What a fine weekend!
On Saturday we finally went to see our old friend Lorenzo Washington at his small but impactful Jefferson Street Sound Museum. We knew him long before he was a "national treasure," I recall him telling me about the museum back when it was still just a gleam in his eye. He's still got the gleam.
Saturday night they took me out to celebrate my birthday at our new favorite Indian place, Hyderabad, near the Parthenon. The staff serenaded me in the most frenetic electro-pop version of Happy Birthday I've ever enjoyed (it has no rivals).
When we got home, Younger Daughter gifted me excessively (including one of those coveted Stanley mugs) and unveiled the best chocolate cake ever. It really has no rivals. Nor has she. No exaggeration. And I'm hanging onto the candles so I can turn 'em around, the next nine years will be memorable.
Sunday afternoon it warmed enough to make almost-ideal conditions for a dogwalk in Warner Park.
It's important to notch these good days on the stick of memory. They're gods, as Emerson said. They'll carry us through the lesser ones. They'll help keep things in the right perspective.
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