The Passing of an Era

It's a bittersweet fall day. The sun is shining and the leaves are glowing golden on this downright balmy November afternoon. There are birds chattering away in the trees outside.

Oh, so many birds.

The phone rang shortly after noon today, signaling the end of a beautiful relationship.

The Escort has ... gone to a farm upstate. There's lots of other cars there, too, and even some tractors and motorbikes.

As the tow-truck driver slowly winched the car onto the bed of his truck, well ... I didn't shed a tear. But I kind of loved that car.


P.S.
YOU GUYS! It's been a freaking year? Surely something is happening out there in the world of ... the world!

Happy Birthday, Freakin' Deacon!!!

For my ever-lovin' husband. I love you more than words can describe. Have a fantastic birthday, baby!

Up Too Late Hymn

I've been listening to Emmylou tonight, and wondering why I don't listen to more of her - or any music, for that matter. Curses, NPR, your nefarious plot is coming to fruition!!

I think this is perhaps the perfect amount of Dave Matthews. I do love his voice, but this satisfies any nostalgia I may experience.



Maybe it's because I watched some of a Steven Wright special last night, but I feel like the crack about the "politically correct world" and following statement are straight from his act. But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. ("Nothing New Under the Sun" by Anne Fadiman - excellent essay about plagiarism).