Adjustments and Overdue Justice

I believe I’ve finally recovered from the departure of my “kids” and the granddaughters. It was not easy. There are constant reminders. I walked down to the beach on Sunday and found three sets of pink flip flops they were supposed to take home with them. Gathering their wide flung assortment of accoutrement was a major task for their parents so it is understandable they missed some. We’ll bring them home with us as they probably won’t have much use for them back in the snowy Northeast until that time anyways. I also found a toothpaste encrusted sink in the guest bathroom that had me misty eyed, remembering the chaos of bedtime when all three had to brush teeth while being herded towards bed. The biggest reminder, however, is the door to the balcony which is liberally festooned with finger marks (at granddaughter levels). I’ll have to clean them off soon but I’m reluctant because, well, you understand.

Beloved Handprints on the Doors

The biggest adjustment I’ve faced is regaining a normal level of energy. I haven’t worked out each morning as I usually do since their arrival, you would think that would give me extra energy to spend. That is without knowing my granddaughters. I’ve called them “energy vampires” in the past because they somehow sap my energy while increasing their own to achieve a completely unfair imbalance of energy levels. I never fully recovered from the energy drain getting ready for my Favorite Panamanian’s birthday party and the granddaughters were not going to allow me any leeway in that regard. I would still trade my recovered vigor for a few more minutes with any of the departed family.

Forgotten Flip Flops

On the Beach This Morning
While I was Reading

It’s rare that I agree with our commander in chief, for obvious reasons. I also must admit to a huge blind spot when it comes to Iran. That was born out of the humiliation of the hostage crisis which the worst president of my lifetime allowed to happen (he should have stuck to growing peanuts or building houses). I had just joined the Army when that happened, and it has always stuck in my craw that this third-rate country felt empowered to hold our hostages. Subsequent presidents absorbed the almost continuous baiting, allowing Iranian UN diplomats to perform reconnaissance in the US for future terrorist attacks. So, I was more than a little pleased to see the bombs finally dropping on Tehran and taking out the medieval wickedness of the ayatollah. I always felt Iran would make a great parking lot.

Ayatollah's Scene of Final Justice

Iran created a death cult over the years since the hostage crisis where “Death to America” chants were part of the “culture”. They’ve exported radical Islam to all corners of the globe, empowering the likes of Hezbollah, Hamas, and the Houthis. They’ve killed thousands of Americans over the years in Lebanon, Iraq, and Afghanistan. They’ve oppressed their own citizenry, killing tens of thousands of Iranians that put the excesses of the shah in proper perspective. That’s all come home to roost now. They have sown the seeds of their own destruction. I genuinely hope the Iranian people can regain their status as one of the bright lights of an enlightened Islamic Middle East as they were for thousands of years instead of the quagmire of dark ages level repression. I only wish I was still wearing the uniform so I could contribute. I’m sure any member of the military from my generation would agree, Iran was the one target we all wanted.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------RECURRING CHARACTERS:                                

ABFA – Amazing Best Family Athlete – my daughter in law; BR3 – Blog Reader #3 – granddaughter #3; BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel - second granddaughter; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; CRC - Connecticut Riverboat Captain – another close friend from high school, renowned sailor of the big river; Curbside Girls – close friends of my daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn; Czech Connection – Czech couple who’ve become good friends along with their daughter (the Czech Shadow); Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of course); FBR - First Blog Reader - first granddaughter; First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Kindergarten Friend – friend since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my wife is the 3^rd Musquetera (musketeer); Namesake Nephew – son of Great Aunt and Soxfather named after me; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia member; PanaGals – female relatives /friends of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we have lived & their spouses; PCR - Pittsburgh College Roommate – high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; PCR+1 - Pittsburgh College Roommate’s wife; Riggins - also known as the Grandpuppy, son's dog; Seis Amigos - two couples from our condo complex and my wife and I; Soxfather – my brother-in-law (whom I miss more than I can ever explain); Tia Loca – wife’s younger sister; Wingman – my son in law; Upstairs Neighbors – American couple and great friends who live in condo above us in Panama; Wingmom – Wingman’s mom, of course