I’m stuffed.

There were only six of us at the table this year, but we cooked enough for twice that many. I’m stuffed, and I have enough leftovers for dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow. Score!

Anybody want some pumpkin pie?

Where’s the party!

Sh…yeah…., Early music kicks ass! Ok, I know that sounds a little weird coming from anyone but me, but it’s coming from me, so nyah. Yeah, it rocks. I just back from a superdy-duperdy concert. No, it wasn’t perfect. If it was perfect it would be a recording. Still, everything went smoothly and no train wrecks occured. And it was fun. During the intermission a few of us decided though that we have at least as much fun not performing in a concert, but just hanging with each other making music.

Oh, the subject of this post? Well, as I was cleaning up after the concert and hanging around and driving home I had this sensation that I couldn’t identify until I really thought about it. Probably because it isn’t something I feel terribly often. I wanted (still want) a party. I want a russell or wellington style party. Greeting everybody, packing the bodies in, a bright kitchen full of people talking and a fridge full of drinks. A dining room with a table full of munchies and somebody pouring shots. Loud music pumping from a stereo somewhere, a movie or video games happening on a TV somewhere, none of the lights in the place at the same setting. It’s more than just hanging out with people enjoying being with friends. That’s easy to do, I’m talking about a party!.

Too damn bad it’s a quiet sunday in New England.