Planning MD 2026

 So last night I met Barry for pre- bible study dinner -- at a strip center we used to visit a LOT! It's on Ludlam and the Highway -- where our beloved Canton was located. Last night we got salads at a place I had vowed to D2 to never visit again, after I paid a LOT for a salad, years ago. But Barry wanted salads, and so we went -- and the Cobb was actually not bad.

But the memories! It was our go-to Chinese place, especially when Colin, our Hong Kong born and raised roommie, was a waiter there. He would give us extra portions, and one night was an unwitting part of a laugh experience that I truly worried caused Barry and Mark to go into respiratory failure.

It was a cool night, and the apartment windows were open, and I heard Barry and Mark walking back to our apartment. You couldn't NOT hear Mark -- the now big shot neurosurgeon was comically loud. As I awaited them, I spied Colin's red Chinese waiter jacket hanging from a door knob, and was seized by comic inspiration. I put it on (the cuffs came to my elbows), and when Barry and Mark walked in, greeted them in a way that would totally get me canceled today. "Welcome back to humble abode, most honorable students -- may your important studies continue." And I bowed, like Charlie Chan.

I still recall their faces. There was a beat or two of silence, and then both literally doubled over with laughter that, as I said, got me worrying I might have to call 911. Any time I need to cheer up Barry, I just go into the awful fake accent and call him "honorable." Yeah, 4.5 decades ago I was a funny and politically incorrect guy. Nothing has changed as the undergrad has transitioned into an old man.

But anyway, after  Torah class, which was terrific, by the way (a discussion and analysis of the basis of morality -- human created versus that given by the Big Man), I showed Barry my family's text chain about planning for this Sunday.

Jonathan has noted that we share TOO much, while his family probably shares too little. The details of Wifey and the Ds, plus D1's comically busy schedule made for more fodder. We finally settled on Platea, our local prime beef and ceviche place -- they have a MD brunch. We're going at 1, so D1 can make it to an am appointment in the Grove, and a birthday dinner/MD meet with her dear friend Nicole.

Everyone in this family knows, when it comes to Wifey, do NOT blow past 2 events: her birthday and MD. NYE, Jewish holidays, even T Day, which is MY favorite -- eh. But there damn well better be a note and a get together for her Big 2. And for good reason.

Wifey is the best mother I know. When we first married, I wondered whether, as an only, spoiled child, she would be very maternal when we had kids. Indeed, the plan was she would stay home for 3 months after D1 came, and then get child care and return to work. Nope. She fell in love head over heels for our baby girl -- and embarked on her life's work: a (pause) mazing mother.

Everything she did, she did for them, and now there is exquisite return: 2 beautiful boys from D1, and hopefully more from D2. The oldest, Baby Man, looks JUST like D1, so it's a wonderful recapitulation of her early years -- with an all boy switch. 

And now they're grown ass women, as I remind them, the Ds truly still adore and love their mother. And this brings me joy.

I don't really know bad mothers. Well -- at least not "Mommie Dearest" bad. Well -- that's not true either -- I DO know some crappy mothers -- but not many, in our orbit, at least.

But the Ds and I will celebrate Wifey this Sunday -- even though, like the ditty my Dad sang, EVERY day is mother's day for her.

And speaking of Barry...this is the first MD for him and his sister Phyllis without their beloved Bev. I know Phyllis, especially, is not looking forward to Sunday. Donna has her two boys, who adore her, too.

I remember MD 2013, after Sunny died. It was indeed a hollow day -- just the memories were left. It turned out her cremains were delivered the day before, and so the Ds, Wifey, and I went to Matheson Hammock to commit them to the sea that sad MD.

Her spirit is very much with us -- just a few weeks ago, we took my nephew Henry to the spot, during his 305 visit, and we told Sunny stories. We shall tell more Sunday, as well as Rachel tales -- those are funnier and more absurd. She was an adoring mother and grandmother, too -- Wifey got it from her.

And I have to make my annual call -to Jeff. For reasons now lost to the fog of history, in law school I started calling him each MD to wish him a happy day. Probably it had something to do with the OTHER "mother" word -- as we were budding, bad ass (ha!) lawyers. But I shall call him Sunday -- his Mom Judy is long gone, too, but will celebrate the life work of Lili -- another awesome mother.

And in June? Father's Day. Ha. Talk about the po relation. In my case, truly EVERY day is Father's Day for me.

Skipping The Line

 My mother was one of  5 -- the eldest, Marty, then Dorothy, then my Mom, then Lorraine, and the baby Florence who was called Giggles since she cried all the time and we are ironic Bronx born Ashkenazim. Marty and the husbands of the 4 Goldsmith sisters were all WW II veterans, and the first born cousin was Arlene, born in, I think, 1944. Next was my sister Trudy, born in January of 1945, and then a bunch more -- all the way down to me. I am the youngest first cousin, born in 1961.

Years ago, I read that Boomers were akin to high schooler students, demographically. You had your seniors, born 1945-1950, juniors born 1950-1955, sophomores born 1955-1960, and then the freshman born '60- '64. All may go to the same school, but seniors have little in common with freshmen. I always found that description quite apt.

In my family, true to natural form, the first of us to pass was Arlene. She had a most challenging life -- in and out of mental hospitals, with movie-like episodes of psychotic breaks. Once she took a garden hose to the inside of her house. Another time she wandered naked in the Arizona desert. Her husband Bill, a handsome Irish guy, took off like a parakeet on fire, leaving the 2 boys for family to watch and raise. I still recall housing the little guy, Brody (now goes by Darrin) when he was a toddler. He grew up well --works for the Highway something or other in upstate NY. Gavin, the older one, who is nearing 60, became a full Army colonel and lives in Mass.

Arlene died some years ago. We joked with my sister Trudy that she was next oldest, and indeed Trudy turned 81 in January. Well today, I called my cousin Jeff, on account of a life connection, and learned that his sister Gloria died 2 months ago. She skipped the line, so to speak. She was 77.

The funny connection is that Jeff's son in law Josh is a cardiologist at Holy Cross in Lauderdale, and Dr. Barry is going to start doing some administrative work for the UM residents and students up there. He will surely cross paths with Josh. So I called Jeff to catch up -- he and I were always close, though the years without contact have a way of piling up. He told me the news about Gloria.

Gloria also had challenges -- mental health requiring hospitalization, too. The sad truth is it seems to be a Goldsmith trait -- and none of us have any direct Holocaust connections! But Gloria, a true hippie, met a man 14 years her senior, and lived a colorful life. Martin was a NY teacher, and truly an OG hippie -- so much that years later, after he friended me on FB, I had to unfriend him because of his virulently anti-Zionist posts.

But the two of them were married forever, and had one son, Isaac, who became a plant pathologist, with a doctorate from UC. They all moved to a farm in rural NC, where they raised goats and chickens. I think Isaac married and does botanical consulting from there -- apparently he inherited the land.

I last saw Isaac years ago, at Jeff and Lynn's son's wedding in Broward. He was nice and impressive -- got his Dad's intellect, but also the missing practicality his Dad never had. It's probably been 30 years since I saw Gloria and Martin.

Still, Jeff told me he went to NC for the memorial. Gloria and Martin, who died in '23, were both cremated, and Isaac buried their cremains on the land, and planted pomegranate trees there. Everyone took turns shoveling soil -- sort of a nod to Jewish tradition. Jeff's brother Michael, who became, I'm not making this up, a frum chiropracter in Monsey, NY, was there, even though he and Jeff were estranged years before. Their sister Janet, a non-frum chiropractor in Boca, skipped out.

Sadly, the family exploded apart after my uncle Abe died -- accusations over supposably (Miami spelling) stolen estate property was a cause.

I joked with Jeff that the days of the Kessler Cousins' Circle (my maternal grandmother's maiden name), where everyone was close and shared their lives -- were 2 generations gone -- coming up on 3.

In fact, when I texted the Ds after the news, D1 asked "Who in the world is Gloria?" I guess I spoke little of her, though she was a first cousin.

This made last week even more special. The Ds have only 4 first cousins, on account of Wifey being an only child, and of the 4, only Henry and the Ds have any contact. Such is the American modern family.

But for now, I'm sure my sister is happy that a younger cousin skipped the line to eternity. She has lots of living to do. And as for me -- hell -- no way the youngest is next, right? Only the Big Man knows...

Cinco de Mayo en El Torito

 Today is Cinco de Mayo, the fake Mexican holiday created to sell margaritas and nachos in the US. It drove me down Memory Lane.

Mike used to LOVE El Torito, a Mexican place in the Falls shopping center. We would go often, and back then I wasn't a margarita guy (still aren't), and so I would drink Kahlua and creams. I was The Dude before The Dude! Cinco de Mayo Mike would arrive early, to secure us a table, and Wifey (before she was Wifey -- she was just bottom, um, girlfriend, would arrive, as would Jeff and then girlfriend Cheryl, and maybe Dave S, and other UM Law stragglers. Every once in awhile, Eric would come with some of his Med School buddies, too, and we would eat and listen to mariachi music and have a gay all time, as the Flintstones theme sang.

But Mexico has a far deeper meaning in our lives -- it was where my family truly began. In May of '84, Cheryl and Jeff invited me to go with them to Cancun -- and this was way before Cancun became a Spanish speaking Ft. Lauderdale. Cheryl's step dad Roger (pronounced Ro-HAIR) owned a villa right on the sea, and we could stay there for free, and Mexicana had a $150 round trip flight from Miami. We would go for a long weekend, check out Tulum and Isla de Mujeres (Jeff re-named the place Isla Mujeres Facil), and shake off the mental stress and harm done to us by our 1L year. Cheryl told me to invite proto-Wifey.

But there was a problem. Pre-Wifey had broken up with me for the second and FINAL time weeks before, on account of she was 27 and I was nearing 23 and she wanted us to be EXCLUSIVE (a term that never fails to crack up the Ds) and I wasn't ready. 1992 was a rough year for me -- the college girlfriend I thought I might marry dropped me like I was hot, and far worse, my Dad had died in my arms. So I planned to date for, oh, the next 17 years before marrying when I got to be 40.

Fine, said Cheryl -- pick another date. And I tried -- asking no fewer than 10 ladies I had either dated, or were just old college buddies, and each and every one had a conflict -- ranging from "sorry, dude, working on hooking a Mt. Sinai doc -- last thing he needs to hear is I went away to Mexico with you" to "Oh man -- would LOVE to, but had plastic surgery to fix my broken nose from a bike fall and can't get sun" (my friend Edee the neuroscientist in training then.

I called Cheryl and said I would just come solo -- probably find myself a seniorita like the Jay and the Americans song. NO! Cheryl, always with bad energy, though it took decades to realize that, was adamant -- there would be no third wheel interfering with her and Jeff's romantic time -- get a girl, Dave, or stay home.

So I called Wifey, and got the expected chilly response. "I told you NEVER call me again -- what is it?" I talked fast, like the guy in the old FedEx commercial: "Mexico -- like the Against All Odds movie we loved. Beach. Pyramids. Xel-Ha underwater park..." To my shock, she said she would call me back.

I learned later she called her at that time BFF Linda, who had correctly called me a creep and warned her friend about STDs I must be carrying. I wasn't. Linda, my largest detractor -- said to Wifey, who happened to be on vacation the week of the trip "Go with him. Have a great time. You broke up with the creep 2 times -- why not a 3rd?" And Wifey agreed to come along!

Well, the trip was where I fell in love with her. I loved her before, I guess, but 5 days of pure romance, away from the rigors (and multiple classmates I was dating) of law school were intoxicating. We played Trivial Pursuit, drunk on tequilla (and kahlua for me). We climbed the pyrmamids of Tulum. We snorkeled Isla Mujeres -- except Wifey, who, comically could not because of TMJ.

And we 2 couples laughed -- deep, belly laughs -- the kind that these days cause me to lose my breath. It was magical.

When we came back, we got together, even though Wifey had moved to North Miami to get farther away from me. She was killing it as a flower marketer. I interned at the law department of Key Pharmaceuticals. We had money -- plenty for our needs of going to dinner and concerts. We house sat for 3 weeks for my professor friend Judy and her now late husband Bob -- in the UK for a conference. It was a cool house in the Gables -- we hosted Jeff and Cheryl and Mike and Loni -- pool parties.

The next year, we visited Mexico again -- this time 3 couples -- Mike and Loni joined us, and the laughter memories multiplied like rabbits, including an incident where Mike ended up on the barrel tile roof in the wee small hours in his tighty whities following some squabble with Loni. The details have, to this day 41 years later, mercifully never been revealed.

There was one later, much later, trip to the Yucatan -- a stop on a cruise with Eric and Dana and their family -- to Cozumel. We ended up on a beach, and there was alcohol, and a misheard quote that turned into "What about Louise?" More great times.

So no Cinco de Mayo for us this year, but memories of the place I first read about in Malcolm Lowry's "Under the Volcano."

Their president is, of all things, a Jewess, but an embarrassment like Bernie Sanders -- a self hating Jew is anti Zionist. One would have thought Mexicans were smarter as a nation than tiny Vermont is as a state.

But that's their problem -- not mine. For me, memories of Mexico are as pleasant as the James Taylor song: It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low. The moon's so bright like to light up the night - make everything all right.

Domingo Gigante

 So Little Man woke me at first light, as Wifey slept on. We fed Bo, the Special Needs and now geriatric Spaniel, and then him -- no going out yesterday, as Donna had sent rainbow bagels home from Mo's. He had a half, and some yogurt for his "growing food" as his dietitian Mom demands, and a fruit and half of an enormous happy face cookie, also courtesy of Donna. We hung about for several hours, and then it was time to wake Ippi, as he calls her.

It was 10:45, and we told Wifey to be ready to leave noon, and around 11:45 she called me on the cell (the comical way we communicate in this too large house now that the 90s era intercom is long ago broken), and asked -- would I make her a yogurt parfait and coffee, as she was "running late?" I chuckled to myself -- talk about a spoiled wife -- but complied, as I always do, and around 12:15 we were off to Loan Depot PArk.

About 5 minutes into the journey, Little Man's banter went silent -- he had PTFO'd, as the millennials say, in his booster seat. I found my preferred parking -- a city lot located right by our beloved, historical tailgate lot from days of yore, on NW 14th Avenue, and we let the boy sleep another 45 minutes, until he woke up "on the wrong side of the SUV," as Tio Barry later noted when he was cranky.

But we found our seats, and Wifey took him for ice cream as Barry, Donna, and Scott arrived, to much happiness, but Little Man, forced to wait until play stopped so he could return to his seat with his chocolate Mister Softee, was none too pleased. Still, he rallied and had a fine time -- climbing all over Scott and Barry and showing the multi decade pediatrician he has "no shortage of energy." Later, a nice surprise came to fruition: Mike had texted me asking where Barry's seats were, and ended up exactly in the row behind -- Loni, Amanda, Chris, young Teddy, and old friend Rebecca -- like Amanda now a transplanted resident of the City of Lost Angels.

It was great to catch up -- Teddy had a blast -- Little Man gave him his yacht hat -- a giveaway. Scott scored he and I a few vodkas. We got Little Man a kosher dog from Kosher Korner, which he ate sans bun and mustard, laughing that Barry said it was a "naked hot dog."

Mike's crew left at the 7th inning. The Marlins starter gave up 6 first inning runs -- the game was essentially over then, but that was ok. The park was lively, with many Philly fans who still love their team but have the sense to no longer actually LIVE in Philly -- and it was a delight.

We stayed until the end, got stuck at the 7th Avenue Bridge, which was up a long time to let all the yachts pass, as this was F1 and Doral Golf weekend, and plenty of machers were afloat. I impressed Little Man by cutting around the traffic -- back through Brickell where I worked for decades, and onto 95. We made it to Luna Pasta by 530 -- just as D1, Baby Man, and D2 and Jonathan were arriving.

At first, they gave us separate tables, and we made one the kids' table -- even though the kids were 37 down to 27, along with the grandkids. As the restaurant opened, Jonathan got us all to one big table, where we shared 2 bottle of good Italian wine, and feasted -- pasta was "top 5" to everyone. It was a truly awesome meal of 2 families -- as D1 noted, our "chosen relatives."

Everyone left, and at home we shared the photos and texts all appreciating the day.

Getting older is fine -- so long as there are days like Domingo gigantes...

The World's Most Interesting Kindergartner

 This is the nickname has given her first born, and it is indeed apt. Yesterday was a lovely one -- I fetched Scott at MIA on the way to Aventura. Scott usually flies into FLL, but with F1 here, flights to the cheaper airport, for crew, were double to MIA, and so he came to the field 25 minutes from our house. We joked that typically, for a fetch or pick from an airport from this old grumpy dude, DNA connection is required, but Barry and his family are exceptions.

There he was, the gentle giant of a nearly 30 year old man, and we delightfully caught up -- matters Miami and D.C. I showed him the stupid soccer team located stupidly, and we both lamented the fact that if they were going to build it anyway, why not double capacity and invite our beloved Canes. The idea apparently never grew legs.

We met his parents at Mo's, and feasted. It was delightful -- they sort of like having him home. His wife had tons of work -- she just switched from CNN to NBC and is getting up to speed. We chuckled at many of our fellow Aventura diners -- average age 50. The men were 80 and the women were FAR younger, and quite heavily botoxed and plastic surgeried...Some jobs were great; others, sadly, clownish.

Around noon we said adios, and I drove down Biscayne to meet D1 and the boys at Diver's Mansion, a marine themed Chucky Cheeses, where a very loud birthday party was in force. We left, and drove back to D1's, where she packed an overnight bag for said interesting child. Donna had sent us from Mo's with enormous cookies -- chocolate chip and happy face, and Baby MAn got to choose -- he picked the chip one, the size of a wagon wheel.

Little Man and I talked the ENTIRE 40 minute drive home -- he is SO smart -- telling me about sea creatures and strange fauna I had no idea existed. Turns out his public charter school is ok. Wifey was thrilled to see him -- it had only been 6 days -- but we kind of dig him.

He requested Anthony's Coal Fired wings, which I ordered, and we fed the fish and lizard hunted in the strange weather -- hot and DRY -- felt like Vegas in June. The rains came this am -- cooler and wet. We watched some of the F1 Sprint Race -- Jonathan is going today, though I wonder if the rain may affect that.

And Wifey and I laughed -- this kindergartner has the vocabulary of a 5th grader, at least, and is SO funny and energetic. We swam -- first time in the pool this year -- and he swims terrifically, though spashing and hunting for floating bugs grab his attention more.

Wifey had taped "Minecraft," thinking it was a cartoon, but it was a live action movie with Jason Mamoa and Jack Black. Little Man LOVED it -- explaining to us who the characters and creatures were, and what they do. "Ok, Grandpa Dave -- this is crazy. These guys sneak up on you and EXPLODE!"

Bed time was some of his beloved IPad, as screen time with D1 is abridged -- here -- less so. And as he watched in bed with Wifey and me, we saw him drifting off, and so I took him across the hall and told him one Nightbird story before he asked to hear again about how his kindergarten aged mother demanded to sleep with D2 -- sort of a living teddy bear. Then he passed out.

This am, we didn't have to hit the bagel shop, as Tia Donna ALSO sent us home with rainbow bagels. "Grandpa Dave -- they LOOK so cool but actually, they taste just like normal bagels." Correct.

We leave around noon for the Marlins game -- today it's good they have a roof! Later, dinner with all of us -- with the world's most interesting kindergartner.

Busy Busy Busy

 I sometimes talk to a person who, objectively, has VERY little responsibilities, and ask what's up, and get the response "busy, busy, busy!" I chuckle to myself, since it's true to them and no one else.

And yet, sometimes I feel the same way. This past week I said goodbye with a brunch with my delightful nephew Henry, at Deli Lane. I hadn't been there in awhile, and know they are moving a block away since, as everyone knows, South Miami needs MORE high rise apartments. Long time server Carmen was there, as she has been for 35!!! years. We dig each other -- for awhile she took care of us at the Brickell location where we would lunch weekly, but they closed, and since then it's back in South Miami. I introduced her to Henry, and we caught up -- I asked if folks had moved into the massive building across the street, where a Winn Dixie say for decades. She said they had, in December, and many were customers, and already complaining that their 4 month old AC units were breaking. Ah, the joy of developers and builders in South Florida!

I dropped Henry at the Thesis, an upscale hotel they built across from UM, where a Howard Johnsons was back in the day. He had a gig at the Biltmore -- left yesterday am -- texting it went well and he loved his stay. We did, too, and hope to reunite soon.

Wednesday was a workout, and later the return of bible class! Barry drove his car to the Dadeland North Metro station, and commuted back to Jackson, and we met at an Italian place for an early dinner, some of which was spent with him on the phone with his Chair about an intern. Medical administration never sleeps! Class was great -- a study of the uniqueness of our peeps, and why Abraham and his monotheism truly changed the world. We got into a discussion about modern false idols -- money, power, stuff, and how we often worship these more than The Big Man.

There was a new couple in class -- handsome, early 50s, and I wise ass welcomed them by warning that they had to read their parts in Hebrew. The husband, a gringo like me, laughed and said "No problem for Karen -- she was born in Israel!" When we got to her, indeed she read the Hebrew part and smiled at me -- I dug her right away.

Driving Barry back to the restaurant lot, we talked about faith, and how great it would be to truly be men of faith. We're working on it...

Thursday was a sort of biz lunch -- fetching a check from an old friend who handles our smaller cases -- and Friday was a haircut, Roasters, and then home for a nap. Oh yeah -- I did some lawyering for D1 about an issue with a consultant she works with. Not to pat my own legal back, but I gangstered it -- worked it out to D1's complete favor, and tamed a bully with a JD from Harvard. Yeah, I guess I still dig that.

Last night, I met Kenny at Captain's Tavern for a farewell dinner. He and Joelle are leaving for Maine next week. They're also going to France in June -- Kenny wants to see Normandy. I told him it was probably my favorite historical thing ever on our Euro trips -- he'll love it, too, though the Bayeux Tapestry is closed for renovation for 2  years -- we got to see it with Loni and Mike and impressed D1 when we told her -- she's a Medeival History buff.

Today I shall walk, and await the call from Barry and Donna and Scott --to meet at Mo's in Aventura. From there, I fetch Little Man for an overnight, and then tomorrow we meet Barry and Co again -- for a Marlins game. And Wifey is attending! Often she blows off multi event days, but tomorrow she's in.

After the game -- dinner with, hopefully, BOTH Ds and Baby Man, too, then likely a tired drive home, F1 and Doral Golf traffic permitting.

So not much, but indeed busy, busy, busy. Nice to have these sorts of things going on.

A Lovely Stay

 So there is a VERY short list: those for whom I provide pick up or drop off at MIA, or any airport. I rarely get asked, but when I do, I remind people that I charge a LOT more than Uber. But I make exceptions for those sharing my DNA, and my nephew has, I believe, 25% of mine -- and so I agreed to fetch him Saturday evening.

There was a stupid Inter Miami game starting near pickup time at the stupid stadium which, in the MOST boneheaded move (and that's saying something in South Florida) was built hard against MIA! Luckily, WAZE directed me in such a way that I only sat in a few blocks of LeJeune Road traffic, and then I only messed up Henry's location a bit -- confusing a sign saying which arrival doors were coming with the actual number. No big whoop -- I found him, and we were off to Carrot Express.

Henry is mostly vegetarian, and I figured a restaurant with the word Carrot would work, and it did -- we brought home some bowls and wraps, and had a nice reunion with his aunt, Wifey.

Sunday we walked, and then later the Ds and their men and dogs descended. I went HARD on the Zhyr, dragging Henry and Jonathan down with me -- I squeeze by hand Mandarin oranges -- giving the juice alone to the grandsons and the juice PLUS vodka and ice to the grown men. We had a terrific time -- laughter, comparing notes of the manifold examples of nuttiness in our families. I drunk FaceTimed Valerie, Henry's wonderful wife home in Boulder Creek, Cal, and told her she MUST join us next time -- she so agreed, and I know loved seeing her man with his cousins and aunt and uncle.

Apparently we ordered Thai later, though my memory of that is fuzzy -- but after the kids left, Wifey, Henry, and I played music together on Sonos as the ETOH processed away. It was a banner family day.

Yesterday, I worked out while Henry worked, and then I fetched him and Wifey, for brunch at Roasters, a trip for Wifey to get a scrip in South Miami, and then off to Matheson Hammock -- for Grandma Sunny's yahrzeit. We showed Henry where we  placed her cremains into the Bay, by the mangroves, and how white butterflies joined us, and how we returned a few weeks later where most of us were able to tell sweet tales of our departed mother and grandmother.

Henry had only warm memories -- how he felt she loved him, her sunny disposition, bagels and juice for breakfast...

We sat on the front porch later, after a dinner of leftovers, and spoke of many things -- ships and shoes and sealing wax -- cabbages and kings.

This am, after coffee Henry and Wifey said goodbye, on account of Wifey was "All talked out" and so I took Henry to Deli Lane, where 30 plus years server Carmen was there. She told us they were moving this Summer, close by, to allow another high rise to go on the land since Miami isn't already too overcrowded. Summon sarcasm emoji.

I dropped Henry at the Thesis Hotel -- his work is at The Biltmore, and he will put in long hours filming a corporate event and showing highlights each evening. I'd love to see him again -- but he will be literally working around the clock -- until a flight back to SFO Friday am.

He is a delight. So cool. So handsome. So wise -- I am proud he is my blood. He can teach a master class in overcoming the challenges of a tough childhood, making essentially ALL great life choices, and ending up a successful business owner, creative, married to his high school sweetheart, and seeing the world together. He surfs. He has dear friends.

He is the trustee for his never had a job father. He will likely end up in the same role for his mentally ill/drug addicted brother. At some point, he will be the caregiver for his mom - my sister.

The joke is he and Val have no TIME for kids -- though they savor their life with only the furry kind of those -- adorable Enso, a cute little dog, and other animals they foster.

Next weekend, another nephew comes in -- not a biological one -- Scott. We will meet for breakfast at Mo's, and then a Marlins game with Little Man Sunday. I just reminded them that F1 is in Miami this weekend -- so avoid Joe Robbie at all costs.

But the over-arching message is: young folks are where it's at. You pick up their enthusiasm; their energy. And when you truly love them -- well -- that's as good as it gets.