A KISS AT MIDNIGHT...ALMOST

The firecrackers are popping as I write this—9 p.m. on New Year's Eve.

Earlier this afternoon, I said to Milton, "Want to go walk on the beach?" He said he'd like to go, but he needed (wink) to finish watching his football game. So when our team lost (sigh), we headed to the beach.

I just wanted to clear my head, and I felt that getting out on the beach with its usual brisk wind would do it. I also love the calming effect water always has.

Hand in hand we strolled on the sand, the waves gently lapping near our feet, surfers in the water hoping to catch a wave, a few swimmers braving the 70s temperature and swimming anyway, people on the beach playing volleyball, others tossing footballs, lots of people walking like us.

We strolled for quite awhile, until some woman opened a loaf of bread and started holding up pieces and every bird in the universe (wink) came to her. Sandpipers a-geeking and a-honking flew over us like some sonar signal had announced "Y'all come, dinner's ready" and "There's plenty of it."

But having been on the beach myriads of times, and having seen birds around people and food, I know what happens, and I said to Milton, "Let's go," so we high-tailed it up some steps to the boardwalk and continued our walk up there, the long skinny sea oats dancing on the dunes to our left.

She might've been a Northerner and had never seen birds, people, and food.

Splat is the most delicate way to say what happens.

Reminds me of Milton's splat incident a few years ago…

We were vacationing on Florida's west coast where you can see the sun drop like an orange beach ball into the horizon every evening. Stupendous. We were sitting on the beach waiting for the sunset, and Milton picked up a rock and threw it into the surf.

Oops.

It hit a flying bird, and the flying bird landed in the water.

He felt really bad about it; he didn't mean to do it.

A year goes by…

We're pulling up to the beach to meet friends for dinner. We get out of our car. We're standing in the sand near the water. A bird flies directly over Milton, and…

You guessed it…

Splat.

Right on Milton's chest.

Yewee, yuck.

It was like Birds United, Inc. was saying, See there, fella? Gotcha' back. Hehehe.

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Yes, the firecrackers are popping in our neighborhood right now, as I write. Guess it's some early celebrants. We're heading downtown a little before midnight to see our city's spectacular double fireworks display that's reflected in our mirror-front skyscrapers.

I'm planning on getting a big kiss at midnight.

Hope you are too.

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Just got back from seeing the fireworks. My kiss came at 12:08 a.m. We were so enthralled with the dazzling display, we forgot.