Santa Face

It's droll, pointless reading for the most part. I'm talking about some hapless fek's account of his holiday preperations and the goings-on that surround it. Most everybody shares in the experience in some form or another to some extent anyway so why waste important minutes of your life reading about somebody else?
And really it's only comforting if you can relate to it. Some anecdote about the conversations you overhear in line at the post office. A minor squabble with a significant other about their choice of Christmas cards. Or if the cards will even reach their destination in the five mail days left or what message does it send about the sender for waiting so long.
Or how many trips back to the big box store to once again exchange outdoor lights after climbing on the roof and connecting all 8 strands before checking them on the ground only to find out one and a half strands actually work. Or how easy it is to walk into a bookstore with a long list only to walk out with purchases for yourself.
Or how time and money run out and you haven't found time to get that thoroughly thoughtful and close to perfect gift for your brother and how quickly it turns into a Lowe's gift card because you're at least certain there is a Lowe's in Boston.
I still love Christmas though.
Merry Christmas!

Hunky-Dory II (in case there is another)

If you look up the definition of hunky-dory, that is, if you ever find you need to, it says,
"fine, all right, satisfactory."
So if you're kind of a low-key person that description might indicate a strain of giddyness or something more akin to maybe a wow.
The night before Thanksgiving last at the Eastern Avenue Hall, I had what I thought was a hunky-dory night behind the kit (drummer speak for, well, drums). And if history serves me, and it doesn't always, I'd be willing to bet at least the bass player, Mitchell Wood, and maybe even Jacques, the guitar player/singer with a hat, were feeling the same.
As a potentially muscular, rhythmic nucleus who've played together on and off for over 20 years, hunky-dory we should be at the very least. Then you throw Dennie and Pete in the mix that night and you get what ever the word is that is a step or two above hunky-dory. Let's chew on that for a moment shall we?
More importantly I want to thank everybody who came out and stayed at least till I started playing bass. Seriously, it was a very genuine and appreciative crowd. I know it takes dynamite sometimes to get my wife and I out of the house for something more closely related to drudgery than anything special.
I think special is like, maybe, two notches above hunky-dory actually. And yes, Honey, I'm cleaning my office as I write this.