Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Daylight Ravings

Someone (not my shrink) suggested that I venture away from potentially creepy topics like fluffers and prosthetic private parts for at least a day and blog on something more G-rated. Fair enough.

So...on with the red cardigan sweater, blue leisure shoes, and ridiculously wide smile. Yeah, that feels good. Okay, now cue the frail music, and sing along with me:

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

It's a neighborly day in this beauty wood,
A neighborly day for a beauty.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

I've always wanted to have a neighbor just like you.
I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.

So, let's make the most of this beautiful day.
Since we're together we might as well say:
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
Won't you please,
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?

Two weeks ago marked the 4 year anniversary of Fred's death. If I had a blog then, I might have mentioned it. The Neighborhood of Make-Believe, I hear, is still thriving, especially with daylight savings time rocking.

Apparently we're not the only ones making the most out of an energy crisis. My invite must be on the floor of the USPS dead letter office because I didn't receive it, but apparently King Friday XII and Prince Tuesday hosted a Tuesday night cookout that would have gone all night if the cops hadn't shut it down.

Daylight savings is a breath of fresh air. If you think otherwise, you might be a crotchety farmer who still uses decrepit farm equipment, in which case you're entitled to your bitterness but might want to consider an update.

It's also show season. A friend with tremendous taste in music recently emailed:

Show season is the best, especially when it starts to get warm and it's light at 8pm. I plan on being at St. Ex/DC9 at least 2 nights a week, every week through spring.

She's a rocker. That message gives me a charge of electricity. My plan, at least twice a week, is to live vicariously through her experiences, if she will let me.

Nothing from left field today, just a general appreciation of longer days. Tonight we're grilling, drinking white wine, and smoking cigarettes on the back deck. Tomorrow it's back to the odd topics and pallid attempts at humor.

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