Yesterday, it was sunny and in the upper ’70s and we had a lovely ride on my cousin’s boat, the Triple Play, with the usual Miami crew, Cap’t Stoney and Claudia; Oliver, Jennifer, and kids; Rachel and Bill with T. Rex and Pad; Teener Tuna with her daughter Billie (which I think is a much better name than Elfin Girl); my aunt and her husband; and my other cousin, Shannon, and her clan. We drank, we ate, we floated and swam in the Intracoastal. The night before my cousins (Oliver and Jennifer) threw their annual New Year’s party, and it was spectacular.
In addition, while in Miami Beach, we: went to the Seaquarium (where Pie got splashed in the dolphin show and had a complete meltdown), played at the Children’s Museum and the Museum of Discovery and Science (where Doodles and T. Rex ran wild and Pie and Pad eyed each other suspiciously), visited Jungle Island (where Pie insisted when we went to the reptile show, “No get splashed!”), had spa days at the Standard (yes, “we”–Adam had a “girl date” with Oliver over the weekend; note: Adam objects to the term “girl date.” Let me rephrase it: Adam and my cousin had massages, sat in a steam bath and sauna, and lounged around a pool wearing robes. What would you call it?), watched the King Mango Strut (where, thankfully, Doodles didn’t ask what “Bushes Against Bush” really meant), had multiple cafe con leches at David’s and ice creams at the Frieze, played in the sand at the beach, swam pretty much daily in my parents’ pool, had multiple meals out, and walked to Lincoln Road Mall, well sometimes twice a day. Adam and I got some grown-up time out. The kids got lots of grandparent time.
And now? Now it’s time to return to weather forecasts of “high of 17” and to wonder just how much we’ll have to shovel out to get the car back in the driveway. Now it’s time to insist our children start wearing clothes again. Now it’s time to stop having that nightly glass of bourbon (Adam) and cognac (me). Now it’s time to stop daydreaming about those houses we saw for sale…
In a matter of hours, Miami Beach is going to be a distant memory again. Sigh. Happy freakin’ new year. Now go dig out the snow shovel.
