Up here in Greenfield, MA again.
Holed up at Spitfire's ancestral home, everything green and pastoral outside the window. Attended her 25th high school reunion Saturday night and while you may not be able to go home again, you can certainly circle the block, slow down and get a good look at the place.
Most of these people were at our wedding back in 1991, so I've known them for awhile. Now we see them every five years at these reunions and it's like a sociological study for me: Real Americans with Regular Lives.
Career changes, divorces, grown children. All that stuff.
They ask me and McGee what we're doing and we say,
"Ahh... Same thing."
Still in New York?
Well... Can you believe how fat Jimmy got?
And we drink and dance and wait for five years to do it again.
A lot of fun. They're like this group of friends I have that I only have to think about every five years and the commitment is mutual.
Driving back down to the Big Dirty this afternoon for a League of Independent Theater board meeting tonight. And then rehearsing all week for The Invitation. Writing Postmen during the day. A good week.
The Greenfield High School Class of 1983 inspires our MMMQ this fine New England morning.
There is one song and one song only that will cause a crowd of forty year old white people to lurch onto a dance floor as one and happily flail about, clapping their hands and bobbing their heads, letting out the occasional "Woo-hoo!"
This magical number is:
2. Lady Marmalade
4.Paradise by the Dashboard Light
Winners get to go home again, all others have to stay at the Super 8.