Thorns and Roses

This photo, of me with Mac and ToFeather (two of the gnarliest but sweetest old thorns on two wheels that ever held a place in my address book OR my heart), was taken by the Rose Gwyn, outside Manchester NH's Airport Diner, just after we'd had the calorie-soaked, cholesterol-special Last Supper (well, breakfast, actually), just before I jumped the plane to Cali before any crucifixions could take place. I did well actually, this time around! I didn't even cry, much. Not while they were all around, anyway. After M&G dropped me at the airport, the stiff upper lip and the frozen little "I'm so brave this time" smile headed south, and I allowed myself a bit of a sniffle, but I'm not going to admit to anything else, like for instance trying not to let the lower lip tremble too much in case an in-coming plane spotted it, figured it was a runway, and tried to land on it. I was at an airport, after all...
Hard to believe I won't get another chance to hug these amazing guys, or Gwyn Gorgeous, for a whole 'nother year. As far as Gwyn goes, the photo I have of her riding a tyre-puppy in the main street of North Conway with a crazy look on her moosh will sustain me for quite some time, as will her often humorous and always astute reflections and perspectives on certain "train-wrecks" that have punctuated her own life and mine. Gwyn knows exactly what kind of a brat I can be, and she loves me anyway. That in itself is extraordinary, and I love her right back, for that, and a lot more besides.
Huge thanks too, ToFeather, for the lovely gifts you gave me. See ya next year, Team Hamster.