Another Jazzy Sunday

I appreciate jazz music, but don't often listen to it -- EXCEPT on Sunday mornings. I put on WDNA on my Sonos and enjoy it in the background, as I surf the web and drink coffee. I support the station, too, and wear a nifty WDNA ball cap they sent to say thanks. This year I'm due a T shirt, too.

Yesterday I attended a lovely graduation party. Wifey opted out -- she wasn't in the mood to socialize after moving around some boxes in the garage that got wet from the torrential rains we had. Our garage floor is the only surface that ever floods. Apparently our house was built high up -- an engineer checking it out fof the insurance company told me it was 40% higher than required by code. But the garage sits next to the area where the pool is, and when the pool overflows, the water seeps though the concrete.  An engineer said the problem could be fixed -- excavate around the garage wall, and seal it -- cost would be about $50K. Eh -- I can live with the wet floor that occurs every 3 years or so.

So there was a nice group of folks at Chris and Mary's house. Some of the people brought plastic syringes filled with run shots -- flavored jello infused with rum. You squirt the syringe into your mouth, rather than have to extract the jello from the little plastic shot glasses. I tried one -- tea flavored -- and thought wow -- what'll they think of next?

Marlowe is headed to NYU J school for a master's -- she wants to be a foreign correspondent. Her brother is off to FSU to study Criminology -- and partying. They're two wonderful kids, and I properly complemented Mary and Chris on a job well done.

D1 just texted: she and her men are 25 minutes away. D2 and Jonathan are coming a bit later -- they love to sleep in Sunday mornings.

If it gets late enough, I'll make them martinis with the Beluga vodka I got as a gift. I sampled some Friday night -- it is indeed excellent -- the Johnny Walker Blue of vodka.

The bottle came with a little hammer and brush contraption, and I used the trusty internet to figure out why. Each bottle is sealed in clay, and you use the hammer to break up the seal, and then brush the fragments away. A gimmick, of course, but I DO enjoy the rituals of adult beverages.

My man Stu's Dad Bill, a wonderful octogenarian, once explained why he much prefers a cocktail out at a great bar/restaurant to one at home. "When you hear the bartender shake his shaker, it's Pavlovian. You KNOW a good time is to follow that evening."

It's funny -- my Dad was no drinker. The most he'd ever have was a beer with dinner on occasion. I NEVER saw him drink "hard liquor," even once. He claimed it was bad for his prostate. I guess the fact that he died WITH prostate issues affected me. Plus, he never went to college, which is where alcohol became a much bigger social lubricant.

So we'll see if today's early Father's Day turns into day drinking, or not.

Either way -- when I get my Ds and their men together -- it's a fine day.

Even better than jazz on WDNA playing in the background.