Valentine’s day was quiet. We went to iHan’s, that new Apple-owned restaurant Oh, D tells me it was Houlihan’s, with the first four letters burned out in the sign. Things make more sense now.
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What a friggin year. Can I say friggin here? Because what I mean is motherfucking. A motherfucker of a year.
In the grand scheme of things, as they say, it wasn’t a bad one for the majority of the world. There were terrific events, like the power shift in Congress and the solving of Poincare’s Conjecture, and a happy lack of terrorist attacks and hurricanes. But in our little family, we’re still mourning the losses and cataloging the destruction of our own Hurricane Lymphoma, our own October 11th.
2006 is year that tried its best, but will ultimately be remembered as that darn motherfucker of a year which had too much change and too many goodbyes in it.
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Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
I have one foot firmly planted in today and one in a pink kitchen in a suburb in 1957. It's not that I want to live in the past; I just love the aprons. I also have a thing for horror movies.
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