Wednesday, November 26, 2003

I was searching for a nice picture of my dear sweet husband to put along with a nice post about how wonderful he is and how I don't say it often enough. But by the time I could round something up, the bastard had managed to piss me off so badly the picture and piece will now be used for his obituary.

We did begin speaking later, well, actually singing. He was singing while fixing dinner and I chimed in to harmonize which led to us talking about people who are larger than life which then led to how Ringo (Starr) was so short he actually looked like a doll you wanted to pat on the head and so on and forth. I could listen to him talk forever about the Hotel Albert and living at the Chelsea and other stories of the music biz and living in New York and LA. He really should write a book or at least a weblog.


No comments: