The Clan of Wilber should be making our way over the valley and through the hills to Uncle Redneck's house by now... but that shindig has been called off because Aunt Phyl is blowing chunks like a wood chipper.
It's just as well, since Myra is also waaaay under the weather. So here we are, at home on New Year's Eve, hearing the neighborhood yocals rigging up the sound equipment for the block party extraordinaire. The neighbors have reeeeal bad taste in music. And they don't have much of a selection going so we keep hearing them repeat the same lame song "Bray that hokey music, white clown" over and over and overrrr. We have the unsettling knowledge that the money grubbing yard troll is down the street, already getting his drunk on and preparing to make inappropriate comments about free massages if we go down the street later. Every year I say I'm not going. But sometimes I go anyway.
The family fireworks extravaganza doesn't always happen right on New Year's Eve. We generally just pick a weekend after Christmas and get together to eat stuff and blow stuff up. We will probably be going to the Uncle's house next weekend.
Me thinks we're going to go to The Garden of Olive for dinner and then later on, some of us may venture down the street to watch the neighbors shoot their fireworks and shuck and jive to the cutting edge tunes.
Happy New Year!!