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Friday started right with a big ol’ stack of coffee flapjacks. Subtle in their java infusion, I deem them worthy of the griddle again. After the remainder are consumed from the depths of the freezer, that is, as it was quite the vertical monument. Perhaps a reincarnation into a bread pudding of sorts and then hoisted off on some folks at work (note to self).

My Macbook then died soon after in a lengthy dramatic affair rife with kernel panics followed by safe starts, PRAM resets and the like in attempts to revive it to its seemingly staunch and steady status just moments before. Le grrr and le gripe. Darn it to heck and back, Yosemite OS X update, you abominable interface, you.

Bob Dylan

Good thing Dylan was immediately in my future. Bean treated me to Jack, I treated her to Bob. Worked with a Robert Zimmerman years ago at the movie theatre- a stoic fella, he treated only his Mustang. We took our turn with the Never Ending Tour, in the 17th row on the 17th night of October. The night flew by, but not before enjoying a little company of the folks around us at intermission, a great book gifted from Bean, a vibrant older couple dancing in the aisle way, and the gorgeous lighting arrangement on stage- simple, classic, varied and complimentary. I even managed to hear the song I’d hoped for out of a plethora of possibilities.


As for any answers to the Macbook and beyond, they’re still, well, you know.


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