So yesterday was my first one as el solo toro, the lonely bull. I walked the strange sausage dog, and came home to full on painting by the crew. D1 called -- we were going to share a mitzvah -- visiting her ancient grandmother.
I met D1 at the Palace -- the old woman is now in the nursing home section, at least temporarily. Gloria, her former caretaker was there -- Wifey still pays her to check in. Rachel was back in full throat, and pretty unsure of what was going on, but VERY sure she wanted us to "go have lunch and put it on my tab." As my buddy Paul says, she's going down swinging...
D1 and I then drove to the Kendall Mall, and met at a bagel place, where she ordered healthy salads for us and we caught up. Mads, the spoiled Spaniel, was happy to be along. D1 left for a date night with her husband Joey, and I headed back home, listening on the radio to the Canes win again. But the radio sounded tinny, and I stopped at the dealership, where the "tech girl" diagnosed a blown speaker. I made an appointment to leave the car for service Monday am -- I have Wifey's SUV to drive until Noche Buena...
Deb and Norman fetched me -- they invited me along on their date night. We went to Wynwood Yard, and a cool place called Charcoal, situated among old steel shipping containers. The food and drink were excellent, and the company better.
After dinner, we walked a bit, admiring some dogs of Wynwood, and passing a big party at the Puerto Rican place Jimmy's Kitchen. The folks were dancing and singing into the cool night air.
Wynwood is a really special place -- artists and hipsters, great restaurants and bars. It'll probably eventually gentrify, like Lincoln Road, and be boring upper scale stores, but for now it's still way cool.
We walked back to Wynwood Yard, which is a big expanse of food trucks around an outdoor bar, and a great young band was playing. They covered "You're Just Too Good To Be True," and the hipsters moshed to the song's famous chorus.
Behind them, we noticed a large, art menorah -- covered in multi colored fabric. Some young Hasids waited by it, watching the moshing and un orthodox dressed young girls.
When the song finished, the band's leader announced it was their last song, and hoped he pronounced "menorah" correctly -- he did -- and then the Chabadniks lit it. Folks walked around -- laughing and eating and drinking.
I had the same feeling I typically get -- I really never want to live anywhere else.
Today I'll meet Paul and we'll have lunch with his old law school friend Alan -- who is battling cancer -- a recurrence of a rare type of small intestinal lesions. I haven't seen Alan in months, and look forward to helping cheer him up.
But for now, the strange rescue dog awaits -- she enjoys her bachelor owner, and roughing it for a few days.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment