Hey, its Midnight!

Happy New Year America!

Just like Mr Ulyanov
Dad, pointing the way!
So its now the 21st Century, eh? If ask me, its not much
different from the 20th, really. Take last night for example.

I went out with my folks to the annual dance my Dad’s club throws each
New Year’s Eve. As usual, Pa danced his funky white boy grove while Ma
kept her slow grind going. The two of them, experienced dances both, were
on the floor from our arrival to our departure.

As it was a small town dance, the local DJ spun the best and worst of
the last 30 years. The kids tried to co-op the evening with the latest rap
hits until the parents stepped up and thew on such ‘classic’
dance tunes as ‘Love Shack,’ and ‘Electric Slide.’

Buddha bellies and big hair competed with tie-dye shirts and leather
mini-skirts as the crowd ebbed and flowed. Thankfully, there were no
stonewashed jeans, but I did see a few cowboy boots and a lone Stetson (it

the South after all).

Now this morning looks just like yesterday, with warm sunshine
streaming through the windows and calling me out to tan. I’m so glad my
folks love the sun as much as I do and are willing to head to the beach
for a morning swim. All three of us are fighting our respective Buddha
bellies to try and stay thin amid the onslaught of Holiday eating.

I hope your New Years is just as pleasant, and your DJ looked at his
watch before 12:05 am too.