Might I say Egad! Yes. Vociferously.
Might I offer... something? Gold? Frankincense? Myrrh?
House of Bread, House of Cards. Aces. Queens. King of Kings. Sixes and Sevens.
Heirophants and Elephants and Donkeys. New Hampshire and Iowa.
I owe nothing. I have it all. In Spades.
The temps have risen enough to get much ice gone. Treacherous steps here at 18 Hillside. Cold.
Sunday. Last week seemed a wash - days after the holiday drifting away midweek.
I worked at the Hynes for First Night, a Boston celbration that I had heard so much as to. 4 to 9. Good hours, so I was told. Clueless, I went, watching as the paying crowd wandered with no idea as to what or where. Ice sculptures on the Common went unseen by these eyes, as I was dog tired with tired dogs - my feet didn't care for the solid solid floors - stone tiles and concrete.
We went to the Alley for Guinness afterwards. Midnight. Kissed by strangers - one that recognized me from a site online - bear411. Go figure. Missed the fireworks at the harbor. Close enough to possibly attend; too tired to move, and, I had a seat. Perma freeze.
The next day, at Gene's in E. Boston -- I had arrived before going Usher at Hynes, so I had a key to let myself in. No transit to Bedford on Sundays and holidays kept me there, and we whiled away the first day of the new year glued to the TV with Chinese delivery.
All is good, all is bright.
Missed out on a group gathered - a yearly event, I take it - at Ilene's south of Boston. Bill Schuellein called and told me of Mal (Craig now) coming to pick me up. Uh, can't go.
Seeing if Doung Wilds arrives as he said he would this coming week.
The stars must have something to do with this. The US Postal does to - cards sent and so forth.
Details when there are some more.
Pix? Wouldn't that be something? It could happen.
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