D1's old dance group, Jill Mallory, performed pre game, and she reunited with her old teacher, Miss Kim. She loved it.
I was a tad more interested in the Heat Dancers, a group of, um, non appearance challenged young women.
I dropped D1 off at a friend's in Coral Gables, and D2 and I headed for home. D2 is still sleeping, and I'm taking D1 out for a bit of "retail therapy" to combat the pressure of her last college semester.
I'm DONE with basketball for the year.
The Canes football team is in Spring practice. Bring THEM on.
The D2 really enjoy Heat games, to see and be seen, especially on a Saturday night, and especially with Carol's bank's 5th row courtside seats. So I agreed. Wifey was a little disappointed she couldn't go, too, as she enjoyed the game last year: "That Wade is SOOOOO sneaky."
I met Carole at the Canes game, to get the Heat tickets, and she invited Barry, Josh, and I to her bank's skybox! Wow. Her Seminoles won a close game, but Barry and I were at least a bit anesthetized by 2 Heinekens.
Afterwards, we left for 5 Guys, where we met Jim and his adorable 5 year old Jake. Jim, a numbers guy even though he's a lawyer by training, immediately realized it was 5 guys at "Five Guys." We ate, laughed, and Jim (Dolphins) and Barry (Jets) ground each other about each other's teams: "Fins resigned that Hall of Famer Pennington, Jim --how exciting is THAT?"
It was an exquisite afternoon to me, who, as much as I adore my Ds, enjoys a day with some borrowed sons, too.
And then on to the Heat, with the Ds. Carole joked that she was replacing Wifey. I answered that as long as she gets all these prime sports tickets, we might work something out.
The D2 had a blast! It was a close game, and D Wade took it over for the home team. Even a non basketball fan (like Wifey) can appreciate watching him play. He's the best, in my opinion, since Jordan.
D1's old dance group, Jill Mallory, performed pre game, and she reunited with her old teacher, Miss Kim. She loved it.
I was a tad more interested in the Heat Dancers, a group of, um, non appearance challenged young women.
I dropped D1 off at a friend's in Coral Gables, and D2 and I headed for home. D2 is still sleeping, and I'm taking D1 out for a bit of "retail therapy" to combat the pressure of her last college semester.
I'm DONE with basketball for the year.
The Canes football team is in Spring practice. Bring THEM on.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Classic Faux Pas
Wifey often tells me she's impressed at how I always seem to say the right thing at the right time, in contrast to her tendency (inherited from her parents) to do just the opposite. Well, earlier this week, I managed to show a fine example of foot in mouth disease.
Dr. Eric called me as I was driving home, telling me he had "his favorite medical student" with him in his office, and they were on speaker phone. He told me that he needed Dr. Barry's cell number, to call on this young lady's behalf.
It seems, he said, that after spending several weeks seeing cranky, elderly patients in his Delray Beach cardiology practice, "she was certain she wanted to train as a pediatrician" and Dr. Eric figured Dr. Barry would be the perfect mentor.
The insidious analogy percolated in my brain, and I blurted out: "Ha! I fully understand. I guess it's like when a woman dates all the wrong guys, it's enough to turn her into a lesbian!"
There was a nervous chuckle on the phone, and I then gave them Dr. Barry's number.
I spoke to Dr. Eric last night, and brought up my improper comment. "Well," he said, "I wasn't going to tell you, but by her appearance, I'm pretty certain that the student is, in fact, gay."
I smacked my forehead and said "D'Oh" just like Homer Simpson. What a putz I was to say what I did. I felt awful.
I spoke t Dr. Barry, and he had had a conversation with the young lady. She didn't bring anything up about the call, and Barry said she sounded delightful, and he hoped she'd be coming to his program in a few years.
As for me, I'll have to rein in my words --something that becomes increasingly harder to do as one ages.
Soon, Wifey and I can go to parties and insult people left and right!
Dr. Eric called me as I was driving home, telling me he had "his favorite medical student" with him in his office, and they were on speaker phone. He told me that he needed Dr. Barry's cell number, to call on this young lady's behalf.
It seems, he said, that after spending several weeks seeing cranky, elderly patients in his Delray Beach cardiology practice, "she was certain she wanted to train as a pediatrician" and Dr. Eric figured Dr. Barry would be the perfect mentor.
The insidious analogy percolated in my brain, and I blurted out: "Ha! I fully understand. I guess it's like when a woman dates all the wrong guys, it's enough to turn her into a lesbian!"
There was a nervous chuckle on the phone, and I then gave them Dr. Barry's number.
I spoke to Dr. Eric last night, and brought up my improper comment. "Well," he said, "I wasn't going to tell you, but by her appearance, I'm pretty certain that the student is, in fact, gay."
I smacked my forehead and said "D'Oh" just like Homer Simpson. What a putz I was to say what I did. I felt awful.
I spoke t Dr. Barry, and he had had a conversation with the young lady. She didn't bring anything up about the call, and Barry said she sounded delightful, and he hoped she'd be coming to his program in a few years.
As for me, I'll have to rein in my words --something that becomes increasingly harder to do as one ages.
Soon, Wifey and I can go to parties and insult people left and right!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Unconditional Love
My friend and office roommate Joel has a friend named Mendy, who's an orthodox Jewish lawyer. Joel, an Italian who grew up in Pinecrest but went to law school in New York, met him at the Public Defender's office. He calls him, affectionately, Mendy the Jew, or just "The Jew."
So the Jew came over yesterday to meet some big shot Colombian drug lord, who he and Joel hoped to represent. The fellow never showed, but the Jew and I got to talking. He's a great guy --very thoughtful and articulate, and despite living in an orthodox community on Miami Beach, considers Joel his best friend.
The Jew got married last year, for the first time, at 37. He married the sister of a client, who was only 23 and a beauty. They met while the Jew represented the family in the tragic case of a near drowning of a 4 year old girl, now the Jew's niece, and the dramatic aftermath involving, sadly, my dear friend Dr. Barry. But that's not the point here...
The Jew's wife just gave birth to a baby girl. Mendy told me that, at 38, he's learning about love for the first time. As he drove his wife and baby home from the hospital, he kept getting angry at the cars on the road that dared get too close.
The baby is just a week old, and already the Jew feels a joy he never imagined.
I get it, I told him. There's nothing I've found on this earth like the unconditional love we have for our children.
When they hurt, we hurt more. When they soar, well --I don't know what's better.
I told the Jew the best was yet to come. The first time he comes home and his daughter recognizes him and smiles --well, he's finished.
He asked whether I had kids. I told him I had baby girls, too, but somehow they were now 21 and 18.
The older one is due home tomorrow for her final college Spring break, and I can't wait to spoil her. She loves retail therapy, and there's a new boutique that opened nearby. I just got a debit card from Hyundai, to thank me for leasing their product. The card has D1's name all over it.
D2 can't wait to see her sister (and her puppy). Nest year at this time, D2 will be the one coming home for Spring Break, while D1 is working on her Master's degree.
And Wifey and I will look upon them and smile. Mendy the Jew is just starting the journey of his lifetime. I'm glad he knows and appreciates the fact, and has opened his heart to it.
So the Jew came over yesterday to meet some big shot Colombian drug lord, who he and Joel hoped to represent. The fellow never showed, but the Jew and I got to talking. He's a great guy --very thoughtful and articulate, and despite living in an orthodox community on Miami Beach, considers Joel his best friend.
The Jew got married last year, for the first time, at 37. He married the sister of a client, who was only 23 and a beauty. They met while the Jew represented the family in the tragic case of a near drowning of a 4 year old girl, now the Jew's niece, and the dramatic aftermath involving, sadly, my dear friend Dr. Barry. But that's not the point here...
The Jew's wife just gave birth to a baby girl. Mendy told me that, at 38, he's learning about love for the first time. As he drove his wife and baby home from the hospital, he kept getting angry at the cars on the road that dared get too close.
The baby is just a week old, and already the Jew feels a joy he never imagined.
I get it, I told him. There's nothing I've found on this earth like the unconditional love we have for our children.
When they hurt, we hurt more. When they soar, well --I don't know what's better.
I told the Jew the best was yet to come. The first time he comes home and his daughter recognizes him and smiles --well, he's finished.
He asked whether I had kids. I told him I had baby girls, too, but somehow they were now 21 and 18.
The older one is due home tomorrow for her final college Spring break, and I can't wait to spoil her. She loves retail therapy, and there's a new boutique that opened nearby. I just got a debit card from Hyundai, to thank me for leasing their product. The card has D1's name all over it.
D2 can't wait to see her sister (and her puppy). Nest year at this time, D2 will be the one coming home for Spring Break, while D1 is working on her Master's degree.
And Wifey and I will look upon them and smile. Mendy the Jew is just starting the journey of his lifetime. I'm glad he knows and appreciates the fact, and has opened his heart to it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)