TBT: New Years Past

It was our second New Year's Eve, together. I was only days out of the hospital, having had my first reconstructive surgery on my foot. I was still on medication, for the pain, but I could get around just fine on my crutches, my right foot encased in a cast, covered with an oversized, knitted stocking that I use at Christmas to this very day.

I had been in the hospital for a week, through Christmas, and I wasn't about to stay at home to say so long to 1990.

We were at GuadalaHARRY's, back when it was a three-storied wonderland in Ottawa's Byward Market. We had been there the year before, ringing in 1990: tonight, we were saying our goodbyes.

DW, before she was DW (should I refer to her as DGF?), wore a lovely black-velvet dress. She was a bit cautious, as I had accidentally spilled champagne all over her last year. This year, I promised her, because I needed crutches to get around, I wouldn't wander with a glass in hand.

I spilled not a drop.

Happy Thursday!