Farewell, sweet youth

I almost cried last night, but I rallied myself bravely. It could have been the beer. It was probably a reluctance to leave 29, compounded by the beer. It wasn't very much beer, but when you really want to cry, it doesn't take much. 

Today has been much better. Gillette is always good to come home to, to visit, and I got to spend an hour or so catching up with an old neighbor, then had dinner and went to a movie with the folks. Just kissed Dad goodnight after he and I watched the Military Channel and he had a one-sided argument with the (British) narrator about the accuracy of his technical aircraft information. That's when I enjoy things like the Military Channel. He also explained today why Argentina was such an appealing land of exile for Nazis. It all comes down to beef. Clearly.

I really wish I had something deep or philosophical to offer tonight, but I don't. The salmon was good, I always forget how much I really like sweet potatoes, and I loved the squirrel in "Night at the Museum." My parent's dog, I'm pretty sure, is part T-Rex, their new cat is psychotic and loves to gnaw (not gently) on my hands, I still love my polka-dotted party dress, people from Colorado drive like idiots when they're in Wyoming, and the Wyoming prairie lit by late-afternoon sunshine against a blue-black cloudy sky is still one of the most beautiful, stirring things I've ever seen. 

They may not be profound things, but they seem a good way to welcome a new decade.

Works for me.