Shpilkes

 Shpilkes is a Yiddish word meaning, essentially, having ants in your pants. My in laws, particularly my mother in law, used it often -- especially when describing bored children.

As we go through the plague, I observe the different people I know, and what shhpilkes they have, and how it manifests in their lives.

Everyone seems to have their own rules about what is acceptable behavior to prevent catching the dread disease.

We chatted with some friends the other week, and mentioned that we have our housekeeper visit bi-weekly. Oh no -- they're not "up to that" at all -- having someone go through the house who has been with, who knows? And yet the same person decided, in the midst of COVID, to undertake a major in house renovation, which involves having multiple construction guys over daily! This has been going on for weeks and weeks. And yet, to her, with that type of shpilkes, it makes total sense. I understand.

For us, seeing the Ds and their men and the grandson is sacred. On Wifey's birthday D1 and her men were over, and while there, D1's dear friend, her husband, and baby girl, newly in from Chicago, came over. We stayed outside and distanced, of course, but it was an act Dr. Fauci, my guru in all of this, would have discouraged.

The next evening, D2 and Jonathan came over. It was a cool evening. Could they have some friends over, staying outside, to gather around my fire pit? Of course they could -- and the 2 young folks snacked and drank and laughed. I served the drinks, masked up of course, and mostly stayed inside watching what turned out to be the most exciting Dolphins game in decades -- Fins won on a last second heave by the relief QB Fitzpatrick.

Again -- would Dr. Fauci have approved? Probably not -- and yet having these people precious to me having a great time was supreme.

The Ds think I've become a bit paranoid about COVID. They may be right, but I like to think I'm a pragmatist. Wifey and I will hopefully get the vaccine by April or so. My doctor friends have already been fortunate to get theirs. With the end likely in sight, I joke that I don't want to be that schmuck who dies in March.

Dying last year would have been acceptable. The Ds could have told our grandson, and hopefully grandkids I never met, "Well, Grandpa Dave died in the early days of the awful pandemic." But telling them "It was a shame -- he died with only a few months or a month to go before he got vaccinated" seems like the height of black humor.

Dr. Barry calls me "Mr. Obituary," for good reason. My dark humor causes me to always share news of death, particularly among guys near our age. My guilty news reading pleasure, the NY Post, had an article about an Israeli guy yesterday. He got his COVID vaccine, and died the next day -- of an unrelated heart attack! Ha. He was the embodiment of my wish -- to become immune to COVID so I can get on with the business of dying of something else!

I don't know. Another friend and I talk all the time about preventing the disease. And yet his lady insists they go out -- daily -- to stores and restaurants. She just took a trip to South America to see her mother! And, he tells me, they made dinner plans for New Year's Eve at a restaurant that will be packed with snowbirds who have descended upon their part of Miami. Again -- shpilkes strikes.

One of my favorite memes says when all of this is over -- we'll sit around, looking back on it, and laughing. Well, not ALL of us.

In the mean time, maybe surviving comes down to shpilkes control. Can we control our urges for a normal life sufficiently to get us to the point where we can safely have a normal life? As the old radio show said: only the Shadow knows.

So 2020 slouches to its end. My friend and broker Pat sent me 2 very fine and expensive bottles of wine -- about damn time! He typically doesn't send gifts, which I forgive since he had me invest relatively heavy in Apple stock back in '03, and investment that has pulled up our portfolio nearly 2 decades later. But this year he did gift, and I appreciate it though I'm a vodka and not wine drinker.

Ken and Joelle have invited us over for NYE for drinks and apps. I'm bringing one of the expensive bottles -- they ARE wine folks and will appreciate it. I'll have a glass, too. We can toast to a better year to come.

I set up a ZOOM cocktail party for 9 pm -- maybe my usual Friday night group of dudes can have a nightcap. Whether we stay up until midnight remains to be seen. But I look forward to toasting with that august order, too.

And the second bottle of 3 figure wine? I'd like to be able to take it to the Palm in July, if the Big Man gets me to my 60th birthday. I'll pay the corkage fee and toast with my family -- sitting around and laughing -- hopefully all of us.

If shpilkes allows.