I slept for a very long time. Maybe 15 hours. It was no challenge in Rami and Aya's basement, with almost no light infiltrating my abode, and a whelming sense of pleasantness lingering from last night's sleeping cogitations. If my soul had needed recharging, this sequence of events would have done the job.

Empowered, I spent the afternoon at the office banging away on the task tracker, and fighting a small sendmail fire. (I've said it before, and this is not sufficient to discourage me from repeating it: Linux sucks.)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch in Newton, relatives abounded. Upon my return, I found cousins Dodi and Arza and their respective spice Annabel and Brian and their respectful children Ella, Ben, Talia, Danny, Noah, and Rebecca. Dodi's gang even brought along their associated excitable young dog, Zoe. The kids all ran around chaotically (I'm sure there were rules, but I couldn't follow them) in the spacious backyard while expert Brian grilled up burgers and non-canine dogs. I last saw Talia when she was a tyke, running around (hey, that's what kids do) with my cousin Rachel at someone's Bar/Bat Mitzvah reception (either mine or my sister's). Now she's finishing up sixth grade. Thinking about what I did when I was her age, I admit I primarily ran around too: I was the star running back of my after-school flag football team, and I was the fastest sprinter in my grade until lanky “Bobby from Bulgaria” ousted me from the top spot. And here I am, showing off the fabled speed in the backyard against a bunch of tykes. I gave them a run for their money in straight sprints, giving them a head start as needed. I got winded pretty quickly. Maybe I should run around with them more often.

While Dodi lectured on his world travels and passed around photographs, the kids (a group to which I now chose to belong) watched Big, a well-told but ultimately unsatisfying fantasy of a child who is granted his wish to glimpse life as an adult. The pooch, who had excitedly peed the carpet elsewhere in the house, sat in its box and watched with us. The kids crawl all over it while it's gnawing on a rawhide, and it doesn't mind a bit. My Benji would have had a thing or two to say about that sort of behavior.

When the movie had ended, Dodi was still talking to the guests (one of whom had met my “very attractive” father in his Milwaukee days when he tutored her nephew for his Bar Mitzvah). I took a back seat and listened to Dodi for a while. And then I decided that I needed to play the piano, the most convenient solution being my digital one. I located all of the requisite cables and speakers and got tinkling. These days, surrounded by stories of culture and family, I have a lot to play.