So don't mention it, whatever you do . . .

This is going to be one long week.

Friday is the in-house potluck "goodbye" for Hubby and John. Oops, wait. I'm not supposed to mention either one of those in this blog.

Okay, let's try it this way.

If I were married for almost 50 years and if my husband were retiring the end of this week, Friday would be the goodbye potluck for him and the son I also can't mention, despite the fact he is moving to Texas next month. If he did exist . . . and he doesn't because I can't mention him here, he would be two years older than our-son-the-author (see adhudler.com), who welcomes free publicity.

Why did I ever start this?

Just to vent a bit.

I'll tell you how it went.

For me.

Because I can't say how it went for you-know-who and you-know-who . . . or He Who Shall Not Be Named Times Two.

Gawd, now I sound like a Harry Potter novel.