The house to myself.
Cool, but not too cold.
A fire in the outdoor fireplace.
A half-rack of Memphis dry-rub ribs in my tummy.
A pint of Fraoch and a pint of Kelpie.
March of Cambreadth on the boom box.
The last couple hundred pages of Atlas Shrugged in my right hand.
It'd be pretty hard to sell me on any popular notions of an afterlife right now. ;)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Good Lord, Tam - good ale, Celtic music, Ayn Rand - and you _still_ have time to correct your spelling?
Color me impressed. :)
You wouldn't happen to be a Pogues fan, would you?
Post a Comment