Added to my list of accomps is the following.
But premierly a little backstory.
There was - past like tense - a doorknob situation and there was another doorknob situation. Things like old locks suddenly springing into action and then a staged break-in of the home office hovel from a second story window featuring smashed pane and crawling. Then the replacement of the offending knob.
Then another knob issue. This all takes place over several years and the second-last knob was, Yours Truly learnt today, designed for indoors. This $6 knob finally spun its last turn today as YT had a new and improved model that was purchased from the big box for $28.
Then came the truly interesting part, the putting together and, in retrospect, it was not harder than the sump pump situation. But patience. I mean, after drinking coffee with Kunji, Allen, Laura, Geoff and then some it was a real trial.
But done, finally.
And, it's one of those nice Euro numbers. Some strange lady in the big box assured me it was easy. Hell, I've got an MFA fercrissakes from that school over there in the Shiney Apple. What's a little forged steel and such after the wending to and fro and mastery of gradstudentspeak and digvids.
I rest my locksmithy case.
I had to break some bad party news to Molly last night while we were inspecting the tray of stuffed shells Laura made for her soiree.
I noted the several giant cloves of garlic. Molly insisted that they were white beans. I disagreed. She disagreed even after I pulled one from the red sauce.
White bean. Garlic clove.
Molly had eaten one and still was convinced it was a bean. This is a potential party disaster. Hot party noshing tip: Always inspect what You suspect are white beans.
Off to points beyond and beyond.

Beyond garlic Love.

Subtheme of this day was fab accomps of two Shiney Apple boys, Dragon Boy and Literal Harold. Dragon Boy has a new site replete with his fun facts and images of his very serene-looking self taken in Chinatown not too far from where Yours Truly rested and rests still her weary head in that woodneck. The Shiney Apple is where I dream the best dreams and have the best sleeps. And serendipity. And dinners. And lunches. And ideas.
So there is Dragon Boy all famed and such and I felt such a tsunami swell of pride for him. When he doubted himself I was his cheerleading YouCanDoIt gal. There is no more generous heart than that of Dragon Boy.
Then there's Literal Harold all denoted by Newsweek as a kryptonite to stupid re: his VH1 Game Break blog and again the pride parade of YT.
Me, I'm over here in the Middling City writing about lame-arsed film projects and posting them chock full of fun facts and then getting the bizness from one of the film project harpies who states the film crew and such is not Comfortable - dig that - with what was written. I not only rebut the stupidity with statements such as You will, you realize, not be able to control the media once your precious film hits the international cinema, but daydream about gigs much superior and full of import again with people who just know what is what and are not teeming with nonsensical MC trifles.
*A beautiful Neil interlude.*You are the words I am the tune come play me.*You are the sun, I am the moon.*
Last stop du jour a conflation, a carcrash, of friends from several venues all mixed together in the sodium-lit large windows of a west side joint with pretensions.
It is time to dream small MC dreams.

Small-dreamed Love.

Papa's got a brand new bag alright.
Like up in the heavens, from which some good things flow.
Some people die at the age of 73. Like James Brown, Ray Charles and Mr. Cochrane.
The time I first recall really - and I do mean really - grooving on the music of James Brown was when Tony Billoni was dj'ing at The Pink somewhere in the 80s and suddenly in that throng it all just worked (for me) for the first time.
I did see and photograph him once that I recall.
Now as I blog (but Blogger is in Cali time so this may still be dated as Christmas), it is Boxing Day which is the holiday that not too many people understand. Pugilism. Day to gift at helpers in life. Whatever. Point is Christmas is done and now it is time to wend one's way toward the new year.
I did blog over on Buffalo Rising Online about how to avoid death in traffic circles (aka rotaries, not to be confused with that nice, fraternal order that sent Yours Truly over to the Philippines for one month in her salad days), my special gift to the Middling City.
Goodbye James Brown.
Goodbye Christmas.
Goodbye legions of sad, wasted evergreen trees, sad misunderstood pagan icon.

Evergreen Love.
Not to be confused with Babs l.p. of same name, Love.