Hey, I don't speak Latin either, Nostradamus. But it looks good!
Last night was a triumph within a success within a winner! We went to Dave and Vicky's beautiful . . . well, I can only call it a cabin, since it seemed to all be made of wood -- in Dorval, and I watched planes thundering overhead very happily and drank copious amounts of beer.
Then Jake and his girlfriend arrived, he with his upright bass, and the true partying began. Music! Cocaine! Swingers! Okay, I lied about everything after music.
But it was a hell of an evening, especially because everyone was SO DAMN FUNNY! and smart! This is always good. We played music in odd combinations and then poor Roger the drummer without drums (well, he has four sets but didn't bring them last night) came by and he and I sat around and observed the tribe of lunatics, which is what I called them.
I swear, 50-somethings have a long history of being lunatics, and that's JUST what we all were.
So it looks like WE HAVE A BAND.
All we now need is a keyboard player. Who is not me.
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