Last night was Emmy's 60th birthday. Every time I go next door, we sit in front of her new iMac and snap a photo with Photo Booth. This was our photo from last night. You can't tell from the photo, but I dressed up for the occasion. I wore black pants that weren't jeans. I wore shoes that weren't tennis shoes.
When it was time to move into the dining room, Tom stood up and one of my favorite socks fell off the back of his pants. Yesterday he told me to turn around and look. This evening I should have told him to turn around and look (in the mirror).
Footnotes: Emmy is the woman who beat me in every 5-k we ran together. She's still running them–not me!
John cooked an incredible dinner: first of all, icy cold Sauvignon blanc, garlic pretzels, cashews. Then, broiled salmon, baked potato wedges, Brussels sprouts, asparagus, broccoli, bread with all kinds of seeds on it, butter, butter, butter, shrimp salad, and pear crisp with whipped cream and coffee. I even ate the Brussels sprouts.
