Happy Fucking New Year, Kids. It's bound to be better. Unless it gets worse. Anyway, Much Love to All.
I think this was the New Year's Eve Show that we saw Larry Bird and Kevin McHale backstage with Bill Walton. (C.B.? Was it the 1987 show?) Of course it was. That year marked the end of my marriage and the beginning of an excruciatingly harsh lesson I had yet to grasp. I learned it alright. Major collateral damage came with it. Damage that will not be denied it's right to stick around. A pricey lesson.
New Year's Eve is my favorite holiday. The whole out with the old, in with the new ritual just works for me. A yearly purge. Even if N.Y.E. Shows ceased long ago. We've adapted and grown (somewhat) accustomed to hanging around the shack, celebrating in a more subdued manner. Settled? Check. Boring? Check again. Well on our way to old. Our New Year's Eve supper: Black-Eyed Pea and Spinach Salad & Curried Red Snapper. Later on, we'll sip Lambic and bid good riddance to a fairly shitty year. Cheers!
