Caterwauling

It was a bonfire night in Lake Worth. I used to love these. Now, like anything in South Florida, it’s just another thing I do that I wonder if I can live without.  

 
They have this guy who isn’t a great singer who also doesn’t have an ounce of showmanship. I love it when he takes breaks (every three songs) and puts on pop radio. 

Of course he does sing good songs from “my” era. And he gave me a throwback last night. 

“When I say out loud I want to get out of this

I wonder is there anything I’m going to miss.”

— Third Eye Blind, “How’s It Gonna Be”

It was a busy week. I like those. They distract from what’s not important. Like social media and other things that I’ve allowed to take up precious time that have had a low to nonexistent ROI. 

Busyness also takes me away from what is important. Which, if my life has a theme, that’s it in a nutshell. 

Staring at the fire, I remembered one of my last in-person conversations with someone.  He said he missed me and I said, “Do you really?” 

He pretended not to hear or understand. I didn’t repeat myself.  Or say it back. 

“I don’t see lightning like last fall

When it was always about to hit me.”

I don’t have a point here. I just have such a list of ideas and dreams and plans. And then you get stuck in your routine and you find things to pass the time that weren’t on your list. 

Some people, like my parent friends, revel in the “somedays.” When the kid goes to college. When the spouse retires. When the parents leave them their inheritance. Then life will be what they wanted. 

I envy my friend who reinvents herself every year. Always a new career or hobby or certification or dream trip. She ain’t waiting for nothing or nobody. 

I don’t know how she does it. But she takes leaps and the world pulls out the safety net to catch her. And if she gets bored, no worries. She will be or do something else by this time next year anyway. 

And that is my plan for the new year. Do what I want. So I can do something else. Enjoy what works until I don’t or it doesn’t. Fill the void until there isn’t one. But don’t be too quick to fill it because there has to be room for whatever should be there, whenever it comes along. 

Simple, right?

I told the team on our morning call that my to-do list consists of little more than winning the $400 million Powerball tonight.

And I may have been more than a little pleased that everyone said I’ll still be at work tomorrow even with mega-millions in my name.

Honestly, I am glad people see that I like what I do. I get to hide behind a computer. I get to NOT use a phone other than for conference calls. (OMG I hate the phone. Hate it.) I get to crack the whip when needed and otherwise just do fun stuff I am kind of good at.

I even have the dream team. Except for one. I mean who takes 30 days’ vacation in 90 days’ time?

With $400 million to take care of mom’s health and get my car fixed and to go buy a house and all houses within a five-mile radius so I don’t have to deal with neighbors anymore, I’ll be the happiest asshole on the planet.

Of course I’d come back to work. I’d need something else to do other than counting my blessings!

Went over to one of my boys’ houses last night. I heard wine so I was in. 

He picked a Chardonnay I’d never tried. It would have been great if it had time to breathe. But hell, I don’t have time to breathe. And I drank it happily since I didn’t have to drive. 

Boy did that stuff punch me in the head today. I mean it didn’t help that the cat yowled all night again. But I can guzzle red wine from a Slurpee-sized cup and be fully functional. Am I off my game or what?!

My mom is still friends with her high school besties. I’m the oldest of their kids — oddly, we were all only children, two girls and a boy. 

The girl liked the same designer purses I did. Then she moved to the same part of D.C. that I inhabited. Then after I said I wanted a certain kind of car, she wanted it too. 

Coincidence? Maybe. Her parents gave her everything. Every opportunity. They did without do she could have it all. 

She turned out lovely. Beautiful inside and out. And successful. And generous. 

She got engaged in London today. 

I’m trying to be happy. But I moved to D.C. to get the great job with all the great international travel perks and the great apartment and the great guy and the great life. 

But it went to her. All of it. 

I just don’t understand the universe right now. 

My grandmother said that a lot, for Christmas’ sake. This year has been such a cluster, I finally get it. 

After Italian Christmas and ham and whatnot, today I needed to get my Jewish on. 

Gram used to take us to Squirrel Hill to Rhoda’s (now Kazansky’s) on New Year’s Eve for corned beef and latkes. And I got to go across the street to Mineo’s for pizza. Which, omg heaven. 

Mom would make us tiny open-faced Reubens on cocktail toast. And Gram and Grampy would enjoy a highball. 

Those were the days. 

I go to Flakowitz now. You may know it from Guy Fieri’s “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives.” I know it for good food and flamingly disappointing service at two out of three locations I frequent. 

Tonight I was in Boynton Beach, a city that is just cursed as far as I am concerned. And instead of eating my sammich normally, I opted to fork-and-knife it. 

And thank god because there was a twist-tie holding my steamed spinach (smothered in about a pound of melted provolone) together.

I give myself credit for not vomiting it up. Am lady, after all. 

I put it on a napkin and handed it to the server. But it’s not like I was seeking a free meal out of it. And I didn’t get one. 

But given the median age of the customer base is about 86, I said a little prayer to thank heaven that I was ok and that it happened to me and not someone who might have choked on it. 

A lady came by and threw a piece of stale cake at me. And the waiter avoided me for a good half-hour before he threw the bill at me. 

Everyone else got to see the dessert tray. And I was hoping for marble cake. Which is the best thing they have. But alas, no dessert choices for me. 

What offended me most is my damn sammich came swimming in onions after I clarified with the server that it did not come with onions. And as he took the bill he said, “You didn’t say no onions on both meals.”

Bullshit I didn’t. I specifIcally said I don’t want an onion in any form to arrive at my table. I’d rather swallow the damn twist-tie than smell an onion for 40 minutes. 

I normally get the matzoh ball soup, but it was a disaster when I got it in Boca last month. I’m pretty much down to Wellington as the only Flakowitz I can deal with. 

Pity. Boynton is the only one with a deli. No corned beef for New Years because I am not spending another penny there for a good long while. 

Maybe I’ll ship a Mineo’s pizza here instead …

I was telling mom, we could have turned on the gas and been dead in here this Christmas, and no one would have noticed. 

Granted, everything is electric. And I couldn’t go an entire day without bitching that the idiot upstairs is building pipe bombs and praying to Mecca over his goddamn karaoke system. But still. 

If two colleagues and two cousins hadn’t reached out, I would have thought we were dead already. I’m still waiting to hear from the handful of people I texted 12 hours ago. 

It’s times like this when you wonder whether any friend or man-friend is good enough. Hanging around waiting for a good one is a lonely business. 

But wine and lasagna never disappoint …

Made the mistake of wearing a little pink Key West tank top and cutoffs on our coldest night of the year. 

But other than the aching bones from my front-row metal bleacher seat beside the Intracoastal Waterway, I had a great night at the Boca Raton boat parade. 

And the cops were friendly! And helpful! I felt safe and welcome. 

Amazing, that. As was this …

It doesn’t feel like Christmas. But that won’t stop me from decorating with festive pierogies. 

  
Or ornaments from both my hometowns. 

  
Or seashells. 

  
The tree is a work in progress. I liked it better when it overlooked the Intracoastal Waterway. This corner next to my couch makes me sad. 

I’ve dreamed of Pittsburgh every night for the past two weeks. I have another Pittsburgh ornament coming in the mail, and a glittery Steelers shirt too. Yay Etsy and eBay for the only presents I will get. 

Except for the wine coming from California of course. That I will actually receive this year because it isn’t going to my house. So there’s that. 

I got a nice note from one of my former boys. So there’s that too. 

I just don’t feel like my higher power and I are on the best of terms right now. I mean I haven’t done anything stupid or evil or anything. But I haven’t attempted anything awesome either. So how can I witness a miracle when I’m not out looking for one? 

And do I even believe in them anymore?

Packing up and leaving town. But first, waiting for breakfast that I will eat in the car because, attack cat. 

One from yesterday …

I don’t know what maid in her right mind sees the “going green” sign on the door — i.e., no service till after I leave, thanks. Because, attack cat inside — and she comes in to put a pleat in the toilet paper and leave me one fresh wash cloth and a $5 gift certificate. 

If you’re going to invade, at least leave a girl some new coffee pods. Sheesh. 

Anyway, it’s my last day and while we have already achieved our bucket list, I have no idea what lies ahead. I have a list but something tells me it will involve more of the same that we’ve done. And that’s ok by me. 

Fort Myers Beach   

Now entering Sanibel  

Beach hair

 A pint of Holiday Cheer (peach, pecan and caramel)

 The Fort Myers beach clock, conveniently next to the parking lot where I’ve spent a small fortune 

Mom made me a shell rose at Bowmans Beach