Felicitation

Today is Jane Austen's birthday. It is also Beethoven's birthday. It is also also, my brother Clem's birthday. He's my baby brother, which is to say he's two years younger than I am, which is to say he's no one's idea of a baby.

Anyway: he's a smart guy, and immensely talented. Also funny and generous. He married wisely and well, acquiring thereby a fabulous wife and three excellent stepsons. At some point, and who knows how, he became a mensch. When we were both working in comics, I was able to give him work on occasion, and knew everyone and had all the good gossip. It was a pleasure working with him for more than familial reasons.

Happy birthday, kid. I'm still two years older than you are.

Uhhhh 2: Uhhh's Revenge

The party is over. Everything has been cleaned up. There is not a square inch of me that doesn't hurt. We hard a smaller turn out than usual, and as usual I overbought beer and wine (overbought beer because I always expect people will drink it, and no one does, except the one guy who brings his own sixpack; overbought wine because as many people brought bottles of wine as drank wine, with the result that we wind up with more wine than we started with--but generally of a new and interesting variety). I have disemboweled the turkey and ham, frozen the bones to bring to the homeless shelter where the Scouts are serving dinner on Friday, to contribute to the soup for Saturday's meal, wrapped up a bunch of baked stuff for the spouse to take to work tomorrow, and the Spouse, bless him, did the dishes.

Poor Emily didn't know whether to bark or try to eat all the food, and was constantly being admonished to not do whatever she was doing. When I tried to put her in her crate (whence she retreated on her own last year) or in the car, she was vociferous in her disapproval. O well.

Everyone seemed to have a good time, which is what one wants. Only 360-odd days until the next party!