It’s been my tradition for several years to have the first meal of the new year at a diner. If I’m in STL it’s usually this one, and this meal.

I don’t wish to ruin Christmas, but I’m scanning in a handwritten recipe book passed down through my family and there’s a recipe for something called “Yam-brosia”. It contains sweet potatoes, bananas, coconut and worcestershire sauce.

Things that would feel too on the nose if they appeared as a movie metaphor, but that literally exist in my parents’ shed.

I’d call what’s going on over at the birdsite a clownshow, but that would be an insult to all the fine upstanding clown entertainers I know.

My other kid: “Dad, who’s the best at soccer?”

Me: “Well, right now Argentina is the best.”

Him: “But I’m the best.”