Meet The Family

Good Lord, does it ever stop? I had mercifully arrived home at Casa Astor early after a lack-luster afternoon of shopping that netted more for others than planned when the phone rang. It is not unusual to see "Jeremy" displayed and I answered quite authoritatively, "Not tonight, Jeremy." (My strength of conviction, was almost erotic.) "I'm in the car with The Family," he said, and I thought for a second, "Mikey, Mark, and Harpo?" when I remembered his entire family had flown down from Massachusetts and he was taking them to The Palace. "He IS the Captain of the Guard, even if he shaves his legs", I thought, and threw on a wrap and headed south.

I can't express how refreshing it was to be around intelligent New Englanders, but I CAN say that "Nana" rocked my ship of state. She was so like my own grandmother: sharp-witted, tough, razor-tongued, and opinionated. "My own brother told me I was the best person he ever drank with", she quipped when Jeremy's mom made a snarky comment about his drinking and he defended himself with having been "...taught by the best."

They stopped by South Beach for a night before taking Jeremy up North and away from the unwashed masses about to descend upon the town. Miami Beach was still today, and the scent of dread filled the air. The first words from whomever you ran into were, "Where are you going?". More than once, I felt the unasked second question, "Will you take me with you?"