Mary, John, Bongo, the Whale's Rib, The Duck, Delray Beach and Boston's: Day One of a South Florida Vacay!

I am at the front end of what will turn out to be a 2-week respite from my daily toils. That's a vacation to you who have real jobs.

Being self employed, I am hard pressed to call two weeks of not attending to business a vacation. Most of the time, I have no business to attend to.

The stress of not having any money, however, robs me of referring to my extended periods of non work as vacations. I call them, starving.

But when I have money in the bank, I feel empowered to call a week or two of goofing off a vacation.

As I sit here, I am watching my buddy Natalie do her morning 45-minute workout in Bob and Meg's living room through a glass slider. I am pool side at their outdoor bar.

Life seems pretty damn good.

Yesterday is a blur. It's what happens to me when I'm not driving. That happens so seldom, I tend to over-serve myself when the opportunity arises.

I do remember going to the beach, and having lunch with the gang at Bob and Meg's at Boston's, my close friend Amy, my God Daughter Sierra, and gal pal Margaret were in attendance as well.

I also recall beers and dinner at Mary's bar at the Whale's Rib where Bongo put in a cameo.

From there we went to the patio bar at the Wyndahm on Deerfield beach. The last time I was there it was a Howard Johnson's, and the home to the make-you-go-blind Rum Runner. I have no clue how their Rum Runners are now; I had the good sense to stick with beer.

While we were there, we were witness to one of the more spectacular thunder and lightening storms I have ever seen. The Heavens opened up and dumped what must have been an inch of rain on the beach.

If you want to see ninety-somethings actually run, invoke a rain storm on them as they shuffle along the beach. People were running as though a car bomb had detonated.

Mmmmm....car bomb, but I digress.

Because of the weather, we dallied at the Wyndahm longer than we intended. It didn't hurt that our waiter was a riot.

From the Wyndahm, we adjourned to The Duck. A Boca Raton institution of drinking and good music, it is the joint most opposite of the typical Boca lifestyle.

There we slid into the only booth in the joint in the far back corner of the music room. Our buddy Scott, who plays there on Friday nights, refers to it as the Champagne Room.

At some point in the evening Natalie had switched from beer to vodka. I guess all that working-out nonsense does have a payoff.

My buddy John Sheffield eventually joined us. He dropped into the Whale's Rib by accident while we were there. When we told him of our late-night destination, he was eager to follow us there.

Somewhere during the festivities, someone, John I think, got the bright idea we should do Jameson shots. Natalie and I were only too happy to oblige.

Four shots later, it was morning.

I know we are hitting downtown Delray this evening, but the rest of today is still a mystery. Pray for me.

Bottoms up. Texas and Miss Lilly!!!!!