Dumb Ass Move

 So we've had some mail thefts in the 'hood of late, and the news was shared with all the Devonwoodians. I hadn't heard about any major identity thefts as a result, but you would think I paid attention and stopped putting outgoing mail into my street side box. You would be wrong.

I figured I knew how to outsmart thieves. I NEVER put up the flag that told the postal carrier there was waiting mail. Rather, Belkys, our long time carrier, would simply fetch it when she delivered mail -- we almost NEVER had a day without some mail. My strategy was that thieves would ignore my box, and I could continue my happily lazy habit  of not driving to the Post Office.

Wednesday my taxes were ready to go -- a healthy check to the IRS in one envelope, on account that the damned stock market keeps doing well under Biden, and another envelope with payment for Mark, the CPA who does my personal taxes. I popped both in the box and drove off for Aventura, for an actual business meeting Paul and I had.

That evening I got home, and checked the mailbox. It was empty. Hmmm. This concerned me -- Belkys only opened the box when she delivered, and there was no delivery. Had I become the victim of my own stupidity, in the face of clear advice against that stupidity?

Yesterday, I decided to seek out Belkys -- I got on my bike late in the afternoon and looked for her. Sure enough, she was delivering a few streets away, and I asked her if she had indeed retrieved 2 outgoing letters Wednesday without leaving new mail. She was OFF Wednesday, she said, and I told her why I was concerned.

She took my number and said she'd text when she learned who was covering for her Wednesday. I told her not to go postal about this. She laughed -- she likes me.

She texted later -- the person covering for her was from out of district, and she couldn't identify him or her. Crap! I must be a victim.

I emailed Mark the CPA and told him to watch for the letter from me, figuring if he didn't receive it in nearby Cooper City by Monday, I had indeed been had. And I had mailed a letter with the Big Three of ID theft: social security number, name, and birthdate! Some Eastern European fraudster would be having a field day soon. 

This am I signed up for LifeLock, as D1 did when she was an ID theft victim years ago. Hers came about as the result of a rogue Dermatologist employee, who stole IDs of a thousand patients of the now retired doc, and gave them to her criminal boyfriend, who was arrested in Atlanta with all the info, including D1's.

Sure enough, D1 got a letter from the government wanting to confirm her requested refund that was double her salary! It was a pain, but she got it sorted out, and then doc paid for LifeLock.

Well, indeed it is often more important to be lucky than smart, and this afternoon CPA Mark emailed to tell me he indeed received the letter with my payment and other documents. Whew! Belky's replacement had indeed plucked the outgoing mail even though there was no delivered mail. I now assume the US Treasury letter was posted, too.

Now, though, I HAVE learned my lesson. No more outgoing mail with any personal information put into the box. I'll either hand it to Belkys, bring it to the Post Office, or better, use UPS or FedEx.

And LifeLock will probably tell me stuff about my presence on the Dark Web -- so that'll be a new source of anxiety. Maybe my information is being used to fight Ukraine. Who knows these days?

Still, I am happy my dumb ass move seems to have had no bad consequences. I'll know for sure when the Goverment deposits my tax check. And with any luck, I'll make far less in 2024 and not have to pay!

Dumb ass, indeed.

Everything's Quiet on April Fool's Day

 April 1 brings me back in my mind to Long Island, and East Broadway Elementary School. It's where I learned that a natural prankster like me had a day where telling people bullshit stories and trying to get them to believe them was not only permitted, but encouraged. I have celebrated ever since.

When D2 was in kindergarten, I told her that her friend Amelia was fine, but had shrunk overnight, and was now only a foot tall. I explained that when she saw her, she should just treat her normally -- Amelia would probably grow back to her normal height soon. When we fetched Amelia for car pool pickup, D2 looked at me. I had inducted her to the April Fools' Society. I'm not sure whether or not this caused any need for therapy in later years...

My best prank involved my friend Peter, who, in 1991 had referred a case that was about to settle for a LOT of money. He and his partner Gene went out and leased luxury cars based upon the coming co-counsel check, which was very large. I called him and told him the defense lawyers had surveillance on our client running a marathon and partying on South Beach, despite his traumatic brain injury and shredded leg. Pete was silent. How could this happen? We already had a multimillion dollar offer to settle???

Since I'm only mildly sadistic, I called him within the hour to remind him what day it was. He was so despondent, he thought I meant the day of the week. "Yes -- bad things happen to me on Tuesdays." I kept on, and then it struck, and he called me curse words in English and Spanish. I knew it wasn't possible that dogs could be whores and I could be the son of one of them, but it was a GREAT insult in Spanish.

We laughed a lot, and the best news was that the client, now a millionaire, indeed made a wonderful recovery, and we became friends. I last emailed with him last year.

These days, FaceBook (tm) is my mode of AFD humor. A few years ago, I said that Pitbull had offered us 8 figures for our house and we were moving. Our neighbor Roberta was horrified -- talk about there goes the neighborhood. I saw it differently -- what would be cooler than having Pitbull next door, with the sick parties and video shoots with scantily clad models?  I told Roberta the following day it was bullshit -- really 50 Cent was the one who bought my house.

Today, I assume everyone will know my AFD post is absurd. Wifey's been on Mounjaro and has lost a lot of weight. I read recently that one of the strange side effects of this miracle weight loss injectable is it interferes with birth control meds, and so I posted that Wifey was indeed pregnant and that our grandsons would soon have an uncle or aunt younger than they.

I am NOT allowed to ever mention Wifey's age, or the fact that Eisenhower was president when she was born, and so a pregnancy would seem rather, um, far fetched. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I plan to reminisce as I walk this am. Those days at East Broadway were indeed so halcyon and carefree. I was blessed with an awesome childhood. It's nice to be able to recapitulate some of it.

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life

 It's that time of year: Easter for the Christians, and Passover for the Jews, and I always think of both holidays in terms of movies.

Sure enough, Charlton Heston's "Ten Commandments" was on ABC last night, and I fell asleep finally accepting that Yul Brynner's Pharoah was WAY cooler than Heston's Moses. And as for Easter, "Life of Brian" always comes to mind, and I celebrated by watching the final scene, showing the mass crucifixion, for about the 120th time.

Last night we met Kenny and Joelle at an Italian place in South Miami, now called Mosaica Fabrizio Faranelli. Wifey and I had been at the space probably 10 times when it was different restaurants. Last night's food was the best -- as good an osso bucco as I ever ate.

I praised our friends for being the fun couple. Left to our own laziness, Wifey and I would probably stay home a lot more -- Joelle and Kenny always seem to find ways to lure us out for better times.

And today, Wifey is NOT risen -- still fast asleep, as she doesn't do mornings.

I have a long walk planned in this unseasonably great weather -- high 60s and low humidity. Supposably, as locals say, next weekend has a drop into the 50s -- maybe my final fire pit of the season. After that, the heat and damp will return, I'm sure, like a wet blanket.

Young Josh, me nephew of another brother, says he will stop by later. If he makes it, we shall go to LOL, and send pix to his brother in D.C., who always loves a visit when he's home.

Wifey's car is back from the body shop, and tomorrow I have agreed to fetch Baby Man at his pre school, so D1 can do some project or another. It's also April Fools' Day, and I already have my prank planned -- on FaceBook (tm) of course, and involving WAY post menopausal pregnancy news, this time tied to a weight loss injectable.

And this coming Saturday, it's Ahoy! for Wifey, as I will drop her and friend Jeannette at PortMiami for a 5 night cruise. I think she is more excited about it than any of the luxury European cruises we have taken -- she is SO happy with her besties.

Kenny and Joelle are leaving Saturday, too, to meet their eldest in Ohio to watch the total eclipse of the sun. It occurred to me that of our foursome, I shall be the only one home in Miami, and I am fine with that.

My travel bug is pretty small -- I look most forward to NOT traveling. I still probably will.

But for today, may it be a blessed Easter for those who celebrate. Passover plans away in a few weeks: Joey's family is hosting. Jonathan's, too, but we already committed to Joey's, and, truth be told, the big draw for us is the grandsons. I also really dig the Sephardic tradition of everyone around the table saying where they are from, and where they're headed. Spoiler alert: to Jerusalem!

And this am, like Eric Idle's character on the cross, I may just whistle as I walk.

Confusion From The Past

 So Wifey's BFF got divorced well over 20 years ago, and we lost touch with her ex. Like exists in most divorces, you have to pick Team Husband or Team Wife, and we were, of course, duty bound to pick Team Wife.

I always liked the ex, who is a funny Brooklyn wise-ass Jewish guy -- kind of in my tribe. I thought I would see him last June at his daughter's wedding. Alas, that was not to be, as I was uninvited to said wedding by Team Wife, and so instead emailed the fellow, who I'll call Steve, since that's his name, wishing him mazel tov on his girl's nuptials. I never heard back from him.

At the wedding, Wifey chatted with him, and his new wife (funny to say "new" since he's been married to her nearly 20 years now), and he asked where I was. Wifey properly avoided getting into details, and just said I was not there.

Months later, Steve called me, and I didn't return his call. I didn't see the point, really -- this was a friendship not going to continue. He called again in early March, thinking maybe I didn't get his message, and again I kind of ignored it.

Well, last week a former client from Atlanta had called seeking some advice, and since the client referred us some major cases over the years, spoke to him. And yesterday, as I was sitting drinking my second coffee of the day, I saw I was getting another Atlanta call -- I assumed it was the client from Warner Robbins, and I answered. Alas, it was Steve.

We ended up talking for nearly an hour. But the funny part was, he was curious how I was doing as a single man. What? I remain quite married to Wifey, I corrected him, why was he asking? He merely assumed that we had divorced, which was the reason I wasn't invited to the wedding.

I laughed -- no -- it had to do with his ex, not Wifey. He thought I was kidding -- surely Wifey wouldn't have come to the wedding without her husband -- essentially taking sides against me. Again I corrected him -- it was more complicated than regular guys like us could ever understand.

I joked that the entire thing was HIS fault -- for divorcing now approaching a quarter century ago. He laughed -- yes -- he has accepted that most things are his fault -- even when they have consequences decades into the future.

Then we caught up about our lives, and what we've been doing professionally since the turn of the century. We spoke about price versus value in life, and how few people seem to understand the difference. 

It was a very nice talk -- the two of us had shared plenty of nice times together. In fact, I told him that just the week before, an antique car show in Islamorada caused Waze to detour us to Old Overseas Highway, right past a small hotel where Wifey and I visited Steve and his then wife and baby girl. The baby girl is now nearing 41, and has quite a tumultuous life.

I told Steve D1's take on his oldest: she's like a buoy in the ocean that will always remain afloat, though sometimes in very rough seas. He appreciated that, he said.

So after I hung up, I realized how disinformation spreads. This is a fellow SURE that his old friend had been divorced -- and he was wrong. We laughed about it, and he was glad I was able to keep things together. He had tried, he said, but realized it was time to go different ways.

We'll likely not speak again. We wished each other great journeys through this highway called life. And now he knows I am still a married man.

Screaming Moms

 So when the Ds were probably 8 and 5, we took them to Philly, so see the historic American stuff and spend a nice weekend in the City of Brotherly Shove, as late Herald sports editor Ed Pope called the place.

We had a great time seeing the Liberty Bell, and Constitutional Hall, and the Art Museum, but were also told to visit the city's small but bustling Chinatown. We went to a restaurant, which had a tank with large carp diners could chose for their dinner, and Wifey was more fascinated than the Ds.

An Asian family next to us chose one, and he waiter brought it over in a plastic pail to see. Wifey peered inside, and as she did, the fish jumped out, not hitting her, but nearly. Wifey let out a shriek that literally stopped the restaurant -- was someone stabbed? Everyone chuckled, and it went into the large bank of funny Wifey lore.

Well, like daughter, like mother...

Sunday afternoon, Little Man and I swam in the ocean, and played on the sand, and a woman was there -- clearly from the Midwest, based on her accent. She was showing her middle school aged daughters the hermit crabs -- Little Man, no shy 4 year old, walked right up to her for the lesson, and indeed it turned out she was a Science teacher, and knew her stuff. She explained how the crabs detected motion, and would stop when someone walked near. She also showed us tiny ones that there is no way I would have noticed.

There was one pretty shell, about 2 inches, and it had a crab -- scuttled along the shore. A few feet away, I spotted another shell -- also prettty -- and I picked it up and checked it out. Nope -- no hermit crab there -- just a pretty shell to have Little Man give his Mom for their collection at home.

He did, proudly, and D1 put the shell in her purse. 

That was Sunday. Wifey and I left Tuesday, and D1 and men stayed an extra day. Wednesday afternoon they arrived home, and D1 set about making dinner -- the boys and Joey were outside.

D1 reported she heard what sounded like metal nails on her counter top, and she looked around. The shell was there, and as she picked it up, a small claw came out -- there WAS indeed a hermit crab, and it somehow survived 3 days in a purse!

D1 let go a scream that rivalled her Mom years before. Joey came running in, D1 was on the floor, laughing that she wasn't going to be killed by a more formidable intruder. The whole episode was captured on their home security camera.

Joey and Little Man got on their bike, and rode the 2 blocks to Biscayne Bay, where the Marathon crab was not to become a City of Miami crab. Hopefully he enjoys his new, hipper and more woke, crab friends.

But I watched the video over and over. It was indeed hilarious, and so charming how D1 had, in many ways, become her mother after all.

So today is Good Friday, the most ironically named Christian holiday -- it sure wasn't very good for Jesus. Allison is here for more decorating and decluttering. I plan to do little but walk for miles around the 'hood, and then Happy Hour after 6. We have a Zoom with Eric, Dana, Barry, and Donna off camera -- I'm guessing Allison will enjoy their virtual company.

Zero Easter plans, just as I like it, but D1 and her men are going to an egg hunt with their English friends.

And then, just like that, Monday is April. The second quarter of 2024 has arrived on winged feet, as Andrew Marvell wrote.

I hope for more belly laughs as the year goes on -- they are truly the hot fudge sundaes of life. Somehow, when they involve sea creatures, the laughs are even deeper.

There's a Place Called Kokomo...

 So Sunday D1 called that they got an early start -- why didn't Wifey and I come early to vacay, too? So I woke Wifey at 930, instead of the promised 10, and a mere 2 hours later, we were on the road, headed to Marathon.

I drove as she slept and texted, and it gave me time to reminisce about all the past drives to the Keys. I always take Card Sound Road, for it's great view, and the thought that just in case I need a conch chowder fix, I pass Alabama Jacks...

The drive slowed near Islamorada, as they were having a big antique car show, and so Waze took us on a detour on the Old Overseas Highway. About 2.5 hours after we left, we pulled into Isla Bella.

Living in South Miami Dade makes little sense -- so much of what goes on here is farther North, including our kids living in Miami Shores and just below, but there is ONE benefit --we're closer to the Keys...

As I checked in, D1 and her men were pulling up,too, having stopped at Lorelei's for lunch. The nice check in clerk noticed Wifey and I were staying 2 nights, while the companion family were staying 3, and I explained that I was paying for most of the trip, and so only could afford 2 nights for us. She laughed.

The place is beautiful -- pretty new, and it shows it. And the staff and the food were indeed top drawer.

But the reason for the trip was full immersion into the lives of Baby Man and Little Man, and it was mission accomplished. We had a ball with them -- swimming at the beach and pool, Wifey setting up a nap tent for Little Man poolside where he snoozed amidst all the noise and activity of the resort, and many meals together. Joey and I knocked back a few, and even the tiki bar singer was terrific -- he played Prince!

Typically Keys bar singers play country and Jimmy Buffet -- what the tourists expect. But this guy played "Purple Rain!" I was impressed...

The boys loved it. And last night, after we were already home, D1 sent a video of the two of them chasing each other around the sunset beach, as the firepit was in the background and a new singer sang. It was indeed exquisite.

D1 and her men will return today, and have accomplished D1's mission -- fun Spring Break for her family. She gets the long picture -- knowing that these times are fleeting, and sooner than later, her boys will probably find the thought of hanging with their parents less than exciting. But for now, the days are gifts to her -- and Joey, too.

As for me, I get to stick around home for awhile -- my preference. We have a destination to California in November, and that might do it for the balance of 2024.

Wifey is off April 6 on another cruise, and I humbly accept my job as dog and house sitter. I really love being here.

But as always, last weekend was a trip I'm glad to have taken. Those beautiful grandsons...

Changes in Eight Years

 So today a FaceBook (tm) memory popped up. Eight years ago Wifey and I took D1 and boyfriend Joey to NOLA, for D1's friend's Lauren's wedding. Lauren always felt close to Wifey and me and was kind enough to invite us -- it was a great time. And though I stay out of my Ds' friendships, Lauren and D1 grew apart and that may have been the last time I saw her. I hope she's doing well.

But the trip was significant -- Wifey and I really got to know Joey. D1 was a bridesmaid, and so we spent a lot of time with the man who would become our son in law and Daddy to the precious grandsons. We visited the National WW II Museum, which in my opinion may be the BEST museum in the US. As my parents were Greatest Generation members, I tend to have a bent to that era, like Spielberg and Tom Hanks do, but it was amazing. They were building a new pavillion about war refugees and I plan to see it in the future -- NOLA is a favorite of mine, and I'll take any excuse to visit.

We also ate well and a lot. The main dinner other than the wedding was at a place called Revolution, near the Sonesta. They seated us at the Chef's Table, and Joey and I bonded over a 90 oz hangar steak. Wifey and D1 shared a "visiting fish," a funny name, but made me feel bad for the fish for having picked the wrong place to visit.

I ate oysters at the Sonesta and watched the Canes lose an NIT game, and the wedding was the first time we had been in a Second Line, where we marched the streets behind a great band, celebrating the new couple.

And we talked to Joey, a lot, and grew close to him. It was the weekend Garry Shandling died, and I learned that the Sephardic Joey only shared SOME of our Ashkenazi sense of humor. But that was fine -- he adored our D1, and we knew he would treat her well and be a fine Daddy. And oh boy, has he!

Also, I recall something telling about him on the flight home. It was Easter Sunday, and many of the passengers waiting at Louis Armstrong International (the best named airport in the US) were Black people in their Easter best -- headed to family gatherings in South Florida. It was a VERY early flight. As we sat at the gate, bleary eyed, I heard my name called. Hmm...what was up?

When I got to the gate, there was a young Black Mom and an adorable son there -- probably about 4, in an Easter suit. The agent, a tall fellow, asked if I would mind moving my seat for the 1.5 hour flight, so Mom and son could sit together.  I was amazed he had to ask, looking at that beautiful pair. "Would anyone say no?" I asked the agent. He said I would be surprised.

So he gave me my new seat, and I was walking away, and he called me back. "Sir. I did something better. I have 3 seats in First -- I know you're a party of 4. Want 'em?" Of course!

I returned to Wifey and D1 and Joey, and told them the tale, but said we had to decide who was the short straw to sit in Economy. I really figured the women would sit up front, and Joey and I would flip for it. Joey took charge. "Not even a question. Sit with your wife and daughter. Don't be silly."

I know I would have, of course, done the same had I been with my late suegros, but it cemented he was my kind of fellow -- the way he answered to quickly.

Anyway, 8 years have passed, and today the two couples are off again on another trip -- to a resort in Marathon. D2 and Jonathan begged off -- saying Jonathan can't take off work Monday and Tuesday, but also, I suppose, because a trip with little guys is something they hope to have in the future, but for now, why volunteer?

And it occurs to me how the Big Man has blessed us. 8 years ago, an older married couple, their daughter, and 20 something boyfriend. Today, 2 married couples and adorable Little Man and Baby Man in tow.

If there's another steak -- we will happily share it with out next generation. Lots of fish visit the Keys.

No second line this vacation, but I am quite looking forward to spending lots of time with our grandsons. The older one is a sponge -- tons of questions about EVERYTHING, and Grandpa Dev has a lot to tell him -- maybe even something about NOLA...