Tapas Twice

 There's a pretty good tapas place that opened in the Falls -- actually an addition to the parking building. They have a nice sized outside area, and Wifey and I have been a few times. On Monday, my sister of another mister Mirta met me there -- we celebrated her birthday early, with a shared burger and some delicious paella.

Last night, my friend and financial advisor Pat asked to meet. He's in town helping Steve, a retired cop, set up a private account, now that Steve can move his pension money out of the state system. Pat said Steve was coming, too, and wanted to stay close to home - and so it was to Bulla again -- second time in a week.

It was lovely outside -- we caught up on finances, and strategies in investing in light of the coming (now here) Russian invasion of Ukraine. Steve's lady Ruth came by, and we all ate well. The couple left, and Pat and I stayed another hour -- nursing some local craft beers.

Russia. Sons of bitches. My first thought today was that my Republican friends, dating back to the 80s, were right about them the whole time. Putin is scary. I naively thought we were past the point of invasions like Putin's. Boy was I wrong.

It's funny -- my paternal grandparents were born in Czernovits, in what was then Romania. It's now Ukraine -- and I have zero affinity for the place. For Czar era Jews, "Russia," which was what they called the entire area, was a place to happily be FROM. I never heard my grandmother tell any happy tales about her childhood in Europe -- to her,  America was truly the promised land.

I read an interesting article in the Times by Thomas Friedman, one of my favorites. He traces the invasion back to the years NATO added some FSU countries like Hungary and Poland to NATO. This was a thumb in Russia's eye, and Putin was just awaiting his chance to get revenge, by taking back control over a major country.

I just hope peace comes fast.

My friend John, a retired CIA agent, now does defense consulting, and is back to his original "Account," as the Agency calls countries -- Russia. We have plans to meet in early April when Wifey and I travel to D.C. -- but if this kerfuffle remains hot, he likely won't have any time to get away.

At the gym this am, there was black humor among the younger guys about needing to get in shape in case the US went to war. Wow. That scary scenario is somehow no longer absurd.

Closer to home, we look forward to hosting my nephew Henry tomorrow for a few nights -- he's in town working for a SF company hosting a big event here in town. The Ds already made reservations for a nice family dinner, and hopefully Saturday we spend some time here with the Little Man, too.

Meanwhile -- Covid is in clear retreat -- and now global unrest for another reason. It's truly, as Roseann Roseannadanna said, always something.

Good Parking

 So Sunday night, Wifey and I took our friend and neighbor Gloria to dinner. I picked Captain's Tavern -- first, because they have very fresh fish, and also because I enjoy being on the younger side of patrons for a change. Eric and Dana report that going out in Boca means they're usually the youngest dines. In Miami, we're typically the oldest.

But another reason, I reported to Gloria that I enjoy going to the Tavern, is free and accessible parking. Yes -- I've become that old guy who considers that an important factor in choosing a recreational venue. That which I used to make fun of has become my reality.

A decade or so ago, I never cared about that, unless we were toting my Mom or in laws along. They were old, and had to be dropped off in front, and a place with distant lots just meant more of a hike for me. No problem. Now, Wifey has, hopefully temporarily, limited range -- so that's one of the factors.

Also, though I can afford well even over priced parking, I really resent it. On Christmas Day, we went to the Peacock Cafe, and next door was a sign that said Public Parking. It was, but owned by a private vendor -- and the cost was $25 for the 2 hours we were there. My annoyance was disproportionate to the cost. Again -- another sign of aging.

Today -- back to the post President's Day routine. I meet Juan my trainer this am. I enjoy his company but not the workout. If left to my own devices, I would avoid it -- but the trainer appointment assures I attend, and at least twice per week do stuff more rigorous than my daily walks.

Tonight I have plans to meet Mirta, my sister of another mister. She's been very Covid safe, especially since she has a boyfriend who had a nasty long bout of it, and lives with her sons and a grandson. But I think she's finally ready to go to a restaurant, and we'll meet at a tapas place nearby, in the Falls.

Tomorrow night my friend and broker Pat is coming to town. I referred him an old friend, whose investments were tied up in the state system, and Pat used to simply advise him, in exchange for free board when he returned to Miami. The friend is retiring, and now Pat can actually manage his investments -- and they have to set things up. I'll catch up with Pat afterwards.

And then Thursday my nephew Henry is due here. He 's in Miami now doing his video work for a client, and plans to drive to Pinecrest then -- staying with us for 3 nights. I haven't seen him since D2 and Jonathan's wedding two years ago. I told him he'll get to know 2 new cousins -- one with fur, Betsy, and one without, our Little Man.

Henry and his lovely wife Val are major dog lovers, and had Rocco for many years. Rocco was huge like Betsy, with the same energetic,clumsy personality. I have a feeling Henry will enjoy the canine company.

It's been a joy watching Henry grow up -- Wifey met him at MIA in 1984 when he was only two -- a platinum blonde toddler. Wifey called him a Swedish meatball. We'd see him typically only once a year, but he was always on a great track -- star swimmer in high school, skateboarder, the object of many girls' dreams. He turned into a man who could be related to Steve McQueen -- with an extremely creative streak coupled with business savvy.

He started and built up a video company -- they do promotional work for major companies -- fine enough that clients fly him around the world for his work. I'm guessing he might be here for one of the Bay Area companies that have moved here. I'm sure he'll tell us.

His Mom, my California sister, is jealous. She adores her son, for great reason, and enjoys being with all of us. I told her FaceTime will have to suffice this visit.

And who knows? If D2 and Jonathan want, to show Henry some cool places, I may just agree to go to places without good parking. I guess you have to get out of your comfort zone every now and again.

In Search Of The Right Antonym

 It's been a lovely weekend so far in the 305. Dadber dropped off D2 for her trip to Savannah, and Wifey and I drove to Edgewater to meet D1 and Joey at a nice restaurant -- Mimi's, on 25th and Biscayne. We caught up, and Wifey drove home, and because we were still feeling young and crazy at evening's end, we stopped off at the nitrogen yogurt place for a couple of kiddie cups.

This am, we left early and parked at Joelle and Kenny's place, which is steps from one of the entrances to the Grove Arts Festival. Kenny, retired US Navy Captain, scored us a nice discount -- $10 entrance instead of $25. We talked about how much folk who can well afford full price still get disproportionate happiness from a bargain.

Our friends bought a very nice piece for their new house, and Wifey and I enjoyed the venue, but bought nothing. We're still in serious decluttering mode -- many framed paintings are still awaiting placement -- so the last thing we needed was to add to the pile.

We walked to McFarland, and Joelle scored us a table at Harry's Pizza -- it also occurred to Kenny and I that probably never in our lives have we refused to eat pizza. Wifey was way tired -- we had walked near 2 miles, which is a lot for her, and so Kenny accompanied us to his building, to get us out, and Joelle stayed and walked the St. Stephens show, which goes on along with the larger Grove fest. They needed to meet to schlep home their new artwork.

A lovely afternoon nap awaited us -- me for an hour, and Wifey for 3. Tonight we have zero planned -- Jonathan is himself in the Grove, and D2 enjoying her girl time in Savannah.

But this tale involves a word search, of the Yiddish persuasion.

I had an unsettling call with someone earlier in the day. The details don't matter, but her comments and thought processes made me think of the Yiddish word sechel -- which means, loosely, common sense, and savvy -- the type of practical intelligence one needs to advance in life.

This person had and has zero sechel -- a total absence of any real sense. And so I wondered -- what is a good antonym for sechel.

I probably know more Yiddish than most of my peers -- third generation Ashkenazi Jews -- as my parents were both fluent in it. Sadly, they never taught it to us -- it was the language they used when they didn't want the kids to understand.

Wifey learned it -- along with her first language, Hebrew, and at 4 years old, English. She always claims to be able to "understand fluent Yiddish," as it was the language she heard at home.

Certain words came to mind immediately -- schlemiel and schlmazel, of course. But a schlemiel is more of a klutz, and a schlmazel his victim -- not a true antonym of a person with common and intellectual sense.

Barry came up with tom -- a favorite of his Dad's, which translates roughly to fool. Closer, but still I searched.

The suggestions came via text: putz, schmo, schmeggy -- Norman added these. They were all acceptable, but Yiddish is famous for having the perfect word for an insult, and these fell a bit short.

Well, as I drove to Edgewater, Wifey searched on her phone. And she came up with a term that describes, at least, the behavior of someone I was looking to describe: narishkeit. It means, roughly , foolish or stupid behavior. I don't think there's a noun that goes with it, like narish, but plan to continue my search.

It brought back warm memories to me -- the days as an English major, parsing word meanings in class. I wish I spoke Yiddish fluently.

Flying Children

 So today D2 is off to Savannah, for her dear friend's pre wedding weekend. On account of her being a blood relative or Wifey, she was entitled to Dadber, which is Uber by Dad. I dropped her off at MIA.

Jonathan must have passed us on the Palmetto. He returned from business in Nashville. I told D2 that she needs to contact JonBer for her ride home from MIA on Sunday night.

Meanwhile, with the Plague seemingly on the run, Wifey and I have social plans all weekend. Tonight we're meeting D1 and Joey at a restaurant up in Edgewater. It'll be great to catch up with them and hear the details about our Little Man -- we haven't seen him in 6 entire days!

Tomorrow, we're off to the Coconut Grove Arts Festival -- we haven't been in several years. It started out 58 years ago as a couple of hippies hanging some paintings on clotheslines, and has turned into THE premier outdoor art festival in the US -- I think there are 250 artists from around the world there.

As an aging curmudgeon, I avoid events where parking is a problem, but, alas, Joelle and Kenny now live right by the main entrance, and have invited us to park at their place and walk over. The caveat is we need to get there early, lest we be traffic blocked from accessing their place, and Wifey ain't liking doing nothing early these days. But she will make an exception tomorrow.

We've been going to the Festival since we met. I don't know that we ever bought any art, but we've certainly eaten our share of felafel and gyros.

Speaking of flying, we've booked our first plane trip in a very long while. I last flew in December of 2019. But my nephew of another mister, Scott, has invited us for a visit to D.C., and we're flying up, in hopes of catching cherry blossom season.

I suggested a feel good activity, so Scott is seeing if he can get us tickets to the Holocaust Museum. We've never been, and Wifey's parents sent them some materials. Seems like we owe a visit.

Sunday night we're taking our neighbor Gloria to dinner. Wifey and I really like her. Sadly, her husband Ben dropped dead of a heart attack 3 years ago. Ben was the picture of health, and 60. He forms one of the trio of healthy people we know who have died young -- along with another former neighbor, Evan, and out dear friend Elizabeth. All were meticulous about their health, and two died of sudden heart attack, and one from a brain tumor.

As Warren Zevon advised, when he knew his days were short -- enjoy every sandwich.

We'll take Gloria to Captain's Tavern, even though I was just there Wednesday night. I love it there -- it's one of the few restaurants in Miami where I'm one of the youngest diners.

I have little doubt that tonight in Edgwater Wifey and I will be the Abuelos...

But that's ok. Hopefully the plague stays on the run, and normal life can resume.

And in late March, I get to sing to Wifey Come fly with me. Love that song. Love its modern meaning.

Pinecrest Roomies Rock On

 So D2 and Jonathan moved in for a month last July, since their rental apartment was being sold, and their new townhouse not yet completed. We just passed SEVEN months of being, as Jonathan labeled us, Pinecrest Roomies.

It's been fine, but all of us are ready to go our separate ways. The house is plenty big, and we're all fairly even tempered, but the millennials want to get on with their lives, and the Boomers are ready for a return to our senescence.

Last weekend D2 hosted a party for her 30th. Wifey and I were invited, along with a few Boomer friends lest we bother the young-uns. It was a very fun evening, and it drifted into a small gathering for the Super Bowl.

Still -- I feel, especially for Jonathan. He happens to have the coolest, most generous suegro of all time -- but a hard working man like him wants to go home at night to his own place.

My late suegro, Richard, may he rest in peace, was sometimes at my house in the evenings when I got home from a long day. I was always respectful, but was thinking "When are these people going to get the F out of my house?" Richard would say "Go put on da short pants" as he knew I would shed the monkey suit when I got home. But to me, it was a matter of switching from one boss to another, and I didn't much care for it.

We had all hoped for a closing next week. Not going to happen -- still issues with permitting -- but we're all cautiously optimistic that the closing is near. If not, the kids may look for a short term rental -- despite the huge cost. I get it -- I couldn't have lasted 7 DAYS living with my suegros, let alone 7 months.

Still -- we realize how lucky we are. My immigrant grandparents, and parents, lived in tiny quarters in The Bronx with far more people. Neither Wifey nor I come from money. So if we had to go on this way for months more -- it's not really much of a hardship.

We've fallen into nice rhythms. I know D2's corporate speech by heart now, as she handles her calls in the dining room behind where I spent much of the day. Wifey camps out in her recliner, and often has long talks with BFF Edna, where her voice quickly rises to outdoor voice levels. I've gotten used to an eye rolling D2 come over and shut the door separating the family room from the dining room. I chuckle to myself each time.

Speaking of Edna -- she's in South Florida to finally close out her late parents' safe deposit box. She's checking into a beachside hotel in Hollywood, and Wifey is going to stay for a few nights.

I asked D2 what we planned to do in Wifey's absence, and she missed her opportunity to cite one of my favorite punchlines: Who's WE, paleface?

And then Friday, D2 is flying up to Savannah for a bridal shower weekend. Wifey and I are having dinner with D1 and Joey in Edgewater. Of course Jonathan is invited, but I'm guessing he may spend some time with his friends and family.

Hopefully there'll be updated news next week, about the closing. If not -- we can certainly endure.

But it'll be sweet to host the first happy hour on the 3rd floor patio of Jonathan and D2's new place -- and then leave them in peace!

Valentine's Day -- You Don't Bother Me As Much As The Other Girls Do

 When D2 was in grade school, probably the last of the days when kids were actually allowed to celebrate Valentine's Day, she brought home a card from a boy named Jake. I think she was in 3rd or 4th grade, and the card, a simple cut out paper heart, became part of our family lore -- it was pinned to a board in our kitchen for years. It read:

Dear D2. You're pretty when you smile. You don't bother me as much as the other girls do. Your friend, Jake.

How perfect is that? Ultimately --what more can any of us truly ask for in a mate other than to be annoyed LESS than might otherwise occur? And today is Valentine's Day -- and I remember Jake's sage words.

In the 38 years since Wifey and I have been together, of course, from time to time, the thought pops into my head that maybe it is time for a change. I KNOW that as I have gotten older and far more crochety, that thought must occur to her.

I mean, has life been a picnic for her? Well indeed it has -- but that's another story...

The point is, I look to friends who have divorced and married anew. Do I envy even a single one of them? Not even close.

Now -- many of the splits had to happen -- issues cropped up that made marriages simply untenable. My personal favorites are when one partner realizes after a comically long time that they're gay. Hey -- like a Jack Nicholson character once said, many times I wish I could be gay -- being around only dudes is far simpler -- especially during football season.

But now that Wifey and I have made it to this stage in life, with an absurdly adorable grandson, and two amazing sons in law -- nah -- I'm pretty happy I stuck it out.

Do Wifey and I annoy each other? Sometimes wildly so. Lately, our Pinecrest roomies have taken to referring to her as Irna Kristofsky, a comically annoying Jewish woman character from "Curb" played by the brilliant Tracy Ullman. Wifey doesn't like it, so I have stopped using the reference.

And me -- with my increasing OCD, and politically incorrect references all the time? Not so easy either, I don't suspect.

But Saturday night, at D2's birthday party, we danced, and Wifey said to me "Do you believe our little baby girl is 30, and may make us grandparents, like her sister did?" And it was a moment of true intimacy -- and I savored it.

We stuck things out and get to sow what we reaped.

So tonight, with or without our Pinecrest roomies, Wifey and I will sit together and wish each other happy Dia de Amor, and once again be thankful we don't bother each other as much as others might have. That's everlasting love.

Afterglow

 So D2's 30th was a smashing success. Her friend Carson planned and executed it beyond the level of a party planner -- Carson is a marketing exec at City Furniture, but could easily transition to event planning.

She hired Sara Sharpe caterers, and they were amazing -- delicious food, charming and competent staff. Jonathan was the DJ through Sonos and the music played well all night.

We ate, and drank, and danced. Old friendships were rekindled, and new ones formed. Many of D2's friends go back to Middle School, and it warmed Wifey and me to see how they had become accomplished adults.

Early on, it was baby hour. Our Little Man was there -- playing with balloons from the balloon sculpture, which a friend pointed our looked rather phallic. Later Jonathan's niece, an adorable redhead, arrived, as did two more toddlers. They toddled around, and one little girl, not 2, already knows how to throw up a U! I was impressed.

The toddlers and their parents left between 6 and 7, and the music got louder. There was delicious cake. As I walked some folks outside, a car drove up -- Uber Eats. I told the driver it must be a mistake -- we hadn't ordered anything. But she showed me the address -- it was indeed ours -- and then I realized it was a pie from Fireman Derek's -- sent by D2's dear friend Ali, in NYC. It was readily consumed.

Wifey went up to bed around 9:30, and I watched the poolside karaoke, with Fredy, Alyssa's delightful husband. Fredy is 45, and he said to me, pointing at the raucous group, "That's 30 for you." Of course, to me 45 is amazingly young, too.

They had a delightful time -- lots of their era songs, and plenty of Spanish tunes, which even the gringos could sing. Around 10:30 I slipped upstairs -- and heard the singing until about midnight.

This am I was up early, per usual, and drank my coffee. Instead of my typical WDNA Sunday jazz, I put on Boz Skaggs' "Silk Degrees," and album I would always play when cleaning up from college and grad school parties.

Most of the cleanup had been done, but I still basked in the nice afterglow. Jonathan woke, made coffee for D2 and Ashley, who had spent the night, and then Ashley left on an Uber for Aventura, where she was meeting her Boca Mom.

Carson, the planner par excellence, and Andres are over now with breakfast. Carson's Mom Caroline told us how much she adores D2, and it was her pleasure to plan the party. I told Caroline I adore my friends, but I would no sooner plan an event for them than get voluntary dental work.

It's a rainy day -- we lucked out -- last night was beautiful. Today we'll watch the Super Bowl, where I have zero rooting interest. 

And we'll appreciate and savor a night of normalcy -- no masks -- little if any talk of Covid.

Ahhhhhh.....