It’s NFL draft week.
And a year ago, I got tackled. Literally.
Of course, hope was that he’d sweep me off my feet, not knock me off my feet. Who knew?
Grace and I had drinks this week. As we are known to do. A gorgeous spring evening. An outdoor table. A perfect start to the season in the city. She was reflecting over drinks about the tulips, and how lovely the city looked and that we don’t have the Draft this year.
The Draft last year. A picture-perfect Spring weekend in our fair city. Perfect weather. World class museums. NFL draft. Legions of tourists . . . . and I found myself stumbling through all off it one afternoon last spring.
The Musician. Dang, I had forgotten about him for a while.
How nice . . . .
But Grace is right, the tulips are lovely.