I miss my commune!
This past holiday season, I spent seven nights in my beloved Cleveland with Sophie, who prefers to be called Sophia nowadays, Chloe and my topnotch girlfriend Tova.
We stayed at my mom's house, the Polish mansion, in Brecksville, and on our second night there, the house turned into a commune.
Sophia and Chloe absolutely love to play with their cousins, Jack and Ellie, and Tova and I love their parents, Carlos and Katie. Soon, they stayed over each night as well, and we engaged in communal living.
Now, many communes get a bad rap because of a misperception that they are impractical and ultimately will end in death by Kool-Aid. But during these holidays, our days ended with all of us yearning for more communal living. We had no official religion in the commune, and on the final day, Carlos brought over his minstrel instruments.
As our kids and all of us bonded, Carlos and I noticed some slight changes in our personalities. He and I, for example, started dressing similarly in a uniform that featured our Soprano-esque track suits. When we didn't dress similarly, we made sure to stay close together.
We have no specific plans to expand our commune, but if we do, I believe tambourines will be involved.