The Racket On The Roof

 Well, as Villa Wifey was built in 1997, the house where so many precious memories were made needs a new roof as it nears 3 decades of the Tropics.

In 2005, after Hurricane Wilma, the wind loosened the clay tiles, and I had a fellow spend an entire day re-fastening them -- I was amazed he did it, and that gave me another 20 years. Over time, leaks appeared, but never inside -- they were above the many porches or "loggia" to use the Italian term, Richard and Jennifer designed and installed. Each time there was a repair, I called Andrew Palmer, except for a detour to Infinity, which did good work once but then tried to rip me off a second time ($10K for  a repair Palmer did for $3K) and so the 3rd generation Miami company have been my dudes since.

Last year, I asked Kevin, the young roof maven, when it was time for a new roof entirely. He said "You'll know -- sort of like when a person knows it's time for joint replacement surgery. The leaks will multiply, and start appearing inside, too." The clay tiles can last forever, but the paper beneath them, the ACTUAL layer that keeps out the weather, does not.

Sure enough, last rainy season Wifey had some comical drips onto her head as she watched TV during a storm. So I scheduled the job for the dry season, and gave a deposit.

It's funny -- the job costs a bit below the entire cost of our second house -- well into the 6 figures. Well, not ha ha funny, but interesting funny. At first I was going to go with metal, which lasts nearly forever, but it would change Villa Wifey from a neo-Med house to a VERY large Key West-type cottage. I was ok with that, but smarter heads prevailed -- and I ended up sticking with the clay tiles, which, I am told, are stronger than they were in 1997.

Kevin tells me this will be another 30 year roof, which gets me to my mid 90s where the next roof will be someone else's concern.

Anyway, they began work yesterday, and it's loud. If I didn't know better, I'd swear there were large men up on the roof banging away with sledgehammers!

Luckily, they were gone by 4 yesterday, as I was driving to NE Miami to re-home Little Man, who spent a lovely Sunday with Wifey and me. We ate, and read, and Wifey did some homework. He took his bath in our oversized tub, which he assures us is his favorite. We lizard hunted. We watched cartoons.

D1 is of the belief that down time for a kid is not so great. Wifey and I believe the opposite. After there were BAFL (bagels at first light) we hung about -- a lot -- before I drove him home.

Around 6, Barry and Scott arrived. I ordered DiNapoli, and began my work as a human drink blender. I have perfected a simple bartending move: I hand squeeze 2 mandarin oranges into a cocktail shaker over ice, fill with good vodka (yesterday was Stoli Elit) and serve. I keep 'em coming. Jonathan and D2 arrived, and we got Jonathan to join the martini Club. They were going to order healthy food -- yeah -- after a few of Grandpa Dave's drinks, that turned into pizza and ziti. Kenny and Joelle arrived, and for him it was beer -- Joelle had a Negroni, which I simply chill frorm the pre-mixed Ketel bottle.

By the time of kickoff, all were well lubricated. The game was a good one, but at the end, the Canes fell short. As Scott noted, Dave's martinis and DiNapoli dulled our pain -- plus the knowledge that we didn't have to fight epic traffic, or spend large parts of our kids' future inhertitances.

Joelle left after the first quarter, and D2 and Jonathan at half time. Josh arrived from his mysterious place of watching first half. The game ended. We toasted to a fine year.

Kenny spent the night in D2's old room, and this am we went to Roasters and then he walked across the street to MetroRail it home to the Grove.

He's joining Barry, Norman, and me starting tomorrow for the JLI Adult Ed Class -- 6 Wednesdays of some deep thought and discussions about the nature of decision making -- as seen through Rabbinic eyes. Kenny's going to love it, though an avowed atheist. You don't have to believe in the Big Man to be Jewish, any more than you used to not have to be Jewish to love Levy's rye bread (great ad campaign of yesteryear).

Meanwhile, the banging will continue -- Kevin said the roof job will take a full 3 weeks. Hopefully afterwards I'm good to go until my grandsons are well out of college and into adulthood.

Man -- that would make this cool, rocking grandfather in the USA VERY old indeed...