Next Year Is Here

My family has a tradition of spending the holidays in the Pocono Mountains with friends from our Brooklyn days. Mariel and Max became friends at playgroup nearly 20 years ago. They're now juniors in college.

A year ago, we didn't make the trip to the house on the lake. I was 3 months post-transplant, and my doctor firmly nixed the idea. "8 people (9) and 2 (3) dogs confined indoors during the winter is a bad idea for you now. You'll go next year."

I always loved when my doctor said things like that because it meant he had faith there was going to be a "next year."

When everyone gets up, we're piling into the van and driving 4-5 hours west to Pennsylvania. We're bringing lobsters and home-made cheesecake. More importantly, we're bringing me.