So for my dad's fiftieth birthday this year I gave him 3,666 miles of father-son quality time. Next year he's getting a card.
I spent the last ten days talking to nobody but my dad, whose not much of a talker, and to myself, inside my motorcycle helmet. Yesterday I sang the chorus to Death From Above 1979's "Black History Month" to myself for ten hours between Taos, NM and Norman, OK. That's a hell of a lot better than the day before when "Total Eclipse of the Heart" kept popping in there. Anyhoo, I think I'm still sane enough to talk to actual people. New York people. Bring 'em on.
I spent the last ten days talking to nobody but my dad, whose not much of a talker, and to myself, inside my motorcycle helmet. Yesterday I sang the chorus to Death From Above 1979's "Black History Month" to myself for ten hours between Taos, NM and Norman, OK. That's a hell of a lot better than the day before when "Total Eclipse of the Heart" kept popping in there. Anyhoo, I think I'm still sane enough to talk to actual people. New York people. Bring 'em on.
So how was the Wee Girl? Didja get lucky on the couch? I'm sure you'll have ample opportunities again this week!
--l*P