Will work for beer....

18 years have passed since I walked out the front door of my first little house, drove in reverse down the dead end street....

And started over again....

No map, no plan, no stick, no bandana....just an unairconditioned car piled with youngin's
and
the belief that I could do this.....

And we did.

Some of the best times of my life, hunkered down in our "Are we homeless, yet?" days.... Skinny and I at the kitchen table brewing up "there must be a way" dreams....

Moon Stars and Paper started a chain of love, dig up a picture from 20 years ago, and feel the love. I spent five minutes plundering through the suitcases of memories, but before I made it back that far, my fingers fell on this one, and I knew. It's exact copy has been plastered on my refrigerator door for 17 years.

Skinny on the right...
It's a hot, hot Sunday morning and we're packing up. When we get there, we'll plop down in the the old wooden chairs, arranged in a perfect circle, stretch our legs out in front of us and stack our barefeet in the middle of the cement meeting place, toe to toe. The flakey ole paint, pink, aqua, yellow and green will stick to our bikinied rumps and our Ban de Solie'd thighs and we'll smile at the sky and the passers-by, the regulars, the waitress, and Tony and Joe. Ice cold beers arrive and disappear. Evaporate by the heat and our unquenchable thirst. We'll laugh and tell stories, make friends, dare each other silly , maybe even cause a ruckuss.... We'll order a giant hamburger, all the way, with greasy fries, and a dill pickle, that will sweat in the sun. We'll ask for a knife and divide it into thirds....

This sign was good for two and half Sundays at the beach. "Do Not Jump The Fence" sat propped up in the garage, we'd pull it out, toss it in the trunk and gift it to Joe when we ran out of credit.....