Empty pitcher.

Last night I spent with some great friends.  Awesome time.  This morning there is an empty pitcher in our house.  Not quite sure how it ended up in our house.  I’m sure there was a perfectly justified and funny reason for it last night, this morning – confused expression on my face, answering Louisa’s question: ‘why did you bring this dirty thing home?’  Then one of my friends leaves me a voice mail, asking if I picked up the tab or not.  He also left his car at the bar, wondering in the morning where the car was.  Probably, not the best question to ask: ‘honey, do you know where my car is?’  Then another buddy, who wasn’t even with us, sent me a text: ‘hope that you’re enjoying your cereal from that pitcher’.  I’m perplexedly thinking about how the hell would he know, vaguely remembering later, that he came in the bar toward the end.  The very end.  The end that should have ended earlier.  (What a shitty year ’71 was: Morrison, Joplin, Hendrix…)  Great time last night.  More jokes and laughter than a doctor would prescribe.

On an unrelated note, yiddish is an interesting language.  Sounds like German, but has Russian (Eastern European) tone to it too: