In 2025, new car prices hit a historic milestone, with the average cost surpassing $50,000. In 2026, those prices have remained elevated, though higher inventory levels mean you actually have room to negotiate again.

I get asked from time to time what does it mean to work in finance. Below are some thoughts.

In the world of college sports, few debates are as heated as the one currently raging between Tucson and Ann Arbor. As of January 2026, the Arizona Wildcats and the Michigan Wolverines are locked in a historic battle for the No. 1 spot in college basketball.

The ball has dropped, the confetti has settled, and we've officially ushered in another new year! There's a certain magic in this time, a collective sense of possibility that hangs in the air, isn't there? It’s more than just a date on the calendar; it’s an invitation, a fresh page in the story of our lives.

As 2025 draws to a close, I’ve found myself looking back at the calendar and feeling incredibly lucky. It’s been a year of big milestones, small quiet moments, and everything in between—but the best part of it all has been sharing it with my favorite people.

In the age of instant gratification, where we can order anything with a thumb-tap and receive it by sunset, the world of classic car collecting stands as a stubborn, beautiful outlier.

We live in a world addicted to the "now." Our news feeds are dominated by daily fluctuations, quarterly earnings, and the latest political firestorms. But when you strip away the noise, real success—whether in finance, career, or personal growth—isn't built on reacting to headlines. It’s built on a fundamental misunderstanding of what risk actually looks like.

I can't believe what happened at Bondi. I am absolutely sickened, horrified, and honestly, furious. What we saw yesterday wasn't just a terrible event; it was a devastating, bloody slap in the face to every single Jew.

I love my family. I truly do. They are kind, supportive, and, bless their hearts, they are also apparently in a clandestine competition to see who can leave the most lights on in the house at any given time. I'm starting to believe that the simple act of flipping a switch from 'on' to 'off' requires a physics degree, three years of deep meditation, and maybe a small offering to the Electrical Gods—requirements that are, clearly, beyond my nearest and dearest.

After the feasting and the gift-buying, the final days of the year bring the most important event of all: the opportunity for a fresh start. The time between Christmas and New Year's is a classic moment for slowing down, reflecting on the past year, and setting intentions for the next.

Thanksgiving is almost here, and the air is buzzing with the promise of family, football, and, of course, a feast that requires strategic planning (and elastic waistbands!). But amidst the hustle of basting the turkey and perfecting the cranberry sauce, it's worth pausing to reflect on what this holiday is truly about: gratitude.

The air has a crisp, new bite to it. The leaves are turning from vibrant greens to fiery oranges and reds. While the scenery is beautiful, for a certain kind of person, this change doesn't bring a feeling of cozy anticipation—it brings grief.

Normally, Yom Kippur is all about hitting the pause button. You fast, you pray, you do some major soul-searching. It's like a personal reset button, where you apologize for the mistakes you made last year and promise to be better in the new one. It's deep, it's serious, and it’s very personal.