We are in lovely Cleveland visiting family. This is the first holiday season without mom around. I thought it potentially could have been a sad and dreary trip but it’s been none of that. Quite the opposite, actually. I am happy to report that my sister has nailed my mother’s marinara sauce recipe. When I close my eyes, I could swear it came from mom’s kitchen. It tastes like home.

One of my best friends who I grew up with got involved with drugs and ended up in jail for a short while. This nonsense didn’t occur until he was in his 40s. Prior to that, he had never been in any kind of trouble. It was a shock when it happened. He was divorced but he has a son, a solid job and friends and family.

Then he met a woman who was devastatingly attractive, extraordinary in bed (by all accounts) and, unfortunately, a drug addict. A lethal combination.

Many a good man has been put under the bridge by a woman.

Charles Bukowski

We met for drinks. He told me a few funny stories about his parole officer. He had a hard time finding work after jail but eventually he did, and his life has stabilized. He’s a smart guy and I can’t imagine him relapsing.

We met at a pub that turned out to be packed. There were no seats at the bar. I hate that. It was Saturday night so we should have expected it. The older you get, the more you grow to appreciate an empty bar. There’s a direct correlation between how crowded a bar is and the ratio of patrons who will inevitably annoy you. Multiply by a factor of 5x if there’s a TV showing a sports event. This equation does not apply if there’s a live band playing.

He said, “You want a bar stool? I know where we can get a bar stool.” We drove to a bar whose exterior looked like painted cinder blocks. There were two cars in the lot and I’m sure one of them belonged to the barkeep.

We walked into a massive cloud of cigarette smoke. Like most major cities, Cleveland has a ban on indoor smoking, but I was told that nobody cares what happens in this place. It fell off the map. There were only six other people sitting at the bar and they were all chain smoking. A few of them were there alone and sported mullet haircuts. It’s a Cleveland bar that’s stuck in a time warp. You can bet your ass we got seats at the bar. I ordered Budweiser because I was afraid to order anything fancier than that.

Today was 7-Year Old Daughter’s birthday. Henceforth, she will now be known as 8-Year Old Daughter. She had big party plans but, unfortunately, she woke up to 18 inches of snow that began falling the previous day. There were no cars on the road. Outside was the the bright white light and muffled quiet that only a major snowfall can provide. It’s a singular sensation.

Of course, the party had to be scuttled. The roads were impassible and I doubt anyone would have come. It would have been irresponsible to go out driving in this mess for anything other than an emergency. So instead of having a party with her friends, she sat down in snow drifts.

She did not take the postponement very well. What 8-year old girl would? Her reaction upon hearing the news:

This is the worst birthday ever!

I don’t know about that. Years from now, she might remember it as being one of the most memorable. She’ll discover that birthday parties are a dime a dozen, but powerful storms that force you to live in the moment are a far more rare and valuable treat.

Tim Hall is, by my estimation, a writer who is deserving of a larger audience. He writes from the gut and has the scars to prove it. If you’re looking for some new literature to light up your holiday and make you laugh, you’re in luck. From now until the end of the year, you can get his books at 50% off. Click here and scroll down.

I recommend starting off with Full of It, the thinly veiled fictional story of the rise and fall of a Lower East Side underground newspaper and Half Empty, the story of a Brooklyn hipster who struggles with women and booze. Get ‘em.

I was sitting at the counter of a diner reading the New York Times and waiting for my patty melt with bacon. Before my burger was ready, the waiter brought my plate of fries. In addition to the fries, this is what he placed in front of me:

It defies commentary. I didn’t know what his game was but you can bet your ass I kept my eye on him for the remainder of my lunch. Fucking creep.

[EDIT to comments: It’s a joke, people! I don’t think he’s creepy for making a smiley face with ketchup. Jeeze! That sure fell flat. I thought I was being sarcastic and witty. I guess I’m no David Sedaris.]

Do you like Sam Shepard? Well, if you have the money to do so, starting next month at the Atlantic Theater, you can see Ages of the Moon, the U.S. premier of the new Sam Shepard comedy/drama starring Stephen Rea and Seán McGinley. It played at the Abbey Theater in Dublin to superb reviews and a sold out run.

You can see a revival of Sam Shepard’s A Lie of the Mind directed by Ethan Hawke and starring Laurie Metcalf, Josh Hamilton and Keith Carradine.

If you have the money. Shit.