Good morning, my schmittens. How are you? I’m fine, feeling a little under the weather, but I think that’s due to the THREE Manhattans I had last night. Just two is enough to snocker me, and the third was probably an unwise decision. I don’t feel sick, really, I just feel…. weak. My legs ache. You might know the feeling. Maybe.
But I had such a good time. Lala and I end up having this kind of night quite often (not usually with three Manhattans, thank god), where we make a little dinner (she cooked good pork) and wind up spending the whole night sitting at the dining table, goin’ on about everything and nothing. We moved from the table after dinner and ended up in my yarn room, talking about music, listening to Concrete Blonde, of all things, and I realized yet again that I am so lucky to be with and live with such an amazing person, a person that fascinates me, and challenges me, and believes in me. Yep, we’re both pains in the ass sometimes, but we’re really damn good together.
That is so rad.
It’s been a great year.
Tonight the Whoreshoes play Amnesia with Rube Waddell, and we’ll be bringing 2008 in with style and perhaps a little less alcohol than last night. You should come if you can.
(Also of interest to locals: My friend Kira has a couple of classes coming up — she’s a great teacher and you would enjoy either one, I think: The Cocoon Sweater (baby sweater! So cute!) and Perforated Gloves (I love these). Even if you ain’t local, you should go click and look. Yep.)
Happy New Year, all!
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