A Sweet Mother's Day Video

My budding filmmaker niece, Arielle, made this sweet video for today. Those are my nephews and nieces in the Philly area. Happy Mother's Day everyone, and especially my new mom friends Molly Ball and Kathleen Hennessey.

How To Do A Quirky Wedding Right

Mmm. Take a look at that wedding cake. Pretty, huh? Clever and unusual? Absolutely. What is it? We'll get back to that.

My cousin, Matt, got married in Old Lyme, Conn., over the weekend to this fantastic woman, Madora. They're real down-to-earth, smart kids with a terrific sense of themselves and everybody in attendance knew these two were perfect for one another. I've only got three first cousins and Matt and I, as the only grandsons on our common side of the family, grew up very close thanks in large part to our wonderful grandmother, who died in 2003.


Miles and I were curious how Matt and Madora would execute their wedding since neither seemed like people given to elaborate ceremony or even for being the centers of attention. They're just not fussy and indulgent like, I dunno, a certain gay couple whose wedding you might have read about on this blog. And yet, Madora's family owns this amazing spread on the Connecticut shore of the Long Island Sound, so the setting was going to be stunning any which way. See?


We probably should've known this was going to be a different -- and only in a good way, I swear -- sort of thing when the invitation came ... without the date on it. An e-mail followed apologizing with a very self-amused and amusing, "Oops, who does that? Heh Heh."

So, how else was this event unusual? Well, the officiant was not a minister or rabbi or even a justice of the peace. It was Matt's childhood friend who works at San Francisco City Hall. And while the bride wore a becoming simple, white, almost traditional sleeveless gown, the groom wore seersucker. Also, the bridesmaids wore...


...whatever they wanted.

They set up a tent next to this real old house with all sorts of secret passageways and such that my nephews and nieces had a grand old time exploring. The servers were all young girls from a local charity whose name I don't recall; Madora decided rather than hiring a professional waitstaff, she'd enlist some teenagers and give the money to their group. Smart. Oh, and dancing took place under a tent on a concrete patio with tunes pumped in from someone's Mac.

Dinner was pizza. But not just any ol' pizza, no. Great pizza. Cooked and served on...


...this firetruck! The Pizzetta Mystic Company's Mobile Pizza Unit. The guy on top made the pizza, that video to the right showed him doing so and the pizza was served on a buffet on that ladder.


It was really amazing pizza -- and a lot of fun. There was also this photo booth on the other side where you can don fire helmuts. Here's me with my 10-year-old niece, Allyson:


Drinks were largely served in bottles out of large buckets filled with ice. And after pizza, there was Haagen Dazs pops. Here's me with my 15-year-old niece, Tziona, having one:


But the kicker was, in fact, the cake. Take another look at it:


Miles and I looked it over and thought maybe it was a big thing of fudge or a massive brownie or ganache, maybe. And then we learned what it actually was. It was, in fact, the strategic arrangement of 16 of these:

Ta-da! Miles and I spent $300 on this thing...


...and it was totally gross. Matt and Madora spent about $50 and it was an (under)statement that fit the entire event. Bravo!!!

Mostly, though, I am so happy for the couple and my aunt and uncle. See how delighted my aunt is?


I've seen that smile before. On my grandmother at another family wedding that took place, eerily, a decade ago this weekend. See?


Congrats to all. We were honored to be there.

No LIVE show tonight

Miles and I are flying to New England today for a family wedding in Old Lyme, Conn., so no live show tonight. I will probably post an interview in the next day or so as this week's episode as I'm sitting on a couple that are coming close to their sell-by dates. Stay tuned. Also, follow us through our trip -- we'll be in Boston, Providence, Newport and Old Lyme -- on Twitter if you care. Hey, some of you do! :-)

A Dum-Dum Hump Day Smile

I was sitting in my sister's kitchen near Philly two weeks ago when my 9-year-old nephew, Daniel, starts singing this silly little ditty about a sweater. Turns out, his older sister, Arielle, writes these odd little songs and Daniel performs them. I filmed some of them and have posted this 2-minute one -- about Dum Dum The Lollipop -- on YouTube. Forward to friends who need a chuckle! It's awfully silly.

Yet Another Miserable Travel Day

Holy crap, we have bad travel luck. Last time it was Miles, you may recall.

I write from a trashed room at a Quality Inn in Salt Lake City where Delta has put me up for the night, prolonging my 9-day trip for yet another night. I really just want to be home. But no. That's would be too easy.

The day actually started out pretty well. I've been, for the past three nights, in suburban Philadelphia visiting another sister and her four kids, ages 3 to 15. They are observant Jews, so Friday night and Saturday were quiet, calm times of card games, eating and napping. On Saturday night, I took 8-year-old Daniel and 13-year-old Arielle to see Bolt, which was probably the funniest thing I've seen since, um, Wall-E. So now you know my mental age. But, seriously, the scene where Bolt and Mittens nearly give up their adventures for a life living fat off leftover food from buffets in Vegas was priceless.

Daniel was particularly thrilled by my visit, so I gave him permission to wake me at 8 a.m. so we could squeeze out as much of our Sunday as possible. He actually gave me until 9:30 a.m., and then he pounded on this thing...


Yes, I slept in the bed right there that looks like Barney shed on it. It was cozier, actually, than the Strawberry Shortcake bed I was in at my other sister's place. Once the lights are out, does it really matter?

So, anyhow, I spent the morning teaching Daniel how to play Texas Hold 'Em. We both began with stacks of 40 pennies; he wiped me out twice. Either the kid is a prodigy or I suck. I will say one thing, though: If you buy those decks of cards that are preused in casinos, beware. I gave each of the kids such a deck as part of their Hannukah gifts at our family's holiday party last week; the Green Valley Ranch deck I gave Daniel had two eights of hearts and no king of spades. Oops. Fortunately, the other decks were fine.

Anyhow, we had a terrific time, as you can see:



Daniel dominated me, but Arielle occasionally commandeered my camera and took a zillion odd photos including several of herself with her mouth wide open, like the first one where she appears to be eating algebra equations...


When you give a child a camera, though, prepare for some rather unusual results...


Yeah. So here's the whole clan as we played Apples To Apples: Jewish Edition just before my departure. The girl covering her face is Tziona, the eldest:


Not to leave anyone out, here's the youngest of the brood, 3-year-old Chaim:


That was all nice. The rest, not so nice.

Miles called from Vegas around noon because he saw online that my direct 3:45 pm Philadelphia-Vegas flight on Southworst was canceled. I called SWA. Some sort of plane mechanical problem. But why didn't SWA call or email me, then? "We have a lot of people we'd have to call," the lady huffed. If I went to the airport, she said, I *might* catch the 4:30ish, one-stop to Vegas or I could definitely get on the 5:30ish one-stop.

Here's where it starts getting good. This being Southworst, I had checked in on Saturday to be in the A Group for boarding. Now I was facing the dreaded C Group for not one but two flights. Could I please have the new Business Select status to board with the A groups? I'm 6-1 and "kinda big," I claimed.

Nope! Southworst would do nothing to accommodate my inconvenience. Not even guarantee me for the next flight.

I asked for a supervisor and, while on hold forever, I found a one-way seat on a 4:30 pm Delta flight to Vegas for $50 LESS than my SWA ticket. You read that right: For a day-of, one-way to Vegas from PHL, they were charging $110, tax included. That's bananas. And proof that the Strip economy is in big trouble.

Mr. Supervisor was just as worthless, so I demanded and received a full ticket refund, then booked on Delta. Off I went to the airport, leaving a heartbroken Daniel begging me to stay. I got on my plane ready for an easy ride to Salt Lake City, then home.

Or not. Just as we're about to head to the runway, the ENTIRE PHILADELPHIA AIRPORT is shut down. We'd find out later that a US Scare Commuter plane had to make a crash landing. The FAA had to investigate. Nobody hurt, but we ended up stuck in the plane for another three hours before we departed. If you thought it sucked for me, how about the guy across the aisle with the black and brown chihuahua in the carrier case under the seat in front of him? He didn't plan on being on that plane for eight hours!

Delta handled it beautifully, I must say. Those of us missing connections were greeted upon our arrivals with vouchers for hotel rooms and a cute little travel kit with a T-shirt and some toiletries. The problems weren't their fault, but they took responsibility.

And then the best part. I was near the front of the line at the Quality Inn tonight, got my key, went to my room. And when I entered, this is what it looked like:


The place was trashed. I thought maybe someone was still in here. It hadn't been cleaned and the animals who had stayed the night before had opened every packet of sugar, creamer, coffee, whatever. Everything was astrew and, best of all, the disgusting people who had left this room like this has also filled out their comment card. "Blow dryer is broken!!!" they moaned. Yeesh.

I called the front desk. The poor guy sounded so overwhelmed by my flightmates I decided to clean up the room myself. Then I walked to the Pilot gas station for dinner: Cheetos and Milkduds.

Oh well. It's been a long day. I hope I get back to Vegas on Monday as planned. But rather than end it with a downer, I'd rather think of this cute little face:


I had kept my sister apprised of my troubled travels, and when I landed in SLC and turned on the phone, there was a text message from her. It read: "Uncle Steven, this is Daniel. I told you you shouldn't have left today! I miss you so much! I love you! Come back really soon!"

Sigh. What I wouldn't give for that purple bed right now.

Mondays With Uncle Steven

Take a good look at that. Gaze upon it. Lust for it. We'll get back to it in a moment.

So I'm in New York this week squeezing a half-year of uncling into a few fun-filled days. I'm also busy reconnecting with the sights, sounds and flavors of my youth. There really isn't much better an excuse to do so than via the kids.

My sister, Lynn, has three of them. Garrett, the 14-year-old iPod-esconced brooder; 12-year-old Nick the hip-n-happening athlete with the cutie-pie girlfriend who you might recall from a YouTube vid I posted earlier this year; and Allyson, the 9-year-old bolt of sunshine.

Well, Ally had school yesterday. Except that Ally came down with a horrible case of Uncle Stevenitis. She "wasn't feeling so good" at school. So after two passes at the nurse -- the requisite number for going home, an anonymous source confirmed -- it was determined she needed to get home for the antidote. The only known cure for Uncle Stevenitis is, of course, Uncle Steven. Thank goodness I was on hand to provide the injection!

By the time I came in from my day working at the cafe, Ally was miraculously feeling well enough to follow through with our plans to bowl and go for Friendly's for dinner and ice cream. Is it not simply amazing how resilient children can be? So inspirational.

We went bowling. Turns out, you can have the rails up or down but not both. So I had to use the rails. Which makes these scores even more pathetic, although not Obama-level horrid:



Ally wanted to take my picture. Here's what she did:


I explained to her that I didn't want a photo with the ceiling, as lovely a ceiling as it may be. So she actually -- get this!!! -- stood UP to take a second one...


Better, huh? I took one of Ally but it came out blurry, so who am I to be critical? But here's one of her whipping it down the lane...


And here is Ally gazing like Carrie Bradshaw at a Manolo rack into the glass of that nemesis of guilt-ridden absentee uncles everywhere, the CLAW-FOR-CRAP machine.


$3 later, still no stuffed penguin to show for it. Sad. I did, however, get 67,000 points on Ms. Pacman -- and a wrist-ache...


But let's get back to this:


Let me tell you a story of little Stevie Friess. He was a bit of a loser, which is what makes his success on Facebook with the very same people who so tormented him so satisfying. But, anyhow, little Stevie Friess got $5 for allowance every week, not bad for the early 1980s. With that, he would ride his blue Mongoose into town, stopping at the 7-11 for an Archie or Richie Rich comic and then on to Friendly's to read it over a Reese's Pieces Sundae.

Yes, this was excitement once upon a time. Still is, sort of. The Friendly's I went to is now a Chinese restaurant, I think, which is somewhat fitting considering where my life and career would take me. But there's still another one in the town of Syosset, N.Y., where I was raised. So Ally and I went there for dinner after bowling. See?


What, you ask is this concoction? Five scoops of butter crunch ice cream, marshmallow sauce, peanut butter sauce, hot fudge, Reese's Pieces, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles and the cherry. I eat about two a year. Sometimes Miles tries to simulate it with something he gets for me at Cold Stone, but it's really a losing battle. There's only one real Reese's Pieces Sundae.

Ally was contented to have something less offensive and observe the gluttony...


Halfway through, here is my condition...


Ally didn't want to be left out, so she struck a pose, too...


Can we finish it? All of it? Well, it was dicey, but...
\

YES WE CAN.

I didn't need a comic book this time. I had Ally.

My Awesome Little Bro

I'd been meaning to post these and this holiday-weekend lull seems just the time.

As many of you know, I have a Little Brother (from Big Brothers Big Sisters), Jamie. I "got" him when he was just 6 and this August he turns 17. He's graduating from high school next month (a year early) and he's always been really into dance in addition to the more typical teen-boy pursuits of skateboarding, video games, odd hairstyles and girls.

This is a unique, amazingly self-possessed and easy-going kid and I'm incredibly proud to have been a part of his upbringing. He has also, over the years, been a fixture in my writing, whether it's when we snuck into 21 pools on the Strip and graded them for the L.A. Times or when we went backstage at the Boom Boom Huck Jam for the Boston Globe so he could meet his motocross and skateboarding idols. He and his family were also incredibly supportive of my need to speak out when some religious right nutjobs attacked Big Brothers Big Sisters for allowing gay adults to be mentors, which I did in an op-ed piece that ran in several papers around the nation and led to a CNN appearance.

Last weekend, I joined his family at the historic Boulder Theatre (owned by Desi Arnaz Jr.!) in quaint Boulder City for his recital. Here are a few pictures of him doing his moves. I wish I had a program so I could tell you what's what in here:

Live From Israel!

OK, not me.

I woke up quite early today to watch via Webcam as my niece, Siona, graduated from 8th grade from her Jewish private school, Abrams Academy in Bucks County, Pa., at the Wailing Wall in Israel.

If you have any interest in seeing the video, you can click here to watch it or right-click here to download it to your computer and watch it whenever. The video file is huge - 200 MB - and about one hour and may take some time to download (dial-uppers need not try), but Siona appears for her diploma at about 52:40. The rest is largely a tribute to a fallen Israeli soldier, Michael Levin.

Here are two screen shots that you can click on to make bigger. In the top one, that's my niece with her diploma. In the bottom one, that's my sister, Sheryl, who chaperoned the trip, standing behind the lady in the sunglasses.

Mazel tov to all, and how cool that modern technology makes it possible to be there even when we're, uh, here. Hey, I'm in the desert, too. Does that count?

Winding Down in San Francisco

Much to our surprise, Miles' sister Sarah has discovered this blog and checks it daily. She's not much of a technology buff and still hasn't really figured out how to access our podcast, so this is impressive. But Sarah has a particular group of interests -- food/wine, San Francisco and her brother. And she specifically requested that we shoot a picture or two of the inside of the Hilton San Francisco Financial District room that we have been raving about here for the past couple of days. As you can see behind Miles above, it's a sleek, modernist room with a wall of large windows and an LED TV in the corner. Our sole complaint is illustrated by the photo to the right: The shower's for midgets. I knew this because I got here a day before Miles, so it was extremely entertaining this morning to hear him bellow from in there as he stepped in, "Oh, come ON. You've GOT to be kidding me."

My new sister-in-law's expertise more than came in handy this evening as we met up with my cousin Matt and his girlfriend, Madora, for dinner. Miles was hot to go back to the much-ballyhoo'd Vietnamese joint Slanted Door, which is over at the Ferry Building, but it is expensive and M&M are of 20somethings-trying-to-live-in-one-of- the-Earth's-most-expensive-places means. We had a Slanted Door reservation and M&M were happy to go along, but then Sarah revealed to Miles via phone today that there's a new place from the same folks but at half the price called Out The Door that's in the new mall where Bloomies is. We just got in from dinner and it was outstanding, especially the Imperial crispy rolls. Miles' beef with vermicelli was so tasty he didn't even steal any of my claypot chicken with caramel, which he commanded me to order presumably because he wanted some.
So, thanks, Sarah! And Matt and Madora for great company and one of our podcast fans, Gregory, for meeting for coffee. And now I have to get back to writing a story that I wish I could finish so I can just enjoy our last day here without hesitation. Sigh. A blogger's work is never done.

Gay immorality

Obviously, I do not believe that homosexuality is immoral like, say, certain generals you might've read about.

However, I do think any gay man who spends $60,000 to create a baby just so it has his nose is.

Appalling. See it here.