Avant le déluge

Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking: What deluge?  Well, hello?  I’m talking about the storm come Saturday night and, loathe as I am to mention the weather, a foot of snow may hamper the wife’s drive to work on Sunday when she Kildares it for a week of hospital rounding.  Me, I’ll be frying bacon and squeezing blood oranges, but yet and still.

Speaking of yet and still: The book event for BACK OF THE HOUSE last night brought to mind Miles in Cleveland in, say, ’58, in a smoke-filled room and little glasses of ice tinkling a strong rye.

Afterwards, it was a short walk over to the very wonderful, joint is jumping Monday Club Bar inside Upstairs in the Square where pizza and char and gin and sashimi and port and chocolate pecan turtles were enjoyed.

Today was to be a taped interview @ WBUR, but due to the Globe’s appearance on the auction block, the book was bumped to Tuesday: LIVE IN THE STUDIO with Anthony Brooks.

Meanwhile, the clouds gather…

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