My friend Wes, he who first persuaded me to start this blog several years ago, and his lovely wife Jawa Girl, stopped by this afternoon to see the new kitties me, and we had our usual wondrous visit. Wes and I have a unique friendship: we agree on pretty much everything except politics. We like and respect each other enough to stay friends in spite of the fact that I horrify him regularly, politically speaking. We share enough history and snark and pure liking to more than make up for his my our occasional bloody outraged political blowout minor disagreement.

Today, though, we talked about little kittens, families, travel, gravy, and old friends (specifically, one I saw at Snow’s today: Hi, Brian!

I have a lot of former students who are professional musicians, in one way or another. Yes, I take full credit. I did my best to expose them to live theatre and music, in the public school’s teeth, and it wasn’t easy. I had to battle coaches and bus drivers and basketball-season-ticket-holding administrators and parents who couldn’t understand why younger siblings couldn’t go with us and something called the “fifty-mile rule” which didn’t apply to athletics but which suddenly became important when a theatre was 51 miles away. . . .

Ah, well, those days are over. (. . . trying to suppress huge grin. . . .)

Full credit. Me. That’s right.

Just kidding. Way to go, Brian and Wes. And Jeremy. (Buy their cd’s.) (Please)

In other news, Hub and I went to Snow’s today and didn’t have to sit in the smoke! Cancer Man and his ancient cronies were nowhere to be seen.

I don’t want anything bad to happen to any of them, but it was sure nice at the restaurant today with them not there.

You know Snow’s must be really good if people risk the presence of Cancer Man and his wrinkled cronies to get a burger there. And that shaved ice. . . . . mmmm, love it.