Ahh, New Years Eve, Dick Clark, counting down to the STROKE of midnight. Thanks, I'm here and in bad taste all week. What a drag. The Gypsy fortune teller's incantations assured him fifty years as America's Oldest Teenager and then, bam, he's eighty and can't talk right.
TWC made it past midnight, something that I had assured the kid ringing up the vino at the Two Buck Chuck store wouldn't happen. Supervised the igniting of illegal Mexican firecrackers, half of which were duds, including the ones Ty shoved into an apple and lit only to watch sputter out. Three times.
The Boy put match to fuse. Boom! Each time, six girls squealed in delight and commenced pounding the bottom of Michelle's pots with wooden spoons the size of timpani sticks. To the unsung delight of the neighbors, this cultural ritual continued for some twenty minutes. [shrugs]
It was definitely a Kodak moment but no pix.
Speaking of Fortune Tellers.....
Cleaning out my jeans pockets New Years Day I learned that, even though I've no need for them, I'm still a lighter thief.
Bill Vaughn has a thought for the end of the winter festival.....