I'm getting on a plane in a few hours, leaving Virginia beach and going home to my wife.
I pity her.
She put up with two weeks of listening to my incessant blathering about the NMA, the reunion, who was coming, who wasn't. No matter what she tried to change the subject, it was All Reunion, All the Time.
Jo: Did you put the recycling out? Tomorrows's pickup day.
Me: I wonder if John Hanson will be there.
Jo: I'm thinking about getting a new mattress.
Me: I heard Ed Henson might come; I haven't seen him since San Francisco.
Jo: A gorilla climbed on the roof last night and did the lambada with Chief Justice Roberts.
Me: Max Murray says he's coming for sure.
I don't know if she realizes it, but now she'll get another two weeks of this, worse weeks because I have so much more information to work with.
What did she do to deserve this?
Frank Mullen's very unofficial source of poop, skinny and bitching for present and former U.S. Navy Musicians.
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