TGP loves old-line restaurants like these. And no one wears a tie any more except the hosts and the waiters.
What a perfect end to the baseball season. Game Sevens are what all Sports Fans dream of, at least the ones who don't waste their time caring about The American Idiot Super Bowl. Even if your team sucked eggs this year, when Game Seven comes up you realize you wish your guys were playing, even though you know they couldn't beat either of these teams. So, let's hope for a great game and once it's over, AT LAST, Spring Training will be right around the corner.
You set up a studio, an engineer, and two players and one singer, and you get the date and everything is fixed for exactly thirty seconds, and then the singer hurts her back scuba diving and the engineer had the wrong date and is not free after all and the trombonist probably doesn't even exist.
Oct 26, 2014. Read a letter to the editor this morning in the Crusticle from a woman complaining about bicyclists. She said "It's obvious the city only cares about bicycles and not about drivers. I'm 70 years old! I can't ride a bicycle!"
My Mom has started asking for her daughter, the one who died at two days old in 1938. In the middle of the night, she wonders where Kenni is. She's been asking for The Chief too, and last night told Lillian she couldn't get into her bed because her mother and Auntie Dora were in it and there was no room for her.
It was a quick trip, and worth going. Being with Mummy P. works in 20 minute spurts these days. She doesn't sleep much at night, so the day becomes her night, when she has to pick up all those missing hours. Saturday she slept in the car coming home from Burbank airport, slept most of the day away, had dinner, fell asleep on the sofa and then went to bed. Today was better, she was alert in the morning. Nefnik and Lilli came over and were there with her when Ducknik and Plot took a cab to the airport.