I’m on a very short leash this morning for writing. My wife
has a laundry list of tasks we must complete this morning if we’re going to
head up to Keene, as planned. We haven’t seen Keene Friend since my wife
returned from Panama. This is more due to his resuscitated social life with a
new job that doesn’t imprison him 13 days out of 14. In order to make that
happen though, I’m going to make this short.
Since we have something finally resembling an actual spring
day I’m going to get under the porch to see if I can rehab the lattice the
winter shattered in a moment of pique. The snow has melted sufficiently to
allow access under the porch. I think I’ll end up having to replace the entire
section. We also have porch and deck furniture to move out of hibernation. My
wife also wants to identify some of the excess furniture we have in basement
for donation; part of our downsizing effort.
First Friday lived up to advance billing yesterday. My
operations manager was the first on the scene at Brew City but the ever
vigilant wait staff wouldn’t allow him to change the channel on the television
until they received permission from me. I’ve co-opted them and the operations
manager has a very spotty attendance record for First Friday so they required a
text from me to allow it, a lot of fun.
Wife and I at Zorba's Last Night |
Even more fun was Zorba’s. My wife violated protocol and
took the night off from yoga so we could immediately go to Zorba’s where we had
the usual weekly infusion of diversion. I’ve written before how much I look
forward to these Friday nights, yesterday was no exception. We returned home to
watch this season’s first installment of the Red Sox - Yankees rivalry. We had
to give up when the game went to extra innings as the Sox coughed up the lead
in the 9th inning (come back fast Koji!). That turned out to be a
good decision since we woke up this morning to learn that the sox did win (!)
but that it took 19 innings and the game didn’t finish until after 2am. This
more than validated our wimping out at 11pm.
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