Ah, Bump. It will happen, as an Academy and novice one-dayer in February, with registration opening on tabroom tomorrow. I will tab and advise, but I will not get caught up in it beyond what I would do for any other tournament. With luck, it will be a splendid affair and a swell time will be had by all. If not, don’t blame me.
Our NYCFL Kristmas Klassik (AKA the Christmas Chlassic) at Regis opens registration today. We’re going to try to get some Policy folk back in there again. Why not? There’s NYUDL folks looking to go to CatNats, and the only way in is to be at some level a part of the group. With luck, it will be a splendid affair and a swell time will be had by all. If not, don’t blame me.
The Gem of Harlem opens tomorrow, all waitlist of course until the rooms get nailed down, which is always the Columbia nightmare. Fr. Michael will be back in tab with us; he was there the disaster year after which JV and I almost let it rot and die, but then we figured that the deluge after us was too horrible to contemplate and we bit the bullet, and the damned thing bounced back admirably. It’s put a number of good years behind it since the debacle, and it’s coming up yet again. With luck, it will be a splendid affair and a swell time will be had by all. If not, don’t blame me.
Thanksgiving has come and gone. Kaz was with us at the Chez, and between Turkeys (both eaten and geographic), a visit to Trump Tower for her to pay her respects to The Donald, a group trip to the Coney Island exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum followed by everyone’s favorite restaurant in Hipster Heaven, watching a Buster Keaton movie, getting text updates from CP as he explored the raw underbelly of Beautiful Downtown Amsterdam, and generally relaxing and girding one’s loins for the nonstop debatism that is December, it was a splendid affair and a swell time was had by all.
T.K. (pronounced teek), on the other hand, was happy to get it over with and have the Chez back the way it is supposed to be. When we unwittingly placed Kaz at his place at the dinner table, all hell broke loose. Don’t blame me. He’s not my cat.