A half hour till February, be still my heart, and hat's off to January while we are at it. I don't think I could make it through another year without January, and does that make as much sense as I meant it to make, or do I digress in my ramblings.
Ramblin' Jack Elliot the Brooklyn cowboy, Woody Guthrie wannabe, before there was even such a term, and by the way, how is Arlo doing these days, I worry about the man, the 50/50 chance of Hodgkin's, must be a burden to carry, and a road to hoe, and a bunch of other folksie-isms thrown in, honey-babe. Ummm, change that Hodgkin's to Huntington's. I make one mistake, one little bitty mistake in 15 years of blogging, and Billy can't let it slide, geeeeeez.