Oh, forgot to update yinz on two other minor developments from a previous post
I mentioned that I found a phone number given to me by a girl about ten years ago. Some people (cough, Pauly) said that I should call her up. This seemed a bit pathetic and stalky, so it immediately appealed to me. But, come on, I'm not going to call her. While I did have a talking point at hand (hey, I found your phone number in a book, wondered what you were up to, and with whom) it still seemed a bit weird. Until I had a second beer early Friday evening. Then I thought, what the hell? We were friends for a couple of years, after all.
Called the number. It's disconnected. Or, to use the lingo, "no longer in service". Yes, I was relieved.
But that's as nothing compared to what happened yesterday. With fall now entrenched I put away a lot of the short-sleeved gear and broke out my sweaters and flannels. I did some other cleaning and reorganizing, and found a few books I wanted to put up on my shelves. One was A. Alvarez's Poker: Bets, Bluffs and Bad Beats
. I'd been looking for that book, which I'd stuck in a box along with some random junk and old magazines. The book had an odd bulge in the middle, and I flipped open the pages, saw what was inside, and let loose an excited "Yes!"
What did I find? Only one of my most precious possessions. Yes, it was the autographed picture of Isabelle Mercier that Otis
got me in New York last year. I honestly thought I lost it. I'd planned on framing it (the frame holding my pointless B-school diploma wasn't doing anything worthwhile) but my ex-wife convinced me that would be spiteful. When I moved I had to put this sacred object someplace safe...and what could be safer than Mr. Alvarez's fine book? Until, of course, I forget I'd put it there.
So, a happy day. One I'll share with you right now. Even as I know that this is, well, pathetic and stalky:
And yes, Pauly and Otis had had a few when they did this best of good deeds.