What's All This Fuss About The Presidential Erection

 So the party of my grandparents, parents, and myself screwed the pooch yesterday like never before. They put up the second most unelectable candidate (Biden would have been number one) against a convicted felon, and lost. Worse -- they lost the Senate and House, and just about all local races I cared about, notably Amendment 4, giving a state right to abortion, failed.

It's funny -- when the Canes lost a big game, I never blamed the other team, I blamed them. The 1987 National Championship? Vinny Testaverde threw 5 interceptions, the worst as we were about to run the ball in for the winning score. The Ohio State fiasco? We should have put the game away and not relied on fair officiating.

And so it is with the Dems. NY Times columnist Brett Stephens was spot on today -- a longtime neocon who voted for Harris because he feared the craziness of Trump. But he set forth very well how the Dems have become the Party of priggishness and holier than thou behavior. Think too many illegals are coming in? You're racist. Complaining about inflation? You're a jerk.

And so now we have 4 years of populist conservatism. 

Truth is, much of the GOP is good for what I care about. I'm a rich guy -- taxes will be lower. I won't have to scramble around now worried about estate taxes. I care a lot about Israel -- no fears that Harris would pander to the Palis in Michigan and Minnesota. But I care MORE about my country, and wanted Trump to lose. He won. As Tony Soprano said -- yeah, but what are ya gonna do?

D1 reminded me she freaked out in 2016 when Trump won the first time, and I reminded her to look to the East -- the sun had indeed risen. And it rose today, too.

Being too involved in politics is like celebrity worship -- the celebrity can't care less about you. Or as a better meme said -- loving a politician is like thinking a stripper really likes you.

A lot of my friends in the educated, privileged bubble are scandalized. Not me. I'm mildly annoyed.

Nothing is guaranteed -- as my son in law Jonathan's family knows all too well. They were enjoying a wonderful life in Venezuela, until my consuegra learned a former nanny's boyfriend had a plot to kidnap the kids for money. She moved everyone to a hotel in Caracas, and left the next day for Miami.

Hopefully things in the US don't get untenable, but if they do -- well -- you have to be ready to leave. I sure hope I don't have to learn a new language like many of my friends' parents had to do after Castro took over in Cuba.

I don't see things getting that bad, long term. Oh sure, lots of women will die for inability to get abortions -- like happened in Ireland for years until the people realized entrusting their futures to the pedophilic Catholic Church maybe wasn't the smartest way to go.

As for the Democrat Party? Maybe it's FUBAR --pandering too much to the extreme Left to care about centrists like us.

They really were sin verguenca, as the Cubans say. They tried to foist a demented Biden on us, until his debate performance showed he needed a nursing home, and then simply anointed his successor without the vetting of a true convention. And what a weak candidate she was -- never really took a position, except to call Trump a Nazi. As Dr. Phil said -- how'd that work out for her?

Meanwhile -- we got some livin' to do. I brought home a nice virus from LA, which is thankfully passing now -- hopefully be gone by tomorrow.

Saturday Paul and I are hosting a dinner -- our firm's 30th anniversary! We turn 30 on November 15th. When we first shook hands over glasses of Stoli, and pledged to treat each other well and fairly on the memory of our late fathers, we truly thought it was a decade project.

We'd bust ass, and do whatever it took to succeed -- and look to wind down about 2004. Somehow we've kept slouching around, and will host our kids this weekend. Three decades. Man -- that's something.

All I can keep thinking of is the great Jimmy Buffet line: "Good times and riches and son of a bitches, I've seen more than I can recall."

Hopefully Trump and his crew don't mess us up too badly. I kinda like it here in the US of A.

Coming Back From Los Angeles -- Not Bringing In Any Keys...

So early Friday Wifey was up and drinking my wake up coffee, and we were fetched at 6 am for the drive to MIA. We met D2 and Jonathan at Centurion for breakfast, and soon were off for LA. Everything was seamless and on time -- a pleasure.

We checked into the One Hotel in West Hollywood -- gorgeous. Each person we met was top notch -- it was a comical contrast to the nasty folks we encountered last Fall at the Philly RC, where the clerk who checked us in was openly hostile -- like a Wayan Bros comedy. Not this time!

D2 had been told to have lunch at the Tower Hotel, a 20s Art Deco property a few blocks' walk down Sunset. We did, and it was lovely. And Wifey loved it -- true Hollywood history -- ALL of the Golden Agers stayed there, as well as Bugsy Siegel and Truman Capote, and Wifey took photos of the historic photos. We ate on a deck with a view of Downtown LA in the gorgeous S Cal weather -- a lovely welcome.

In the evening, we met at the hotel bar for a pre game, and old friends Neal and Cheryl walked over with their dog Bowie, named after the rock legend died. Neal is a MAJOR music engineer/producer with multiple Grammy awards, and is so humble you'd think he was a salesman for some small company. We heard all about their kids and lives over the years since we saw them last -- in Miami -- on their way to a Caribbean sailing trip. We made plans to meet the next am to watch the Canes games -- they're both big fans.

We Ubered over to a neighborhood indeed next to , as Mike described, the "Zombie Apocalypse" near Skid Row. The place was The Wolves -- kind of New Orleans looking -- and we greeted all the old crowd. Amanda was glowing, and we got to meet her future suegra, a lovely Angelino named Miley. We ate cheeseburgers and grilled cheese, and drank. We left around midnight, which was 3 am body time for us.

And early the next am, came the only "blip" on our experience -- VERY noisy neighbors to D2 and Jonathan, engaging in things, apparently best left underdescribed. Hey -- it happens -- and as Jonathan noted -- it could have been worse -- the noise could have been coming from Wifey and MY room. They alerted the front desk, and I left early to meet Cheryl and Neal and Bowie at a hotel which was formerly known as the Riot Hyatt, on account of it's where Led Zeppelin stayed and wrecked the place.

It was much quieter these days, and we watched the Canes lose the first half before storming back to dominate and win the game. Wifey, D2, and Jonathan joined us, before the younguns left to visit some friends. Cheryl said even our upscale hotel was the scene of bad LA crime -- last year some miscreants in hoodies carrying automatic weapons stormed the place and robbed everyone at the bar. And it happened AGAIN a few months later. I guess California IS a good place for that -- with gun control the bad guys probably felt emboldened. I'm not a gun guy, but in Miami that kind of stunt would have ended differently -- clearly some of the young guests would have been armed and fought back...Anyway...

We gathered at 430, and Ubered to the wedding venue, a 1920s former architect's house -- neat, funky place. The ceremony was lovely -- Amanda's brother Chris officiated, and he was charming and moving. I caught up with Mike's old high school friends, who were also friends of Eric's from Killian High -- comparing our lives and soon to come or already here retirements.

We left around 1030 (130 body time) and looked forward to sleep. Unfortunately, D2 and Jonathan were awakened again at 5 am with their next door neighbors antics. This time it was less funny. Wifey negotiated nice room credits and other benefits -- and the hotel manager has already reached out -- truly sorry and ashamed it happened. Hey -- it's LA -- people come to party, even if such party includes goats or other animals bleating away...

We got to LAX, and left right on time again. I took a nap, and awoke with a sore throat -- clearly picked up a bug from all the people we were around. It seems to be just a cold -- I'll test for the Plague in a day -- gotta be all better for Saturday -- Paul and I are celebrating our firm's 30th anniversary!

But the real meaning of last weekend was the joy of our friends. Mike is NEVER emotional, and he was crying as he danced with Amanda to the Beatles's "In My Life." The groom Daniel was crying as well -- he truly found his soul mate in our dear Amanda.

So back from the Left Coast. As always, great to be home... 

Erev Halloween

 So I was in a gang, from probably 4th grade through junior high school. We were a mosaic of White Ethnic New York: Eric and I were Ashkenazi Jews, Gerry and John fully Irish, Mark of a Swedish Dad and Italian Mom, and Mike of an Italian Mom and Irish Dad. What diversity! When you grow up on Blue Collar Long Island, there is no Black or Brown. I think there was one Asian kid. Protestants were even in short supply: when you met a kid in grade school, the question was "Are you Catholic or Jewish?" The majority were Catholic.

Our gang's purpose was to have fun, with only small lapses into criminality, like the time Eric needed a part from Radio Shack and we were short the money, so several of us us distracted the nerdy clerk while Eric and Gerry pocketed the part. We thought we had gotten away with it, too, until the clerk, who my poetically licensed memory recalls actually had taped up glasses, came after us and shouted to bring the part back.

We knew there would be a dragnet looking for 5 14 year olds, so we broke up into two groups. Mark and I met 2 girls on the way home, Irish Diane and Italian Diane, and ended up dating them in a Bob Seger-esque way, though we were too young for cars.

Anyway, it seemed to us there were two holidays where bad behavior was allowed and even encouraged: July 4th and Halloween. For the former, it was pyrotechnics. We would begin gathering firecrackers by the gross (144 packs) and carefully remove each one's gunpowder to make a pile for bigger bombs. Amazingly, no one was seriously hurt, except for Eric, who I think still has some hearing loss from being too close to one of our absurd creations. Eric, who went on to become an engineer, estimated our greatest creation was as powerful as 1/4 stick of dynamite. Again -- it was dumb luck that we all made it past the stupid adolescence of boys.

And then Halloween. We would start buying eggs and shaving cream in early October. The stores got wise and stopped selling those products to young kids in late October, and month old eggs, kept outside, were properly rotten, so the egg-ee would stink as well as be sticky. It was Long Island late Fall -- cool nights, with that exquisite scent of fireplaces.

We would visit houses of "mean" neighbors, or kids who we had decided needed to have their houses egged. When I moved to Miami, I learned that "papering" was a thing -- where you would toss rolls of toilet paper into the trees -- but we never did that. The shaving cream was for girls we would run into -- teen and tween girls were NOT happy having it sprayed into their hair.

And one year, I think maybe when I was 12 or 13, I came close to death as a result of these hijinks. The cops would patrol on Halloween, and when they came upon older kids or teens, would stop and line us up. I guess it never occurred to us Nassau Countians that "profiling" or "stop and frisk" was a constitutional insult.

The cops would say in their great LI accents "Youse carrying any eggs?" and before you could answer, they'd smack all of your pockets, so that if you were a would be egger, you became an egg-ee. We were wise to this.

So on the night of near Fate for me, one of us saw a Nassau County patrol car coming up the streets, and Mark yelled "Hide your eggs!" I was standing next to a street lamp, and noticed the service panel on the base was missing -- so I put my 7 or 8 eggs inside before The Law came. Sure enough, they lines us up (in my memory the cop was named Sweeney) and we passed the egg smacking test. They drove away saying "Be good, fellas."

I went to retrieve my eggs by reaching into the lamp base, and got the literal shock of my life -- it threw me back a good 5 feet. I guess the fact that I was wearing sneakers, and it was dry, saved my life, but it was a feeling I never forgot. Years later I cringed at the thought of my loving parents getting the call about their supposedly smart son dying in such a stupid way. But I guess the Big Man had other plans.

So years later, the gang all survive. Eric became a computer engineer, married wrong and then married right, and is now mostly retired on the Florida Gulf Coast. He and his wife Jackie travel a lot -- never wanted or had kids. John is married and a retired CIA man, with a big TV show coming out next Fall about his experiences with Saddam Hussein. We've kept in pretty close touch. Mike never married, as far as I know, and lives somewhere in North Florida, a retired printer. Mark and his high school girlfriend/now wife Rita and I remain closest -- they live on Long Island and never planned to have kids, but were blessed with Joseph, who is now a young patent attorney living in D.C. and newly engaged. Gerry is the mystery, mostly. Mark keeps in touch with him -- he lives, we think in his parents' house in Seaford. He worked for TV shows in the City for awhile, but is always cagey about what he does now. I made the reference to "Spinal Tap" that Mark agrees with: some things are best left unexplained.

Tomorrow is Halloween. Wifey and I ordered candy, and will greet any trick or treaters that come our way. Our grandsons are off to an Aventura party. We meet D2 and Jonathan early Friday for our LA trip.

But the memories live on of cool nights and nearly dying ...

A Loverly Afternoon

 So I was a couch slug yesterday, watching the Dolphins lose again, although looking better while doing it than they had over the past weeks. The talented but fragile QB Tua was back -- but the team still blew the game on a last second FG. Eh. No big whoop.

D1 texted. Baby Man and Joey were going to visit Joey's parents -- would Wifey and I like to meet her and Little Man at a local park? She chose Dante Fascell Park, on Red Road -- a mere 10 minutes from us, and 30 minute driver for her, Little Man, and skittish Spaniel Lemon.

It was a gorgeous October day! I look forward to a temperature day that begins with a 6 -- probably that's not until mid November -- but it was still delightful. Little Man made friends as he always does -- a brother and sister near his age, and later a little girl also 4 who kissed him on the cheek after a game of tag. Boy got game.

We sat on a bench and happily watched. D2 and Jonathan were nearby -- visiting friends Max and his boy at Four Fillies Farm, a UM senior faculty development. It's gorgeous -- Wifey and I were there once when Shalala was president -- Four Fillies contains the UM Presidential mansion. They had Betsy. Would we care to meet? We would -- I chose Deli Lane in South Miami -- very dog friendly.

We missed Joey and Baby Man, but the rest of us had a delightful dinner -- Little Man plowed through his cheeseburger and fries, and most of Wifey and my fruit. Betsy was a serviceable foot rest, and little Lemon stayed near D1.

We all left in our 3 vehicles -- an unexpectedly nice Sunday afternoon.

This am I got in my nearly 3 mile constitutional, and poor Wifey's at the dentist. I inherited amazing teeth from my Dad's side -- his mother died in her late 90s with all her teeth. Wifey, not so much. She has been a continuous dental patient since we've met. 

This is travel week for us. Tomorrow I work out, and get my hair cut. No need for Dania to put in more gray -- plenty there already. On Wednesday I fetch Little Man at school and spend some time with him and Baby Man -- and maybe a days late birthday dinner with Joey.

Thursday I'll give out Halloween candy for the first time in years -- the past years we've been with D1 and her boys, but this year are sticking home as we leave early Friday.

And Friday -- to LAX, Big Man and AA permitting. We have dinner and drinks hosted by Mike and Loni Friday night, a 30 minute to one hour Uber ride from our West Hollywood hotel. Saturday am Canes play Duke at 9 am LA time -- I invited old law school friend Cheryl and her music maven husband Neal to watch some of the game.

Wedding is Saturday night at some old hall in a very rough part of town -- Mike has a LOT of security. I keep thinking of the great Sopranos scene where all the cars get stolen during an associate's wedding.

And Sunday afternoon -- back to the 305.

I have nostalgia for Southern California. It is where my family's modern history began -- a pretty Bronx girl took 3 cross country trains to meet her Bronx boyfriend during WW II, and my Dad was stationed in Pasadena. A base Rabbi married them, and they lived in a bungalow -- Mom worked as a secretary for the Dean of Cal Tech, and Dad kept a close watch out for Japanese invaders. He never faced any.

Mom got pregnant in April of '44, and since neither she nor my Dad had any idea when his service would end, went back to The Bronx to have my sister, in January of '45.

My Dad had few regrets in life, but one was NOT staying in LA -- he loved it there, and wondered if he maybe would have gotten a job as a writer or editor in Hollywood, instead of the salesman he became back in NYC. Who knows?

When my Mom turned 85, in 2005, I took our family to celebrate her birthday. Wifey found us a cool hotel called the Magic Castle, where magicians would stay -- right up the hill from Hollywood Blvd. We drove out to Pasadena to the Huntington Hotel, where they were married, and then found ourselves on Colorado Blvd, where we asked Mom her memories.

She said each morning she'd take a street car down from her bungalow in the hills, and have coffee at Owl Drug, a local known counter. Where was it? She wasn't sure. We were all standing in the entrance of a Gap Store, and we walked in to ask the manage if he knew where Owl Drugs was. He laughed, and walked outside to show us the tilework -- it said "Owl Drug Building." We were standing right where Mom spend many mornings 60 years before!

Mom was 85, and we knew that would be her final long trip -- she fell at Cheryl and Neal's house, and getting her on and off the plane was a mission.

But were were SO glad we had that final trip to the City of Lost Angels, as the great Jim Morrison calls the place.

And Friday -- I'm headed back for the first time in nearly 2 decades...

The Weekend At the College...

 So yesterday Canes hosted FSU, and it's a rivalry that goes back to the 50s. They play each year -- and a few times in bowl games, unlike the Gators, who dropped Canes years ago from yearly games on account of we were beating them all the time.

The nostalgia runs deep for my friends and I. In 1980, FSU was a Top 10 team, and we beat them in the OB on a tipped 2 point conversion. I recall the game nearly 4.5 decades ago like it was 2 weeks ago.

There were a series of "Wide Rights" and one "Wide Left" -- games decided by missed FSU field goals. I was at all of them -- the best was the first. I was working for Ed at the time, and he had a pilot named Tom. I handled a traffic ticket for Tom, Jr., and Tom wanted to thank me. No need, I reminded Tom -- I was on Ed's dime, but Tom insisted. Was there any place some friends and I wished to fly?

Well -- Canes game at Tally was coming up. I got tickets for Mike, Dennis, and myself, as well as for Tom and his wife. We flew up and saw the great game, and flew home the next day. It was a lovely trip.

Anyway, this game had lots of buzz. Noles are historically bad -- 1-6 after a season they were 12-0, but then lost their players to the NFL. Canes were favored big, but lots of folks wanted to go -- two guys at my gym asked for tix, as did other people. It was the first Canes sell out in awile, and Kenny was my date -- home just the day before from Maine. We realized the 65K people he was among exceeded by a LOT the number of folks he was with all Summer -- I think even Portland has fewer people. We drove up Joel, who had scored some tix with a friend.

At the stadium -- it was a cluster. They wouldn't let me turn left into my normal entrance -- a guy said to drive a mile to a light and make a U turn. Traffic was stopped. There were no cops around. I got out, moved 2 orange traffic barrels, and made my U turn. A fellow let me in, laughing. Turned out he was Eric's young cardiology partner -- we parked side by side and went to the same tailgate. It was probably good for him to know his senior partner has a scofflaw friend.

We walked and walked and finally made it to a smallish tailgate. Luckily I had brought vodka, and we tore through the fifth pretty fast.

A highlight was a visit from Jean, a friend from Building 22. She lives in Weston now -- her daughter is a UM student (Jean started having kids WAY late) and the girl came by and was delightful. We reminisced a bit -- Jean is divorced. I had met her husband years before. When the knocked down our old Honors Dorm, my friend Edee convinced me to host a party. Jean and her man, who was a federal agent of some secrecy, attended.  But alas, he is now into the ether.

The game was plodding and boring. FSU was awful, as advertised, and our defense shut them down. By the 4th quarter, we met with Joel and left -- fearing another bad traffic deal upon exiting.

Next week Canes host Duke. I already gave my tix and pass to my consuegros Ricardo and Jacqui.

We're leaving Friday am for LA -- dear friend Amanda's wedding. Game is at noon -- 9 am LA time -- so I can watch during breakfast before the wedding.

We're just staying the 2 nights -- home Sunday night. 

Jean texted me - she had the best time. She said life's been moving so fast -- buzzed at a Canes game brought her back 4 decades. Sometimes the things that pass for knowledge I DO understand...

My Doctor Gave Me 2 Months to Live. I Couldn't Pay His Bill -- He Gave Me Another 2 Months.

 I wonder why my brain always works in movie lines, song lyrics, or old Borscht Belt jokes. But it does.

Yesterday I had scheduled my telehealth visit with the affable Dr. Shah, the GI who did my colonoscopy 15 days before. The appointment was set for 330, and the patient portal isn't user friendly, so I called. I was told he'd call around 4. At 430, I was hungry, and so ordered Carrot Express to be delivered. It arrived by 5, I ate my favorite, the Legal Wrap, and I finally got the text that Doc was ready for me at 515.

He thanked me for the Scotch I sent him -- Johnny Walker Blue. I appreciate when a fellow has to go where few men have gone before -- and I figured the premium alcohol was an appropriate gift. He said he had been enjoying it with his wife, who is a Cuban psychiatrist specializing in sleep disorders. I told him I need to see her, too.

Anyway, he told me he removed 4 small polyps, 3 of which were classic benign types, and the 4th, the tiniest, indeed was considered pre-cancerous. He said the past protocol was a follow up scope in 3 years, but since he had removed the whole thing, and the protocols had loosened -- I could see him again in 5 years.

Wow, I said -- will you guarantee I will be living at 68? He laughed and assured me I would be. That alone was worth the price of the delivered Johnnie Walker Blue!

Wifey was up with the Ds -- first pilates with D2 taught in D2's house by a friend, and then off to spend time with Little Man, who we now call the world's most interesting man. After school there was Reading Club, and then golf at Miami Shores CC. He got home and was still a bundle of energy -- his much more chill brother was already winding down from HIS long toddler day of pre school and play.

Wifey came into the house dog tired, reminding me how some kids are "background children," but not our grandson. We then gave the classic Yiddish prayer against the evil eye that comes from believing you are too lucky -- though we are.

I also completed the booking for our trip to D.C. in March, for the Big, Fat, Media Wedding. Joey started the process -- booking for himself, D1, the nanny Lizeth, and the boys. They chose Row 9. I then booked for Wifey and me -- choosing Row 10. Jonathan then booked for himself and D2 -- choosing Row 20. Ha. He knows now is the time to enjoy flights without tumult. Someday...

We're MOST looking forward to it -- hopefully the cherry trees will be in blossom. We'll probably take the boys to the Air and Space Museum, and maybe Natural History to see the dinosaurs.

Wifey and I took the Ds when they were 3 and 6 -- and we got a tour of the White House thanks to the one Republican I ever supported, Ileana Ros-Lehtinen. If the Woman of Color wins, the Ds' friend Shelley can probably score us some VIP passes. If not -- eh -- we'll see the White House another trip.

And speaking of weddings, another grows nigh -- our dear family friend Amanda's, in LA. We're off a week from Friday for 2 nights in the City of Lost Angels. Betsy will be bunking with her dog friend Bodhi and his parents, and the Special Needs Spaniel will be in the tumult of D1's house --keeping company with his fellow Cavalier, Lemon.

Bo mostly sleeps -- he'll sort of be like another stuffed animal there.

And this Saturday -- fun Canes game a-coming. FSU, historically bad, is visiting Joe Robbie. My dear friend Kenny is coming home from a long Maine Summer on Friday, and he is my date Saturday. Some big tailgates are planned -- and a fun night awaits us.

Hey -- Dr. Shah gave me at least another 5 years -- time to get on with living!

But We Need The Eggs

 Today's title is the punchline of a favorite Borscht Belt psychiatrist joke: about the man who visits the shrink because he thinks he's a chicken, and the doc says he can cure him...

So last week I had one of my occasional bouts of ennui, or the blues. I'm lucky -- I never get full on depression, unlike SOME members of my crew...but I still don't like it. In my case, it typically lasts a few days, and then lifts.

I first new I was somewhat nuts back in 1982. I had a clear trigger then -- the traumatic death of my father. I spent my senior year in a sort of separate state -- I knew I was in class, for example, but I felt I was looking down on myself in class. I also had my first of what would be lifelong psychosomatic incidents -- I got chest pains.

My friend and mentor Dr. Bob, a Neurology professor, sent me to his young internist, and then a Gables cardiologist. As expected, my 21 year old self was physically fine -- just feeling the same symptoms Dad had at the end. These pains or pressures are kind enough to visit me every few Julys -- near the time when Dad died. The last one was 2017, when I had pressure instead of pain, which my brother Dr. Eric found more concerning, and made me go immediately to his friend Harry in South Miami . Harry was out, but I saw Yale, the senior guy, and his ECG showed my usual variant -- a bundle branch block. It doesn't cause harm, but makes ECGs useless in ruling out major heart issues -- Yale wanted to admit me to South Miami.

I resisted -- it was my birthday -- and so we set up a stress test for the next day. Of course, my great Blue Cross ObamaCare plan said no dice -- they would only pay if I was hospitalized -- and so I paid out of pocket like $3K. Fortunately, as Wifey and I learned right after -- I was fine.

So no chest pains last week -- just ennui -- caused this time by absorbing, like a sponge, a lot of sadness from those closest to me -- ranging from chronic illness to failing elderly mothers, to a dear banker friend fighting Stage IV breast cancer. Oh yeah -- another dear friend's daughter is fighting with her Qanon husband over their child, and I get to be involved in that, too.

Wifey tells me I'm an Empath. I read about it, and I seem to fit the profile. I thought I was doing SO WELL giving much less of a crap about most people, but I guess it's hard for a leopard to change its spots, as the cliche goes.

Luckily, it passed, and I can go ahead with being mostly Mr. Happy go lucky. As the Chairman sang: That's life.

Meanwhile, Saturday we helped Jonathan's Dad and nephew celebrate their 75th and one year old birthdays. D2 and Jonathan hosted a lovely get together -- the counter piled high with Bagel Barn Ashkenazi deliciousness. We agreed it was a good practice run for T Day -- on account of Wifey not wanting to hurt her back again by hosting, even with full caterers and party supply folks -- D2 and Jonathan have the job this year -- I'm paying, of course.

T Day is my favorite, and this year promises to be one with adorable kids running around, Betsy the enormous puppy enjoying any scraps that fall, and of course some football (the REAL kind) on TV.

Before that, D2 and Jonathan and Wifey and I are off to the City of Lost Angels for dear family friend Amanda's wedding. Jonathan vetoed staying at the wedding hotel -- right next to Skid Row, since Amanda and Daniel are cutting edge and wanted a cool venue. But Jonathan knows LA, and feared his suegra might venture out to a street person mugging -- so we're staying in West Hollywood, a 20 minute Uber ride away.

Turns out Jonathan was correct -- the rehearsal party is two blocks from the hotel, and guests were told "But please don't walk it." We shall not.

We're only staying 2 nights, but I look most forward to it. Amanda found a terrific guy -- like 5th generation Angelino -- I get "really good energy" from him to use the Southern Cal lingo.

We return to D1's 36th birthday, near T Day! Oh my -- how is my daughter nearing middle age? Because I was a child groom! Then T Day, and then in December Little Man turns 5! And Xmas Day, Wifey turns...I am prohibited from ever again mentioning her age, or the fact that she was born during the first Eisenhower Administration. Ha. I was born months after the second one ended, so I'm old as fuh, too.

So may the blues stay away -- I got too much to do -- and I'm not musically talented enough to transfer my angst to music...