Christmas is great. The kids (if you’re in our age range, they’re not exactly kids anymore, in fact, some of them have kids) gather around, open their presents, pretend to like them, as the little kids tear open their gifts leaving a treacherous path of cardboard, ribbons and that all time gift meant for causing excruciating pain when you step on them, Lego’s. This is where I believe Chanukah has a distinct advantage. The presents are spread over 8 nights, so it’s like, “Okay, it’s the first night, so let’s light the candle and all open our one present for the night.” To put it in Christmas terms, it’s like 7 nights of stocking stuffers and then one night of the good stuff, like Lego’s. Another Chanukah advantage is that the whole family doesn't descend on you at once. Uncle Harry can come over on Wednesday, while Aunt Marge can make it on Thursday, etc. You tend not to get overwhelmed by either presents or relatives. Then there are the blended families. The ones who celebrate both Christmas and Chanukah. Who have the tree and the menorah. They have the one crazy day of overindulgence PLUS eight more. I guess what we’re trying to say is Happy Holidays.

Okay so what about the other comic? While I claim to be an adventurous eater, I have my limits. A couple weeks ago I went to a Japanese yakitori restaurant that serves every part of a chicken on skewers. And I mean every part. I ate the heart and the gizzard but drew the line at eating chicken testicles. I kid you not. John is, I’d say, more adventurous (except when it comes to peas). He mentioned liking Ethiopian food. Not me. I remember a few decades back when one of my two brothers-in-laws, the same guy who wanted to visit Bhutan, took us out for Ethiopian food when he lived in Washington D.C. We sat cross-legged on the floor and the server placed a huge metal sheet, much like the pan a large pizza comes on when you order it in a restaurant, and on it was this thin, soggy, doughy piece of injera (which is Ethiopian for bread). I remarked to the waitress that we had no silverware. She patiently explained that we are supposed to eat with our hands. That is, you take the platters of steaming vegetables in some type of spiced tomato sauce, tear off a piece of soggy injera, pick said veggies up and wrap them inside your piece of injera, and eat. Yum, except if you don’t care for vegetable stew. Suffice it to say, if you, dear readers want to go to an Ethiopian restaurant, go with John. If it’s pizza, I’m your man. But I will admit, Ethiopian restaurants do tend to be inexpensive. So when John pitched an idea about going out for a cheap, Ethiopian meal, I told him I had recently gone out for an inexpensive meal of pizza and salad to share with my wife and son. I parked at the end of the block, behind the last metered space. And when I returned to my car, I found a $50 ticket on my windshield. (Side note: I wrote the town judge a letter about how I shouldn’t be penalized for trying to support the local economy and he cut the fine to $25). Which is a roundabout way of saying we combined the inexpensive Ethiopian meal with the expensive parking ticket and bingo, we had our next comic.

And that’s the way it happens. Sometimes we dream up ideas out of thin air, and sometimes it’s about what happens in either or both of our lives, with a healthy dose of poetic license thrown in. Have a great last weekend of 2023 and when you’re cleaning up the toys, please wear a thick pair of shoes.

Happy Holidays,

Andy and John