A fair number of you stalked me through the first half of the year. I went underground in an attempt to shake the tail. I had a minor surgery with major blood loss. I know, I know, face injuries always bleed a frightful amount.
I attended the wedding of close friends in Colorado in August. I heard the food was good but I didn't eat as is my custom in large groups. Sometimes I fill a plate and push bits around until they disintegrate while watching others dig in like Tony Soprano on a New York Italian (sandwich, not whore). As far as wedding bands go, the rest of you knot-tiers have a much higher bar to meet. Those boyz rocked twice as much as they rolled.
The husband made me take his motorcycle for a ride as it had been neglected all summer. I re-aggravated that exposed nerve associated with why Mr. Young's proclamation hadn't been, "We're going to Oklahoma." Bee and seagull worship aside, that place is stunning (a word used too often in parts of the Southern Hemisphere).
I hopped a train in a half-assed circumnavigational attempt on the contiguous states. Couldn't bring myself to leave Boston for Florida. Next time. Those of you that haven't ridden the rails in this country have missed out on some amazing scenery and delightful conversation. Tops involved an ex-con and an Amish gentleman debating the problems with the attention span of our country's youth.
I met up with my pen pal in NYC. They're right, it's a hell of a town. Hot tourist tip: the cheapest beers in the city (unless you date a bartender) are Bud pounders on the Staten Island Ferry. And the ride is free and beautiful, you can even see Trenton, New Jersey.
I'm currently sock sorting in Wisconsin. Mokodi is the Japanese word that springs to mind. It means the same but different. The same is grading skins is grading skins the world over. The different is no crashing rental cars or partying with movie-star midgets.
Whether you celebrate this time of year by lighting candles, sacrificing goats, or humans, I extend a hearty, "What up?" to you and yours.
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