From The Diary 07/08/2008

Circuitous Events, The Hand Of Providence and The Guy Named Gerry

So there we were, at the cusp and bosom of yet another milestone. Eighths we call them for that is precisely what they are. Now I would really like to go all numerology on you but hey, the derck is a blogger however odoriferous the word may be.

Well the day had been going completely bonkers for me up to that point of the day. There were a couple of minute bright spots and that was that. The princess had gone through a pretty hellacious patch herself. A very big patch. Almost like a blanket. So the birthday card and the first letter in a decade were mailed to her-who-should-be-called-mom, the venerable office of crooked lawyers cleared m, and we were currently crossing the abbey road in the starting rain, bereft yet happy.

A voice pipes out from the multitude and I snap my head in its direction. There in the not too far off distance was one of the more interesting petite young woman I've known. She had someone with her, the long talked about him I was guessing. One of those alpha-males I've been told. We join them and after the hugs and light banter of hellos and introductions, find ourselves dragged to lunch at Gerry's.

The meal we got treated to was a hoot. That's putting it mildly. It never ceases to amaze me how good things have the potential to become infinitely better when shared. The food was great, the conversation albeit somewhat awkward was honest. If there was a curve where everyone relaxed, it was hard to tell. It was just the frankness and openness that maybe took things to where they went. Truth be told, it's been sometime since I was that loose around folks. Goodbyes were soon given, handshakes and hugs doled out. Damn cool for people who planned for happy meals. Providence rolled out way happy ones.

I don't mean to be prophetic here, but I just may have found Charlie Runkel. The "whadup Runkel?"

The Marce too.

Makes you stop and furrow your brows doesn't it?