How far we've come. The Dude would be ashamed to be seen with us. We have skewed desperately close to continuity. We may have even developed a plot.
It's a mere seven days to the wedding. The bride mysteriously develops Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. She has seven days to get better. Seven days for the groom to sober up. Seven days for Thor himself to destroy the weather on their perfect day. The play lists are made. The food arranged. The kegs ordered. Bonfire pit in place. What will the gods of probability throw at them?
Not much hopefully. Here's hoping for warm clear weather. So I can see the day through with friends and family. Memories an elephant.........
