I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Monday, January 7, 2013

The Seventy Fifth story

In DC last weekend, we attempted to go to the Sunday concert at the National Gallery. No go. It had just been written up and the line was out the door. We waited anyway, just in case, but were just a tiny bit to far back in line. I was a bit disappointed. Walking back to the Metro, we ran into this fantastic violinist on the steps of the Natural History Museum. This gal and her friend had arrived just before us, and she was dancing, beautifully, to the music. Dustin and I sat and watched for a long while, long after she left, until we felt as though the violinist was playing just for us, and we knew we weren't gonna pay him enough. It was glorious.


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