The Slower Pace Of An Emptier House

 So today is day 6 of my Wifey-less house, and all is well. She is happily enjoying herself in Atlanta, and D2 and Jonathan and I are getting by.

Yesterday I met Paul and Lou at Mo's, and we three Ashkenazim ate a lunch fit for our heritage -- including a comical photo of Lou posing with the two oversized matzoh balls he wanted on the side of his soup. Afterwards, we retired to Gulfstream where we each invested huge stakes ($100 for Paul and me; $40 for Lou) for a joint venture of wagering.

I'm not much a fan of horse racing, or really ANY gambling, but being with two guys who savor it made it fun for me, especially in the beautiful afternoon. And -- Paul, having cojones, bet $60 on a long shot which came in -- we each won $100 on the day! When I got home, I gave 2 $50 bills to D2, and told her the winnings were for her and D1. D2 said it was unlikely D1 would see her share. Luck IS everything...

Last evening I walked over to neighbor Denie's house for our neighborhood's HOA Executive Committee meeting. Denie, the Republican, was maskless, and the other women, Gloria, Allison, Ellen, and Lee Ann, all Dems, stayed masked up.

Denie poured me white wine, and I we set about our agenda. Allison, the new President, got stuff moved along, and when they asked about Wifey's report (She's Crime Watch Chair and we have zero crime), I answered that I slept with the Chair and could therefore report. I got a lot of laughs with that one.

Today Jonathan left for a day trip to Dallas, and D2 is working away in the living room. Her canine assistants keep going back and forth between her and me -- always bringing a smile.

Meanwhile, since Wifey never answers her phone, her late friend Elizabeth's sister called me. It seems that Elizabeth, always OCD, left instructions about bequeathing her possessions to no fewer than 45!!!! people. Wifey and the Ds are among them -- some art pieces, I think. I was asked if the Ds and Wifey wanted any of the un-bequeathed items. I politely declined -- we all need more decluttering -- but I'm sure Wifey and the Ds will enjoy having a small material piece of our beloved, late friend.

I told my ladies that I wished the opposite when I leave this mortal coil. I want them and my sons in law to poach whatever they want from my stuff, and the rest is to be quickly taken to either Goodwill or the local transfer station -- our fancy word for dump.

Other than a few books with special meaning, like a copy of Gray's Anatomy my Dad gave me when I was starting pre-med, or the Robert Frost book I was given when I was awarded Outstanding English Graduate of 1983, I really couldn't care less about any of my stuff.

I had two expensive watches -- a Rolex and a Breitling -- and gave them to my sons in law already. I feel possessions own me and not the other way around, and the last thing I would ever want would be to burden anyone with bequeathments. Hell -- my 70s-90s era vinyl collection goes to anyone willing to schlep it away.

So it's pretty quiet around here. Tomorrow I see Dr. Herman for the removal of the stitches from my Mohs surgery. There's a Zoom cocktail meet at 6, followed by a cocktail party at 7.

As for the weekend -- not much on tap -- maybe a visit to the adorable grandson.

I simply have no desire to travel anywhere. I suppose the thought of having to strategize around Covid still makes it untenable for me. But it's also the most beautiful time of year in Miami -- why go anywhere else? In fact, some cool nights are on the way -- which means the firepit will get some use.

Come to think of it, that rusted bowl is one of my favorite possessions. No one would even want that.

Someone Told Me It's All Happening At The Zoo

 So Wifey's out of town still, and D1 asked if maybe I wanted to take the Little Man out for a day. I did. So she and he and his wonderful nanny came over, we exposed him to the inevitable licking attack from our dog infested house, and then we were off -- D1 stayed home with her sister to rest and work.

Oh what a day it was. I hadn't been to ZooMiami in decades, except for one evening when we attended the boss Ron Magill's locally famous "Sex and the Animals" lecture. We used to take the Ds all the time -- Wifey bought yearly passes -- but as they aged, we just never made it back.

It was a gorgeous, overcast day, so not too hot. The foliage that was denuded in Hurricane Andrew is all back, thankfully, and there are new exhibits.

We strolled the Little Man around, and he got his first live view of the animals he had seen in books -- and identified them all in Spanish. The zoo has a big variety of, as Wifey used to call them, "antelope-like" animals, and we called them all "vacas especiales," or "special cows." I can update him later.

He identified a giant tapir as an "oso," or bear, and I realized if looked pretty bear-like, especially from a distance. We sat on a bench and he ate his lunch -- watching the Arabian antelope type critters, and sharing some of his food with a friendly ardilla, or squirrel.

As we headed toward the exit, after a solid several hours in which we only covered half the place, I looked skyward and thanked the Big Man -- He let me get this far in life with an actual grandson.

D1 called in a lunch order from LOL, which was on the way home, and we ate with Tia D2. Later D1 and the Little Man and lovely nanny left for home.

Oh -- I have SO much to teach him. My paternal grandfather was long dead by the time I was born, and my maternal one died when I was just past toddlerhood -- I have a single memory of visiting him in the hospital before he died.

So I hope I get to change things this generation with this absurdly adorable child -- already pretty much bilingual.

Maybe he'll teach ME the actual Spanish names of the vacas especiales...

Temporary Bachelorhood

 Before the Plague, Wifey would go, at least once a year, to visit her BFF Edna in Atlanta, and I'd typically stay home as a dog sitter. It was always nice to have the big house to myself and the dogs, and I would always sort of fantasize I was an eccentric old man living alone in a big house. I'd often go to local spots, like Shula's or Sea Siam, and sit at the bar and order dinner and drinks. I enjoyed it.

Well, Wifey hasn't traveled in well over 2 years. In '19 D1 had the Little Man, and there was a big, fat Venezuelan wedding to plan. And then, of course, came the Plague.

But she went away Friday, for an 11 day stay in the Peachtree State, and I get to play the role again.

Last night, my friend Mike's sister Jeannine, staying at her nephew Chris's new house, invited me to come along to their family dinner at Christie's, one of my favorites. The foursome came by, and we pregamed, and greeted D2 and Jonathan and Betsy as they returned from Aventura.

The dinner was delightful -- we go back nearly 4 decades -- and had a lot of nostalgia to cover. Chris is getting married in April, and his fiancee was out at her bachelorette party on the Beach. We feasted, and followed the beginning of Canes at Duke -- the biggest game for the team in probably 10 years. After dinner, we dropped off Loni and headed to Chris and Rachel's new house in Palmetto Bay -- it was lovely - with Butters, a happy Corgi, jumping around.

And we 4 die hard Canes got to see our team shock the Blue Devils -- biggest win in awhile -- and first time they beat a Top 5 team on the road since last century. Literally. We savored the win, and then Mike dropped me back to a quiet house -- the millennials were still out on the Beach with their friends.

Wifey called from her Sprinter -- apparently a Mercedes van that Edna's daughters rented to transport their party to a Korean barbecue place for Erica's birthday party. So we each had a great Saturday night -- just in adjoining states.

Post nap, D1 and Joey are bringing Little Man over for the afternoon. We'll roam the streets with him -- he rarely stays in his stroller anymore -- and let him see the peafowl and gatos of the 'hood.

His preschool is closed until Wednesday on account of a positive Covid test, and I think either Monday or Tuesday D1 is bringing him back here -- and maybe his first trip to Zoo Miami, where he can see actual versions of the many animals in his books. It's so delightful to watch him learn and grow.

Tomorrow night, Kenny and Joelle have asked me to meet them at Root and Bone -- Monday is fried chicken night! And Wednesday evening, after my trip to Aventura to flee our housekeeper during the day, I have our neighborhood Association's Executive Board meeting. Wifey is on the Board, too, but will be absent. I told her I'd take notes.

So, so far, the latest incarnation of temporary single man status is going just fine. Plus, I have boomerang millennials to keep me company, with their enormous puppy. Hopefully this week they learn some concrete news about their long delayed Grove house project.

But as of my present condition, Sonos is playing The Bridge -- soft rock from my youth -- and all else are asleep.

As Arthur said in one of my favorite movies - it doesn't suck.

FaceBook (TM) Fun

 Back in 1981, I was in a Religious Studies class at UM, taught by my favorite professor, Steve Sapp. We became lifelong friends, and he was a favorite of all of us -- truly challenged us to think and write critically about the biggest issues of our lives. I think I was in class with my friend, now Dr. Barry.

Steve walked in looking solemn, and said "I have some news I must share. I'm dying. I'll tell more about this later, but now I want to finish the discussion about the Ethics essay we left off with..."

Several of the girls in class began to weep. The guys had our mouths agape. He went on for awhile, and finally dropped the other shoe: "I'm not at all sick, and like to think I'm as healthy as all of you, despite my 15 more years. The truth is, though, we are ALL dying -- you all as well as me. We begin to die when we are born. We can never forget that."

And I never did -- clearly he left out context in his shocking words. And so I figured I would repeat the stunt years later, on FaceBook, stating that my wife had left me and I was undergoing cancer surgery the same day. Of course, in answer to some of the shocked comments, I explained: my wife had indeed left, but not our marriage -- she was visiting her BFF Edna for 10 days. And I DID have cancer surgery -- but it was Mohs to removed a squamous cell ca on my nose -- the actual cutting took, no kidding, like 45 seconds -- one pass only was needed. But when the anesthetic wore off -- it WAS rather sore.

The good news is I was able to numb the pain with 3 vodkas last night -- D2 ordered in sushi for us while Jonathan was visiting his uncle and family -- D2 assumed her mother's usual spot on the recliner to watch the Boomers get tipsy -- along with Josh, a youngun.

But I got about 5 texts from FaceBook friends who didn't read past my "shocking" post -- some asking if I was kidding (no -- everything I said was true) or if I needed help during this "Dark period" (no more than the vodkas). I of course told everyone the leaving was temporary, and the cancer surgery the best you could ever hope for if you needed cancer surgery.

After the Zoom, Wifey called, and she and Edna gave me their Canarsie accented analysis: "Edna -- I think he just craves attttttennnntion." Edna agreed, and unsuccessfully tried to argue the semantics of my post -- it was indeed accurate.

They're both correct, of course. I'm a wildly unrequited comedy writer -- always looking for outlets. I have this blog, which one of Wifey's former friends Rosie pointed out was often NOT at all funny, and my beloved text chains with a group of witty, distinguished gentlemen. And then there's FaceBook.

The Ds want me off of it. But I enjoy the silliness of it, and learning, every once in awhile, how big my audience really is, even though many of the readers never comment, or "like" or "dislike" the posts.

That's ok -- it still provides me with enjoyment -- along with my fellow prodigious poster Norman, who, by the way, was kind enough to buy me a delicious post surgery lunch at Perry's. In retrospect, though, I should have started drinking then.

So, Steve Sapp told us he was dying 41 years ago. Thankfully he's still in wonderful health, retired and enjoying his life with his amazing wife Mary and one of their son and family, in Maryland.

And I'm dying, too, and have now SURVIVED cancer surgery, as well as the beginning of Wifey leaving.

It's all true.

What A Way To Start the Year: My Wife Left Me And I Had Cancer Surgery

 So 12/28 I had my annual skin cancer check with Dr. Green, the handsome and charming young dermatologist my family all loves. I think I'm his favorite patient, as the majority of people he sees are women for cosmetic issues, and he and I share a fanatic love of the Hurricanes, and we always catch up -- lately commiserate. His PA actually cut him off at the end of our visit -- reminding me enough about offensive coordinator candidates, and back to his other patients.

He wacked off two moles he found -- one of which was a repeat customer, on the right side of my nose. Last year he froze it off and biopsied it, and it was benign, but the little bugger came back, which was mildly concerning.

Sure enough, on Wednesday his office called -- it tested positive for squamous cell -- and I needed to see Dr. Herman, across the street from Dr. Green, for a Mohs surgery.

It wasn't my first rodeo. In '16 she removed a basal cell growth on my right forehead, after which I began to religiously use sun block. Ha. Wrong. I'm capable of idiocy, and continued my daily perambulations with no protection at all, and sure enough, this time Mr. Squamous came for a visit.

I called yesterday for an appointment with the very attractive Dr. H, blonde haired and blue eyed, and was told she was taking new appointments for mid February. That'd be fine -- squamous cell ca s don't typically kill you that fast...but wait...she had a cancellation for the very next am -- did I want it? I did -- she set me for 11:30 am.

Meanwhile, after a series of permutations befitting a rocket launch, Wifey decided she WAS going to ATL to visit her BFF Edna after all --- and was leaving this am. So I set my alarm, awoke the woman who typically sleeps late, and we were off the MIA. I figured she had a 75% chance of actually making it, and make it she did -- scooped up by Edna and beginning 11 days of solving the problems of the world and comparing life's issues. Heaven for Wifey.

So she DID in fact leave me, but is due back in 11 days.

I killed some time with breakfast and a bank visit, and then was off to Dr. H. She always runs on time. Since I had seen her, she got married and had a baby girl -- now 3. She had also seen my friend Mike earlier -- I showed her a picture of his chin bandage from earlier in the day. She laughed.

My nose was numbed, and the actual surgery was over in less than a minute. I was told to wait for the frozen pathology section. I texted my group, and the Ds, and Wifey arrived in ATL. 

She came back in -- the one pass removed the cancer cells -- she stitched me up and said to return in a week for stitches removal. This time I WILL start wearing sunblock.

I took the elevator down 2 flights and met Norman, whose office is in the same building. We walked across to Merrick Park, and he treated me to a delicious lunch at Perry's -- a place I'd wanted to visit for a long time. The anesthetic wore off. My nose was sore -- but I plan on re -numbing it tonight with several martinis at home.

So, indeed Wifey left and I had cancer surgery. This is a true statement. But as negative things go, these are in fact benign -- unlike the cells on my nose. But the bad ones are gone now.

For the Hollies It Was a Bus Stop. For Us It Was A Mailbox

 It was August of '83, and Eric and I had moved into a garden apartment in Kendall called Les Chalet, only AFTER Barry had bugged out on his commitment to live with us in a bigger place down the street. That bug out had big consequences for my life. Eric was starting med school, and I law school. One day I was studying in the living room, and I heard a knock at the door.

I got up, probably in cutoff jeans, to answer the door. No one had knocked -- a girl was fighting with her mailbox door outside, and making a racket. I said hello and said I thought she had knocked. She apologized and said no -- the door was always stuck. I shook her hand and introduced myself.

I'm Dave, and starting law school, for lack of anything better to do with a B.A. in English. But I figure I'll be ok at law, make a very nice living, and marry you when I graduate, and together we'll have an amazing life together, with 2 absurdly amazing girls who will marry amazing men, and give us a grandson who is also absurdly adorable, to the point it seems unreal. Oh yeah -- and I'll buy you a house that looks like something out of a tropical vision of Gatsby. But first -- want to get some dinner at a classic 80s fern bar named Raffles?

She agreed, and three and a half years later, 35 years ago tonight, we were married.

The wedding had a funny tale, too. First, I had contacted the only rabbi I knew -- the UM Hillel guy named Mark Kram. We met with him, and he got us to buy into this whole ersatz Catholic premarital counseling thing -- we met with him and his wife Mindy (Oy -- Mark and Mindy -- that alone should have told me this was a failed idea) and Wifey (not yet) and I bought into it. We would be progressive young Jews -- and Rabbi Mark and Mindy would be a foundation of our Jewish married life.

And then, a week before the big night, he called me at my office, in the SouthEast Building Downtown. "Uh Dave -- got some bad news. I can't be there for your big, fat, Holocaust Survivor kid wedding. One of my friends from UJA got sick and I get a free trip to Israel -- it leaves January 1." What -- had you never BEEN? "Oh now -- I've been several times, but I really like it -- so see ya, Chaim Yonkel!" Did you have a replacement? No -- as Hillel guy, I'm not really connected with the local rabbinate. I guess it sucks to be you."

As D2 loves it when I tell the story, my reaction was "But I thought we was partners!" We wasn't -- the selfish prick succeeded in turning Wifey and I off to the sanctimoniousness and hypocrisy of organized religion for years -- only to be rescued 11 years hence by the sincerity and reality of Rabbi Yossi and Nechama.

But what to do? Luckily Eric's Mom Norma knew a guy -- Norman Lipson -- sort of a relief Rabbi around South Florida. We met him once, and he did a yeoman's job. I hear he later founded a Reform temple in Weston, and is now retired

And what a night it turned out to be. Our friend Elizabeth, now tragically gone after a heart attack while hiking last year, was married to Pat Travers, a rock and roll singer. He played with the classic wedding band, Harry Frank and his Band of Mirth Makers, my Mom had found and paid for. Wifey's college friend Eileen, very drunk and thinking she could sing, joined them onstage in a classic act of silliness, and sang "Good Lovin" while Pat was singing "Gimme Some Lovin'" Pat, the professional, made it still sound great.

The next day we were off to a honeymoon in Jamaica for 4 nights -- all we could afford at Half Moon Bay. And then we returned, to our tiny but loved house on SW 125th Terrace, and began our life together.

The blessings were, and are, manifold. The sadnesses, too -- we said goodbye to Wifey's father and my mother. My mother in law rides on -- just turned 97.

There were serious illnesses -- for Wifey a year ago this month -- which thankfully she has recovered. The Ds gave us some scares.

But I had a vision for us, and Wifey shared it: our marriage would be the foundation for the rest of our lives, upon which we would build a family. And it goes deeper.

Wifey is the only child of Holocaust Survivors. Two years ago, at D2 and Jonathan's wedding, Rabbi Yossi reminded us all that D2 and Jonathan are grandchildren of Survivors. The Evil Nazis truly tried to do away with our people. And on a beautiful Miami Beach evening, with streaming setting sunlight that looked as if it was created by a Hollywood lighting director, the generations gave the ultimate F You to Hitler.

We weren't thinking about that on January 3, 1987. We were just a couple of young kids getting married and starting a life.

Truth is, I love Wifey more than I did then. Big Man willing, long may we run, together.

2021 In The Can

 So D2 and Jonathan were off on a boat ride in Biscayne Bay, and Wifey and I had a relaxing NYE day. Old friends Sheryl and Mark came over, in town from Boston, and we sat to catch up for awhile -- I poured Mark a Glenlivet and I had an Absolut, and we toasted the coming new year.

Wifey and I got dressed and headed to M'Italia, a place in South Miami across the street from the hospital where the Ds were born. We had a lovely table outside, and probably only 20% of the tables were filled -- Omicron seemed to keep most people inside this year. But our fellow negative Covid testmates arrived -- Joelle, Kenny, their boy Adam, and old friend Diane, who lives across Tigertail in the Grove.

We ate well and toasted, and then caravanned back home around 10:30. We popped a few bottles of 'pagne, as my friend Stu calls it, and ate desserts. Just before midnight, we retired to the family room and put on Miley Cyrus and her strange boyfriend Pete Davidson's show from Miami Beach, and some of us enjoyed the scantily clad dancers. And then the year changed, and we toasted for the last time in '21.

The guests left, we went to sleep, and I awoke to a text -- D2 and Jonathan were sleeping over, also in the Grove, at their friend Michael's new apartment. We'd see them NY Day.

We spent the first day of the year in complete sloth mode -- watching football and movies -- I never got off the property. D2 and Jonathan brought salads and wraps from Carrot Express. In honor of the holiday, I even eschewed my constitutional.

I have zero predictions for 2022. I was convinced, in my simple English Professor way, that 2020 would be the year of perfect vision. I guess it was -- it was only that what was seen was very ugly.

Things were looking up plague wise in early '21, with vaccines on the horizon. And then, January 15, Wifey had a major health scare whose recovery dominated our lives for the first half of the year. Thankfully she's recovered wonderfully.

And then the plague looked to be on the run -- I even attended several Canes tailgates and games -- and then Omicron, contrary to Pitbull's advice, indeed stopped the party.

So who knows? I guess the lesson is to just appreciate each day, and, like the Stranger in "Big Lebowski," "Take 'er easy, Dude."

Today I was back to walking, and complaining about the heat. I look forward to cooler temps in January, and so far -- "feels like" 86. Maybe some cooling will come Tuesday.

The Millennials are chilling today as well, too. I have the Dolphins on, with little hope they beat the Titans to keep their slim playoff hopes alive. Then again, watching the freezing rain in Nashville, I rescind my complaint about our weather.

The plague experts expect a quick drop in cases. Wifey hopes they're right -- she has tickets to ATL 1/9 and hopes to go.

Meanwhile, my writing was interrupted by crazy dog barking -- strange rescue and enormous puppy. Sure enough -- a 4 foot iguana was trapped in our pool area, and the dogs wanted a NY Day snack. I tried to shoo him out with water, but the big guy couldn't scale the wall -- must have dropped in via tree. He ran a bit and then, apparently, died. I prodded him with the pool net, and he woke up, but I was able to wrangle him into the net, and deposited him in the front yard. He waddled away -- sort of like the Dolphins season is doing on TV.

I'm hoping for a pretty, pretty, pretty good year.