Put Another Hanukkah Candle On The Birthday Cake...

I left 14 phone messages. I texted 12 times. I punctuated my panic with screaming emojis. But alas, Rabbi Rocky Rugelach never got back to me about the candle situation. I thought I had some tiny birthday candles somewhere. I was positive I'd find a few in a drawer underneath the manual for the toaster we haven't owned since the '80s. I couldn't find one tiny candle on the premises. So I improvised. I went ahead and put Hanukkah candles on hubby's birthday cake, without RRR's blessing. If it goes against everything the Torah teaches us about tradition, if there's some kind of karmic, or Talmudic, payback for this particular shanda, I'm sure it will bite me in the tuchas for eight crazy nights in a row. 

Unbothered by the Hanukkah candles, happy to eat cake no matter what incendiary device lights the way, the family poses, spontaneously, and in no logical order: the parents Skip and Char, the cousin Andy and his wife Allison, the sons and their lovely girlfriends, the brothers John and Dan, Dan not in the photo, why? I don't know -- the SJG and her old man (literally). Greek food. Nice gifts. A well-behaved Sir Blakey. What more could a birthday boy want? This morning, I broke the news that his birthday is over. He's not taking it well. A moment ago, I spotted him sitting in the corner, scarfing leftover birthday cake. There's plenty. Stop by for a slice if you're in the neighborhood.