I’ve got some serious morning crane going on.
If it lasts for more than four hours, I’ll seek medical assistance.
The work neighborhood is buzzing with news helicopters, satellite trucks and reporters covering the sentencing of Whitey Bulger’s moll at the nearby federal courthouse.
It’s also buzzing with the sound of my stomach grumbling. I need a snack.
Spent a lovely evening last night drinking good beer, hanging out with friends and eyeballing this lovely crane.
I call this one ICA, Crane and World Trade Center as Seen After Honking Down a Plate of Fish Tacos.
It’s just a working title, though.









