Damn Models

The OCD I have when a hurricane approaches Miami has unfortunately reared its very ugly head with the plague. I check the National Hurricane Center's Cone of Death, as we call it, all day, even though it only gets updated several times per day. When it veers away, I'm happy. When it has the 305 smack in the center, I get more anxious.  Other than the devastation of Andrew, and the annoyances of Katrina and Irma (long time without power), the storms have usually missed us.

Well -- at the start of the coronavirus event, I adopted the U Washington model as my cone of death. I was so criticized about it, by ultra lefty FaceBook friends, that I ended up unfriending several. They claimed the model was far too optimistic -- the White House liked it,as it predicted fewer cases and deaths than other models.

Seemed to me it was pretty accurate, and I checked every few days to see when it was updated, which they now do twice per week. Sure enough, April 29 had promising news: "only" a total of fewer than 2000 deaths were predicted in Florida, and about 65,000 for the entire country. That amount of death I could live with.

But last night they updated. Turns out that the opening of the lockdowns has caused the modelers to see much worse news: now they're predicting close to 4000 deaths in Florida, and more than 125K in the US.

My mood plummeted upon reading it. I took a more than 10 mile anxiety walk.

I guess the bright spot, at least for Florida, is that we are now the third most populous state, but predicted to have "only" the 11th most deaths. Still --stuff is scary.

Meanwhile, the anxiety walks are proving something my family all figured out years ago: when you walk a lot, you get thinner.  I remember taking Wifey and the Ds to NYC, followed by a day on LI. It was uncanny -- Manhattan folks were thin -- they walk. A lot. As soon as we stopped in our first diner on LI -- the folks were obese. They drive EVERYWHERE, and it shows.

So lately I'm at least aping the NYC walking thing -- and it's working. I'm down to 242. Still much too large, but down 20 lbs from my unfortunate fat zenith.  I plan to get to 200 lbs -- for my frame, a respectable amount, though D1 would tell me guidelines want me at below 175. As the Ds used to say -- let's not get craaaaazy...

So it's Cinco de Mayo, the fake Mexican Independence Day. Jeff and I put on 4 miles together this am, and I have a nap with my name on it scheduled for early afternoon. Kenny is coming at 4, after his shift at the hospital, and I look forward to his august company, even in May.

Young Josh wishes a Cinco de Mayo toast, and we'l hopefully have one later. His Dad is covering his unit at the hospital and will not attend. Someone has to mind the hospital store.

I spoke to our partner Stu yesterday about some cases. Florida Supreme Court says no jury trials until at least July, so that slows stuff down. There may still be some settlements though.

So the days slog on. I thank the Big Man, a lot, for keeping us on the right side of things, and ask Him to please hurry this plague away from our planet. I hope He decides to do just that.

And maybe the damned model will improve. I guess the next one is out Friday night. Joey and D1 are hosting a shabbat toast, or kiddush, for all of us. I'll be sure to have my vodka before I check the new model.