Barbara and I are having dinner at our apartment, with a number of guests. An old friend who's coming from out of town to stay with us for a couple of days, our upstairs neighbors, a couple of neighbors who live nearby, my sister Pat, and a few other "orphan" friends who don't have family in this area. We're (i.e., Barbara) is/are providing the main course stuff and folks are bringing things like hors d'oeuvres, pies, bottles of wine. . . .

Also, Barbara's birthday is the nineteenth, so we'll be lifting a glass to that.

There will likely be a bit of music. Paul, one of our upstairs neighbors, is an actor (been doing a lot of Shakespeare lately) and a singer. He plays a bit of guitar. And I'm liable to haul out my guitar and try to wheeze a bit. A couple of the ladies sing quite well.

Lots of after dinner burpin' and scratchin'.

Don Firth