Checkout Day At The Hotel For Dogs

 I love dogs -- I truly do. And yet, if I had my way, once the Special Needs Spaniel Bo crosses the Rainbow Bridge, I would be done getting any new dogs. Wifey tells me this is non negotiable -- our house will always have "at least one, preferably two, dogs."

I try to point out that she rarely comes downstairs before 10:30 or 11 am each day, so her idea of having a dog is really having ME take care of her dog, and I'm kind of over it. I am happy to be the sitter for grand dogs. Alas, I shall lose this marital issue, I fear -- may Bo long continue to nap on our sofa.

So Betsy, the enormous puppy, came home with us nearly a fortnight ago, so D2 and Jonathan could enjoy a trip to Portugal. She weighs north of 105 -- probably more now with the daily Publix chicken I give her with her kibble, and she is not, as Wifey would say, a background dog. She is always underfoot, or plopping down next to me -- she is truly delightful -- but the time has come for her to return to Miami Shores -- D2 and Jonathan returned safely last evening.

We shall meet them at a cool, LA import Italian place this evening, Jon and Vinny's, and I plan to have a martini or two with my son in law and share some great casual Italian whilst hearing all about their trip. Wifey and I are headed to Portugal in December -- the ending port of a cruise from Barcelona with Barry and Donna -- D2 and Jonathan already warned us about Lisbon -- lots of hills -- maybe we "elders" should hire a guide with a golf cart, as they observed. We probably will...

And D1 entrusted us with her Skittish Spaniel Lemon last week -- she is now north of Knoxville on a lake vacation. Lemon is portable, when you can corner him -- and he sleeps in the crate with Bo, so not a midnight tripping hazard on our bedroom floor like Betsy is.

The plan is to return Lemon Friday when we travel up to see Little Man's theater camp show -- as his mother suspected -- he is LOVING it. We fetched him there last week, at the Miami Shores theater, and he regaled us with excited tales -- and a purely modern one. "Grandpa Dave -- you won't believe this: my counselor is a girl, with a boy's haircut, and told us she feels like a boy!" D1 tried to politically correctly explain gender identity to him -- but his precocious 6.5 year old self seemed confused -- saying you were either born a boy or girl, right?

I look forward to watching him and Baby Man and ALL the younguns navigate this brave new world. When the grandsons are old enough to drink, I plan on admitting to them that most of my guy friends and I sort of wished we could have stomached the sex part of being gay men -- life would have been so much simpler. Their Mom will be horrified...but the joy of being an old guy is you get away with more stuff.

So our hotel for dogs will, later this evening, be down to the usual resident and one additional Spaniel. Pretty easy for this canine innkeeper.

Cousin Connect

 So I was up early doing errands today. First I did my laundry, which Wifey and my friends find hilarious -- since we have a housekeeper. But years ago I realized she was ruining my stuff with bleach and all, and I kind of like the sense of completeness of tasks like laundry, so everything goes in the same load, and then the shirts get hung up to dry while other stuff goes in the dryer, and later that am -- presto!

I then left to get a pedicure, a hobby the Ds caused me to have doing "Daddy/Daughter Pedis" which I have now adopted -- typically I'm the only fellow in the chairs, next to Palmetto High girls or the many Ladies Who Lunch and Pedicure of Pinecrest. Today the lady pinched me, and I said "Ow" and she said sorry before hurriedly returning to her Vietnamese conversations with co-workers. I shall survive.

From there it was up Sunniland to Walgreens, and while waiting in line, saw an email from my cousin Russel. I had messaged him last month about the death of our mutual cousin Steven, and never heard. The email explained he rarely checked his FB Messenger, but thanks for letting him know, and a nice summary of his now retired Southern Cal life, and could we set up a time to actually speak?

I made a quick run to Batteries Plus, one of my favorite stores since they always have the unusual battery or bulb I need, and sure enough, got the front doorbell one I needed. In the mean time, Dr.Rigo's office called to say my blood work looked suspiciously good for a fat old man, so I was happy about that, and I asked about getting Hep A and B vaxxes. Did I plan travel? I did -- 2 trips to Europe, with a stop in Northern Africa (Morocco). Yes -- get the Hep, so I made an App appointment to return to Walgreens at 1250, and then called Russ.

We spoke for an hour. I told him I would be married 40 years this January, and he said last time we saw each other, in 1981 in the Grove, he met her. Nope -- I met Wifey in '83 -- that was my college girlfriend Silvia, who broke up with me thinking I would end up some broke ass English teacher. Some folks at the track handicap the horses better than others...

But we caught up nicely. The woman HE was with that day at Monty Trainers ended up being his first wife, with whom he had a son, now 41, and a daughter, now 45. But the marriage soured on account of she was nuts, and he's been happily married to Linda for 20 years now. He just retired from a corporate career, and from his subtle references about places he visits and gold courses he plays in SoCal I could tell he had done quite well.

We compared notes on kids. No grandkids seem to be coming for him -- his daughter in law had a miscarriage and is now too old to try again, and his daughter is a total career woman with zero desire to marry, let alone have kids.

He told me he's totally estranged from his younger brother Gary, though still close with his half brother Adam -- Adam and Gary are both retired Broward teachers now living in South Carolina. Apparently Gary is selfish and wants little to do with his siblings. Hey -- it happens.

Russ is a proud Gator and LOVES that this Cane has 2 Gator Ds and a Gator son in law. He is still a huge Fins fan, too, since he moved here the year before the Perfect Season.

We enjoyed our reunion so much -- he asked if I got to SoCal, and I told him I was there for a friend's wedding a few years back, but had no plans to return. He was last in SoFla when his Mom and stepdad were alive, and now there is nothing to bring him here.

So I asked -- did he drink? Hell yeah -- bourbon. I told him I stayed closer to our ethnic roots --I was a vodka man. I asked whether he would enjoy a Zoom cocktail meet -- our wives would finally meet, and we would each meet them. He loved the idea -- we have a tentative one set for Monday at 7 pm my time, so that he can have his cocktail at 4.

He adored my parents. I really dug his Dad and Mom, though Harry died when I was probably 8 or 9.

Still, talking to him it was clear we had lots in common -- I look forward to sharing some more tales of our lives.

On my Mom's side, my cousin Jeff asked me to set up a meeting with him and Lynn. Eh. We'll see -- if he reaches out for it, fine, but my laziness prevents me from taking the lead.

Plus -- Zoom is the way to go. Ain't none of us pretty enough to require meeting in person no more -- Zoom allows L'chaims and conversation.

That should be enough of a connection.

Big Men/Little Men

 So Barry and Donna and Josh drove down from Pembroke Pines, and Paul and Patricia called and said they wished to come, too, and I fibbed to the person at Captain's Tavern. They take reservations for 8 and more, since they don't have many large tables, and I mistakenly counted us as 8 instead of 7. They forgave me.

We had a delightful night celebrating Barry's 63rd -- 2 martinis for me, one each for Josh and Barry -- and we talked of ships and shoes and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.

And it occurred to me that I only ever got close with big men. Not size wise -- but men who take care of their families, take responsibility for their lives, and never make excuses.

Little men harangue their women. They have limitless capacities for saying why they ended up losers in life. They try to control women -- long after the women are no longer in their lives.

Turns out, I cannot abide little men -- just have to minimally deal with them, as needed, and keep my distance.

This am I was treated to a bunch of gorgeous photos from D2 -- she and Jonathan are having an amazing time in Portugal. Today they're headed for Comporta, which looks to be magnificent. D2 keeps asking after Betsy, her enormous puppy. Betsy is hilarious -- she used to love long walks, and now, approaching 7 insists on shorter ones. This am we got as far as her friend Jagger's house, who sadly wasn't home, and then, instead of continuing, Betsy went on strike -- plopping down her 105 lbs until we headed home.

Wifey and I have gotten used to watching for her dark bulk at night -- she now favors sleeping at the foot of our bed. And D2 loves her SO much -- we love watching her.

The IRS finally got around to sending me a refund I requested last November -- the result of an amended 2024 return which included an investment loss for my FINAL real estate limited partnership. Jonathan and  invested -- via someone he knew. We now agree real estate isn't for us -- Jonathan has plenty on his hands in the world of private equity, and I'm an old school stock and bond guy. I'll leave the more exotic investments for people who really know what they're doing.

I have one final K-1 thing out there -- a small stake in a soccer team owned by D1's bro in law. I thought it would be fun to be part of it, even though I truly LOATHE soccer -- I'd rather watch paint dry.

I fully expect this venture to go belly up as well, though it may take a few years, and I'll get my closeout K-1 which I can use for a tax deduction. Yeah - investing in operations based on someone's boyhood love of sports probably isn't the way to go -- unless you were boyhood friends with someone named Ross, or Arison, or Kraft...

So today we only have a good 'ole Sunday morning and day planned -- I shall complete my constitutional without Betsy. And tonight we get to watch a new episode of "The Westies," a new HBO series based on the actual small Irish gang in NY in the 70s and 80s. It stars the guy from the Farmer's Insurance commercials, who is excellent.

It's funny -- the story centers around the building of the Javits Center -- at the time the biggest project in NYC history, on territory controlled by the Irish guys -- and the Italians wanted in. I was at the Javits Center years ago -- it's pretty rough around the edges -- but when built, was state of the art.

Speaking of NYC -- I'm daily amazed that apparently 1/3 of NY Jewish voters voted for the Muslim guy. Survivors and families of the 911 attack are lobbying hard to keep him away from the service this September --25 years since Hamas/Al Queda (they're really all the same). Hey -- Mamdani is grieving, too -- his people lost 19 of their best guys!

Wow -- 1/4 century since that awful time. Paul and I had just closed a major fire case we handled with our old boss Ed. By noon, we had sent the staff home, and we all knew our families were fine. And as Ed always famously said "Ya gotta eat!"

So we decamped to Morton's on Brickell, sat in the bar, had celebratory martinis and steaks, and talked about these Islamic terrorists. We couldn't have dreamed that now they're seen by the Far Left as Freedom Fighters. What a world, what a world, as the Wicked Witch said as she was melting...

All we can do is raise our grandsons to be Big Men. It won't be easy -- they'll have the influence of Little Men along the way. But I like our chances...

Strategies For Aging

 So this am I had a convo with one of my old man friends. Turns out...when you become an old man, lots of your friends are old men,too. His query: what was the best way to go forward? Accepting the limitations of age, the greatly decreased energy for doing most things, or resist? What would I do?

I answered with a song quote, since most of my thoughts come from lyrics, movie lines, or stuff I've read or heard over the years. The quote came with background about the writer -- since parenthetical discussions are fine for retired, or mostly retired people.

The writer was Randy California, of the group Spirit. Randy was an LA Jew, born Randy Wolfe. He was in Hendrix's band, with another Randy, and Hendrix kept confusing the two, and so named one Randy Texas and the other Randy California. When the world's greatest guitarist gives you a nickname, you keep it.

Anyway, Randy later formed Spirt, and wrote a song called "Nature's Way," and the lyric is "It's Nature's way of telling you...something's wrong." In other words, I plan to let my condition determine how I live -- if I'm limited, so be it. If I can push myself and do more, I'll do that.

Randy died tragically, in Hawaii, saving his son from drowning. I guess that was Nature's way of telling him to stay out of rip currents...

After the phone talk, I met Jonathan my trainer for a rare Friday session, since he was sick on Wednesday. I'm the second oldest person in the gym -- one fellow looks to be late 70s or early 80s, with a wife my age. It's nice when the younger folks move aside when I walk by with weights -- fearful I may drop them on their feet. Age has its privileges.

I then called the Lexus dealer, and they told me Wifey's SUV was ready. I turned in the loaner the color of her eyes, and went inside. My service rep was out. The manager, a pretty Cubana, said he would call me. What was going on? Had they lost the car? Crushed it by mistake?

Carlos called from home to apologize. The check up showed the computer was saying, unlike by Nature's way, that something was wrong -- with the AC. But Carlos checked -- I have the extended warranty I bought when we bought the car off lease from D1 -- and anything needed would be covered. But -- could they keep the car a few more days -- maybe until Monday?

Of course, I said, and then made believe Carlos was saying his "jefa" was simpatica and hermosa, which she was. She blushed. Carlos laughed -- I told her I was making things up. Old dudes can get away with that -- another privilege.

So I have the loaner for a few days. Only problem is, it has a new shifting system -- push button for Park, and you have to manipulate the shifter for the other gears. Zero chance Wifey finds it easy -- but she doesn't have anywhere to go. If she does -- I'll give her a tutorial and hope for the best.

And today is the 63rd birthday of a great man -- Dr. Barry. I asked him if he was going Denis Leary, or Rabbi Yossi. Leary says there comes a time in a man's life when he needs to realize his birthday is no big deal -- and that age is 8. Rabbi Yossi says our days are gifts from The Big Man, and failure to celebrate a birthday is an act of ingratitude.

I think Barry is choosing the opinion of His Holiness -- hopefully we meet for dinner tomorrow night -- and some Zoom cocktails tonight.

D2 and Jonathan are happily in Portugal, and D1 and the boys have a full day tomorrow at the beach -- I think we'll see them Wednesday.

So the days continue to run together, each to each as Yeats wrote, and they're pretty sweet.

Car Talk

 So Wifey asked Henry to visit early this am -- 730, in fact. It's funny since Wifey rarely emerges from our bedroom before 11 am, but I was up early to greet Henry. He has a mobile car wash service, and I noticed he had a new van. "Yes -- used some of my wife's life insurance to buy it." She died in her sleep 2 Mothers' Days ago, in her early 60s. Henry said she was in good shape and ate well, but it was her time...

As I was moving Wifey's car into wash position outside of the garage, I saw a message come up on the dash: "Service Required Soon." Wow -- talk about timing! Lexus of Kendall sent me a text -- special until 7/31 for oil change, tire rotation, etc...I called and asked if I could bring the car in at noon. I could.

Normally, I would drop the car, and have Wifey follow me in my SUV, and we would go for lunch while the car was in the shop. But things don't work normally here. Wifey WOULD, but my car was SO big, and the shifter worked differently, and don't be angry if something happened...

So I left her in her PJs on her recliner at 1145 and headed over. The affable service advisor and I chatted -- he was from Lima (Peru, not Ohio) and a huge Heat fan, so we got to speculate about whether old LeBron is coming to Miami...

He said the oil change was fine, but they couldn't do the rotation. He had photos on his IPad to show me why. Though the tread life was ok (22K miles), the tires were beginning to show age wear -- which happens in South Florida at 5 years or so. He said the tires were probably good for awhile, but he wouldn't take a long trip on them -- and their protocol was no rotation for these type of tires.

I recalled learning this in the past -- tires age even when not worn -- and the LAST thing I wanted was a pleading call from Wifey from the side of the highway...

I told him I typically got tires from Tire Kingdom, and he said that was fine, but they WERE having a "Buy 3, get one free" sale. While he took a call, I went on the TK web site -- sure enough the non sale price there was about the same as the sale price at the dealer.

And then Carlos tried to DOWN sell me! I told him I wanted Michelin, and he said that Kumos were 30% cheaper, and fine for mostly local driving. Nah -- give me the Michelins -- nothing but the best for Wifey!

He wrote me up and said I would get a loaner since they would take a bit to get the Michelins. Another fellow led me to a new SUV, in a gorgeous metallic, dark blue.

I drove home with a plan. I walked inside to find Wifey, still on the recliner, and told her I had done an impulse buy: I traded in her 2022 Lexus for a 2027 model because the color was the same as her blue eyes -- come look.

Ah -- she didn't buy it. She knew it was a loaner, and was amazed that the dealer gave loaners for oil changes. I told her the whole story, and made sure she was happy with today's service -- get your SUV washed, and then taken for service and 4 new tires all without having to open an exterior door.

She said she did enjoy the service.

So I shall await the call and retrieve the 22K mileage SUV. Wifey ended up getting up to see the loaner and indeed fell in love with it -- the interior was a gorgeous sandy colored leather. Now she wants one!

Not happening. I reminded her of her propensity to get into accidents -- even the lovliest blue vehicles don't look so great all dented and scratched.

Speaking of which, I haven't heard from my own carrier about Wifey's collision in Aventura, but suspect the young man IS bringing an injury claim, despite the slightest of contact. When I spoke to the Geico adjuster and asked, she said "HIPAA prevents me from disclosing that info." This tells me there IS info.

Hey -- it'll be up to Kin to deal with it -- and then I await the doubling of the premium from a claim. But hey -- what are ya gonna do?

As Henry's wife's fate shows, any car we have may well be our last. So for now, Wifey will have to endure her charcoal grey Lexus...maybe someday the blue metallic will be hers...

A (Pause) Mazing Weekend

 So Wifey did some of her nervous pre-gathering puttering -- realizing hours before guests arrived that she needed to rearrange photo frames, plants, etc...but happily went upstairs to get ready, leaving me to reflect in the living room. The caterers arrived, and I had set out the ice and Stoli Elit, and though I thought I might wait for the party, I poured myself one, sat alone in the living room, and let the alcohol do its work -- just enough to give Petty's lyrics more poignancy.

The guests started arriving right around 630, and it was delightful. All ate VERY well and drank as they wished, and later on there were gummies -- I had 2 with little effect -- story of my marijuana life. And as the party was in full swing, and I was a few in and loving life -- well -- I looked up to see Kenny and Joelle -- what the hell were they doing there? They made a special change of planes trip from Maine to be part of the party. I mean -- who leaves a beautiful Maine lake in July to come to tropical Miami? Folks who truly love you is the answer.

So Jeff and Lili were in from CT - though they come home monthly to check up on things and just made it my party weekend -- and Scott and Sam flew in from D.C. I felt like some big shot for whom people travel.

Years ago I learned my name means "beloved" in Hebrew. Turns out...

D1's friends Harley and her sister Alexis tended bar well -- everyone enjoyed their youthful energy. Old friends connected. Laughter was created.

At the cake, I made sure to make faces to "Happy Birthday," to make Wifey, the Ds, and Jonathan laugh. And then I told everyone what was in my heart -- I was the luckiest son of a bitch I knew - and how Saturday proved it. Paul spoke beautifully -- noting how all in attendance were there since they owed me -- not money, but a return on the friendship I had given my entire life.

And Wifey, not one to enjoy public speaking, said how remarkable it was that many there consider my their best friend. It's true. My identities in life are great father, great friend, mostly acceptable husband, and mediocre but financially succesful lawyer. Oh -- and Canes fanatic -- that got mentioned a lot, too.

The last to leave, around 10, were D2 and Jonathan, and Joel and Courtney -- more great tales, and talk of the futures of their wonderful sons.

It was the kind of party that folks like to relate conversations afterward. And Monday, my trainer Jonathan told me how Wifey had cracked up him and his lovely lady Lesley. Lesley thanked Wifey for hosting, and noted how beautiful our home was -- it must be delightful to live in such a place. Wifey said "It is -- and you know -- we USED to be poor!"

Vintage Wifey -- filter between brain speech center and mouth is often porous -- and it's a line the young couple will always treasure.

Sunday we assembled at Chabad -- and Baby Man got a GREAT party with all his preschool friends and their parents. The main building was hosting a community Mitzvah Kitchen event -- 40 folks putting together meals for the poor. I was hoodwinked into sponsoring that, too, and when I wandered in, Yossi had the assembled sing happy birthday to me. 

If you're gonna be hoodwinked -- and it leads to feeding the poor -- well -- that's, I guess, a GOODwink...And so it was.

After D1 came back to the house with the boys, and we plotzed, as they say, so tired from the parties. But Joelle and Kenny texted -- their flight home via Philly was canceled -- did we have dinner plans? We were NOT going to let some fatigue prevent meeting them, after their monumental schlep to Miami, and we had a lovely time at Grand Kitchen -- a spot that held my least favorite restaurant - Planta -- a vegan place. We said so long until the Fall...

Meanwhile, on the other end of the social spectrum -- my cousin Steve's other cousin Stuart is cleaning out his Jackson Heights co-op. He found some of my grandmother Jennie's hair, with a note about her. Not just a few strands -- like a whole mop of strawberry blonde locks. I never knew -- she was always gray to me. My sister Sue and I politely declined his offer to send it to us.

But the message came through -- my cousin, who had no real friends, ended up as dead as the next guy -- as I will, though hopefully without the creepy hoarded stuff.

Through these 65 years, my possessions, such as they have been, are my people -- those nearest and dearest, all of whom gathered SAturday night.

And so I begin my 66th year on this planet as one VERY blessed, VERY lucky, cool rockin' grandpa and Daddy in the USA...

Shorter of Breath...One Day Closer to Death

 I prefer to think those sage lyrics are David Gilmour's, and not the anti-semite Waters. It's still an awesome song and album.

Meanwhile, the lead up to my birthday has made my insufferably happy self even MORE insufferable. It's funny -- I always expect the worst, but when that doesn't materialize, I get ebullient. There must be a DSM diagnosis for me.

So yesterday Paul asked me to meet him at His Holiness's office, and he presented the Rabbi with a fat check in honor of my birthday. Yossi showed me a check from Dr. Barry, too, and Young Rabbi Moshe told me Norman had made a nice contribution, too. I was really moved. If charity is done in my name -- well -- that's as good as it gets. And then things got hilarious.

Paul asked the Rabbis and Rebetzin what to do now that our firm seemed to be limping to the finish line. Yossi skipped no beats: "There's always time to include us in your will." Spectacular! It certainly never hurts to ask, and they didn't build the multi million facility they have by being meek.

We then went to lunch, and I got a call from the Dermatologist's office. I had prepared myself for the dreaded message: "You have melanoma," and strategized telling no one at my getty, but knowing I would be entering oncology world on Monday. The Big Man smiled. "My favorite patient -- biopsy is negative -- but DO use sunscreen." This time I was scared straight -- after 2 basals and a squamous -- time to protect before my walks additionally to my hat.

Last night, Larry David finally made me laugh with his new Series. The first 2 episodes -- eh. But last night he played Jonas Salk's VERY proud Queens Jewish mother, and it was LOL for me. "My son doesn't care about clothing -- he cares about HUMANITY!" Funny stuff.

This am, Wifey and I coffee toasted on our balcony, overlooking our amazing home, before the heat and humidity chased us back inside. I opened my email, and was brought to tears by probably the most beautiful email from anyone not my blood relation, ever. I responded to the young man that the weather folks were wrong -- the Canadian smoke DID come to Miami -- which explained my tears. I was moved -- especially when he said he bought a brick at UM and hoped someday my grandsons would show it to their Canes friends. Like Linda Richman, I fanned myself and got ready to go for ice.

But then -- Norman called. He had violated my request for no gifts other than tzedekah, and dropped off a large bottle of Stoli Elit AND a T shirt that said "What A Difference A Dave Makes," which I first heard at the Tartan Army game we attended. I told him both gifts fit perfectly, and gave the ulitmate complement: we could be faygellahs. Straight guys give crappy gifts to each other -- these 2 gifts were ON POINT. Again, I was moved.

I went to our local Kwik-E -Mart with a large cooler, to get a piece of ice (pun never leaves my head since probably 1976). The clerk wasn't the usual Arab guy, but a Cubano -- I told him I needed 10 bags and 5 Lotto tickets. I gave him my credit card, and learned 2 things. First, Lotto is cash only, and second, tickets are now $2 instead of $1. Change happened behind my back! I don't recall the last time I bought Lotto tickets.

Anyway, I popped the $3 change into his tip jar, and told him it was my cumpleanos. He brightened. I walked to the freezer to start the schlepping process, and he said "Senor --esperate!" And he rolled up with a wheeled cart, and insisted on helping me load and unload the ice!

I got Publix/Milam's service from the Kwik-E-Mart. I thought of a Brady Bunch episode where the kids recorded a "Sunny Day" song, in perfect 70s colors and saccharine lyrics.

The song basically summed up my mood. I will be totally UNsurprised if my Lotto numbers come in -- then it will be time to take charity seriously -- like as in full time job.

The Total Wine and Costco deliveries came -- an affable Venezuelan young man and happy Cubano -- I tipped them both as they brought in supplies for a party of 100. We expect 30. Hey -- soda and booze keeps -- T Day isn't too far off...

So each time I get news OTHER than bad, about my beloveds or myself, I savor it. And this 65th birthday is such a time. Hey -- I may even make 66 -- when I can get my kicks...