Here is how severely uncool mr. delagar and I have become:
Last night, we are piled up in bed together. I am reading one of my new books, Marcia Bjornerud's Reading the Rocks, which, btw, is excellent; he is rereading one of Wouk's giant fat efforts. Between us the kid has finally gone to sleep. I have taken away her book -- one of the Harry Potters. Number five, I think she is up to. It has a deep blue cover, that's all I know.
Anyway, mr. delagar looks up and frowns. "What the hell is that?" he demands.
I listen too. Across the hall in the TV room Big Dog says bwoof in a warning way. I glance over at the alarm clock on the bedstand. 12.03. I give mr. delagar a small grin. "That," I inform him, "is fireworks. Happy New Year, you."
"Oh." He returns to Herman Wouk. "Happy New Year yourself."
Happy 2007 y'all.
Here's hoping things get better.
6 hours ago