Happy New Year

At our pre-nuptial dinner Dennis, who as far as I am concerned is the Grand Vizier of Cool, said that he was happy I was marrying a cool guy. And Eli, by all outwards appearances, is pretty cool. He plays guitar, looks good in tight shirts and wears groovy glasses. He's also a few years younger than me, which gives his relative (to me) cool factor an extra boost. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you my very cool husband at 10:30 on New Year's Eve.

Yes, Eli pooped out well before the stroke of midnight, like an 8 year old waiting up for Santa. (An 8 year old yeshiva bucher on Shavuot doesn't have the same ring.) Tony was sick and had to be up to do a radio show at 6 a.m., so I released them at around 11 and spent the transition into 2007 rubbing noses with Cheru and watching Young Frankenstein, which I did not find as funny as when I was 8. The true sign of me teetering on the perch is that I didn't really mind the collective fink out. Eric had made a butternut squash ravioli so divine that I will never be able to eat anyone else's and I made ice cream out of Vosges candy bars, so a kiss at midnight would have paled in comparison. I wouldn't have minded another few rounds of cards and some champers, though.