It was a good night to be out with friends. We were, tonight, huddled: John L., Dean, Jeff, Lindsay, Cathy, Don, Ferne (belatedly), John T., and myself — Tomek. I’ll begin by saying I’m glad we did not talk about that terrible day. I hate what it represents. But we did talk about some of our characters, including the mumps and infertility, therapy, depression, some amazingly gross army medical disasters, Grace Slick (and Dean explained what a Jefferson Airplane was), Buddy Holly, Franky Valli, the film Inside Llewyn Davis, the Moody Blues, cultural differences and changing expectations over time (some old fogie ranting here). The mumps discussion also brought us back to blowing up a car to dispose of the birth control pills; good times. At a certain stage there may or may not have been discussion about previous illicit behaviors, all clearly far beyond any statute of limitations, and involving EZ Widers, 1980s feather hair clips, and certain horticultural skills. John mentioned climbing Mount Everest and conjugal relations with Sophia Loren. We also touched on parenting and children, and when it’s appropriate to wear an $800 watch. Mercifully, we did not breach politics. A good time was had by all, though like a bunch of idiots, only when we stumbled outside did we realize we could have sat comfortably beneath the stars on Halligans’ new outside patio. D’oh!