As the five readers I have left might have noticed, I haven't been posting too much of late. I haven't been inspired, mourning the loss of my baby who has abandoned the nest and gone south for the winter. It's quite disorienting.
Some interesting things might have happened worthy of relating, but now I can't remember them. I'll try.
Today I was sitting in the outdoor part of a restaurant on the very west side, when an M8 bus went by and the bus driver leaned out the window and shouted "hello" to me and waved furiously. That he 1) knew who I was, and 2) recognized me from so far away, was exciting. My lunch companion was duly impressed. Now I need to learn his name so we can move this relationship to the next level.
Last Saturday evening, if you were wondering where all the white people went, I found them at the Stone Street Oyster festival. Seriously. All white. Like the suburbs somewhere in the 1950's. Sorry I have no photos, it was so crowded I couldn't move my arms.
After escaping from that oyster nightmare, I ran into the Wall Street sit in, and marched with them for a while and ate one of their peanut butter sandwiches. First time I've had white bread in about 20 years. Ran into some of my son's ex-high school friends, one of whom had organized a couple dozen people and some buses from Ohio to attend. She's my hero.
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