I Don't Want Another Drink

Sorry for the red herring to start today. I'm not concerned about Hurricane Irene not because I'm an idiot (though I am) or impotent in being able to change the weather (which is more than certainly true), but because I can do exactly as much about it as I was able to with whatever kind of earthquake we had in these parts earlier in the week (the other spelling was often used to describe it, which is fine).

I know someone celebrating a birthday today, the first on a new coast though not their first and I hope it's happy if the weather does make it a bit of a struggle keeping the candles on the cake lit. Historically, it's a decent day to be born (actually any day is a fine day to be born), sharing a natal anniversary with folks such Alex Lifeson (I did not realize he was younger than I; bastard), Paul Reubens (ditto, for different reasons) and Lyndon Baines Johnson (ibid not ebay).

Don't know about your neck of the woods but school of all shape and size gets started around here next week (plus minus a day, maybe, for whatever damage the hurricane brings)--not so much in our house as our two are adults (except in their father's eyes, and don't I know who that reminds me of) but the neighborhood will soon have children of all ages at the foot of driveways waiting for buses to take them away. Sneak a peek at the littlest ones as they wait and try to remember when we last felt the excitement about anything you can see in their eyes.

"Open up your back screen door/ Let me see your face once more.
My hands are cold and my feet so sore/And I can't go on this way."
Whoa! Turns out I was fooling myself, again. Damn, I'm good!
-bill kenny