Where The Action Is!

The SJG is spoiled.  Monday through Friday, the eldest drops by for breakfast on his way to work.  If I had my way, I'd keep this tradition going for the next 50 years.  But in a few weeks, he's selfishly swapping locales, trading in suburbia for the bright lights of Hollyweird. Why? Why? WHY? Because, he tells us, it's... Where The Action Is! Remember that '60s show on ABC?  Hot bands.  Hot people dancing on the beach.  I learned some of my best moves watching that show.  But the eldest isn't going in search of groovy folks in bell-bottoms and fringe vests.  He wants the nightlife, he wants "walkability."  So fine. Go and move.  Break your mother's heart.  "If we buy you a new couch, will you stay in Sherman Oaks?"  "No."  We bought him a new couch, anyway.  Why deprive him of a nice place to sit, even though he's withholding the joy of sharing breakfast with him?  Some questions can never be answered.  Such as:  Is it  beshert that he's moving down the street from a temple?  Does this mean singles mixers and Friday night services are in his near future?  Probably not.  A mother can dream.