We Grow Old, We Grow Old...

So it was the last Friday in June, and I got up and fed the dogs, had breakfast, walked 2.2 miles, and prepared to go to the office. Fortunately, Mike called asking if I had left yet. I had not. He reported complete gridlock, as some loser was on the Rickenbacker Causeway with a gun, threatening to kill himself, but succeeding in killing all traffic movement on South Brickell. Mike had already been in his car nearly 2 hours. I took it as a sign to stay home -- it turned out the moron Causeway guy finally surrendered near 2 pm.

Cops get heat all the time about dealing with the mentally ill. Seems they used complete patience with this guy -- allowing the fact that mommy was mean to him to paralyze a city for hours.  Oh well...

So I walked another mile, and sweated, and dealt with my friend and financial guy Pat about some investments. Pat hit well again -- he told me to buy Nike 2 years ago, and it had a nice run. Yesterday it shot up another 10 per cent, and we took nice profits. Pat really checks stuff out, as opposed to all other brokers I've had who just are glorified salespeople.

Speaking of money, I had a $25 off coupon for Shula's, and I convinced Wifey to get dressed and go for an early dinner.  We chatted with D2 on the way to South Miami, about our upcoming trip to NYC. It's as hot there as it is here -- but they'll get some breaks from the heat. We won't.

Shula's was fine, as always, and I had 2 martinis. The server Brian was so wonderful we reported it to the manager, who already knew she had a gem. Brian's diction indicated he was probably also a student -- when Wifey asked about how the asparagus was prepared, he answered "precisely."

Armed with the martini buzz, I led Wifey across the street to the struggling Sunset Place, where I had read they had a place with live music.  Apparently the developers are going to try yet again to make the huge spot a success. When I moved here, it was a bakery -- Holsum -- and the delicious smell of baking bread at night always led us to have to order pizza or subs.  The scent would make its way north on US 1 and snake into our apartment -- cartoon-like -- and drive us nuts.

Holsum shut down and they built the Bakery Center, a gorgeous marble lined place that had a few restaurants we'd visit, but it failed. They they demolished it and built Sunset Place, which was supposed to gather a bunch of gourmet restaurants -- that failed, too, though the movie theater does well.

The Ds hung there sometimes during middle and high school -- I remember one day after I settled a case, and I took D1 and two of her friends to a place called Charlotte Russe, and bought them all dresses. They thought D1 was the luckiest girl in school. They were correct.

Anyway, plans are to try again -- to finally build a place integrated with the lovely Red and Sunset areas. I heard it stalled, so in the mean time there are a lot of empty spaces, but a cool new spot called Tea and Poets.

It's a store, and coffeehouse, and stage. Wifey and I went in, and I bought a black ball cap that said "Miami AF." The hat screamed my name.

The FIU student barista suggested a macha to wake me up, and Wifey and I settled into some comfortable chairs near the stage. A young man came on, with a guitar and electronic devices that let him record himself and play live, and he was quite good. His name was Martin -- he looked to be a music student --probably a New World grad -- tatooed and cool looking.

He sang a Latin influenced version of "Sweet Child of Mine," one of Wifey's favorite songs, and then "Tainted Love."  We enjoyed him.

And then it occurred to me: we were the oldest patrons there, by 30 years at least. I mean, many of the people were a good deal younger than the Ds!

So after about 4 songs, I saw myself like the Tull character Aqualung, and was indeed uneasy like him. We walked away.

Still, it was a lovely date night. Wifey had me stop at Winn Dixie, to buy carrots and apples for Lester. Lester is a brown bunny rabbit who has taken up residence in our 'hood. Our neighbor Monica across the street named him Lester -- he looks to her like the newsman Lester Holt, and feeds him daily. Monica is going away for July, and asked Wifey to take over, hence the needed carrots and apples.

I saw Lester hopping around our front yard, and reminded him that we have three little dogs who will chase him. He crinkled his nose as if he understood -- beat a hasty, hoppy retreat when the dogs are free.

So we grow older in a young city. I see why so many folks retreat to Palm Beach County and points farther north. When Eric and Dana were with us last year in Wynwood, they remarked that when they go out in Boca, they're often the youngest people in a restaurant; in Miami, they're the oldest.

But we're staying -- I'm invigorated by younger people. And truth is, they didn't even ask us to leave Tea and Poets...