I'm going to Florida

My family and friends do mitigate the rottenness of life, so rather than talk about how my left brace fell off three times in the first hour and a half of wearing it, I will write about something else.

My 14-year-old nephew and I were talking about his Beach Week for eighth-graders trip at the end of the school year. (OK, not exactly Beach Week. He is going with a science teacher.)

I told him I'd love to go. He said he'd take  me if he could.

I am not sure if he realizes the seriousness of what he said. If I am still alive in 10 years, I'm going to Florida.