Vol. Three No. Pounds

Home from the OBX which is why I’m late on the newsletter. I gotta say, this year was well-nigh perfect -- only rained a bit some nights, then absolutely perfect sunny days, not ever hellishly hot, incredible meals, birthdays galore, which, naturally, meant delish cakes, donuts, cupcakes, pies, by Tullios, of course, and the very best? NO DRAMA. Just imagine, 45 family members (both sides) and not a single shot was fired. What’s always amazing is people feel compelled to procreate so ages ranged from 2 to ancient.

Amazing May – I can hear the flowers beginning to sing snappy tunes outside my windows. Well, they are baby tunes, of course, another month before they’re more full-throated. The mess of iceberg roses up top on the piazza, yes, I heard the whisperings, they’re having meetings as to whether or not to put forth their bounty this year. Are we worthy? Will we admire them enough?

Did everyone pay their taxes, as in "render unto Caesar"? Drunk maybe three beers to drown your empty-wallet sorrows?