Someday
Someone somewhere will ask me how I was able to overcome the grief I felt after my father’s passing at the beginning of the year.
And I will have to tell them quite honestly that it involved a lot of impromptu interpretive pajama dance to “Birdland” from the Ken Burns Jazz box set.
I am so down with Andy Rooney’s view of New Year’s. Jason and I are celebrating with pajamas, wine for me, beer for him, chicken nuggets, Super Mario Bros, and a wiener dog in a T-shirt.
(And I kind of love it so much that it’s ridiculous.)
So.
My husband just watched me eat cold gravy directly from the pot with a wooden spoon.
And wash it down with a glass of wine.
So, Thanksgiving was a success.
The Jankees.
Just watched some baseball with my landlords. They are Dominican and they call the Yankees “the Jankees” and that alone is enough to make me enjoy the experience, especially considering the fact that I have no idea what is occurring or who is playing or why everyone is spitting everywhere. (Seriously, baseball player? Be a gentleman.)
My takeaway of the game is this:
Someone must tell Andy Pettitte immediately that he is wasting the world’s rapidly diminishing supply of T’s. You are taking up 4 for what could easily be accomplished by 2. And that is unconscionable.





