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My New Year's Eve

I know, I'm slipping again, staying up so late all the time, but this time it's not entirely my fault-I was home last night enjoying myself, sipping a quite nice glass of this new Summerfield Merlot that I'd just bought on recommendation at Solano Cellars. I was listening to music and the rain and starting to write a new story about my parent's dog called "Pap, the Enthusiastic Vizsla". About 8 pm the phone rings and it's Doug and Dean calling me from Shattuck Ave and Dean said in a plaintive little voice: "Could we come over?" I said sure, and so they were here 15 min later with a bottle of champagne ready for midnight.

So, Dean and I have an ongoing game (we each have our own saved game and I waited for him to catch up to me) of Myst here on my computer, and he really wanted Doug to try it. Doug always pooh-poohed this kinda stuff and said he'd never be interested. You should also know that Doug is a true morning person-like clockwork falls asleep at 11 pm and wakes at 7 am. Hates staying up late. And that Dean and I are night people-love to party late while Doug is sleepy and tired, nudging Dean it's time to go home.

Well, you'll never guess what happened: Doug started playing and playing, taking copious notes extremely methodically. He scrutinized his every move painstakingly. We just watched. Occasionally, Dean couldn't contain himself and tried to "help" and was shooed away instantly. At midnight Dean popped the cork and Doug managed to have some champagne with us. And, finally, at 2:45 am, after Dean had been pleading (lightly) with him to stop and that it was time to go home, he begrudgingly got up from the screen frustrated that he didn't quite solve the number puzzle inside the clock tower. Doug was glued for 6 hours straight. We couldn't believe it.

Jan 2, 1997




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