2/6/04 An evening in Manorhaven by the fire, playing Poker with Helen Zelman and Mike Feinstein:

Mama by the fire.

Peter, on the phone, tries to get the phone company to check out our phone lines. Every time it rains, there is so much static on the house line that it's becoming unusable. But every time the phone company shows up, it's not raining, they see no problem, think we're crazy and leave. And every time we call back to tell them what happened the last time, they just repeat the process like stupid robots. So, peter spent an hour on the phone with them trying, unsuccessfully, but skillfully, to reason with them.

So, to drown our sorrows on this cold rainy evening on Long Island, we got half price sushi.

And egg drop soup.

And we cozied up to scrabble by the fire, which I always think is such a lovely quality time thing to do. Really. It's just really relaxing and interactive and fun.

For the first time in human history, Peter does well. Something clicked in his head after all these years of doing poorly and therefore hating scrabble, and he's pretty jazzed about it. We take a break to make a dessert run.

Peter wants frozen yogurt.

But I'm more interested in Baskin Robbins Ice Cream.

I want that one. I'm a really tall 5 years old.

After the game I help to shovel some of the ice and snow off the walking path so Mommy doesn't trip, fall, and split her head open on the ice, turning the neighborhood from a lovely white to a bloody red. I'm a good son.

Two of Peter's friends, Helen Zelman and Mike Feinstein, came over to play poker. Helen is the proud recent owner of a slick silver case of real poker chips.

It was HOT. Poker MANIA!!!!!

So we get ready to play.

At first, it's cordial.

Then I start winning.

Then Peter kind of gets this insane look about him, like he's gonna do something rash.

And he loses all his money.

But he likes it when he can hold the case, anyway.

In various poses.

Helen, the table winner for the evening (she's going to MIT and she totally out played us), wants her case back.

We discuss how much money could fit inside it, like in the movies, before heading to bed.