It’s somebody’s birthday today whom I love, but I’m not allowed to say.  He likes to keep it low key.  No party, no presents. That’s OK.  I am up with that.  And then it got quiet.  “What about the cake”?  I wanted to know.  More quiet.  “That’s OK”, he said.

Too right.  Say what you want, but don’t tell me that I can’t make a cake.  Gingerbread with fresh whipped cream.  We’re not having dinner.  Just cake and candles and all the wine that I could hug in two arms from The Vine in LIC.