Friends are good and fun.

It's been a weird couple of days.

Parties never last as long as you expect them to. Or they last too long, and people end up crashing on your couch. Tonight there's no crashing. Just a lot of too-short conversations with people you don't see enough of and alcohol-fueled admissions.

I am a dreadfully honest person. To my (and others') detriment, at times. Apologies right now to everyone I've pissed off.

Ding Dongs are calling (thanks, Elizabeth! I swear I have been eating much healthier lately...until now). Friends are good and fun. And why do rock stars congregate near the stairs?

Something to ponder.

I once had a dog named Pepper, a Scottish Terrier who escaped through an open gate of my own leaving. I was nine. I still remember petting the fur of his hind quarters, last goodbye to a dog in a bag in my father's trunk who had been hit by a car.

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