Through some sort of improbable providence and despite an almost negative quantity of common sense, I have survived 28 years of my own body. And I would like to think that I have done so with at least a modicum of style. Here's hoping the next 28 will be even more interesting. Things show no sign of settling down any time soon, and I intend to keep it that way.
So, to ring in the 28th anniversary of my emergence from the womb, I had a very Old Man Kelly party. There was drinking, there was fiddling, there was fiddling while drinking, there were darts, there were fireworks, and there were some of my favorite people in the world. As far as my bourbon-pickled brain can recall, the evening was a blast, nobody got arrested, and nothing major got broken. I can hardly ask for more.
28 years feels pretty good. And gives me the chance to publicly give props to all the folks who help to keep things interesting. Much love, y'all.
Much love.
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