friday night

Ah, good old Friday nights. Not quite what they used to be if you're an old granny. No pacing for the '57 or '65 Chevy to come into sight and up the drive; no basketball games in the high school gym; no sock hops. Remember sock hops? Soooo much fun. This Friday night the wind is howling, my flannel pants and long fleece top are snuggly, my James Welch book the perfect reading this cold December night; and the now-balding driver of the old Chevrolets is softly snoring, tucked in his warm blankets. If the roads stay clear so my grandbabies and their parents are able to drive for their holiday visit tomorrow, all will be well in my world. Think I'll have a nice hot caramel drink, see what happens next in Welch's Fool's Crow, and hope the Great Spirit has more mercy with us than we Europeans had with the native people here. Blessings to all as 2007 winds down.