It made me think of events that have happened during COVID- happy and sad- and how they’ve changed how we mark these occasions. My neighbor Bernie had a medical emergency on the last day of a family cruise in December 2019. He was medevaced to a hospital, where he lingered for months before finally coming home, and dying at age 90. I felt terrible, of course, but there was no funeral to attend. I read his obituary in the paper and dropped off a card and cookies to his widow Maggie; I couldn’t help but think what an awful time it was to die under these circumstances.

We can’t gather together for comfort, give hugs, or drop off dishes to eat together while sharing stories of loved ones. The coming together to celebrate or mourn, has changed drastically in the time of COVID. It’s not like I enjoy attending funerals (who does?), but I GET them more now. That ritual, that tradition of paying one’s respects to the deceased, seeing them one last time, saying a prayer in front of their casket, causes a finality in our brain that allows us to process the loss as real. Without it, it’s almost like a tree falling in the forest.

By the pool in the Keys yesterday, I was talking to a neighbor about COVID.

“I hate COVID.”

she said.

“Join the club.”

I said.

But we were talking about things we were supposed to do this year that got cancelled- she had her niece’s wedding (postponed, but eventually happened), we had a niece’s wedding in August (postponed till next year). We also had an Alaskan cruise (who knows when that will happen?), two graduations, four birthdays, Zeke’s 40th year class reunion, the list goes on and on.

“Everyone has some story,” said her husband.

Some story of something important that didn’t happen, was cancelled or postponed, due to COVID. Sadly, I don’t think we’ll ever get that back. Sometimes it feels like 2020 is the year that didn’t happen, a mirage we’ve imagined that will sink into the recesses of our unconscious.

It’s not like sitting in a hot, crowded auditorium for hours with a bunch of strangers, waiting for your child’s name to be called and walk across the stage to pick up their diploma, was something I was looking forward to, but it does mark an occasion. It’s a ritual that designates the importance of four years of hard work and study, signified by moving the tassel to the other side of the mortar board. And then, throwing the caps up into the air in celebration. Having a family dinner at home, even while forcing said graduate to dress up in a black graduation cap and gown, is simply NOT the same. I miss the Pomp and Circumstance, I even miss the song. Who knew?

It’s a perfect example of how you never know the things you’ll miss until they’re gone. Now, a lot of things we took for granted are gone. Retail stores we loved, restaurants we ate at, businesses we frequented, even the Saturday edition of the Miami Herald are finis.

When I flew for Air Florida, we’d been living with rumors of Bankruptcy and Going out of Business for a long time, it eventually just became like the white noise that buzzed in the background on my flights. It had gotten so bad, a friend and fellow flight attendant of mine, Lori, had come up with our own new slogan for Air Florida- “Who gives a f**k?” Then in July, I had a flight (can’t remember where), with a classmate from my training class (Cathy something) and, after that flight, I came home as usual. The next day, Air Florida declared bankruptcy and I never flew, as a flight attendant, again. The only thing I do remember about my flight is that I had breakfast at a Bob’s Big Boy. But, the point is, had I known it was going to be my LAST FLIGHT I would’ve savored every moment of it- the demanding passengers, the crying babies, even that smell of the airplane when you walked onto an empty plane. And had I known that the last time I saw my neighbor Bernie in December, was going to be the last time I would see him ever, I would’ve said something better than “Hey” in passing him on the street we shared, as he walked his little dog Lizzie. Regrets, I have a few.

So that’s why, last week I decided to mark some occasions and not let them slip away unnoticed in this incredibly strange year of 2020. Kate and Tug, my niece and her husband, decided to move back to Portland, Oregon after a year in Miami with their adorable baby Lou, and two dogs Kobe and Wagyu. They’d had a hard time adjusting to Miami, with Kate working at a fellowship at Jackson Hospital and Tug, working remotely from home for his employer in Boston. Then, COVID hit. Tug got offered a better job, with more money that will pay for him to go back to school and Kate got offered another Fellowship by her old boss at her old hospital in Portland. They put their house in the Gables on the market. It sold in one day, with five back-up offers and, that was that.

“Will you ask us over for dinner parties?” Kate asked me when they moved to Miami, last summer.

“Of course!” I said.

And we did have them over right after they moved. But, since COVID, I haven’t seen Kate, since she was being very cautious and worked at a hospital. I asked them over for a final dinner last Wednesday before they left for Portland. She suggested Surf and Turf- the same thing I’d served the last time- because she likes Turf and Tug likes Surf. Dinner was some Grilled Garlic Shrimp (Martha Stewart) with Grilled Hanger Steak (Zeke Guilford), Ina’s Make Ahead Goat Cheese Mashed Potatoes and Roasted Brussel Sprouts (Ina). Appetizers were simple- sliced cucumbers, salami and Cheese Crackers (The Splendid Table) and dessert was homemade ice cream with biscotti (The Last Course). Dinner was precisely from 5 to 7, to fit in Lou’s schedule (who was a perfect baby, but started yawning towards the end) and then, just as suddenly as they came, Tug and Kate were gone.

Thursday marked the return to UM Football and Zeke and I went over to Justin’s Brickell apartment with A.J. and Justin’s family to watch the game and eat tacos. The appetizers were wiped out before I arrived. I brought fresh salsa and black beans (which no one seemed to eat), but the Lobster Tacos were excellent. I also brought my own Margarita, a version of one I’d had at at Agave, a Mexican restaurant in Delaware, which featured Ancho Chile Bitters. I was excited to see Wyatt’s room, where he’s been living the last six months since the Pandemic hit, and it was nice reconnecting with Justin’s family. We left at halftime. U.M. won.

Friday night we celebrated the last hurrah of Summer (Fall starts the 22nd!) by having Emma and her boyfriend Gui over for “Camp” with Wyatt. She misses Wyatt, since he no longer lives here and neither does Emma, who moved to her own apartment earlier this summer. Wyatt swam, we played Water Balloon Toss (which didn’t really work because the balloons seemed unbreakable) and then we ate a Summery Dinner of Grilled Cheeseburger Sliders, Corn off the cob, Baked Beans, Pasta Salad (Ina) and slices of chilled watermelon. Dessert was S’mores, with marshmallows toasted in the fireplace.

We then told Spooky (G-rated-stories) in the living room and played with some light-up rockets Emma had gotten for Wyatt outside, in the front yard. Emma and Guillermo left, exhausted. I’d mentioned to Wyatt that we might sleep in a tent outside for Camp, but luckily he forgot about that (it was SO hot!). I gave him a bath and put him to bed, in the delicious Air Conditioning.

Saturday, we had Martha and Luis over for Duck Breasts she’d ordered for D’ Artagnan. She also brought a bottle of champagne and I served Fresh Figs stuffed with a gorgonzola cheese and topped with crispy prosciutto for hors d’oevres. I served Mashed Potatoes and Roasted Asparagus (Joy of Cooking) with the Duck a l’orange (Martha Stewart), which Zeke scored, then seared in the cast iron skillet. I also made a Watercress and Arugula Salad with toasted almonds, dried cranberries and a honey lime vinaigrette, to add a bit of brightness and acidity to the meal. Dessert was homemade ice cream, this one a delicious Sweet Corn Ice Cream, with a Blackberry compote and a crunchy Rose Water Meringue (all The Last Course.)

I’m glad I celebrated all these events last week. It takes effort, but it’s worth it and I want to live with less regrets and more gusto. And the next time I go to a funeral, I will do so with gratitude that I’m able to properly say goodbye to a loved one, the next time I attend a graduation, I will stand up and clap the loudest and longest and, when I attend Lindsay’s wedding next summer in Massachusetts, I will have my dancing shoes on and dance like there’s no tomorrow, because there may not be.

Like Robin Williams (as John Keating) in Dead Poet’s Society said:

“We are food for worms, lads. Carpe Diem! Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.”

John Keating

In other words, give a f**k. Drag out the good china, polish the silver, clean the crystal, make special meals for people you love, celebrate the big things and the small things. Even in a time of COVID, this is possible.

Up Next: My favorite Grilled Shrimp Recipe.

After years of dreaming, scheming, researching and longing, we finally bit the bullet and bought a boat! A brand new boat, at that- just out of it’s cute, white wrappers. She’s 24 feet long, weighs 4,800 pounds, is seafoam green, powered by twin 150 Yamahas, surname Robalo, nickname ‘Bout Time! Hasn’t been delivered by the stork yet (financing involved) but we’ve reserved a little spot to park her in our boat yard when she makes her grand entrance.

We’ve had a condo in Key Largo for five years and after having exhausted all on-land activities, we started talking a while ago about getting a boat. When you talk about getting a boat EVERYBODY has an opinion on what type, what size, how many engines, the brand etc…I’ve never had so much unsolicited (and conflicting) advice offered in my life on any subject and that includes raising children.

We’ve visited boatyards, looked at websites, flipped through magazines, taken rides on other people’s boats, even went to the Miami Boat Show last January (before the world shut down); we talked to a yacht broker about what kind of boat we wanted, so he could be on the lookout. It was this Yacht Broker- my childhood friend Micheal Brill- who put us in touch with Todd at Unique Marine, to finally buy our boat.

“I’ve never seen it like this in all my life,” said Todd. “It’s crazy. There are no boats anywhere.”

As he walked us through the boatyard to see the new boat, he said “That one’s sold, and that one, and that one.”

“Why?” Zeke asked.

“People aren’t going to Europe this summer and need something to do. And the manufacturers shut down for months, so there’s less boats available than ever.”

Obviously, after that sales pitch and the fact it was a beautiful boat, we took the bait and plunked down a chuck of cash for a new Robalo. Zeke reasoned it will probably be our first and last boat since we’re getting older and he didn’t want to inherit someone else’s problems. I reluctantly agreed. Because while some kids are semi-off the payroll, one is starting a Masters in Law program this Fall, one (hopefully) a Nursing Program at U.M. soon and the last wants to go to U.M. Graduate School, all pricey options, so it’s not like we’re rolling in dough.

But, Zeke reasoned, it’s like having kids. If you wait for the perfect time, it’s never going to happen. I agreed, but on the way home, he’s the one who kept saying “I can’t believe I bought a boat!” and talked about how he wasn’t a person prone to impulsive decisions.

“Listen”, I said, “You’ve been talking about buying a boat for years. You’ve researched it thoroughly, know exactly what kind of boat you want and finally pulled the trigger. This is actually the OPPOSITE of an impulse buy!”

And so it was. Zeke was in shock the rest of the day, I kept trying to talk him off the ledge and he started drinking Iguana Bait beer from his Kegorator- “Either to celebrate or to forget the fact I just bought a boat!”

Meals this week nothing to write home about- they were mostly either left overs or take-out. I refashioned my Spaghetti Sunday meatballs and sausages into Meatball and Sausage Subs. I heated them up in extra sauce and put them on a Martin’s Potato Bun with sautéed bell peppers and shredded mozzarella. The potato roll was too soft for this kind of sandwich. It needed a hard, crusty Italian roll to hold up to the meat. In making sandwiches, I feel picking the right type of bread is a crucial decision, as well as the bread-to-filling ratio. You don’t want to overwhelm the filling with too much bread, just enough to complement and support it.

I found a recipe for “Easiest Ever Mango Sorbet” in my inbox and since I had the ingredients- mango, sugar and condensed milk- I gave it a whirl. I put it into my ice cream maker and it came out tasting like… frozen condensed milk, with hard, frozen mango chucks. Sometimes “easiest ever” recipes are surprisingly good. This one was not.

On Wednesday, I went to Footworks to buy a new pair of running shoes. I like to support local businesses and Footworks is my local running shoe store. The nice lady and I both wore masks as she looked up my info on the computer. She then measured my foot.

Seven and a half- your right foot’s bigger than your left. You have a wide foot and your arches have fallen. They’re not those high and perky arches you had years ago.

Footworks Lady

Yeah lady, like everything else on my body, they’re no longer high and perky. Got it. I tried on several pairs of shoes and settled on a pretty pair of rose gold Asics, size seven and a half.

“I can’t believe I’m a seven and a half,” I lamented to the sales lady.

I almost brought out an eight,” she said.

“Eight!” I gasped. Sacre bleu!

I can’t explain why I care so much that my foot’s grown from a size six to an almost eight. I have to blame it on a Nancy Drew mystery I read as a child where the heroine has a size five foot and a big deal was made in associating her small shoe size with her daintiness and femininity. The other footprint discovered in the book couldn’t have been hers because it was huge, clodhopper size (size 8), so I’ve developed this aversion to having large feet. Damn you Carolyn Keene!

Anyway, on the upside, I got a 10% discount at Cecile’s Bakery with a receipt from Footworks. You need to be wearing running clothes and show your receipt in order to get the discount. I ordered a cup of their Zucchini Cilantro soup and a Tuna Salad sandwich, with the croissant on the side so it wouldn’t get soggy. Both soup and sandwich were very good and I stretched the tuna salad into leftovers for days, by adding a can of tuna to the leftover tuna, as it was heavy on the mayo.

Speaking of sandwiches, I made myself a BLT last week and I have to say it’s simply a delicious, classic sandwich, just the way it is. It needs no update or a reboot, no arugula lettuce instead of iceberg or, (heaven forbid) turkey bacon to make it healthier. A couple crunchy and salty bacon strips, contrast with refreshing lettuce leaves, topped with sweet slices of juicy, beefsteak tomatoes (seasoned with salt and pepper), all snuggled into lightly toasted bread (mine was rye), which has been slathered with some good mayonaisse. Slice in half and take a bite of heaven in a sandwich!

While we’re on the subject, is there a more comforting meal than soup and a sandwich? I don’t think so. While homemade soup is great, canned or boxed soup is perfectly good, and so much easier. For Italian soups, like Split Pea or Italian Wedding, I like Progresso, but lately I’ve been into the pureed Trader Joe’s soups, like Butternut Squash, Carrot Ginger or Tomato Basil. I usually doctor it up a bit with a dash of cayenne, some snipped chives or a plop of sour cream, but with a sandwich, it makes a wonderful and easy dinner.

The all time pits of a meal this week had to be Friday night. I hesitate to even call it dinner. Zeke arrived in the Keys Friday afternoon and we went to Sharkey’s Bar and Grill for Happy Hour. We ordered two glasses of Pinot Grigio and a Tuna Poke to split, which the waitress recommended. She was complaining about people who refused to wear masks while walking around the restaurant, which is required by Monroe County.

“If they don’t want to wear a mask, they should just leave,” she said.

We agreed, she then went on to complain about the new restaurant guidelines that don’t require two negative COVID tests after a restaurant employee has been sick. Now, if employees have been symptom-free for 10 days, they can just come back to work. She said a lot of Keys restaurants that originally opened had to close, re-opened and are now closed again (like the Pilot House) because of cases of COVID. She said it’s exhausting dealing with the anti-maskers and fear of catching COVID; she doesn’t really want to come back to work with the new regulations, but she needs the money to survive.

After eating our Tuna Poke, I asked Zeke if he wanted something else to eat. He said no, which was unusual for him to want so little for dinner. “Really?” I said.

I have a confession to make. I stopped and got a brisket sandwich at that Bar-B-Que food truck when I went out today.

Zeke

We were meeting friends for drinks at Snooks, so we left Sharkey’s and sat at the bar with Doug and Heidi. They’d already eaten, so we just kept drinking wine. Zeke did ask me several times if I wanted any dinner, but I didn’t want to eat alone, and by the time Heidi pulled out some peanut brittle her Mom had sent from Pennsylvania, that was dessert. When we returned home to watch our murder mystery, I told Zeke that was the pits of a Friday night date. “Half a tuna poke and peanut brittle!”, I complained. I also accused him of being a “sandwich sneaker.” Which he is.

On the way home from buying our boat, Zeke passed the turn for our condo.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He took me to get my own Brisket Sandwich, “Otherwise I will never hear the end of it,” he said. It was a tasty and filling sandwich- five slices of juicy, peppery brisket meat on a potato bun with two bar-b-que sauces- spicy and golden- with ruffled chips and a finely minced coleslaw, which I threw on my sandwich. It was $10, at Mike’s Bar-B-Que food truck on the bayside near one of those Swim with the Dolphins places. MM 101.

Saturday night Zeke cooked me Ground Lamb Kebabs, with a cucumber dill yogurt sauce. He watched the video of the chef, Richard Blais, prepare them and he shaped his Kebabs on a sword, a very dramatic (and potentially fatal) presentation. Since we were clean out of swords, Zeke used skewers to put the meat mixture with herbs, spices and onions on and grilled them. They kind of fell apart, but he salvaged them off the grill. I made couscous and a Greek salad to go with it. The Koobideh (meat kabobs) were good but we both agreed it lacked pizazz, and could’ve used the Middle Eastern hot sauce (Shrug) I’d made at home. I liked it best the next day, plunked into a soft Na’an bread, with some yogurt sauce, jalapeños and cilantro. Can you tell I’m on a sandwich kick?

I was down in the Keys myself from Wednesday on and found myself watching Friends and Everyone Loves Raymond, the comfort food of TV viewing. In other TV news, The Bachelorette changed from Claire Crawley to Tayisha, supposedly because Clair found love right away during lockdown, so good for her! She was already making Bachelor history as the first “older” Bachelorette at age 39 (which is depressing), now this- the most dramatic season ever! This probably isn’t big news in most households, but it was in ours as we love our Bachelorette Mondays, although now it’s going to be on Tuesdays. Is nothing sacred? And I started my new book for Book Club- Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. So far, so good and it won a Nobel Prize for Literature, so there’s that.

August is Rose Month and I can get down with that. I’ve been leaving a bottle of the pink stuff in the freezer with a frosted wine glass, while I go on my walk, so by the time I return and pour myself some, it’s like a rose slushy. So refreshing! Iconic Cuban restaurant Rio Cristal, best known for their thin steak (or bistec) served with a mountain of crunchy, skinny fries atop it, is closing after 46 years in business. They just couldn’t survive the Pandemic! So sad, but they will be open until the end of August should you want to visit one last time. And in more Bad News, this Hurricane Season is supposed to be “one of the strongest seasons ever with 25 storms predicted,” according to the Miami Herald. I actually consider this good news, since whenever they predict a super active Hurricane Season, a hurricane never hits Miami. Yes, today is Opposite Day.

In dramatic news of the week…

Someone in our household had possible exposure to COVID, due to her roommate’s brother testing positive for it. This doesn’t seem like a big deal, but the roommate’s brother actually LIVES with them. Here’s the thing about Millenials (or whoever) thinking it’s no big deal to get COVID. Hopefully, it will work out for you, but you may have exposed someone else, who then goes into a house with a: Mom and Dad, a sister, a housekeeper (who goes home to her own husband, children and grandchildren), a daughter and grandchild, so it’s not just YOU that is affected. It’s whoever you’re around and then, whoever they’re around, and so on. Seven degrees of Kevin Bacon. So, as I rewound every conversation and meal shared with said person while I was in Miami, the roommate’s brother got two negative tests (how does this happen?), as did she. So, crisis averted, but it was scary and Florida is still in the red zone of COVID hot spots.

School starts soon for some children in Miami, including my grandson Wyatt. He starts his pre-school, in person, five days a week, at the end of the month. I worry less about him getting sick, then I do his teachers or other adults working at the school, although I know they will take every precaution possible to keep everyone safe. Normally, at this time of the Summer I’m thinking about getting in shape for tennis season, excited about UM football and tailgating at Hard Rock Stadium and looking forward to events, parties and galas that kick into gear in the Fall. This year, not so much.

I’ve gotten hotels for our Road Trip to D.C. at the end of the month and none of states we’re visiting are hot spots for Corona. We are staying in a lot of historic hotels and I’m planning on eating bunches of crab cakes and oysters, plus, I’ll be checking three more states (West Virginia, Maryland and Delaware) off my bucket list. Yipee!

And by the time we return to the Keys for Labor Day weekend, hopefully our boat will be delivered and I can perfect my blender drink recipes and cleat hitch for docking. Instead of lacing up my tennis shoes, I’ll be lacing up my new running shoes for long walks around the Sanctuary. Instead of wings and beer for UM Football games, I’ll be serving sautéed fresh fish we’ve caught ourselves with chilled white wine. And instead of shopping for a fancy dress and high heels for a gala, I’ll be sporting my quarantini bikini, and wearing comfy flip flops on my seven and a half, fallen-arched, clodhopper feet. Crank up The Beach Boys because this Fall’s my new Endless Summer.

Little Surfer, little one. Made my heart come all undone. Do you love me? Do you Surfer Girl?

Beach Boys

Up Next: Quarantine Projects