I so look forward to my thrice weekly or so happy hours. And I always drink the same thing: vodka from my freezer with a splash of tonic water. It's become my pandemic drink, as opposed to normal times, when I eschew the tonic water.
A few days ago, my man Scott told me to expect a FedEx gift from him -- some Founding Fathers vodka, a local craft distilled vodka we enjoyed during his Maryland graduation weekend last year. I guess I had that info stored, and decided to reciprocate.
So yesterday I went online and found a Total Wine right near Big Daddy G and Josh and Donna's house, and ordered several bottles of Tito's and Ketel to help them through the plague. Donna had gone out, but arrived home just as the delivery arrived -- success!
I then went online to order some stuff for Scott in Arlington, VA, and learned something distressing: Virginia doesn't allow hard liquor to be delivered! What???? It was true -- I went on a local site, and Total, and when I went to check out, got the same message: no dice (or vodka). So I bought Scott a gift card, which is due to be delivered in a few days -- and there's a Total less than a half mile from his apartment.
So I received AND gave vodka to my dudes. A true gift of love.
Meanwhile, Kenny and I enjoyed a nice FaceTime meet at 5 -- he drank some craft beer -- and we solved the world's problems as we imbibed.
At 5:45 I signed onto a Zoom toast for Lisa, a family friend who turned 60. There were people from all over attending -- wearing her favorite colors, white and pink.
I had on a white "Fear the Tie" T shirt from the Al Golden era at UM. I kept the camera high -- so the orange didn't disrupt the virtual color scheme.
It was lovely, but a bit sad, too, as we looked on Lisa and Bob's beautiful house on the bay in Miami Beach. We were privileged to be invited to lovely parties there -- we all wished we could physically be together again.
But for now -- virtual it is.
The plague news continues to be cautiously optimistic -- it appears South Florida has plateaued.
In the mean time -- vodka helps. A lot.
Thursday, April 30, 2020
Monday, April 27, 2020
Finally, A Visit
Wifey and I haven't been in the same location of our grandson in probably 4 weeks. This is, or can be, normal when your family lives far away, but we live, in times of reduced traffic, 25 minutes away. Well, yesterday we got a reprieve.
I got in all of my anxiety walking early, and came home and showered. And then we left the house, for the first time in weeks. First, a stop at Walgreens for Wifey's meds -- somehow she hadn't quite gotten around to switching them to home delivery like I had -- so we pulled up to the drive in and got her stuff.
Then I went to Big Tomato, a healthy-ish pizza place D1 loved when she was growing up in Pinecrest. I loaded up on pies, and a salad and wrap, and decided to surprise Joey with some chicken wings. We took advantage of one of the few benefits of the pandemic -- traffic levels from the 80s. We really cruised the new highways -- up the Palmetto to the Dolphin to 95, with zero slowdowns. It brought back memories of travel times when I was in college and law school -- when you worried about crime in Miami more than traffic. Those two urban woes have completely switched.
Speaking of crime -- another nice statistic. There were ZERO murders in Miami over 7 weeks -- for the first time since 1957, before I was born. That little piece of RNA is doing what people, at least for now, have abandoned...
I pulled up to D1 and Joey's hood, punched the gate code, and let ourselves into the backyard. We were early, of course, and D1 came down and outside. It was mercifully cool. We wanted to hug. We air hugged. She went to fetch our boy and her husband and nanny. Wifey and I ate our pizza and wraps.
And then the more than 4 month old, chubby future of our family appeared, smiling, in the arms of Betty, the new nanny. Wifey melted. We sang to him. We made funny noises. We made sure he knew who we were. We air hugged him, and wished so it could be real hugs.
We caught up, all of us, on the patio. I had sprayed Cutter to ward off the mosquitoes, who congregated under the 100 year old live oaks surrounding the house. I left the bottle with Joey -- so he could spend more time outside.
We laughed about the challenge of a marriage with constant togetherness. Thankfully, they're blessed with the sense of humor Wifey and I have. It was a delightful visit.
D2 FaceTimed in, to show us HER furry child, the ever growing Betsy. Jonathan was hard at work on his computer -- catastrophes are opportunities for private equity -- his gig.
It was time for the nightly baby walk. Wifey and I left, smiling. It was the best Sunday afternoon we'd had since the quarantine.
We drove home, and Wifey found a decent movie to watch: "Bad Education," based on a true story of a huge embezzlement on Long Island -- Roslyn, to be exact. It was a decent tale and well acted. I told Wifey that, in the very late 50s and early 60s, my Dad had finally earned enough from his multiple jobs to climb into middle class. The family joined the Rosyln Country Club -- probably the poorest members at the time.
I never heard nice tales from those times -- in fact -- the opposite. A few years later, I came along, and they moved out to Central South Nassau County -- to the first house my family owned. Funny how a town's name, like Roslyn, can trigger so many memories.
Anyway -- I went to sleep thinking of my grandson -- how someday I hope to be able to tell him tales of the very infamous times of his very early childhood.
For now, though, I just savor how beautiful and chubby he is -- growing strong on his mother's milk, and surrounded by so much love, albeit some of it from a distance of over 6 feet away...
I got in all of my anxiety walking early, and came home and showered. And then we left the house, for the first time in weeks. First, a stop at Walgreens for Wifey's meds -- somehow she hadn't quite gotten around to switching them to home delivery like I had -- so we pulled up to the drive in and got her stuff.
Then I went to Big Tomato, a healthy-ish pizza place D1 loved when she was growing up in Pinecrest. I loaded up on pies, and a salad and wrap, and decided to surprise Joey with some chicken wings. We took advantage of one of the few benefits of the pandemic -- traffic levels from the 80s. We really cruised the new highways -- up the Palmetto to the Dolphin to 95, with zero slowdowns. It brought back memories of travel times when I was in college and law school -- when you worried about crime in Miami more than traffic. Those two urban woes have completely switched.
Speaking of crime -- another nice statistic. There were ZERO murders in Miami over 7 weeks -- for the first time since 1957, before I was born. That little piece of RNA is doing what people, at least for now, have abandoned...
I pulled up to D1 and Joey's hood, punched the gate code, and let ourselves into the backyard. We were early, of course, and D1 came down and outside. It was mercifully cool. We wanted to hug. We air hugged. She went to fetch our boy and her husband and nanny. Wifey and I ate our pizza and wraps.
And then the more than 4 month old, chubby future of our family appeared, smiling, in the arms of Betty, the new nanny. Wifey melted. We sang to him. We made funny noises. We made sure he knew who we were. We air hugged him, and wished so it could be real hugs.
We caught up, all of us, on the patio. I had sprayed Cutter to ward off the mosquitoes, who congregated under the 100 year old live oaks surrounding the house. I left the bottle with Joey -- so he could spend more time outside.
We laughed about the challenge of a marriage with constant togetherness. Thankfully, they're blessed with the sense of humor Wifey and I have. It was a delightful visit.
D2 FaceTimed in, to show us HER furry child, the ever growing Betsy. Jonathan was hard at work on his computer -- catastrophes are opportunities for private equity -- his gig.
It was time for the nightly baby walk. Wifey and I left, smiling. It was the best Sunday afternoon we'd had since the quarantine.
We drove home, and Wifey found a decent movie to watch: "Bad Education," based on a true story of a huge embezzlement on Long Island -- Roslyn, to be exact. It was a decent tale and well acted. I told Wifey that, in the very late 50s and early 60s, my Dad had finally earned enough from his multiple jobs to climb into middle class. The family joined the Rosyln Country Club -- probably the poorest members at the time.
I never heard nice tales from those times -- in fact -- the opposite. A few years later, I came along, and they moved out to Central South Nassau County -- to the first house my family owned. Funny how a town's name, like Roslyn, can trigger so many memories.
Anyway -- I went to sleep thinking of my grandson -- how someday I hope to be able to tell him tales of the very infamous times of his very early childhood.
For now, though, I just savor how beautiful and chubby he is -- growing strong on his mother's milk, and surrounded by so much love, albeit some of it from a distance of over 6 feet away...
Sunday, April 26, 2020
A Night of Less Tensosity
It was a hot, humid Sunday, and I did my anxiety walking in 3 parts -- a 1.7 jaunt in the am before the humidity tossed me back, a 1.7 mile weird rescue dog lap, where she pulled me home, tongue dragging, and a finally 2.5 miles in the evening. The last was the best -- my man Josh FaceTimed me poolside, and then his brother and Dad joined in to keep me company as I strolled around. I joked it was my first virtual meeting with them sans alcohol - but in fact the 2 young guys had adult beverages.
D1 clicked in, and I got to see her and her men, and we planned Wifey and my trip to their patio for today.
I took my nightly scalding shower, and found it too hot to dry off on the balcony, so it was to bed.
I fell into a mercifully great, deep sleep, but around 1 am was awakened by a strange, clicking sound. I thought I was dreaming, and then maybe it was a roof leak, but it was dry sound -- clicks every few seconds. I got up to investigate -- it was coming from behind my leather, insomnia chair, the place I sit and read when sleep evades me.
I moved the chair, and found the source. One of those comical click bugs was doing his thing. They sit, and then every so often jump up, with a clicking sound, after making the low noise when they fall back to the floor. I guess he was looking for a mate.
I scooped him up and gave him his freedom to click away in the great tropical outdoors.
I then fell back asleep, and had a blissfully whimsical dream -- not the usual negative ones of the past 7 weeks. It involved Mike, and his high forever friend Chris, and playing silly games with the cars -- Chris jumping out and getting in a car with young girls. Loni frowning. It was the sort of thing that went on for real in the 80s.
I really appreciated the lightness of the dream, and awoke with less anxiety than usual.
Oh -- the annoyances found me soon enough, though. As I was feeding the dogs, I heard running water. Sure enough -- Wifey forgot to jiggle the toilet handle in the bathroom she uses at night -- its design flaw confounds the plumber I had try to fix it. The tank top just requires you manually return the flush handle each time.
So -- the water ran all night, as it does every several months when Wifey forgets. Ah -- what are ya gonna do?
But now the special needs Spaniel is happily crunching his kibble, and first light is appearing. I plan to lace up the sneaks and walk in the quiet morning gloaming.
Last Friday made 7 weeks in quarantine. Sure getting old. But I know we can all do the time.
And when click bugs and lighthearted dreams fill the long nights -- well, that just makes it easier.
D1 clicked in, and I got to see her and her men, and we planned Wifey and my trip to their patio for today.
I took my nightly scalding shower, and found it too hot to dry off on the balcony, so it was to bed.
I fell into a mercifully great, deep sleep, but around 1 am was awakened by a strange, clicking sound. I thought I was dreaming, and then maybe it was a roof leak, but it was dry sound -- clicks every few seconds. I got up to investigate -- it was coming from behind my leather, insomnia chair, the place I sit and read when sleep evades me.
I moved the chair, and found the source. One of those comical click bugs was doing his thing. They sit, and then every so often jump up, with a clicking sound, after making the low noise when they fall back to the floor. I guess he was looking for a mate.
I scooped him up and gave him his freedom to click away in the great tropical outdoors.
I then fell back asleep, and had a blissfully whimsical dream -- not the usual negative ones of the past 7 weeks. It involved Mike, and his high forever friend Chris, and playing silly games with the cars -- Chris jumping out and getting in a car with young girls. Loni frowning. It was the sort of thing that went on for real in the 80s.
I really appreciated the lightness of the dream, and awoke with less anxiety than usual.
Oh -- the annoyances found me soon enough, though. As I was feeding the dogs, I heard running water. Sure enough -- Wifey forgot to jiggle the toilet handle in the bathroom she uses at night -- its design flaw confounds the plumber I had try to fix it. The tank top just requires you manually return the flush handle each time.
So -- the water ran all night, as it does every several months when Wifey forgets. Ah -- what are ya gonna do?
But now the special needs Spaniel is happily crunching his kibble, and first light is appearing. I plan to lace up the sneaks and walk in the quiet morning gloaming.
Last Friday made 7 weeks in quarantine. Sure getting old. But I know we can all do the time.
And when click bugs and lighthearted dreams fill the long nights -- well, that just makes it easier.
Friday, April 24, 2020
Quarantine Mug
In these trying times, truly the simple pleasures mean so much. I received one today, courtesy of the US Mail.
There was a package, and I opened it. There was a coffee mug, from Latte Larry's -- the wonderful fictional "spite store" from this past year of "Curb." I loved it immediately. But there was no indication who bought it.
I guessed one of the Ds -- they know how much I loved the past season of the show featuring the best comical misanthrope of all time. I texted a photo. Nope -- they both loved it, but neither had sent it.
I finished taking in the Insta Cart delivery of Publix groceries, and had my Pub Sub. It was a fine afternoon -- mystery gift I really like, Pub Sub. The only thing missing was a nap -- which I took to some cooking show Wifey had ironically left on TV. I drifted off knowing when I woke, I would have my first coffee in my new mug.
Indeed I arose, and there was a text -- from Josh G, my nephew of another mister. He had sent the mug. I thanked him -- I rarely like gifts I receive, but this one hit the sweet spot.
I scrubbed the Chinese manufacturing out of it, and put it in the new Keurig. Yes -- the 3 year old one crapped out last week, as they all do. The new one from WalMart.com arrived just yesterday. I popped in an environmentally friendly mesh K cup, from San Francisco Bay roasters, and am now enjoying my first favorite mug coffee. Thanks, my man.
Last night, I pressed Josh into service. Wifey's BFF Edna had requested a Zoom Happy Hour, but was missing the tool needed to set it up -- the infamous Round Tuitt. That tool is often not found around here either.
So -- I volunteered -- how hard could it be? Turned out harder than my dinosaur like tech skills could muster -- I originally invited only Edna, but then couldn't change the roster. I texted Josh, and he got us going -- Edna, her man Marc, and her daughter Erica and live in man Adam. Josh was invited, too, but bugged out -- leaving me as virtual host.
Elizabeth joined, but just as my free 45 minutes expired. So I showed Wifey how to FaceTime her friend, I said my hellos, and then went up for my nightly scalding shower. I told Elizabeth I needed my nightly ritual -- Wifey said, mistakenly, "Yes -- he's going upstairs to pleasure himself." Ha -- that Wifey. Sometimes she says things as if SHE was the one drinking a lot of vodka.
Today marks week 7 of quarantine. Ugh. It's gotten really, really, really onerous. But -- we soldier on.
Tonight we'll join D1, Joey, and our grandson for a shabbas kiddush, or toast. Sunday we may actually make it to their house -- with a request for Big Tomato pizzas -- to sit on opposite sides of their patio -- seeing our precious little man through the glass.
But my thrice daily coffees will now make me smile, thanks to a great quarantine gift. Cheers, young Josh!
There was a package, and I opened it. There was a coffee mug, from Latte Larry's -- the wonderful fictional "spite store" from this past year of "Curb." I loved it immediately. But there was no indication who bought it.
I guessed one of the Ds -- they know how much I loved the past season of the show featuring the best comical misanthrope of all time. I texted a photo. Nope -- they both loved it, but neither had sent it.
I finished taking in the Insta Cart delivery of Publix groceries, and had my Pub Sub. It was a fine afternoon -- mystery gift I really like, Pub Sub. The only thing missing was a nap -- which I took to some cooking show Wifey had ironically left on TV. I drifted off knowing when I woke, I would have my first coffee in my new mug.
Indeed I arose, and there was a text -- from Josh G, my nephew of another mister. He had sent the mug. I thanked him -- I rarely like gifts I receive, but this one hit the sweet spot.
I scrubbed the Chinese manufacturing out of it, and put it in the new Keurig. Yes -- the 3 year old one crapped out last week, as they all do. The new one from WalMart.com arrived just yesterday. I popped in an environmentally friendly mesh K cup, from San Francisco Bay roasters, and am now enjoying my first favorite mug coffee. Thanks, my man.
Last night, I pressed Josh into service. Wifey's BFF Edna had requested a Zoom Happy Hour, but was missing the tool needed to set it up -- the infamous Round Tuitt. That tool is often not found around here either.
So -- I volunteered -- how hard could it be? Turned out harder than my dinosaur like tech skills could muster -- I originally invited only Edna, but then couldn't change the roster. I texted Josh, and he got us going -- Edna, her man Marc, and her daughter Erica and live in man Adam. Josh was invited, too, but bugged out -- leaving me as virtual host.
Elizabeth joined, but just as my free 45 minutes expired. So I showed Wifey how to FaceTime her friend, I said my hellos, and then went up for my nightly scalding shower. I told Elizabeth I needed my nightly ritual -- Wifey said, mistakenly, "Yes -- he's going upstairs to pleasure himself." Ha -- that Wifey. Sometimes she says things as if SHE was the one drinking a lot of vodka.
Today marks week 7 of quarantine. Ugh. It's gotten really, really, really onerous. But -- we soldier on.
Tonight we'll join D1, Joey, and our grandson for a shabbas kiddush, or toast. Sunday we may actually make it to their house -- with a request for Big Tomato pizzas -- to sit on opposite sides of their patio -- seeing our precious little man through the glass.
But my thrice daily coffees will now make me smile, thanks to a great quarantine gift. Cheers, young Josh!
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Hello Vodka? It's me...Dave
Ah, the happiness and escape of a few adult beverages continue. Last night, Kenny set up a Zoom happy hour, and it was a fine one. Dr. Eric and his boy Josh were there -- Josh was gourmet cooking for his new wife and himself, and it was great to catch up with him. Barry and his boys joined in -- Scott from Virginia, Josh in the Pines. We laughed, and toasted. The docs shared cautious optimism about the progression of the plague. We toasted to its defeat...
Wifey still thinks I should drink each night, but I don't prefer it. I enjoy having something to look forward to. But just in case, I ordered reinforcements today. Vintage Liquors brought by 2 Tito's, and One Ketel One -- each 1.75 liters. Normally, one of those lasts several months -- I only drink when guests join me, and typically have my adult beverages in restaurants with family and friends. But with that cut off -- I get through a 1.75 liter in about 10 days.
I also want to make sure the Ds and their men are properly provisioned. Today I called Big Daddy's in the Grove, and had 2 bottles of casamigos mezcal, along with a Hendricks and Tito's delivered. D2 and Jonathan thanked me. I long for the time we can toast together on their balcony with the beautiful view of Sailboat Bay.
And D1 is several weeks away from her first Mother's Day! I thought about us sending her flowers -- but went more practical. I got her to be a fan of Stag's Leap Petit Syrah, and she has a glass with dinner each evening. So for MD, I ordered enough bottles to be delivered to get her and Joey through any reasonable quarantine. It'll be delivered the Friday before that auspicious Sunday.
Yesterday a funny thing happened. Bo, the crippled Spaniel, is still somehow a very effective lizard killer. He typically goes after the little geckos, and if I can't hold him, sends them to their reptilian rewards... I sat down, buzzed from the happy hour, and the little Bo took off. Next thing I knew a pretty large animal ran up my shirt, perched on my long hair, and then jumped away.
It was a green Cuban anole -- a good foot long and plenty thick. It jumped from me to the accordion shutter -- Bo in pursuit, and me frantically swiping at it, though it was long gone. Had it been Wifey, there would have been a scream that would have brought the police. As it was, I laughed.
Today I took a long am walk with Jeff -- it was a beautiful 66 degrees. Then I received the vodka reinforcements, and then a nap to a documentary Wifey played about Warner brothers. I think there'll be another walk around sunset.
Oh -- I did some legal work, too. I had to draft a bad faith letter for a friend, against her own carrier. It was good to actually use that part of my brain again.
So the days blend, each to each. Our little grandson always makes us smile. Our new grand dog, too. We miss them so.
But Friday, Joey set up a shabbas toast, like last week. I think we may visit this weekend -- spaced out, of course, for infection prevention.
Each night I ask the Big Man for a Jonas Salk or Albert Sabin of our time -- with greater haste. Dr. Kenny pointed out that a LOT of great minds are on task -- and with genetic sequencing available that the polio killers wouldn't have dreamed to have. So hopefully there'll be a vaccine, and we can get about normal life.
Until then -- I got plenty of vodka for the glorious cocktail parties on Zoom.
Wifey still thinks I should drink each night, but I don't prefer it. I enjoy having something to look forward to. But just in case, I ordered reinforcements today. Vintage Liquors brought by 2 Tito's, and One Ketel One -- each 1.75 liters. Normally, one of those lasts several months -- I only drink when guests join me, and typically have my adult beverages in restaurants with family and friends. But with that cut off -- I get through a 1.75 liter in about 10 days.
I also want to make sure the Ds and their men are properly provisioned. Today I called Big Daddy's in the Grove, and had 2 bottles of casamigos mezcal, along with a Hendricks and Tito's delivered. D2 and Jonathan thanked me. I long for the time we can toast together on their balcony with the beautiful view of Sailboat Bay.
And D1 is several weeks away from her first Mother's Day! I thought about us sending her flowers -- but went more practical. I got her to be a fan of Stag's Leap Petit Syrah, and she has a glass with dinner each evening. So for MD, I ordered enough bottles to be delivered to get her and Joey through any reasonable quarantine. It'll be delivered the Friday before that auspicious Sunday.
Yesterday a funny thing happened. Bo, the crippled Spaniel, is still somehow a very effective lizard killer. He typically goes after the little geckos, and if I can't hold him, sends them to their reptilian rewards... I sat down, buzzed from the happy hour, and the little Bo took off. Next thing I knew a pretty large animal ran up my shirt, perched on my long hair, and then jumped away.
It was a green Cuban anole -- a good foot long and plenty thick. It jumped from me to the accordion shutter -- Bo in pursuit, and me frantically swiping at it, though it was long gone. Had it been Wifey, there would have been a scream that would have brought the police. As it was, I laughed.
Today I took a long am walk with Jeff -- it was a beautiful 66 degrees. Then I received the vodka reinforcements, and then a nap to a documentary Wifey played about Warner brothers. I think there'll be another walk around sunset.
Oh -- I did some legal work, too. I had to draft a bad faith letter for a friend, against her own carrier. It was good to actually use that part of my brain again.
So the days blend, each to each. Our little grandson always makes us smile. Our new grand dog, too. We miss them so.
But Friday, Joey set up a shabbas toast, like last week. I think we may visit this weekend -- spaced out, of course, for infection prevention.
Each night I ask the Big Man for a Jonas Salk or Albert Sabin of our time -- with greater haste. Dr. Kenny pointed out that a LOT of great minds are on task -- and with genetic sequencing available that the polio killers wouldn't have dreamed to have. So hopefully there'll be a vaccine, and we can get about normal life.
Until then -- I got plenty of vodka for the glorious cocktail parties on Zoom.
Monday, April 20, 2020
The Beauty of Unfriending
Against the Ds' good advice and wishes, I continue to partake of FaceBook (tm). A big reason is my good friend Norman -- his pages are always full of great humor and music performances. I try to be funny, too, and generally avoid the divisive politic, but lately, with the plague, it seems one ought to share useful information to one's friends. Ha. As if.
The IHME model seems to be the one most people in government and academics rely upon, so I do, too. It changes quite a bit, and last Friday gave us great news. The predicted peak of the plague in Florida already occurred, it said, and the deaths predicted were cut nearly 70%. I found this wonderful -- in the way I love it when the "cone of death" during likewise tense hurricane season shifts away from Miami. So I posted it.
Well, some ultra-liberal friends went on attack mode. One, who I'll call Donna, since that's her name, was my moot court partner in law school. She had gone to Wellesley, which she mentioned ALL the time. She is a lawyer in Broward now, and a classic limo liberal -- always chiding us about being rich, uncaring capitalists while she sent both her daughters to expensive private schools. I think the older one now goes to some Wellesley clone -- maybe Oberlin.
Anyway -- she pointed out that there was NO WAY the news could be good -- essentially since the hated GOP governor Desantis is in power. Also, Trump.
Now -- I can't stand the cartoon character president either. When he comes on TV, I change the channel. But it seems some hate him more than they want a cure for the plague. Donna seems to fall into that category.
Anyway -- she posted an article saying the end was nowhere near in Florida. Problem was, that article cited an old IHME projection -- the one before the latest that showed the good news. I pointed this out to her. I kind of enjoy it when haughty, arrogant folks get shown they're wrong. But she, of course, wouldn't admit it, and said I was being aggressive with her. That's it. I hit the unfriend button.
And it occurred to me I need to use that button more often. I ditched another law school woman, Donna's fellow traveler, when her extreme liberal posts crept into anti semitism. See ya, Cynthia.
I've also unfriended too right GOP friends.
So FaceBook for me will be a source of silly fun. When crap get serious, I will more rapidly hit the eject button.
Meanwhile, I put in close to 8 miles of walking yesterday. We had a family FaceTime at dinner, with guest appearances by our grandson and grand dog Betsy. Afterwards, Josh chimed in, and Wifey and I spent some virtual time with Barry, Donna, their sons, and likely future daughter in law.
Our friend Sheryl had invited us to a large Zoom gathering -- mostly her old Miami friends, and some new Boston ones. We told her we had a conflict, but Sheryl is relentless. At 9 she said we could still join. I told her I was naked on my balcony, communing with nature, and I was pretty sure no one needed to have THAT vision on their Zoom screens. She agreed.
So we're in the late part of April, which Eliot famously called the cruelest month in his epic "The Waste Land." It was cruel because its new birth of Spring belied the ugliness and hopelessness of the world.
I hope April indeed proves to be the cruelest part of the pandemic, and May brings us some return to normalcy. I'll keep looking to the most optimistic models. I leave the negative Nancys to their own misery...
The IHME model seems to be the one most people in government and academics rely upon, so I do, too. It changes quite a bit, and last Friday gave us great news. The predicted peak of the plague in Florida already occurred, it said, and the deaths predicted were cut nearly 70%. I found this wonderful -- in the way I love it when the "cone of death" during likewise tense hurricane season shifts away from Miami. So I posted it.
Well, some ultra-liberal friends went on attack mode. One, who I'll call Donna, since that's her name, was my moot court partner in law school. She had gone to Wellesley, which she mentioned ALL the time. She is a lawyer in Broward now, and a classic limo liberal -- always chiding us about being rich, uncaring capitalists while she sent both her daughters to expensive private schools. I think the older one now goes to some Wellesley clone -- maybe Oberlin.
Anyway -- she pointed out that there was NO WAY the news could be good -- essentially since the hated GOP governor Desantis is in power. Also, Trump.
Now -- I can't stand the cartoon character president either. When he comes on TV, I change the channel. But it seems some hate him more than they want a cure for the plague. Donna seems to fall into that category.
Anyway -- she posted an article saying the end was nowhere near in Florida. Problem was, that article cited an old IHME projection -- the one before the latest that showed the good news. I pointed this out to her. I kind of enjoy it when haughty, arrogant folks get shown they're wrong. But she, of course, wouldn't admit it, and said I was being aggressive with her. That's it. I hit the unfriend button.
And it occurred to me I need to use that button more often. I ditched another law school woman, Donna's fellow traveler, when her extreme liberal posts crept into anti semitism. See ya, Cynthia.
I've also unfriended too right GOP friends.
So FaceBook for me will be a source of silly fun. When crap get serious, I will more rapidly hit the eject button.
Meanwhile, I put in close to 8 miles of walking yesterday. We had a family FaceTime at dinner, with guest appearances by our grandson and grand dog Betsy. Afterwards, Josh chimed in, and Wifey and I spent some virtual time with Barry, Donna, their sons, and likely future daughter in law.
Our friend Sheryl had invited us to a large Zoom gathering -- mostly her old Miami friends, and some new Boston ones. We told her we had a conflict, but Sheryl is relentless. At 9 she said we could still join. I told her I was naked on my balcony, communing with nature, and I was pretty sure no one needed to have THAT vision on their Zoom screens. She agreed.
So we're in the late part of April, which Eliot famously called the cruelest month in his epic "The Waste Land." It was cruel because its new birth of Spring belied the ugliness and hopelessness of the world.
I hope April indeed proves to be the cruelest part of the pandemic, and May brings us some return to normalcy. I'll keep looking to the most optimistic models. I leave the negative Nancys to their own misery...
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Nattering Nabobs of Negatism
So the past few days slogged on, blanketed in the tensosity of the virus. I walked 8 miles Thursday and Friday -- on my anxiety constitutionals. My man Stuart caught me while I was out on one, and pointed out that I was basically pacing -- like a worried expectant father in the maternity waiting room. He's right -- but at least the gorgeous tropical foliage and varied architecture of the houses in my 'hood make it more scenic.
Thursday night, Wifey detected an even deeper than normal anxiety, and actually left the house, alone for the first time in 5 weeks, and fetched us some Shorty's barbecue. We ate outside, and it was indeed a lovely respite.
I check the IHME site throughout the day. It's the U Washington Center that most experts agree has the most accurate info about the plague. They used to update daily, but switched to twice a week, given the huge piles of data. So in the way I check the moving cones of death when a hurricane threatens, I keep looking.
On April 13, the IHME said Florida would peak on hospital use and deaths in May. They also predicted nearly 5000 Floridians would die. That was quite sobering.
Well, last night, the IHME updated. And it was GREAT news. Now, they concluded, Florida ALREADY peaked on hospital admissions, and deaths -- over a week ago. And they now predict fewer than 2000 deaths, statewide.
I felt as I do when the cone of death excludes Miami. I mean, I still feel bad for the poor bastards the storm will hit, but relieved it's likely to miss us.
I came home, and celebrated with a cocktail with my man Josh -- floating in his pool in Pembroke Pines. His Dad was driving home from the hospital. We hung up, and I was nicely buzzed, and then his Dad called. He had heard the news, of course.
At 7:30, my son in law Joey had set up a shabbos Zoom meeting -- to share a kiddush, or celebratory drink, to welcome in the day of rest.
It was delightful -- his parents, sister in law, and both brothers attended. And then D2 joined in -- with an enormous mural of her nephew as her background. It looked like the Baby that Ate Cleveland -- it made all of our nights.
I also invited Eric and Barry to join. They did -- Barry to offer happy insight into our grandson's reaching 4 months old! And then the little guy made a cameo appearance.
Eric was home, alone, as he sent his wife Dana to live with their daughter, son in law, and new granddaughter, lest they get infected from Eric's hospital duties. He enjoyed being with us -- to forget about life for awhile, as Billy Joel sings.
We hung up, and Wifey and I were so happy with the wonderful, under the circumstances, night.
Then Sheryl called in, from Boston, and we chatted with her. She had set up a zoom party for Saturday, but was changing it to Sunday. Turns out we have other virtual plans, and can't make it. Sheryl was relentless -- maybe join in later..
And then, as I was drying off, naked on my balcony, from my nightly shower, I read more good news. A study seems to show the virus dies fast in direct sunlight -- and hot and humid weather is its enemy. Well -- it's already plenty hot and humid here -- so another plus for us.
This am, I posted a video of the Beatles "Here Comes the Sun," to share the positive news. Instantly, the negative comments started -- sadly, from my most wildly liberal FaceBook friends. "But what about the fact that our idiot governor is opening the beaches too soon?" And "Does the study included all the nursing home deaths????"
Hell do I know? I'm not the epidemiologist here -- just a consumer of news who is very happy that it is finally somewhat positive.
It's almost like my most liberal, GOP and Trump hating friends, WANT more death and misery -- so they can heap more blame on the cartoon president. I can't stand him either, but I love good health and life more than I hate him. Geez.
So -- I will just laugh at these nattering nabobs -- a classic term coined by VP Agnew in the 70s.
And I shall not let them rain on my good news parade...
Thursday night, Wifey detected an even deeper than normal anxiety, and actually left the house, alone for the first time in 5 weeks, and fetched us some Shorty's barbecue. We ate outside, and it was indeed a lovely respite.
I check the IHME site throughout the day. It's the U Washington Center that most experts agree has the most accurate info about the plague. They used to update daily, but switched to twice a week, given the huge piles of data. So in the way I check the moving cones of death when a hurricane threatens, I keep looking.
On April 13, the IHME said Florida would peak on hospital use and deaths in May. They also predicted nearly 5000 Floridians would die. That was quite sobering.
Well, last night, the IHME updated. And it was GREAT news. Now, they concluded, Florida ALREADY peaked on hospital admissions, and deaths -- over a week ago. And they now predict fewer than 2000 deaths, statewide.
I felt as I do when the cone of death excludes Miami. I mean, I still feel bad for the poor bastards the storm will hit, but relieved it's likely to miss us.
I came home, and celebrated with a cocktail with my man Josh -- floating in his pool in Pembroke Pines. His Dad was driving home from the hospital. We hung up, and I was nicely buzzed, and then his Dad called. He had heard the news, of course.
At 7:30, my son in law Joey had set up a shabbos Zoom meeting -- to share a kiddush, or celebratory drink, to welcome in the day of rest.
It was delightful -- his parents, sister in law, and both brothers attended. And then D2 joined in -- with an enormous mural of her nephew as her background. It looked like the Baby that Ate Cleveland -- it made all of our nights.
I also invited Eric and Barry to join. They did -- Barry to offer happy insight into our grandson's reaching 4 months old! And then the little guy made a cameo appearance.
Eric was home, alone, as he sent his wife Dana to live with their daughter, son in law, and new granddaughter, lest they get infected from Eric's hospital duties. He enjoyed being with us -- to forget about life for awhile, as Billy Joel sings.
We hung up, and Wifey and I were so happy with the wonderful, under the circumstances, night.
Then Sheryl called in, from Boston, and we chatted with her. She had set up a zoom party for Saturday, but was changing it to Sunday. Turns out we have other virtual plans, and can't make it. Sheryl was relentless -- maybe join in later..
And then, as I was drying off, naked on my balcony, from my nightly shower, I read more good news. A study seems to show the virus dies fast in direct sunlight -- and hot and humid weather is its enemy. Well -- it's already plenty hot and humid here -- so another plus for us.
This am, I posted a video of the Beatles "Here Comes the Sun," to share the positive news. Instantly, the negative comments started -- sadly, from my most wildly liberal FaceBook friends. "But what about the fact that our idiot governor is opening the beaches too soon?" And "Does the study included all the nursing home deaths????"
Hell do I know? I'm not the epidemiologist here -- just a consumer of news who is very happy that it is finally somewhat positive.
It's almost like my most liberal, GOP and Trump hating friends, WANT more death and misery -- so they can heap more blame on the cartoon president. I can't stand him either, but I love good health and life more than I hate him. Geez.
So -- I will just laugh at these nattering nabobs -- a classic term coined by VP Agnew in the 70s.
And I shall not let them rain on my good news parade...
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