I was taking out the compost this morning and my neighbor was having a smoke and watching Hank poop or whatever Hank was doing. She said, “Good morning!” and then, “I heard you guys singing last night.” Yes. We were. Singing, that is. And BTW, I really like my neighbors. I’m not being snarky here. I was just kind of like, “Oh yeah, we were singing.”

I laughed. Yes, we were singing. Probably obnoxiously. When you celebrate your still-20-something-but-not-for-long child’s birthday and you don’t have a whole buncha gifts to give her because guess what? She doesn’t want or need any kind of material things, you need to have things to do. Dinner and cocktails and a wee nightcap in the Lyme Lounge. With singing. Don’t worry. We curtailed our little party early enough that people drove home sober and all of us were happy as larks for the proverbial Monday Morning Slodge, which I don’t actually mind but that would be a whole ‘nother story.

We were reminiscing last night as you may be able to tell by the ancient photos of me actually wearing a bikini. I do not wear those any more. Anyway, I spent the latter part of the 1990s and early 2000s driving kids around the Planet Ann Arbor in my loverly old Island Teal POC, a beauteous top-dollah Plymouth Voyager that nickel-and-dimed us to death although I will admit that it never left us on the side of the road, at least not for very long.

The “alternative” rock station (?) got tuned in when I bought that vee-hickle in 1996, the end of Lizard Breath’s 6th grade year, and I think it stayed on that station forever, except when people played CDs. Hee hee hee. I *liked* that music. Well, most of it. I did get tired of Ani sometimes but I would just ask that we didn’t play Ani and that was always okay. My own parents tolerated rock music in the car some of the time but I don’t think they ever liked it. At least I know that The Commander didn’t like it (except for Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon once, go figger).

I’ve posted this Baby Elizabeth and butts pic about a gazillion times. The baby is bravely and excitedly walking out into Lake Superior, confident in her safety by hanging on to her moom’s finger. Her great aunt Radical Betty (left) and her grandmother, The Commander (right) are there to help keep her safe.

I look tan at least in the second pic. I am blonde but I do tan (except for my face). I used to pursue a golden tan when I was a beach urchin and even beyond and I always got one. Nowadays I do not pursue a tan. I don’t really care any more. If I get a wee bit of a tan by accident, I am okay with that. I think we all need some sun, especially those of us who live in the northern reaches. I always shield my face nowadays.

These are my latest facebook profile and cover photos, which you know if you are friends with me there 🐽.

Good night, KW.

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