I’d been trying for months to see my family but my sister has been doing a lotta construction on the place so I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving, despite their living in the same city.
But we recently got a chance to head over to wish my mom a Happy Mother’s Day.
Evidently, my mom’s bestie stopped by and dropped off some Greek pastries; the Firecracker never had any so I gave her one of my faves.
The below is a diple from my mom’s BFF – her daughter, Mary, told me the name, which I never knew.
Her: This is so good! Me: Yup, I grew up eating that stuff.
The very first place that I ate at in Queens when we first moved there and I was like eight or nine in the early 80s (!!) was a Greek joint called Fontana’s where I had my very first gyro.
I’ve had gyro/shwarmas all over the world but, to me, Fontana’s is what a gyro should taste like.
And the fact that Greeks like the Surgeon and Steel both agree says a lot – they were both competitive swimmers and they would also hit up Fontana’s whenever they were close.
Figured it was time for the kid and the Firecracker to give it a whirl, so we picked some up on my mom’s dime.
Ordered a pizza and gyros from the very same guy that’s been serving us since at least 1992.
My dad and I used to LOVE going there.
Remember once I had work out in Queens and he picked me up and told me to open the glove compartment with a mischievous grin; inside were two Fontana’s gyros.
I never eat there without thinking of my dad.
Wonder what will remind my kid of me?
Me: What do you think? Son: It’s soooo good! Is it a taco? Me: (laughing) It’s a gyro. But I get why you might think that.
When it comes to legal work, I’m essentially a pencil pusher.
Rarely, if ever, head into court.
In fact, the last time I went to court was five years ago for myself, my son, and former buddy of mine.
This time, I had jury duty, so I woke up cray early one days and headed off to courts downtown.
It was a madhouse down there because of Trump’s trials. The line to get in stretched around the block.
And there were protestors and counter-protestors, which meant at cacophony of chants and yelling.
After a few hours, I was excused, mainly because of my unfortunate situation.
Her: I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Me: I’m sorry to tell you about it. Her: (nodding and folding my letter) You’ll be called again in two years. Me: Then I’ll see you in two years then.
Because the Firecracker’s sister and BIL live in the area, we’re often running into them here and there.
Just the other day, we ran into them while walking past a bar and just joined them.
The Firecracker’s lucky that she lives in the same neighborhood as someone in her immediate family.
I’d like to randomly run into family around the way too, if I could.
But I suppose I’ll just settle for some day-drinking.
Which I’ll need after this past weekend’s nonsense.
Location: a playground, avoiding pigeon poop
Mood: sneezy from the pollen
Music: Yeah, it might go sideways (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
This entry is out of order; back to the regular nuthin in the next entry.
The Firecracker’s dad came into town this weekend and we met up with him on Saturday for a kid’s birthday party.
It was fine for the most part but then a parent snapped at my kid when he tried to break a piñata with his foot when it fell down – like an 8 year old kid understands why whacking a piece of cardboard with a stick is ok but kicking it isn’t – and destroyed him in front of all the other kids.
It pretty much set the mood for the rest of the weekend for us.
He’d never cried at a birthday party before and, of course, it had to happen during the weekend of Mother’s Day and his mom’s birthday.
Obviously, there’s no way for the other parent to have known that.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she couldn’t have known and that she was a mom, I woulda been arrested.
Still, he was fine after a spell because I raised him to be resilient, but – man – I was steamed.
Him: She said I did it on purpose, but I didn’t. I was trying to help. (sadly) I’m the worst kid. Me: Don’t ever say that. She doesn’t know you at all. You’re the best kid mom or I could ever ask for. Him: Really? Me: Honest and for true.
We then went to have dinner with the Firecracker’s family at a local taco joint that I’d been to before and then called it a night.
The next morning, despite it being Mother’s Day, the Firecracker got up bright and early to make her family and us a killer brekkie with a baked blueberry and apple oatmeal dish and a baked fritatta with feta and bacon.
The oatmeal bar
My kid liked it so much, he asked for seconds of everything and also asked for more the next day.
God, I love that kid – he’s just like me where we eat our feelings.
We all chatted at my place for hours until we had to meet up with the ABFF for dinner and to remember Alison.
This was probably the worst birthday/Mother’s Day yet for the kid because he feels the loss now.
Being humiliated and yelled at a birthday party probably didn’t help matters.
It was the hardest one for me for a while because it hit the kid so hard.
Him: (looking up at the ballon) How do we know she’ll get it? Me: We hope. Him: (nodding) I hope she knows I miss her. Me: She knows. I’m sure she knows
Teacher: …that’s so great to hear about your mom! Who’s next? What about you, tell us about your mom (points at my son). Him: She’s dead. Her: What?! Him: She’s dead. She died when I was a baby. Her: (flustered) Oh, oh…I… Him: Not everyone has a mother, [teacher’s name].
He’s way too mature for his age.
I fucking hate it, sometimes.
Mother Day sucks for the kid and myself.
Wrote his teachers and his afterschool instructors as well to remind them of our situation and I guess this teacher didn’t get the memo.
My kid was pretty fucked up when I got him.
Him: It’s not fair. Me: It’s not. Him: Why is she dead? Me: (sighing) I wish I could give you a good answer.
Once again, Mother’s Day and Alison’s Birthday fall on the same day.
Which is about as shitty a coincidence as I could imagine.
Years ago…
Me: …being poor and hungry again, I think. And you? What are you most afraid of? Alison: (thinking) Being forgotten, I suppose. Me: (laughing) Well, as long as I’m alive, there’s little chance of that.
Yeah, as long as the kid and I are alive – for better or worse – there’s little chance of that.
Her: Nectarines. Me: Nectarines?! Nectarines are the oatmeal raisin cookie of the fruit world; no one picks up a nectarine hoping it’s a nectarine. Everyone hopes it’s peach and accept it’s a nectarine – just like people think it’s a chocolate chip cookie and accept it’s actually an oatmeal raisin cookie. Her: (shaking head) Nope! Not me, I prefer nectarines. Me: And just how long have you been a communist? Her: A long time, apparently.
Right after we got back from LA, RE Mike invited us to one of the opening nights of the new musical, The Heart of Rock and Roll, which was with songs by Huey Lewis and the News.
I grew up listening to Huey, so I was looking forward to it; the last musical he got us into was pretty fun, so I expected the same.
This time, we got four tix so the Firecracker’s sister and BIL could come.
Of course, because it was RE Mike, the tix were great seats and comped.
While we were waiting for them on the line, we saw this reality show being filmed with a classic checkered cab.
You can see in the pic below the little camera attached to the rear trunk – the larger fella to the left to the cab kept people moving as the young lady did her bit and “hailed” the cab.
Me: There’s always something going on in the big city. Her: Seriously.
When we finally got in, the Firecracker’s sister and BIL immediately bought everyone drinks, which we definitely appreciated, and then we saw the show.
Honestly, I’m a sucker for a optimistic and upbeat show. Life is sad enough as it to go out to be entertained with a lotta sadness and downbeats.
Me: This is so much better than the last musical we saw. Her: Which one was that? Firecracker: Merrily we roll along – neither of us really enjoyed it.
This was just a lot more mindless and fun. Which was what we were all in the mood for.
We didn’t really get a chance to enjoy our hotel at all so, for our last day, we decided to just spend a relaxing morning, lounging about.
Besides Lucky Boy, the other thing I always try to have when I’m in LA is a Fatburger – well, as luck would have it, there was one just down the street from our hotel room.
This may, or may not, have been planned.
Now, the Firecracker had been watching this really cool documentary about donuts – called The Donut King, about an immigrant who made a donut empire but decided to teach other immigrants how to do the same to better their lives – so I also went to the store named the Donut King right next door to FatBurger to get us some donuts and some heart attack sammies.
So, I left bright and early on the morning we were heading back to pick up some loot.
That’s me enjoying my 1/2-pound Fatburger with sweet potato fries. It was everything I’d hope it’d be.
We closed out the morning in the lobby with our Donut King donuts and a $10 cuppa coffee.
Me: That was $10?! Jesus Christ. Did you get a massage with it? Her: Nope, just the coffee. Me: (shakes head)
We had time to kill but we were pretty California-ed out so we hopped an Uber to the airport, where we just sat around and bickered over nachos until it was time to leave.
Six hours – and one incredibly smelly seatmate with next-level BO – later, we were home in the middle of the night.
Her: That was a fun trip, but I’m traveled out now. Looking forward to just staying home for a little bit. Me: Same.
The next day, we woke up pretty early and headed out to Santa Monica.
The Firecracker’s kid is obsessed with trains and wanted pictures/videos of the LA metro system so, for the first time in my life, I took the Los Angeles Subway.
We got onto the Wilshire/Western Station and tried to pay with a TAP card that we bought but it didn’t work so I jumped the turnstile.
Me: Never thought I’d be jumping turnstiles at 51. Her: Just don’t get arrested! Me: Well, we paid for the fare, the reader just couldn’t read it.
I don’t feel guilty about it because of that.
The station itself was a ghost town. The Firecracker was decidedly less enthused than her son woulda been.
Her: Well, I took pictures and video. We can just go back up and take an Uber. Me: We’re in it. We might as well head out to Santa Monica on this. Her: OK, well, if nothing else, we’re saving a ton, and you can get some writing done. Me: This is very true.
So, we did.
It was pretty quick, but also much less trafficked than what we were used to back home in NYC.
Me: I think LA people are self-selecting, which is why no one uses the subway here. Her: How so? Me: I assume most people that decide to live in LA love the sun and outdoors, which is why they come here. Well, these types of people are probably not keen on traveling around underground and away from the sun.
The room was nice; we splurged for it since we spent two nights with my bro.
Me: The shampoo is peppermint, the conditioner is cilantro, and the body wash is sage. Her: Great, you’ll smell like a salad. Me: Luckily, that’s precisely what I was going for.
Once we got there, my good buddy Lorin – from whom I got the name of the character for 72nd to Canal – swung by to pick us up.
I’d last gone to Versailles Cuban like two decades ago with my buddies Francis and Cindy.
Wanted the Firecracker to try the food there, so off we went.
Unfortunately, there was a massive bike ride for earth day, so we had to spend quite a while trying to find parking et al, eventually cutting through a street fair…
…before we were finally able to eat.
The food was just as delicious as I remembered it.
Gotta remember to go to things again before decades go by.
Afterward, Lorin drove us to the Original Muscle Beach at Santa Monica because he’s a former acrobat and still keeps his skills sharp, despite pushing 50, like me.
Me: Can we watch you do some acrobatics? Him: You two are gonna do some with me!
He wasn’t lying.
Me: Combined, we’re 100 years old! I think we look great, all things considered. Firecracker: You’re the tower of old! Me: Thanks.
Afterward, we went to walk the pier but not before watching the cops arrest a fella for selling BBQ outta a supermarket cart without a license.
Me: If nuthin else, you gotta admire the hustle. Her: Very true.
After we watched that for a bit, we made our way to the pier…
…where we saw a fella banging out some Louis Armstrong and Prince…
…and made another furry friend…
…who seems to have seen better days.
But it was cloudy and overcast…
…so, we walked over to the Promenade where we saw someone driving on the street in a boat.
We walked to a bar where we grabbed a quick drink, or three…
…and checked out the Promenade, including watching some buskers (see, more hustle)…
…and meeting my mannequin doppelganger…
…before heading back to the beaches of Santa Monica to meet up with my buddy Paul, his wife, and their kids.
Him: You know, I think I have the single worst nickname out of your blog. Me: It wasn’t my best work, no. Firecracker: He tries.
After that, very full day, we were looking forward to heading home.
I was trying to fix something on the camera when the Firecracker accidentally hit the shutter button.
Location: A NYC playground surrounded by kids and pigeons. Not sure which I find more taxing.
Mood: caffeinated
Music: How I hate to spend the evening on my own (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
My brother was in NYC recently and the Firecracker and I decided to head back with him to LA just because we both had a little time, and she had some frequent flier miles to use up.
The issue was that she had to be in CT for work that morning, so she picked me up from my pad at 2:17 to make a 5:03 flight.
Unfortunately, traffic was ridonk so we cut it pretty close.
Still, we got there just in time and even managed to meet up with my brother at the airport.
My brother had priority with security via TSA Precheck so we all ended up at the gate at the same time.
After we got settled in the plane…
Him: You want something to drink? Me: Nah, we’re ok. Him: I’m buying. Me: Then, yes.
Our flight was completely boring and uneventful – in other words, perfect.
Six-some-odd-hours later, my brother’s wife came to pick us up.
Him: I told her to look for the guy in a bright red leather jacket. Firecracker: Would you wear a bright red leather jacket? Him: I never even thought that I’d associate with someone that owned a bright red leather jacket.
We crashed pretty hard that night, waking up at 5AM LA time, 8AM our time.
The Firecracker likes to do things like go on scavenger hunts so she arranged for one for the four of us to do – me, her, my kid, and her kid.
So early on a Saturday morning, we went off to try our hand at it.
Unfortunately, neither boy was really into it and the weather was pretty lousy – rainy, cold, and grey – so after a few hours, we called it.
Although, not before the kids managed to find a playground to play a little.
As for me, I found something to keep my interest.
Me: You don’t see that very often in Manhattan anymore. Her: What? Me: An ivy-covered building.
It was good that we ended early, though. Because my kid had his first talent show later on that day.
The person organizing the event has known my son since he was only 18 months old and had wanted him to sing and play the guitar the year before but he didn’t want to, and I didn’t wanna force him.
But this year, he said he wanted to do it – despite having a good friend’s birthday party to go to at the same time.
Now, much as I enjoyed my son’s rendition of 7 Years, he’s spent the last month or so practicing for his school’s talent show, where he was the second act outta maybe 30 something.
Told him that I was super proud of him – he’s only 8 but is calmer in front of an audience than I am, and certainly far more talented – and I told him he could have anything he wanted for dinner.
Him: Did you really think I did a good job? Me: Definitely. It was pretty clear to everyone that you practiced hard. But the most important thing is, do you think you did a good job? Him: (thinking) Yes? People were clapping along. Me: They were. Are you proud of yourself? Him: Yes! Me: Good! Because that’s the most important thing.
