Yesterday we were going to walk to the farmer's market downtown and have a fine breakfast and maybe buy some of that fine frost sweetened spinach and some root vegetables.
I fell down on the ice twice before we got half way, so we bailed and went to EVP just like we usually do.
And it seemed like everybody was there.
Owen, the man with the nice skull made us coffee, a fine pair of espresso shots for me topped off with very dark Guatemalan French Roast.
Tim was there, or at least most of him since he had that farm accident a decade ago there are a few digits missing.
He's my bass and guitar player and does more with three fingers on his
fretting hand than most people do with ten.
Coffee, a working furnace and handsome women and pretty men,
what more does one need on a Saturday afternoon in Wisconsin in January?
Aside from a ticket to a warm place like Bermuda and a few hundred million bucks and a new pair of 18 year old bodies for our cranky, middle aged brains to be in, anyway?