You’d think that a cookout would be relaxing. You’d think that, but not so much. As we arrive, I shake hands (are my palms sweaty?) with my friends (are these people really my friends? they like my wife better.) and relax for a moment when I nab a lemonade. Everyone is clustered in small groups. I edge over to one and listen to two dads talk about summer jobs (should I have forced my kid to get a summer job?) their kids have and the vacations (will my kid resent me since we can’t afford two vacations per year?) they have taken. That’s the first ten minutes, and things go downhill from there.  That’s... Read More