They Said There'd Be Snow This Christmas...They Said There'd Be Peace on Earth

 So Little Man and I were at House of Bagels as they opened yesterday -- 6 am! The day rolled on -- boy can that boy talk and ask millions of questions! Wifey and I wondered what would happen if he were born into a community of silence -- he would literally burst.

I had a few errands to run, and Wifey hung with him. He found a walking stick I bought in Monte Cassino Italy, and we told him it was Moses' staff, and he wanted to learn all about the Passover story, even though it's Chanukah. 

In the afternoon I texted next door neighbor Mariela, whose girl Amelie is a few weeks older. She was preparing for her Noche Buena dinner, and invited Little Man over. I convinced Wifey it was her turn, and she went over and the two talkative, clearly future leader kids, played happily -- Wifey got a tour of the amazing work Mariela did on the house -- which was already beautiful. He husband Jesus owns seveal crypto companies, and seems to print money -- great for them. We joked we were ashamed to have them over to our dump, but we will, after they return from Aruba post X mas.

Mariela returned Little Man after an hour or so -- he and Amelie really like each other, and he came in. The plan was to visit Anthony's Coal Fired, but then Wifey invited Lili and Alana, first year Northwestern Law student, inside. Lili's Cuban, and I asked about Nochebuena, which was also Erev Wifey's birthday. No plans. I asked if they would give me the privilege of sharing a holiday cocktail, and they would, so I poured some cosmos and myself a regular martini -- or two. I was then inspired to make an impromptu party -- and Jeff walked over -- and we Uber-eated in Anthony's. We ate and laughed, and Little Man played on his IPad while the grownups talked.

We played a game -- were Jeff and Lili's daughter and son in law in New Haven more, or less, quirky as parents to their child than D1 and Joey. I admitted I lost -- they had to buy a $3/4M townhouse rather than stay in their girl's big house during visits. But we adore all of them and know that we were NOT terrible parents in the 80s and 90s, despite the lens of these Millennial helicopters...

The martinis and pizza led to a firepit outside -- it was truly a lovely evening. We had our Jewish Nochebuena after all!

The guests left, and Little Man got another bath in our comically huge tub. He slept pretty well, although when I got up to pee, he slid into my spot, and I decamped to the couch in the next bedroom -- too lazy to open up the bed it has, and learning that hard couches from Ikea are NOT old man hip friendly.

Little Man tried to get me up several times pre dawn since he was "Starving," but I put him off until the the sun was actually out. As I type, he's watching cartoons -- I already completed Wifey's birthday email.

She told me her birthdays are no longer important to her. Yeah -- let the Ds and I forget to send her a heartfelt email -- the consequences will be dire.

Later we'll head to Shorecrest -- Joey and I and Jonathan have a few adult beverages to share, in honor of my wife and their loving, quirky suegra. 

It's the first night of Chanukah, and we'll light the menorah, and sing the songs, and then head over to The Citadel, a great food hall where D2 secured us a nice rooftop table. I assured Little Man there WOULD be cake -- and he would get the first slice after his Ippi.

Tomorrow is my nephew of another mister Scott's birthday, and he and fiancee Sam are flying to town from D.C. -- Barry is hosting dinner at their go-to place on Miracle Mile. I may try to influence them to cross the street for a few pops at JohnMartins -- still there but now owned by Cubans instead of friends from County Cavan.

D1 and Joey secured babysitters for NYE, and so Wifey and I can head to Joelle and Kenny's for dinner. My broker and friend Pat sent a very nice bottle of Napa Cab, and I will bring that for all to enjoy.

So for tonight, may the lights of Chanukah illuminate the beginning of Wifey's (   ) year. I am prohibited by marital law from mentioning the number. But we all know it and love her...

So Much For Avoiding "Advice"

 Classic NY Jewish lingo often involves one person telling another "Don't ask" in response to an inquiry of how someone is doing. Our funniest, but not really, example happened years ago, in front of the Grammercy Park Hotel, when we traveled to the City for Jonathan's surprise proposal to D2.

The plan had been for Jonathan to use my access to private Grammercy Park to pop the question, after which he would bring D2 to the hotel for a surprise cocktail party. Alas, it had rained, and the snowflake part Board outlawed park visits when the ground was wet -- so Jonathan was in a pickle. Barry, Jonathan and I stood in front of the hotel, figuring out alternatives.

A nice older fellow in an orange snow vest, walking a little dog, happened to overhear. He suggested using the Park Museum, which was right across from the park, and had a classic, gorgeous lobby. Turned out they were closed, and Jonathan called an audible and picked Washington Square, where his photographer friend awaited to capture the moment. It was exquisite.

But now we were friends with the nice fellow, whose name was Alan, and Wifey and Donna joined Barry and me in a chat with him -- he told us he lived Winters in Longboat Key, and had an apartment in Grammercy, too. Why, we asked, would he be in dreary NYC during December? "Oy vey," he answered, "Don't ask." Well, Barry and I looked at each other, and we DID ask, and learned that his beloved wife Barbara was terminally ill at Sloan Kettering -- that was why he was there.

Barry told him he did palliative care -- was Barbara getting what she needed? Yes, Alan answered, his daughter was a doctor at Sloan. Of course she was, Barry and I coincidentally thought. Anyway, we wished him well, and then Wifey, at a diner at breakfast, declared: "Wow -- what a sweet man. I want to fix him up with my friend Diane."

But, Donna noted -- what about Barbara???? She wasn't even dead yet! Wifey, often the practical one, noted she WAS terminal, and widowers like Alan got scooped up right away! The arrangement never happened, but Wifey DID learn that Barbara passed -- there was a big funeral at their shul in Longboat Key -- Alan and his wife were big machers there. Ah Wifey. She's funny and quirky...

Anyway, I got one of those texts from a cousin last week -- he reached out to say he was in a bad way, and thought about asking my advice -- but no -- I wasn't the person for it. New Dave took the opportunity to NOT ask when told "Don't ask," and I didn't -- wished the fellow happy holidays and all the best.

We're first cousins and I always liked him, but we speak MAYBE once or twice a year -- typically when he asks my advice about some legal matter. I think we were last together physically at my sister and brother in law's house in Hypoluxo probably a decade ago.

Well -- there came another text -- maybe I COULD help -- could I call when free. Wifey and I were spending a lovely day with Little Man -- lunch at Carrot Express delivered by a robot, which tickled all of us, hours at Greer Park and their terrific tot lot, and finally a trip to Pinecrest Gardens "Night Garden," where they decorate for the holidays and you walk through the gorgeous plantings all lit up majestically. 

We arrived home and I called the cousin -- quite the raconteur -- and he told me his last 2 decade history of boom and bust -- currently in a BIG bust. He wanted to borrow money to deal with a VERY pressing matter involving a certain US agency not known for compassion.

I didn't even listen as he tried to share details, and plans for repayment. No -- I do NOT loan money to family or friends -- after a few bad experiences in that regard. I either give a gift or not -- no business dealings anymore.

So I told him I would help him -- I was mailing a check. He said the amount was more than he needed -- and he WOULD repay me! He asked why I was the only cousin who didn't tell him get lost -- including another cousin Jeff with whom he WAS very close -- they grew up together and were a year apart and had had prior dealings. Why was I, he asked, the true king of the family?

I brushed that aside, but told him the following. Some long forgotten relative, in the early 1900s, must have sponsored our grandparents to come over from Bialystok, their home, famous for bialys and pogroms. I still love the bialys -- can do without the pogroms.  And that act of generosity, whatever it was, allowed our family to be -- in the then land of endless opportunity: America.

I asked my cousin -- he had no idea who these uncles or aunts or grandparents or cousins might have been -- these Kesslers and Goldsmiths. But they did it, and here we are -- 3 generations and a century and a quarter later.

The way I figure it, I can pay it forward -- and help a cousin I'm not at all close with -- but he needs help and I can give it.

My cousin is a big, tough fellow -- he used to hang with bent nose types in the Bronx. And he was crying on the phone -- until I told him to stop.

I made clear this was a one time act -- hopefully it let him get back on his feet and maybe join the grandfather club. His son and wife are doing IVF -- we got a funny Christmas card from them last week -- real evangelical stuff -- about letting Jesus's love flow upon us this season. I guess Jesus's love didn't include some shekels for Dad -- but that's ok.

I wish him well -- he went on and on about "needing" to meet my girls and Wifey -- he hasn't seen them in years. That's ok -- I socialize less and less -- but somehow I felt I WAS moved my the holiday season. We fortunately don't get involved in the silliness of spending thousands on gifts -- and this one made me feel much better.

Hopefully he gets back in the chips. But regardless, I figure I reached back many years and simply did what forgotten ancestors had done. I'm sure glad they did!

The Lessons of Joseph

 Each Friday I enjoy the weekly emails I get from Rabbi Yossi and Chabad. They have the day's Torah portion, and well as a topical message, and they end with a joke, most of which were first told during the period between the World Wars -- so I know them at word 5.

It's funny -- when my California sister was at her life's low point -- with her son in jail during Covid, and dwindling friends who had tired of hearing her tales of woe,  I suggested maybe she do some learning with Chabad. It went over like a lead balloon, as she reminded me yesterday, as she has interest in the Bible like I have interest in the latest European fashions coming next Fall. And that's ok -- but the wisdom and messages totally resonate with me.

And yesterday's portion was about Joseph, who endured an absolutely terrible life -- mother died when he was a child, and he was his father's favorite (Dad made him the famous many colored coat) which caused jealousy among his brothers, who sold him into slavery, which led to prison in Egypt. Of course, G-d noted that he was "successful in prison," and Joseph, through his gift of seeing the future, rose up to become a major leader, and had the opportunity to avenge his brothers' selling him into slavery. Instead, Joseph chose to believe that even his suffering was part of the Big Man's plan, and actually thanked all those who had hurt and tortured him -- these great valleys had led him to the top of a mountain.

It caused me to look back on my life, as I slog towards my, hopefully, 64th birthday next July. 1982 was the worst year of my then young life. At the beginning of the year, I felt heartbreak, real heartbreak, for the first time -- my girlfriend, who I thought might be "the one," dropped me when I was no longer headed to med school, and instead chose to study English, with no solid plans intact. She was from a richer background than I -- her mother married to a much older, established man, and her parents encouraged her to drop the boy with the uncertain financial future.

By the next Summer, I was over her, and came off my first 4.0 GPA and President's Honor Roll, since I had found myself academically and intellectually. And then my beloved Dad -- grandfather, father, and best friend all rolled into one, died in my arms -- 4 days before I turned 21. Yeah -- that was a lot worse than being ditched by a girlfriend -- I can now say empirically.

I somehow slept walked through that next semester of college -- applied to UF and UM law schools, and realized it was going to be Coral Gables, as Mom needed the help and support and Gainesville was too far away. I reflect back sometimes about what might have been had I had those 3 years in Hogtown -- how might my career and personal path have been different?

As it was, within the same week I met Mike, Jeff, and pre-Wifey -- 3 people who have had a profound impact on me -- most of whom Wifey, since we built a life together.

I was lucky. Even in the depths of my despair of 1982, something deep inside told me to play the long game -- things would get better. I now realize I had some dissociative disorder -- I would sit in class and feel I was looking down on myself -- I wasn't really there. But it passed.

Well, although 10 years seemed an eternity to a 20 something, 10 years later, in 1992, I had one of the best years of my life. And it's funny -- a major event was the total destruction of our house in a tropical cyclone commonly known as Hurricane Andrew -- a literal typhoon of deadly force that reduced all our possessions to rubble.

On the other hand, I brought in my first huge case, and the free flowing money from the insurance company turned a lot of our crap into shinola, in the form of stocks and bonds and better real estate. I was 31 and feeling like the king of the world, without the bow of the Titanic and Kate Winslett behind me. Most importantly, our band found its 4th member -- D2 -- and life was grand.

And now, I truly have the time to gather wisdom -- what to leave in, as Bob Seger sang, and what to leave out. The other day I got a text from a cousin who always reaches out with problems, and I dutifully answer. I called him -- no answer. So I texted yesterday to tell  him I called, and he responded that he wished my advise, but thought maybe better he not.

Younger Dave would have taken the bait. The classic NY Jewish "OMG -- DON'T Ask what happened," is, of course, the invitation to ask what happened.

But this time I took a step back. The fellow was giving me the opportunity to NOT get involved -- and I took it! It was so freeing. From now on, when I hear "Don't ask!" I plan to take that as a true bit of good advice -- I won't!

But Joseph triumphed, biblically, by knowing control is with the Big Man. Yep -- that resonates with me, and I needn't proselytize to others. They can find it or not -- last time I checked, it wasn't in the Jewish playbook to gain converts.

Another Pleasant Valley Weekend

 So Wednesday went as planned -- I fetched Little Man, brought him home to his happy parents, and we all had a blast with Baby Man, too. From there I drove the 10 minutes to Sunny's Steakhouse, in the hip Little River 'hood, to meet Dr. Barry.

We were the oldest patrons by a good 20 years. The food was delicious, and not inexpensive, but as Barry pointed out -- not yuuuuge portions, like the Palm. Still, we had a terrific time, and I hopefully convinced Barry that his career has not all been in vanity since he's saved several kids' lives and taught hundreds of future docs how to do the same. 

From there, I went to the Shores and grabbed the enormous puppy Betsy -- she loves staying with us. She woke Wifey yesterday at 8 am and me at 7 today. I took her for a walk, and she decided about halfway in that she wanted to go home -- letting me know by plopping her 95 lbs down and refusing to move until I took the route she wanted.

I ran into neighbor Lily, home from Tally with her nice fiance, and they asked me to officiate at their wedding next January. I was honored -- I don't know the young couple well, but apparently they really like me and want someone not a rabbi but Jew-ish, since the groom to be is Christian -- and I agreed, with one caveat. I explained that I needed to still be alive in January of 2026. They laughed, and I laughed along with them -- a little.

Paul called -- was I up for breakfast following an appointment he had Downtown? I was, and we met at Coral Bagels -- it was packed. We waited about 20 minutes but then had fine breakfasts -- and I brought Wifey home half a bagel, some latkes, and a rugelah -- so she was happy. 

Absolutely nothing is planned for this weekend -- just like I prefer it. Joey is taking Little Man camping with some dear friends and their kids, D1 had some birthday parties with Baby Man, and D2 and Jonathan are at their friends' wedding in Cabo. They sent us some pix from the luxe resort -- The Cove. As D2 noted, the place does NOT suck...

Wifey begins he birthday celebration on Sunday -- going to see the "Wicked" movie with friends Jeannette and Maureen. I plan to hang with Betsy and Bo, the Special Needs Spaniel.

Monday the plan is to trade Betsy for Little Man, and keep Little Man for a few nights. I bought us tickets for the Night Garden at Pinecrest Gardens -- we took him when he was just a year old - and now he is 5! I plan to tell him tales of the Night Bird, and we will check for other nocturnal creatures as well.

D1 and Joey had asked us to babysit on NYE, and we agreed, but it appears they have found a nice teen girl instead, "unless we really want to." I begged off - want to keep NYE options open, although staying up until midnight is no longer required. 

I think some friends with visiting adult sons have invited us --maybe Wifey and I will just bring in some nice dinner, eat by the fire pit, and watch the concerts on TV.

Wow -- 2025 is just beckoning...

But for this penultimate weekend of the year -- not much works just fine...

The Big Oh-5!

 So 5 years ago today, I got the call VERY early in the am -- D1 and Joey were on the way to Holtz Children's Hospital. We were going to, Big Man Willing, become grandparents.

We arrived, along with Joey's parents, and mercifully the wait wasn't too long. The Holtz Chief Medical Officer, a/k/a Tio Barry, scared all the staff and young doctors with his presence -- this was NOT the birth to mess up. Ha. And soon we met D1 in recovery, holding our beautiful and not undersized grandson!

Like her Mom, D1 had him by Section, and, like her Mom, the recovery was tough. But we all decided the painful recovery from the baby-ectomy was more than worth it -- now we have a VERY smart, very mischievous (the Latins call him picaro), very adorable (his Mom's eyes and nose) boy. He's gone from Baby Man to Little Man -- his brother is now Baby Man, even though he's nearly 2.5.

D1 and Joey are in Naples, enjoying a great hotel rate courtesy of Joey's brother Bob, whose new soccer team gets him sick rates, to use the Millennium word. We celebrated his birthday Friday, and D1 left him a big HBD poster. Today, Joey's Mom, who he calls Tita, is taking him to Publix with Wifey, who he calls Ippi. 

Hillary Clinton oft quoted the African proverb that it takes a village to raise a child. My grandsons have medium sized cities...

Meanwhile, I saw another classic Miami small world story. A guilty verdict came in today in SF -- a tech rich guy named Bob Lee was knifed to death last year by the angry brother of his ex girlfriend. Turns out Wifey's BFF friend's daughter was close friends with the guy -- he was living in Miami at the time of his murder and had gone back to SF for a meeting. Wifey told me Lauren testified in the trial for the prosecution -- the defense said that when Bob did drugs, he got violent, and the Persian bro was merely defending himself. As Wifey relays it, Lauren testified that when Bob did drugs, he did NOT get violent.

So I decided to read about the case, and learned that Sa'am Zangeneh, my former office roommate, was lead counsel! Sa'am become high profile since he left the office suite -- handled some hip hop artist's cases, and, I'm guessing, got involved via his Persian background, which he shared with the killer.

Classic. A tech billionaire's murder trial a country away had a family friend being crossed examined by a guy I know pretty well. How about that?!

Anyway, I guess Sa'am won a small victory -- Second degree murder versus first. Either way, his client is going to San Quentin or Folsum for a good, long while...

My job as a member of Little Man's City is tomorrow. I'm fetching him at school and taking him to his Lego class. I'll kill an hour and then take him home -- D1 and Joey will likely be arriving.

After that, I'm meeting the aforementioned CMO for dinner. I wanted to try Sunny's Steakhouse, a new place in Little River profiled recently in the snooty Times, partly since D2 and Jonathan rave about it, and partly since I HAVE to go anywhere with a name shared with my late Mom.

I went on the APP -- only openings were too early (5 PM) or too late (9 PM). So we were going to my favorite local place, Pinch Kitchen, but then D2 flew to the rescue -- she was on some list that allowed reservations in a way not open to schleppers like Barry and me. And so we're in -- at 7 pm -- plenty of time for Barry to make it from work.

After dinner, I head North to the Shores, to fetch Betsy, for a weekend of dog sitting. She loves her time here -- chasing peafowl off the driveway, which Wifey and I heavily endorse.

Ah -- invasives. We also have huge iguanas, and I realized one or more had dug a HUGE hole at the base of my stone bridge across the pond. I filled it with coral rock boulders, and bought 2 60 lb bags of concrete -- to seal them off. SOBs!

But the big news is looking back half a decade. We adore and love Little Man, and ask The Big Man to keep him healthy and happy. Man, I love to dream about what his life will be...

Big Brunch

 Thirty years ago, Eric had a surprise 30th birthday party for Dana, at 94th Aero Squadron right by the South runway of MIA. I recalled that party the other night, as I drove past on the Dolphin Expressway, named after the NFL team that used to play in the Orange Bowl and has been a disappointment for decades now. Just yesterday they were eliminated from the playoffs. Oy.

Anyway, time marched on since 1994, as time will do, and yesterday it was time for Dana to officially join the 60 Club. She was a freshman when Eric and I were seniors at UM, and so she's always sort of trailed a bit age-wise. Of our group, Paul is the oldest, nearing 75, and of the wives, well I can't say, especially about the one who just told me last night she is "not at all excited" about her upcoming birthday, as it places her perilously close to 70.

Still, the party was called for West Boca, at an Italian place that used to have locations in the Falls and Aventura, and I thought those of us living south of Flagler Street might carpool. So at the crack of 9, Wifey the trooper was ready, although she tries to "not do mornings," and Mike and Loni came over and got into the back row of my big man Caddy SUV -- the first passengers ever there. We made our way to the Grove, and fetched Joelle and Kenny, and the happy sextet were off -- thinking the drive would take 1.5 hours.

For mysterious but happy reasons, traffic was 90s-like, and we pulled into the strip center in less than 50 minutes -- literally zero traffic. So we wandered around, and into a Fresh Market, where we got coffee and Mike saw some on sale rib roast he planned to buy for Christmas dinner. We camped outside of Prezzo, and walked in.

Wow -- Eric had the entire main dining room, and it was packed with 65 people from all stages of Dana's life. I greeted Ron, her affable, retired engineer Dad, who asked if I had gotten taller. It was great to see him -- friends' parents are a dying generation, literally, and Ron was doing well.

Dana and Eric's 4 grandkids were there, and the oldest girl sang a song. Eric told us all to sit, and we did -- the other south of Flagler Street guest, Norman, was along stag, on account of a wifely migraine, and I suggested maybe he take the head of the table, though he risked being handed the check. Ha. There were no checks to be handed.

I caught up with my friend Peter, who along with Eric, were two of the first friends I made at UM in 1979. Of course, as Miami is the smallest town, big city there is, it turned out that one of Peter's close friends was Norman's nephew Max -- so we all had lots in common, led, of course, by our love of the Canes.

The price fix menu was nice -- you could go Italian or brunch, and since chicken parm was offered, I went Italian. I almost always order it in memory of Paul's late law school friend Alan -- it was the only thing he ever ate at Italian places. Alan was a loveable scoundrel -- disbarred years before he died fairly young of a rare intestinal cancer -- and I smile to myself thinking of him.

So people from back in the day mixed happily from people very much in the day, and Dana was glowing, holding a granddaughter or two, and being snapped by Eric, who will someday give up his cardiologist gig and be a full time shutterbug. I hope that day comes for him sooner than later -- you can only take so much stupid health care silliness, and Eric's patient population -- aging Palm Beachers -- hell--AGED Palm Beachers, don't tend to be a happy lot.

Wifey and I have a trip planned with Eric and Dana -- the Blue Danube, from Budapest to Prague, in late May. We're going on the ultra luxury Tauk line -- they fetch you at the airport and whisk you to a 5 star hotel for a few days before and after the riverboat -- they're famous for their amazing service. Indeed, each time we call their office, the service people are Ritz Carlton quality -- know their stuff and are happy to help. I look forward to tossing back a few, and maybe winning a Trivia contest or two among what tends to be a highly educated clientele. We're also seeing a lot of Jewish history sights with some private guides -- that's in my wheelhouse.

We piled back into the SUV, and reversed the trip -- dropping Joelle and Kenny back in the Grove. Their first born Adam was due in last night, joining his younger brother Nathan, and they're going to have a wonderful Winter break together. Joelle and Kenny are off to Europe again in February, and Wifey whined about not being invited, but Joelle recalled my instructions to please refrain from inviting us until the Summer -- expensive trips to D.C. in March and the aforementioned Central Europe are a good deal of shekels -- even though Wifey is used to not thinking much about money. Plus, I reminded her, Europe in February is COLD, and she hates cold. Wouldn't matter, she said, she so wants to travel. And that's ok -- that's what friends' trips are for!

We got back to Villa Wifey and I invited Loni and Mike in to watch the end of the Dolphins game and maybe have an adult beverage, but they had errands and begged off. I indeed watched the expensive team blow another season, and then Wifey and I watched the new episode of "Landman," which we both really dig.

Today, D1` and Joey are headed to Naples for a quick staycation -- Joey's brother Bob's new gig as soccer team owner gets him crazy discounts at area hotels - and on Wednesday I will fetch Little Man at school and take him to Legos before dropping him at home. I also will fetch the enormous puppy Betsy, as D2 and Jonathan are headed to Cabo for yet another friends' wedding, so Betsy will camp with us for a few days.

The week after that, we'll host Little Man for a few nights, as school's out, and get the whole band together for the birthday of our Lord and Savior Wifey on 12/25. Even though she has ennui about the day, the Ds suggested a great activity -- dinner at the Citadel Food Court roof, and then the lighting of the menorah back at D 1's house for the first night of Chanukah, which begins this year on the first night of Wifey's birthday, as well as the birthday maybe a few more people worldwide celebrate as well, for another Jew born in Bethlehem...

After Parties

 So yesterday we celebrated Little Man's 5th birthday, at Ultra Padel in Little Haiti. Padel is sort of a combination of tennis and racquet ball, which originated in, I think, Spain. It's a mostly young person's sport, as opposed to Pickle Ball, which is for the oldsters.

There are several Padel places in Miami, but I guess not too many outside of Miami-Dade, as few people have any idea what it is when I tell them. But Little Man loves it -- he's taking lessons from an affable Colombian born coach, and in the way we used to have kids' parties at bowling alleys, now it's Padel.

Wifey and I arrived as D1 was awaiting a delivery from Steve's Pizza, owned by school friends she's made. She handed me her phone and asked me to direct in the driver, who was comically grouchy -- American guy who was completely turned around. In fairness, Ultra Padel is in a warehouse district, backed up to the Brightline Tracks -- and so I air traffic controlled the fellow in.

He arrived -- a guy maybe my age, and immediately asked where the rest of the helpers were -- he did NOT want to walk the 100 feet or so to where the party was set up. I had already signed the credit card form, and said "My friend, I gave you a $30 tip for delivery -- is it really so much to ask you to actually deliver?" Joey arrived and the two of us carried in the far too many pizzas D1 had ordered. But I thought someone ought to write a comedy skit about the Basil Fawlty of delivery guys.

The kids had a blast -- playing on the tot lot and playing Padel. Indeed, I made sure to give away 10 large pizzas -- and luckily the Moms and Dads were happy to comply. Steve's has some good pizza, I kept telling them if it was Dominos, we could just trash it, but every time a pizza is wasted, an angel loses his wings.

D2 had brought enormous puppy Betsy, and she wore reindeer garb, not happily, but I made her happy with plenty of pizza crusts. D2 had to leave early to get ready -- last night was Jonathan's work holiday party on Brickell -- this am she said it was a lot of fun, but the after party lasted until 2.

Funny -- we ALSO had an after party -- I helped schlep the party loot back to D1 and Joey's house -- but we got home at 9. By 2 am, I had already been sleeping for 4 hours, in time to wake up for 1, and resume my sleep shift. I miss being able to sleep a solid 8 hours straight...

But Little Man loved his gifts, especially the Transformer toys, which Joey spent a LOT of time assembling. I told him he was a better Dad than I -- if my kid got toys requiring that much work, they would have mysteriously disappeared overnight.

D1 lit the shabbos candles, and we said the prayers. It was exquisite.

Tomorrow the birthday fun continues. Dana turned the big 6-oh, and Eric is hosting 65 people at Prezzo's in Boca tomorrow at 11. We're fetching Joelle and Kenny, and now may have another 2 carpoolers as well -- Mike and Loni are attending as well. Mike will let me know if our SUV will be 2 or 3 couples up to the westauwant, as Little Man calls eateries.

5 years. It's really true that time flies when you have grandkids. Just yesterday we were gathered at Holtz Children's, under Uncle Barry's watchful CMO eye, when D1 made us grandparents.

5 years now seems like 1 year to my younger self. My younger self may have enjoyed an after party until 2 am. Now I like the earlier type.