There is a dinner party unraveling at my house, and I have escaped to my bedroom. In my experience, all three-year-old screaming children sound about the same. (No offense, I’m sure that yours, or your grandkids, sound different. Better, somehow.)

But I’m 84, sick with a cold (why isn’t it called a “warm” because that is more like what it actually is?), and grumpy. Do you think that’s why my adult children sometimes call me “Grumpa”?

After dinner I excused myself and retired to my bedroom. The place where the lamp on my side of the bed isn’t working. That’s all right, as the old joke goes. I’d rather just sit in the dark. It suits my mood.

Dinner sometimes begins with an appetizer. Carrots and celery. Or toast covered with…whatever. Or little mushrooms filled with – actually, I don’t want to know. Are they there to awaken the appetite, or to put it to sleep?  The dictionary definition states an appetizer is supposed to “stimulate” the appetite. Or “increases the anticipation for what is to follow.”  For me, a delicious appetizer (times fifteen or twenty) doesn’t increase my anticipation for dinner – it IS dinner.

But many of us enjoy dessert the most. And dessert is almost always last. Dessert comes after what used to be my least favorite course – vegetables.

But why save the best for last?  Because we’re already full and won’t eat so much of it?

No.

Because dessert doesn’t clearly fall into one of the four food groups?

Probably not.

I’ll tell you why cake is last. And there isn’t really any other sane explanation.

We eat our cake last because that’s what our parents required. And you and I will be darned if we’re going to let our kids have fun before doing something they don’t like first. They can only watch television after they’ve finished their homework, and they can’t have dessert until after they’ve finished their vegetables. My father insisted that I “finish everything on my plate” before touching my dessert. Perhaps that’s why I weighed almost 270 pounds earlier in my life.

At any rate I restate the title question:  Why do we eat our cake last? What would happen if we ate our cake first, and vegetables later? Would the world fall apart?

Tomorrow I’ll start my day by doing the things that bring me the most pleasure.  I’ll tackle the vegetables after that.

Alan

I’m sitting near an outdoor fireplace at a 1950ish “resort” a short distance from a small town in Texas.  I’m not enjoying either of my two visits here – my first and my last.

I won’t bother to mention the name of this “resort” because you almost certainly will never have the misfortune of being a guest here and because I don’t want to give it any publicity.  Suffice it to say that one of my grandsons slept in the office foyer last night because his room was too dusty.   I just heard from Daveen that his room is now being cleaned by six folks employed by the resort. (There must be a lot of dust.) Daveen also reports that you have to specifically request housekeeping — but no one had bothered to tell us. (Clean towels, anyone?)

In fairness, you should also know that I’m recovering from an extremely aggravating eye infection that apparently hit at least two other family members shortly after we left our river cruise in Portugal.  It rained every day there, and I didn’t know beforehand that it was a wine-tasting tour, which was thoroughly enjoyed by those who imbibe.  I don’t, and didn’t.  The last day we spent on a bus because the canal locks were spilling so much water they couldn’t accommodate our ship.

Why am I now in Texas?  To view the total solar eclipse tomorrow.  I enjoyed a total solar eclipse in Cheyanne Wyoming a few years ago.  Before that, in 1991, Daveen and I flew to the big island of Hawaii to view a solar eclipse.  As it turned out, we watched it on CNN in our hotel room because there was unusually thick cloud cover that day which completely obscured visibility.

The weather reports are predicting cloudy conditions here for tomorrow.  I’ll be ready to turn on CNN, just in case.

This blog may be shorter than most, because – as if you couldn’t tell – I’m grumpy.  Also, I want to watch the Women’s NCAA basketball finals (Iowa vs. undefeated South

Carolina) and the game has just begun.

But thankfully, I’m only two days away from returning home to Los Angeles.  When I write again next week, I’m sure I’ll be happier.  It’s a low bar.

Alan

Eight of us are on a family vacation in Portugal. I’d like to say that we are “enjoying” and not just “on,” a vacation, but it’s been cold and rainy and it would be a stretch to say we’re enjoying ourselves.

Before we left, Daveen consistently checked the weather forecast for Porto and reported rain. Every day.

I’m an optimist by nature and assured her that the rainy season would probably be over by the time we arrived.  Also, I have a reputation for conjuring good weather, and the sky always brightens when I travel somewhere.  Sadly, in this case I was doubly wrong, and that doesn’t bring a smile to any of our eight faces.

Even so, I’ve made the best of it. I’ve read a few books (I highly recommend “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed) and stayed out of the rain as much as possible.  Fortunately, I brought tennis shoes, which I needed when my other shoes got soaked and took two days to dry out.

As I write this, it’s Saturday morning on the 5th day of a week-long cruise, and while most of the others are inspecting a palace and shopping in town, I’m happily dry in our stateroom on the river boat, looking forward to a modest lunch at 1:00 pm when they return.

I must also share that, unexpectedly for me, this is a wine cruise (Porto — port wine.), and I don’t drink wine. While most of our 90 or so fellow travelers are enjoying the two or three wine tastings every day, I’m teetotaling my way through the featured events. I couldn’t tell the difference between a wine’s “nose,” whatever that is, and its “tawnyness,” whatever that is, nor do I care to find out.

But I’ve enjoyed getting to know three of my grandsons better, and have taken pleasure in Daveen’s laughter whenever I offer a snarky comment about the last winery tour we suffered through.

In a few days we will leave the riverboat at 5:00 am for a 4-hour bus trip back to civilization, and two long airplane rides that will convey us to Austin, Texas where we look forward to a total solar eclipse.  No rain forecast there. Just clouds. Well, I suppose we can view the eclipse on CNN, as we did thirty-three years ago in Hawaii.

Of course, as far as I’m concerned, the best part of every trip is walking into my bedroom at home where it is always warm and never wet.

I offer a wine-less toast to our return in two weeks to sunny Southern California.

Alan