My friend Norman had a victory in Court the other day. The Third District Court of Appeal agreed with his client's position about a cap on damages in a medical malpractice case.
I sent the link around to my doctor friends, and Dr. Barry was amazed at the clarity of the Court's language. Essentially, they wrote their opinion in normal words --not legalese.
The Third DCA has a long reputation for this type of writing, even though they've shifted from liberal to conservative over the past 20 years or so.
It got me to thinking, though, about how little speech and writing IS clear and easily understandable, not just in law, but everywhere...
Of course, lawyers are some of the worst offenders. I'll often read letters from other lawyers and laugh out loud. Their attempts to sound scary and imposing are hilarious.
My partner is a clear offender. Most of our clients are dummies, and he has a way of speaking to them that they find impressive. But when you actually listen to what he says...
One of his favorites is telling a client "We will discuss what your case IS, as well as what it IS NOT." They nod, impressed, as if there's some deep analysis going on there.
And it works! If he said "Here's the deal..." they wouldn't think they were getting their money's worth. "What it IS and what it IS NOT" has much greater impact...
MY friends often call me for advice about how to say stuff. Last night, one particularly inarticulate fellow called because his girlfriend busted him at a hotel pool with some new hottie he was romancing...
I gave him the script: "Baby --you KNOW my weaknesses...I was seeing someone when I met you...over the past months, you've been a million miles away, so I sort some new comfort...but I KNOW I've been a major fool...what can I do to show you how sorry I am...to make this up to you..."
We'll see if this works.
So, back to the office today, for some more obfuscation and cloudiness...
Friday, October 15, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
It's Just Not Fair
..is a refrain I heard so often from D2 when she was 5 or 6, and didn't get her way. I used to tell her that if I taught her nothing else, I was a good mentor if I instilled in her the lesson that she was right: life is NOT fair.
Wifey and I decided to visit ancient mother yesterday. We picked up the granddog at D1's apartment, and then I stopped by my office to deposit a check. My friend Mike called, asking me if I had heard about the tragedy at Palmetto High --a 15 year old girl had died.
I hadn't, and Mike was calling to see if I had any connections to the family to possibly represent them. It seems there had been a medical mistake --a failure to report a bacterial infection to the girl's family, and her resultant death at Baptist Hospital.
I didn't know the family, and was glad I didn't. When I was an active PI lawyer, I would have been energized by the chance to be in a big case like that. Like an ex-smoker who is more militantly anti-tobacco than one who never smoked, I am now extremely anti the very sleazy part of my job --almost literally ambulance chasing --profiting from the misery and tragedy of others...
I realize the hypocrisy of these thoughts as I sit in a huge house and contemplate the early retirement my job brought --but it's still a relief to be away from the lurid case chasing that a succesful PI practice requires...
Anyway, Wifey and I went about our visit. Grandma was dressed up and in decent spirits. She feigned interest in her grandkids and the rest of the family, but truthfully she was concerned most about herself -- her little snow globe life, her mercifully reduced number of bowel accidents, etc...
In other words, to my jaundiced view --a person who has lived TOO long...
On the way home, I got another call --this one from a doctor friend with a connection to the dead 15 year old's family. He told me what he knew, and it appears it WAS medical malpractice, and did I want to contact the parents.
I did not. I have no connection to them, other than hearing about this terrible thing. It turns out the Mom is a court reporter. She'll have many of her clients to advise her, I'm sure...
Last night, I told Dr. Barry about it. He was skeptical that the malpractice was so clear cut. He thinks there will be more to the story than a healthy 15 year old dying mere days after seeing a pediatrician for a common sore throat.
All I know is, this am the Herald had her obituary. It was short but stinging --about all of the girl's loving family and friends --how she was so loved, and how those who lost her are so bereft.
Some get far too few years on this earth, and some get too many.
It's not fair.
Wifey and I decided to visit ancient mother yesterday. We picked up the granddog at D1's apartment, and then I stopped by my office to deposit a check. My friend Mike called, asking me if I had heard about the tragedy at Palmetto High --a 15 year old girl had died.
I hadn't, and Mike was calling to see if I had any connections to the family to possibly represent them. It seems there had been a medical mistake --a failure to report a bacterial infection to the girl's family, and her resultant death at Baptist Hospital.
I didn't know the family, and was glad I didn't. When I was an active PI lawyer, I would have been energized by the chance to be in a big case like that. Like an ex-smoker who is more militantly anti-tobacco than one who never smoked, I am now extremely anti the very sleazy part of my job --almost literally ambulance chasing --profiting from the misery and tragedy of others...
I realize the hypocrisy of these thoughts as I sit in a huge house and contemplate the early retirement my job brought --but it's still a relief to be away from the lurid case chasing that a succesful PI practice requires...
Anyway, Wifey and I went about our visit. Grandma was dressed up and in decent spirits. She feigned interest in her grandkids and the rest of the family, but truthfully she was concerned most about herself -- her little snow globe life, her mercifully reduced number of bowel accidents, etc...
In other words, to my jaundiced view --a person who has lived TOO long...
On the way home, I got another call --this one from a doctor friend with a connection to the dead 15 year old's family. He told me what he knew, and it appears it WAS medical malpractice, and did I want to contact the parents.
I did not. I have no connection to them, other than hearing about this terrible thing. It turns out the Mom is a court reporter. She'll have many of her clients to advise her, I'm sure...
Last night, I told Dr. Barry about it. He was skeptical that the malpractice was so clear cut. He thinks there will be more to the story than a healthy 15 year old dying mere days after seeing a pediatrician for a common sore throat.
All I know is, this am the Herald had her obituary. It was short but stinging --about all of the girl's loving family and friends --how she was so loved, and how those who lost her are so bereft.
Some get far too few years on this earth, and some get too many.
It's not fair.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Defying Expectations
My partner and I now have a target date to end the slouching towards the end of our law practice: November 15, 2010. Our friend Stuart is due to move to our offices that day, take over our overhead, and, along with our friend Brian, essentially take over our law business.
We'll stick around after that, of course, to consult on the cases, and try to keep making rain. But, for the first time since 1986, I won't have a desk in an office outside of my house...
Before I left for vacation, I started packing up. I found my diplomas in a storage room (when we moved into our current office in July, 2007 we decided we were too cool to hang them on the wall) and popped them into a box.
I guess I should have held each one, looked skyward like in a movie drama, and mused upon the memories involved in attaining each one, but, no --just schlepped them to the car where they're still sitting in my trunk.
When my friends Jeff and Lili bought their house, they found a huge cache of diplomas, papers, and news articles about the previous owner's career. He was a Dr. Zeppa, the top UM surgeon for many years, and the force behind the building of the world reknowned Ryder Trauma Center. In fact, when you visit there, there's a 10 foot photo of him in the lobby.
Lili called his kids (his widow had been placed, demented, into a nursing home) and told them about her find. "Take all the stuff to the dumpster" Lili was told.
Instead, Lili called UM Med School, and I think they took all the memorabilia. But still --Zeppa was far more significant, career -wise, than I am, so my diplomas and admissions to several courts don't need archiving...
Saturday night, as I was walking (staggering, after 4 vodkas) to my Canes seats, I ran into an old colleague, Eddy. Eddy is a fine defense lawyer --owns a 5 lawyer firm in the Gables. He married very well --his wife is lovely.
When I told him I was shutting down, he was incredulous. His questions came faster than they do when he's deposing an ill prepared expert witness...
John Lennon, another far more significant careerist than I, said it best in "Watching the Wheels," when he noted people asked him why he no longer runs the ball...
So, I'm heading to the office today, to start the throwing out of accumulated files. I found a funny one from years ago, when I responded to a citation from Dade Animal Services, fining me because I didn't renew my cocker spaniel's license on time. Poor Alfred had died 2 years ago, and I couldn't simply tell them that.
No --the wise ass in my crafted a legal pleading, ending with "So, let sleeping dogs lie..." I'm sure the bureaucrat who got it never really got it, but they stopped sending the citations...so I guess it was effective lawyering.
We'll stick around after that, of course, to consult on the cases, and try to keep making rain. But, for the first time since 1986, I won't have a desk in an office outside of my house...
Before I left for vacation, I started packing up. I found my diplomas in a storage room (when we moved into our current office in July, 2007 we decided we were too cool to hang them on the wall) and popped them into a box.
I guess I should have held each one, looked skyward like in a movie drama, and mused upon the memories involved in attaining each one, but, no --just schlepped them to the car where they're still sitting in my trunk.
When my friends Jeff and Lili bought their house, they found a huge cache of diplomas, papers, and news articles about the previous owner's career. He was a Dr. Zeppa, the top UM surgeon for many years, and the force behind the building of the world reknowned Ryder Trauma Center. In fact, when you visit there, there's a 10 foot photo of him in the lobby.
Lili called his kids (his widow had been placed, demented, into a nursing home) and told them about her find. "Take all the stuff to the dumpster" Lili was told.
Instead, Lili called UM Med School, and I think they took all the memorabilia. But still --Zeppa was far more significant, career -wise, than I am, so my diplomas and admissions to several courts don't need archiving...
Saturday night, as I was walking (staggering, after 4 vodkas) to my Canes seats, I ran into an old colleague, Eddy. Eddy is a fine defense lawyer --owns a 5 lawyer firm in the Gables. He married very well --his wife is lovely.
When I told him I was shutting down, he was incredulous. His questions came faster than they do when he's deposing an ill prepared expert witness...
John Lennon, another far more significant careerist than I, said it best in "Watching the Wheels," when he noted people asked him why he no longer runs the ball...
So, I'm heading to the office today, to start the throwing out of accumulated files. I found a funny one from years ago, when I responded to a citation from Dade Animal Services, fining me because I didn't renew my cocker spaniel's license on time. Poor Alfred had died 2 years ago, and I couldn't simply tell them that.
No --the wise ass in my crafted a legal pleading, ending with "So, let sleeping dogs lie..." I'm sure the bureaucrat who got it never really got it, but they stopped sending the citations...so I guess it was effective lawyering.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Enough Already, About the Vacation!
So after a rainy stay in Kennebunkport, at an overrated and overpriced inn, we set out for Boston.
The highlight was stopping in a driving rain at a lighthouse, and Eric insisting on getting photos. We stood in storm, like Ahab after the whale, and took his shots.
Wifey, Dana, and I stayed in the van, amazed and amused.
He got his shots, but realized that the rain on the lens was a problem. We left for Boston.
We got to Boston, determined to find pizza. The Boston traffic was awful, and we settled on some flat bread with tomato paste at restaurant. We checked into the Commonwealth, which was a great hotel.
Our room looked out at Fenway Park, so we felt in the middle of it all. We had bagels in Brookline, and then went to Cambridge, to see the Asians at Harvard.
The last night we went to the North End, and ate at an overpriced, not too great Italian place. I ordered a martini, and the waiter looked at me like I was the dumbest human he ever encountered. He got nastier after that...
The final day Wifey and I walked Newberry Street, in brilliant Fall sunshine. We met up with Eric and Dana, and flew home to the 305.
It was a lovely Fall trip. As I type, my mother in law is on the phone talking at me non stop. I usually don't answer the house phone, but I did, and she goes on and on...
So, that tells me, this vacation is OVER! Back to the 80 somethings of South Florida.
Ah, for the Maine mountains...
The highlight was stopping in a driving rain at a lighthouse, and Eric insisting on getting photos. We stood in storm, like Ahab after the whale, and took his shots.
Wifey, Dana, and I stayed in the van, amazed and amused.
He got his shots, but realized that the rain on the lens was a problem. We left for Boston.
We got to Boston, determined to find pizza. The Boston traffic was awful, and we settled on some flat bread with tomato paste at restaurant. We checked into the Commonwealth, which was a great hotel.
Our room looked out at Fenway Park, so we felt in the middle of it all. We had bagels in Brookline, and then went to Cambridge, to see the Asians at Harvard.
The last night we went to the North End, and ate at an overpriced, not too great Italian place. I ordered a martini, and the waiter looked at me like I was the dumbest human he ever encountered. He got nastier after that...
The final day Wifey and I walked Newberry Street, in brilliant Fall sunshine. We met up with Eric and Dana, and flew home to the 305.
It was a lovely Fall trip. As I type, my mother in law is on the phone talking at me non stop. I usually don't answer the house phone, but I did, and she goes on and on...
So, that tells me, this vacation is OVER! Back to the 80 somethings of South Florida.
Ah, for the Maine mountains...
Saturday, October 9, 2010
NE, Continued
The second day in Camden, our terrific innkeeper Mike suggested we take a sail around the harbor. He knew the husband and wife tour captains, and we took Mike's advice.
We boarded the "Surprise" and were taken around the harbor in Camden. The best part was hearing Captain Jack's life story. He's a Boston Irish guy who went to Tufts, became a corporate sales type, and then took his wife and 5 kids to a Carribbean island to live aboard a sailboat. The kids were "boat schooled" as the family lived a most alternative lifestyle.
They eventually came to Maine, where Mike has owned his sailboat for the past 25 years.
He told about having no safety net, no health coverage --just working to live with his family.
It was exactly the type of great tale to hear while on vacation, when one's thoughts expand to the possibilities in life.
After the sail, our foursome left Camden, headed for Bar Harbor. Much of the conversatin is that none of us could have done what Mike did, especially with kids. We're too "responsible" and "level headed."
Then again, now my kids are grown...Nah! I'm not that big a fan of sailing...
Bar Harbor was packed with cruise passengers walking through the streets. It reminded me of Key West, but I KNOW Key West, and how to avoid their cruise passengers...
We checked into the Bass Inn, and loved it. It was a gorgeous old place, and some of the most delicious rocky road bars were waiting for us.
We had reservations at Havana, a restaurant in town. It's owned by a Jewish guy from Philly, who has LAtin themed food. We met the owner, and he was affable. I;m pretty sure none of his staff spoke Spanish.
President Obama had eaten there in July, and they showed us his table. Eric and I reennacted a scene we imagined including him as Obama and me as a Secret Service agent...
The next day we went into Arcadia National Park, which was breathtakingly beautiful. There were classic rocky beaches, and paths through forests. We went to the top of Cadillac Mountain, which gets the US's first sunrise each morning.
Eric and Dana hiked a trail near Jordan Pond, while Wifey and I napped in the SUV. Afterwards we had lunch at the lodge there. A lovely day in the park...
The next am we had an amazing breakfast at the Inn. We debated which was better --Hartstone in Camden, or Bass in Bar Harbor... Both were terrific.
We headed out to our final Maine town --Kennebunkport. It was raining...
We boarded the "Surprise" and were taken around the harbor in Camden. The best part was hearing Captain Jack's life story. He's a Boston Irish guy who went to Tufts, became a corporate sales type, and then took his wife and 5 kids to a Carribbean island to live aboard a sailboat. The kids were "boat schooled" as the family lived a most alternative lifestyle.
They eventually came to Maine, where Mike has owned his sailboat for the past 25 years.
He told about having no safety net, no health coverage --just working to live with his family.
It was exactly the type of great tale to hear while on vacation, when one's thoughts expand to the possibilities in life.
After the sail, our foursome left Camden, headed for Bar Harbor. Much of the conversatin is that none of us could have done what Mike did, especially with kids. We're too "responsible" and "level headed."
Then again, now my kids are grown...Nah! I'm not that big a fan of sailing...
Bar Harbor was packed with cruise passengers walking through the streets. It reminded me of Key West, but I KNOW Key West, and how to avoid their cruise passengers...
We checked into the Bass Inn, and loved it. It was a gorgeous old place, and some of the most delicious rocky road bars were waiting for us.
We had reservations at Havana, a restaurant in town. It's owned by a Jewish guy from Philly, who has LAtin themed food. We met the owner, and he was affable. I;m pretty sure none of his staff spoke Spanish.
President Obama had eaten there in July, and they showed us his table. Eric and I reennacted a scene we imagined including him as Obama and me as a Secret Service agent...
The next day we went into Arcadia National Park, which was breathtakingly beautiful. There were classic rocky beaches, and paths through forests. We went to the top of Cadillac Mountain, which gets the US's first sunrise each morning.
Eric and Dana hiked a trail near Jordan Pond, while Wifey and I napped in the SUV. Afterwards we had lunch at the lodge there. A lovely day in the park...
The next am we had an amazing breakfast at the Inn. We debated which was better --Hartstone in Camden, or Bass in Bar Harbor... Both were terrific.
We headed out to our final Maine town --Kennebunkport. It was raining...
Friday, October 8, 2010
Week in New England
So here I find myself (Hello Self!") in the office center of Boston's Commonwealth Hotel, enjoying my last morning in New England. Wifey is in the room fast asleep, as Wifey is wont to do. Our traveling companions, Eric and Dana are, if I guess right, downstairs in the hotel gym, exercising off the veal they ate last night in an overpriced, annoyingly South Beach-like North End Italian place. But I'm ahead of myself ("Slow down, Self!").
We met last Friday at MIA, and had a preflight courage drink at the AA Admiral's Club, a place our AMEX gets us into. That turned out to be a good idea, since the remnants of Tropical Storm Nicole preceded us up the East Coast, and the descent into Logan was a roller coaster ride.
We landed, got our SUV (Hertz upgraded Eric to an enormous Tahoe with S Carolina plates) and off we went, guided by a GPS that thought it better we see some North Boston 'hoods during rush hour than get right on I-95.
It was chilly and rainy. We made our way North and East along the Southern Maine coast, and found our way to a lobster shack in a small town called Red's. It was featured in the Times. We got there about 9 pm, it was raining, and there were still folks in line. Eric snapped photos, we ate delicious lobster rolls (each one with a pound of fresh, sweet meat) and were fortified for the final hour drive into Camden, Me.
We found the Inn (the Hartstone) and there was room there for us. I wondered why Mary had such a tough time in Bethlehem. We checked into the place, a facility out of the set of "Gilmore Girls."
The next am we had the best breakfast of our lives. We met the innkeeper, Michael Salmon, from Minnesota. The guy was right out of a travel channel profile of an innkeeper. He was an accomplished chef who realized his lifetime dream by owning a gorgeous NE Inn. He sat with us, over creme broulee French toast, and told us about a wonderful lighthouse tour.
We walked into town. It turns out that Camden is the inspiration for "Peyton Place" but we had no drama --just a thirst for good times and laughter.
Poor Wifey. She had been there with Edna and Jody, and I could tell in her wistful glances that she longed for their company again... But she claimed she preferred to be there with me! She's a great sport...
After a walking tour, we got into the car and drove to our first lighthouse. It was a mile out on a rocky jetty. It was lovely.
We saw another one later, and got a great tour by an elderly fellow who worked for the historical society. He told us all about Fresnel lenses. The one we saw was nearly 100 years old. Cool.
The third lighhouse, at Port Cleo, I think (all the cutesy Maine names start to run together in my mind) was cool, too, but my mind was on the Canes/Clemson game, which was in the second half. Dana met some fellow Canes fans right there on the rocks, and they got updates by cell phone.
As the game ended, we headed back to the SUV, which had XM, and we listened to the Clemson announcers call the Canes victory. We high fived our new friends. It was lovely...
That night, we headed to a hill outside of Camden, where Eric shot a gorgeous sunset over the valley outside of the Harbor. It was out of a dream.
Wifey and I reclined on a rock, and I told her I'd marry her all over again. She sighed. Maybe it wasn't so bad being without Jody and Edna after all...
We met last Friday at MIA, and had a preflight courage drink at the AA Admiral's Club, a place our AMEX gets us into. That turned out to be a good idea, since the remnants of Tropical Storm Nicole preceded us up the East Coast, and the descent into Logan was a roller coaster ride.
We landed, got our SUV (Hertz upgraded Eric to an enormous Tahoe with S Carolina plates) and off we went, guided by a GPS that thought it better we see some North Boston 'hoods during rush hour than get right on I-95.
It was chilly and rainy. We made our way North and East along the Southern Maine coast, and found our way to a lobster shack in a small town called Red's. It was featured in the Times. We got there about 9 pm, it was raining, and there were still folks in line. Eric snapped photos, we ate delicious lobster rolls (each one with a pound of fresh, sweet meat) and were fortified for the final hour drive into Camden, Me.
We found the Inn (the Hartstone) and there was room there for us. I wondered why Mary had such a tough time in Bethlehem. We checked into the place, a facility out of the set of "Gilmore Girls."
The next am we had the best breakfast of our lives. We met the innkeeper, Michael Salmon, from Minnesota. The guy was right out of a travel channel profile of an innkeeper. He was an accomplished chef who realized his lifetime dream by owning a gorgeous NE Inn. He sat with us, over creme broulee French toast, and told us about a wonderful lighthouse tour.
We walked into town. It turns out that Camden is the inspiration for "Peyton Place" but we had no drama --just a thirst for good times and laughter.
Poor Wifey. She had been there with Edna and Jody, and I could tell in her wistful glances that she longed for their company again... But she claimed she preferred to be there with me! She's a great sport...
After a walking tour, we got into the car and drove to our first lighthouse. It was a mile out on a rocky jetty. It was lovely.
We saw another one later, and got a great tour by an elderly fellow who worked for the historical society. He told us all about Fresnel lenses. The one we saw was nearly 100 years old. Cool.
The third lighhouse, at Port Cleo, I think (all the cutesy Maine names start to run together in my mind) was cool, too, but my mind was on the Canes/Clemson game, which was in the second half. Dana met some fellow Canes fans right there on the rocks, and they got updates by cell phone.
As the game ended, we headed back to the SUV, which had XM, and we listened to the Clemson announcers call the Canes victory. We high fived our new friends. It was lovely...
That night, we headed to a hill outside of Camden, where Eric shot a gorgeous sunset over the valley outside of the Harbor. It was out of a dream.
Wifey and I reclined on a rock, and I told her I'd marry her all over again. She sighed. Maybe it wasn't so bad being without Jody and Edna after all...
Friday, October 1, 2010
Airport Pizza
As my father's son, I have an inherent need to take care of my family. This includes after my death. As soon as Wifey and I had D1, I made sure to have life insurance, etc...
As the years went by, and I'd leave Wifey and the Ds for various business trips, I'd be sure to sit with Wifey and give her a detailed explanation of assets, probate papers, etc...
She took to calling it my "airport pizza" talks, since it assumed that a catastrophic plane crash would render me "pizza" in the way a car crash left a victim "road pizza."
When Wifey and I both traveled, leaving the Ds home, I'd write long, macabre emails to Eric, Mike, and Barry, our estate's trustees, telling them what we wanted for the Ds, etc...
I made Wifey spend an inordinate amount of time with the various permutations of guardianships for the girls, and as soon as D1 turned 18, I wrote to our probate lawyer and made her D2's guardian.
I realize this is all my way of whistling past the graveyard, but there's also an element of thinking, in those final moments before death, I can smile, knowing all is taken care of...
I also realize the absurdity of having these concerns when leaving on an airplane, as opposed to the statistically far greater chance of being killed on US 1 on a daily basis. But, something about taking a longer trip, without the control we think we have when we're driving...
And, I'm not as bad as my friend Lili. When she and Jeff flew to NE recently to visit their daughter in college, Lili actually made them take separate planes! She was so repulsed by the thought of her in laws raising her girls, she insisted. She left from Lauderdale, and Jeff from MIA. Of course, Jeff wondered to me at breakfast about the supreme irony of the 2 planes colliding!
So, today we're about to leave, and this trip INCLUDES Eric, so I decided to spare Mike and Barry my usual graveyard whistle. I DID email the Ds, now both adults, and give them a cursory list of instructions, with the teaser that, between our assets (estate tax free this year!), life insurance, and a potential claim against American Airlines, well, watch our Hilton and Kardashian sisters!
I think the Ds would rather have Wifey and me back home instead...
So, my most annoying demon satisfied, Wifey and I are off...
We love the Fall, and can't wait to walk among the fallen leaves in crisp air, with the distant smell of wood smoke beckoning us back to our country inn...
And, prodigious amounts of lobster wait to be eaten in the roadside shacks of Maine, as well as piles of pasta back in Boston...
Here's to no airport pizza, though...
As the years went by, and I'd leave Wifey and the Ds for various business trips, I'd be sure to sit with Wifey and give her a detailed explanation of assets, probate papers, etc...
She took to calling it my "airport pizza" talks, since it assumed that a catastrophic plane crash would render me "pizza" in the way a car crash left a victim "road pizza."
When Wifey and I both traveled, leaving the Ds home, I'd write long, macabre emails to Eric, Mike, and Barry, our estate's trustees, telling them what we wanted for the Ds, etc...
I made Wifey spend an inordinate amount of time with the various permutations of guardianships for the girls, and as soon as D1 turned 18, I wrote to our probate lawyer and made her D2's guardian.
I realize this is all my way of whistling past the graveyard, but there's also an element of thinking, in those final moments before death, I can smile, knowing all is taken care of...
I also realize the absurdity of having these concerns when leaving on an airplane, as opposed to the statistically far greater chance of being killed on US 1 on a daily basis. But, something about taking a longer trip, without the control we think we have when we're driving...
And, I'm not as bad as my friend Lili. When she and Jeff flew to NE recently to visit their daughter in college, Lili actually made them take separate planes! She was so repulsed by the thought of her in laws raising her girls, she insisted. She left from Lauderdale, and Jeff from MIA. Of course, Jeff wondered to me at breakfast about the supreme irony of the 2 planes colliding!
So, today we're about to leave, and this trip INCLUDES Eric, so I decided to spare Mike and Barry my usual graveyard whistle. I DID email the Ds, now both adults, and give them a cursory list of instructions, with the teaser that, between our assets (estate tax free this year!), life insurance, and a potential claim against American Airlines, well, watch our Hilton and Kardashian sisters!
I think the Ds would rather have Wifey and me back home instead...
So, my most annoying demon satisfied, Wifey and I are off...
We love the Fall, and can't wait to walk among the fallen leaves in crisp air, with the distant smell of wood smoke beckoning us back to our country inn...
And, prodigious amounts of lobster wait to be eaten in the roadside shacks of Maine, as well as piles of pasta back in Boston...
Here's to no airport pizza, though...
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