Hopefully the Final Incomplete Shabbos

So D1 and Joey have started a lovely tradition: they alternate Friday night dinners with us and Joey's parents. Our turns have become an opportunity to try out different restaurants -- since Wifey ain't no challah back girl. Plus, Joey works in Hallandale, and the thought of schlepping all the way to Pinecrest after rush hour isn't very appealing.

Last night the 4 of us went to La Trova. Wifey and I went with Deb and Norman July 4th weekend, and loved the place. It's our local celebrity chef Michelle Bernstein's take on Cuban food. The bartender is apparently one of the top guys in the US -- his father is credited with creating the mojito at the Hotel Nacional in Havana.

The place is in a rapidly gentrifying part of Little Havana -- the East part, close to Downtown. It's become a favorite of mine -- three musicians out of Buena Vista Social Club play Cuban folk favorites -- the Spanish speakers all sing along, while we gringos clap and sway along.

Joey had a whole snapper fish,and loved it. I had their arroz con pollo, which has strips of chicken and wonderful spices. Wifey and D1 enjoyed their food, too.

It's a bit loud for conversation when the band is playing, but that is ok. The atmosphere is truly joyful.

And -- as D1 pointed out, it is hopefully our final Friday night dinner without D2 and Jonathan. They're due to buy their one way tickets to MIA this week, and move into their new place in the Grove on the 15th.

When the 6 of us began traveling together, Joey created a text group called "Full Squad." Whenever we have to share something critical, like the latest photos of the special needs Spaniel Bo -- it makes it easy to do.

Last night, two martinis in, I shot a video of La Trova and sent it to D2 and Jonathan, to whet their appetites for their return.

Life sends us so many tough issues to deal with. Our beloved country is more politically fragmented than any time in my memory. Friends stop talking over whether they love or hate Trump.

To me, the philosophy of Hemingway makes the most sense. He wrote, essentially, that this world is beyond repair (and that was over 100 years ago), and the most rational thing a man could do was to find his own oasis of sanity and guard it fiercely.  A man must find his own "clean, well lighted place."

Of course, Hemingway ended up shooting himself -- so I plan to avoid that part of the tale.  But I agree with the personal part.

I was talking to Paul this am. He has a close cousin -- Gail. I met her several times over the years -- lovely lady, 74 years old. She was a retired teacher, and enjoying cruises and trips to Jamaica with her husband, Mel, also retired.

The other day she slipped at home, in Palm Beach County, and ended up in hospice, before dying. Paul will eulogize her tomorrow.

It just brought home, as always, the message that no one here gets out alive. We must savor and make right our lives -- on our terms.

I used to agree to go to events out of obligation. No more. My time is too precious.

And last night, with D1, Wifey, and Joey, drinking and listening to great music -- there was no place in the world I would have rather been.

I hope this blessing continues -- and indeed I look forward to the Full Squad all being in the building.