And Then There's . . .

. . . Mrs Iago's birthday. The twelth, on a Friday and a full moon, a big 'un, at its closest to Earth as its gonna get this year, with the twin and her stewardess collegue, and a fair amount of decent vino. My bro-in-law and I watched In Bruges in the hours before dawn, more or less, while the three gals and the third gal's guy carried on a loud and rambling conversation which deafened me to much of the dialogue in the flick and forced me to concentrate more than my vino-addled mind was willing to read the Chinese subtitles. By the time we got home by shuttle bus and mass rapid transit and railway train way across to the southwestern sector of the basin, exhaustion made it easy to crash. And Mrs Iago had a real good time.

Next year I will try harder to get her a birthday prez.

But here is a prez for me, which well may be the fountain that provides the means to get that prez for my girl.

Traffic

Yup. That's it.