Baby Zoomer

 I had a couple Zoom calls this week.  The first one was with the FC boys, but I talked about them last time and they did not give me anything interesting to add here.  Then Thursday we had a good one with the extended family, with my kids and the in-laws and nieces and nephew.  Right off the bat I told my hippie nephew he had to get a haircut, but he took it in the appropriate spirit.  My bro-in-law called in from the road.  He had just played a round at the renowned Merion Golf Club, and I busted his chops by saying it is the type of place I am used to hanging around.  My kids busted his chops for watching the video call while driving.

But let’s not focus on the fact that mine is a family that busts chops.  There is so much more to us than that. I regaled them with a couple stories of my youth, and we discussed nuns of old, which SB1’s girlfriend’s mom, my sister-in-law and I all had to endure.  I was a model child and academic star, so my negative nun interactions were few and far between, but I did tell the Xmas candy story.  Back when I was in 7th or 8th grade, my mom told me I had to bring a box of candy to Sister Claire.  I told her I would not.  She pleaded further that I should do it.  Still I refused.  It was at that point that my soft spoken, gentle, kind mother pinned me against the stairway and said, “You’re bringing the candy, you little SOB”.  I brought the candy.

Since we were on the subject of my nephew’s unruly locks, I also shared a hair story of yore.  When I was 15 or so, my hair had gotten pretty long.  The days of me going with my old man to the barber were over.  By the way, my hair looked fantastic.  Ask the UK.  In any case, my father did not like the look but tolerated it. But then I decided to try out a ponytail.  As I descended the staircase, dear Dad got a glimpse.  “Get that god damn rubber band out of your hair!”.  That was the end of the ponytail experiment.

Gosh, is it all about me?  Mostly, but now let’s talk about the rest of the folks.  SB1 regaled us with tales of his research into the financial goings on of his organization.  It seems that the apple has fallen far from the tree, in that the kid makes a solid effort.  His girlfriend is working hard at her new job and was planning to meet her new workmates face to face for the first time Friday.  They make a cute pair, which comes across even on video.

My bro-in-law rejoined the call when he got home.  We had to call back in because of the 40-minute Zoom limit knocked us off, but we did another 40.  Fortunately, bro-in-law missed the hullabaloo earlier when a glass of wine was knocked down and broken.  My nephew is to blame for this because he got overly excited by my Xmas candy story. Who can blame him?

The whole in-law crew is at the Jersey shore.  We were supposed to be with them, but a pandemic got in our way.  We had an extended discussion as to whether it is safe to fly until my kids and I made a concerted effort to change the subject.  I’m not sure but that may be when I shared the ponytail story.

I had a good chat with my bud The Wig yesterday.  He will be a gampy come November.  The parents to be have just moved into more spacious digs on Cole in SF and his youngest will be moving out here soon as well.  The Wig mentioned that he was unimpressed by my last post.  I’m certainly open to fair and honest criticism and I’m glad he called. His phone number was therefore at the top of my queue, making it easy to find and block. Sadly, I also need to revoke my invite to his daughter to stay at our place during her move.

I did not watch the DNC, but as Trump might say, I heard good things.  I did see Brayden Harrington give his speech and found it moving.  Can you imagine Trump embracing and helping that kid out?  No, you cannot.  I had told the wife that maybe we should catch the RNC shitshow for grins, but the Wig and I agreed yesterday that it would turn our stomachs. On the plus side, slovenly, sunburnt grifter Steve Bannon got his just deserts this week.  I hope they throw the book at the son of a bitch.

Last night, we had The Bankers over along with #1 and Barbie. The discussion naturally veered toward my blog and since Mrs. Banker does not have a bar name, we discussed an alternative.  We bandied about “CPO”, as that is her job title, but I think we need to have further discussion before making it official.  And I want to stress that it is CPO, not C-3PO.

I made the ladies Cosmos and we served Robert’s Market Blackjack tri-tip, which our personal trainer highly recommended.  It is hard to find a personal trainer that is also a gourmand.  My wife whipped up a tasty corn salad.  She has stepped up her game quite a bit lately, at least when we have guests.  I’m still stuck with the quotidian culinary tasks.  Right now, I am working up an Indian chicken dish in the crockpot that should give us at least two meals. We six charter members of the FCMC chatted until about 9:30 and then it was Bedtime for Bonzo.  Everyone had a great time, or at least that is what they told me.

Rain in August

 We are having a rare thunderstorm today, which caused my 9am slot at the posh club pool to be canceled.  Since it is only the outdoor pool that is open, these reservations are coveted.  The first thing I do when I wake up is nail down my slot for three days hence.  I was there earlier this week and after doing several laps, I was leaning on the wall doing some leg exercises.  A woman about my age asked me if I was OK.  I thanked her and explained the exercises, but it got me to asking myself about exactly how decrepit do I look.  Back to today, since I was out and about but couldn’t swim, I decided to go get some cash, but all the ATMs at the corner of Edgewater and E. Hillsdale were out of commission.  Was I born under a bad sign?

So, the wife came back from her trip to Oxnard yesterday afternoon.  We enjoyed some Thai food, and then caught the last two episodes of season 1 of Unforgotten.  We highly recommend this 2015 Brit series.  I had been all by my lonesome since Wednesday, but I managed.  We did have a boy’s Zoom call Wednesday evening which gave me the social contact I crave.  We had a smaller group this time, with #1, TCG and The Belgian.  #2 called in briefly to say that he would not be attending.  I’m not sure who the hell he thinks he is.  The last call he was on he treated us to a lot of road noise from I80.  The Hotelier was not there either, but he did send an insincere apology a few days later.

The Harris VP selection came up during our call and the Belgian engaged #1 for his thoughts.  While #1 acquitted himself nicely, I asked the Belgian if I was chopped liver.  I can play pundit too, damn it.  I also found out that The Belgian had dictated when the boys were going on a hike during our early September trip to Tahoe.  Since when did the Belgian start calling the shots?  Stay in your lane and stick to curing cancer.

We did get an invite to The Belgian’s back deck for the next evening, but I was savoring a little DJ alone time, so I skipped it.  However, I did invite those two over for a Friday evening encounter under the pergola.  I think The Belgian’s wife is going to be working on him to get their front yard redone based on her reaction to our new look backyard.  #1 brought over a $10 bottle of Kirkland Zin which he recently discovered, and it was pretty decent.  The boys went home early for dinner and I put together a cremini mushroom and cheddar cheese omelet, which is one of my go tos when I’m living the bachelor life.

I have been doing a lot of crossword puzzles lately.  Dictionary.com and The L.A. Times are two good dailies, but two a day does not do it for me.  Fortunately, New York magazine also has a winner, but I’ve raided their archives all the way back to early 2019, so I’ll be jonesing soon.  I realize the NYT is the premier puzzle, but we have to pay extra for that, so I’ll have to rework the household budget to come up with an extra $3 per month.  I’m getting pretty good, but when I had to ask myself recently if Warren Buffett was a shaman, I knew I was on the wrong track.

The Yahoo celebrity reporters have been hard at work.  All of these are just from today, and mostly reference skimpy clothing.  I’m grateful they are keeping us apprised. Full disclosure: I did have to look up who Sonja Morgan was.  She’s a 56-year-old from RHONY.  If you don’t know what RHONY stands for, get your shit together.  There was one more item that I came across earlier that I could not retrieve.  It had something to do with some minor celeb’s anklets.  But apparently these particular anklets did not pop like Olivia Culpo’s did.

Heather Graham, 50, sizzles in a green bikini: 'Grateful to get a chance to zen out'

Sonja Morgan Shares Her Sexy Quarantine Lingerie Look: 'Revved Up and Have Nowhere to Go'

Halle Berry skateboards in swimwear to celebrate 54th birthday

Demi Lovato And Max Ehrich’s Kissing Style Says A Lot About Their Relationship

My apologies, but I’m going to have to veer into politics.  POTUS is doing a hell of a number on the USPS.  As multiple pundits said, he’s saying the quiet part out loud when he admits to sabotage regarding mail in voting.  It seems to be working.  My Thursday mail was delivered at 7:15 pm.  He also found time to congratulate QAnon crank Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Bughouse), who looks to be headed for Congress. 

In late breaking news, I was able to snag an 11am slot at the pool today, so I got my exercise in, which I’m sure you are happy about.  I’d like to thank whoever it was that canceled out.

I’ll close with a shout out to my old bud The Phoenix Flyboy.  We hung out in the mid-80s, taking in sparsely populated day games at Candlestick.  He reads the blog on occasion and we had recent “touch base”, as the corporate types say. I’m sure we’ll be getting together some time in the 2020s.  OK folks, time to zen out.