The Departure of the King
I grew up on Dilido Island. The island has a sign where the Venetian Causeway crossed it. As you can imagine, the sign is vandalized often. The next island over is San Marino Island, the sign of which is currently intact but for most of my high school years read "Dan Marino Island." (And no, I had nothing to do with it. I'm not into vandalism, although I will say that I find the "Reverse Curve" sign on Storrow Drive in Boston that was changed to "Reverse the Curse" amusing albeit dangerous for those who don't see the "v" underneath.)
I went running twice on the Venetian Causeway, which must mean we went to Miami this past weekend.* We hadn't planned on a trip to Miami. What we had planned was the Tweedle Twirp coming to visit so Adam and I could go see The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. "Oh, I want to see the Doodlebug!" she said. "I want to come up. But I promised our grandparents that I'd go to Miami soon." "That's fine," I said. "We can see Lord of the Rings in Miami. We'll meet you there." So we made our arrangements to go to Miami, and then find out the Tweedle Twirp can't make it. Suddenly the Littlest Brown finds herself in dissertation mode. I'm not sure when that kicked in, but apparently, it's here, and Adam, Doodlebug, and I found ourselves in Miami. No problem, we said. We'll get my mother to babysit while Adam and I go see the film.
We made our plans. It was playing at the Regal, which is walking distance from my parents' condo, at 12:30 p.m. It's a good time to babysit the Doodlebug because he's in a good mood then and it wouldn't screw up any dinner plans (it's hard to make arrangements around a nearly four-hour movie). Everything's set and we're going to go to the matinee when we check again and... of course the movie left that very day. I know it's been playing for a while but I find it odd that it would leave the theater the week after it received eleven Academy Award nominations. The closest the film was playing was Coco Walk, but it was a 3:40 showing, which not only screwed up our dinner reservations, but was smack in the middle of fussy time (for the Doodlebug, not me. My fussy time isn't until later in the evening). So, instead, Adam and I pretended we were tourists and we walked around Lincoln Road Mall and Ocean Drive and had mid-day drinks at the Clevander Hotel, which has an outdoor bar. It was nice to have a date, especially in such lovely weather (my parents had warned us that it was "cold" in Miami. Yeah. Cold. High in the low 70s, low in the upper 50s. I'm shivering. The Doodlebug is so happy to be able to go out without socks... and pants), but we're both bummed we still haven't seen Lord of the Rings.
*Side story: I told my father I wanted an easy run--I was a little under the weather. He said, "Oh, it's a mile to the Miami Herald building." So I set out around 8 a.m. and decided that I'd also make loops on all the islands to make it a little longer. By the time I was approaching the Herald building, I was so hot and absolutely exhausted. I couldn't believe my little two mile (including the islands) run to this point was taking me so incredibly long! By the time I made it back to the condo, I was absolutely beat and my legs were really tired and it had taken me a whopping 72 minutes, which means I was crawling along (even though it didn't feel like it). I asked my father, "Are you sure it's a mile to the Herald?" "Yes," he said. "I clocked it awhile ago." The next morning Adam came with me for my easy run, which was just to the Herald and back. "Doesn't this feel longer than two miles?" I asked him. "Yeah, it does." After I insisted to my father that it seemed longer, he promised to re-clock it on his way to work. I got a call Monday night: "Yeah, it's 2.2 miles one way. I must have clocked it from the old house." I think my father has Adam's HBS disease: Always certain, often wrong.
I went running twice on the Venetian Causeway, which must mean we went to Miami this past weekend.* We hadn't planned on a trip to Miami. What we had planned was the Tweedle Twirp coming to visit so Adam and I could go see The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. "Oh, I want to see the Doodlebug!" she said. "I want to come up. But I promised our grandparents that I'd go to Miami soon." "That's fine," I said. "We can see Lord of the Rings in Miami. We'll meet you there." So we made our arrangements to go to Miami, and then find out the Tweedle Twirp can't make it. Suddenly the Littlest Brown finds herself in dissertation mode. I'm not sure when that kicked in, but apparently, it's here, and Adam, Doodlebug, and I found ourselves in Miami. No problem, we said. We'll get my mother to babysit while Adam and I go see the film.
We made our plans. It was playing at the Regal, which is walking distance from my parents' condo, at 12:30 p.m. It's a good time to babysit the Doodlebug because he's in a good mood then and it wouldn't screw up any dinner plans (it's hard to make arrangements around a nearly four-hour movie). Everything's set and we're going to go to the matinee when we check again and... of course the movie left that very day. I know it's been playing for a while but I find it odd that it would leave the theater the week after it received eleven Academy Award nominations. The closest the film was playing was Coco Walk, but it was a 3:40 showing, which not only screwed up our dinner reservations, but was smack in the middle of fussy time (for the Doodlebug, not me. My fussy time isn't until later in the evening). So, instead, Adam and I pretended we were tourists and we walked around Lincoln Road Mall and Ocean Drive and had mid-day drinks at the Clevander Hotel, which has an outdoor bar. It was nice to have a date, especially in such lovely weather (my parents had warned us that it was "cold" in Miami. Yeah. Cold. High in the low 70s, low in the upper 50s. I'm shivering. The Doodlebug is so happy to be able to go out without socks... and pants), but we're both bummed we still haven't seen Lord of the Rings.
*Side story: I told my father I wanted an easy run--I was a little under the weather. He said, "Oh, it's a mile to the Miami Herald building." So I set out around 8 a.m. and decided that I'd also make loops on all the islands to make it a little longer. By the time I was approaching the Herald building, I was so hot and absolutely exhausted. I couldn't believe my little two mile (including the islands) run to this point was taking me so incredibly long! By the time I made it back to the condo, I was absolutely beat and my legs were really tired and it had taken me a whopping 72 minutes, which means I was crawling along (even though it didn't feel like it). I asked my father, "Are you sure it's a mile to the Herald?" "Yes," he said. "I clocked it awhile ago." The next morning Adam came with me for my easy run, which was just to the Herald and back. "Doesn't this feel longer than two miles?" I asked him. "Yeah, it does." After I insisted to my father that it seemed longer, he promised to re-clock it on his way to work. I got a call Monday night: "Yeah, it's 2.2 miles one way. I must have clocked it from the old house." I think my father has Adam's HBS disease: Always certain, often wrong.
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