Truth be told, I have commemorated yet another year on this soil. I won't say which year it was but suffice it to say that the numbers are mounting. Nevertheless, I feel much the same as I have felt for years, nay decades. I know the years are growing and the supposed physical complaints are increasing but most of the time I don't notice them.
SWMBO and I have just returned from a wonderful Italian repast at a local dining establishment, provided in part by the generosity of a friend who supplied me with a gift card. We both dined on something called Lasagna Rollatini in a sauce . . . mine with Italian sausage, hers with chicken breast. And at my insistence, we topped off the meal with more than enough Zeppoli . . . which SWMBO describes as fried dough. Coated in sugar with a chocolate dipping sauce on the side, I found it quite salutory. My companion complained throughout (while devouring one or two of them!) A too pricey bottle of Kendall Jackson wine completed the feast. And now we're safe home to begin the search for yet another year of survival. So it goes.
I snapped a photo in our neighborhood the other day of a resident Roadrunner. He was a fair distance away so when the picture was cropped and blown up, he becomes a bit hazy. But for those of you who have never seen one of these strange creatures, here he is.