We've been back a month and a half and the kids and I are having a blast. They've already made some good friends, and me too. In L.A. I went out to the movies and maybe some bad pasta at CPK, here I've found myself surrounded by some extraordinarily interesting people. It began with a party for Arianna Huffington's ballsy new book, "On Becoming Fearless" where I met Naomi Wolf and Jimmie Briggs, she of The Beauty Myth, he's just finished a heartbreaking book about children forced to become soldiers. At the same party two fellow Stanford alums recognized me from the HuffPost, both are writers, one for The Daily Show, one an editor at Elle. I was talking to another friend from L.A. who said it as well. The cliche' is true. Here in Manhattan you really have to raise your game. In L.A. I felt like I could talk out of my ass and no one would call me on it. I love to let loose and pontificate. Last night, at a cocktail party aboard the Forbes yacht surrounded by the Young Global Leaders of the World Economic Forum, I had to actually think about what I was going to say before I said it. It was wonderful. Back here in this city I feel as if I'm watering my brain.

After the party, after waving goodbye to the golden helicopter on the yacht's roof with "Capitalist Tool" inscribed on its side, the others went off to continue their reveling at various trendy hotspots. That's when reality settled back in on me. Phaedre, my ex, was in town and babysitting for me. I'd promised I would get home around eleven. My hope was that she would settle somewhere near New York so the kids could see her regularly and so I could have a break. They did spend the night where she was staying a few nights ago, and it was the first time I haven't had to run back to a sitter since I've been here. Of course all of my friends here were busy so I just went to the movies by myself and then a late dinner at Zona Mexicana but I still revelled in the freedom. Phaedre doesn't know if she's staying longer here, if she's going away soon. The uncertainty is awful for the kids and keeps me in limbo too. Life was much easier earlier in the evening when I was sipping Veuve on a yacht with retired models and Italian royals.

And yet I can't complain. I so love my life. Two days ago I rushed back to the kids' school for a class potluck armed with two bottles of Marinelli's. As I was setting up in the school cafeteria I realized that I didn't recognize any of the other parents. Instead of October 19th, our potluck is November 19th. Since Phaedre is in town I convinced her to come. While waiting for her, Ava said she was dying of thirst. Out on the curb in front of the school I popped open the sparkiing cider and Ava, Chet and I took turns taking a swig. The bottle looks like champagne in the dark and i was hoping passersby would think that I was the most decadently evil dad ever, sharing champagne right out of the bottle with his two little kids.