Halloween Tips by NN

Witchy Woman, 2007

Witchy Woman, 2007

  1. Just ‘cause you’re dressed like a ho, and he’s dressed like a pimp, doesn’t mean that you were made for each other. PLENTY of pimps and hos fight.  I learned that from TV crime shows.
  2. That guy that looks GREAT in the steam punk outfit, looks great because his girlfriend sewed his costume.
  3. It’s the guy who has the cheesiest, least-amount-of-effort costume that you want to go for. The guy in the unicorn mask and street clothes?  Probably a bachelor who borrowed the mask from his sister at the last minute.  The guy wrapped in tin foil with the handwritten label, “Leftovers?”  Definitely a bachelor.  Unless there’s a woman nearby dressed as a microwave.  That may be where he’s putting his sausage to warm it up.
  4. If a guy is dressed as a Rastafarian, tie-dyed Hippie, or anything having to do with 420, then he might be a pot head.
  5. Some people might not be wearing costumes. Just keep that in mind before you tease the biker about his body odor, or tell the tramp in the low cut dress and too much makeup that she’s too slutty.  I’m not saying that I learned that from experience, I’m just throwing it out there.
  6. If you dress as a Marvel superhero, except some grief from the DC camp. Or vice versa.  For the non-nerds out there: if you dress as Superman, then you might have someone get in your face and tell you why Batman could kick your ass.  Jules learned this lesson at ComiCon Speed Dating.  For realz!
  7. If he’s dressed in anything from Star Trek, DO NOT—I repeat, DO NOT—ask him, “Hey, which Star Wars character are you?” You will get an hour’s long lecture over the difference between Trek and Wars.  Geesh, I was joking!  (as far as you know)
  8. If you see a guy dressed as Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader, feel free to ask, “Who’s your daddy?” That joke never gets old.  (Jules added this one.  Not sure what it means, but she was giggling while she typed it, so it must be one of those nerd things.)
  9. Don’t have sex with a guy in a mask, just for the thrill of it. He might be your neighbor or bank teller.  Or your neighbor, who happens to be a bank teller.  Ya, let’s not talk about it.  I can’t visit the bank or go to the mailbox without him putting his hands up like a mask and asking me, “Is it Halloween yet?”
  10. Candy bars are for eating, not inserting.  It’s helluva hard to get chocolate outta certain places.  No matter how much you lick! ; – )

I’m Naughty Nadia, filling in for Jules while she takes a dating hiatus.  I don’t pull any punches: I tell it like it is.  Happy Halloween!  Have fun and stay safe!!

Pass the whiskey!!

Adopting, Part II

Don’t let this pic fool you – she’s Jack’s dog!

Don’t let this pic fool you – she’s Jack’s dog!

Jack and drove an hour, to a small home outside Dallas to meet a maltie-poo, a maltese-poodle mix, who was advertised as $150.  On the way, we discussed the possibility of adopting two dogs: a little girl and her brother.  The first was the salt and pepper and the second was black.

Within two seconds of picking up the baby girl, Jack said, “We’ll take her.”

That’s when I found out that we were holding a schnauzer and not a maltie-poo, and the price was significantly different.

“$400,” the breeder said.  “That is a schnauzer.  The maltie-poo is gone.”

I seriously thought about leaving right then.  The SPCA would have a similar dog eventually, and I’d already set up alerts.

Jack gave me puppy dog eyes and said, “I really want her.”  He hugged her little body to him.

I gave him a hard look, then turned to the breeder.  “Will you take $350?”

Introducing Ms. Jazzy Strawberry, 7 weeks old!

I love this pic because I look so skinny

I love this pic because I look so skinny

Jazzy came to me and curled up on my lap.

Jazzy came to me and curled up on my lap.

Jack was all paternal.

Jack was all paternal.

She looks so tiny in his lap! 

She looks so tiny in his lap!

Jack held Jazzy in his lap the whole ride home.  “We need puppy chow.  And a bed for her.”  He was grinning like a fool.  I think his hands were shaking; he was concerned that he might hurt her accidentally.  “She looks so fragile,” he added.

I smiled at my son, the grown up man who was as excited as a little boy over his new pup.  “Here’s the plan,” I said.  “We’ll drop her off with Ed, then go to the pet store to get food.”

“Ok, but we have to hurry,” he said.

We pulled into the driveway, and Jack was out of the car and back before I could shift gears.

At Petland, we saw some ADORABLE maltie-poo puppies.  “How much for the fluffy white one?” I asked the cashier.

“$1500 to $5000,” she answered.  “But we don’t just sell the dog, we also sell vet services and checkups along with the animal.”

That’s a LOT more than I paid for Jazzy.  A LOT MORE.

“See, Mom, we got a bargain!” Jack said.  “Schnauzer puppies go for $1000 and up.”

“Yes!  Worth an hour’s drive!” I replied.  Then I wondered how much the vet bills will cost.  I wish I could claim Jazzy as a dependent for health insurance.

Schnauzer Puppy = $350

Crate, food, collar, water/food bowls = $110

Seeing the joy on Jack’s face = Priceless.


PS I’m hanging out with Lilly & Lucas tonight!  It’s their 7 month anniversary!  I’m SO EXCITED!!

PSS Professor Mercury is so hot!  You should see him in his black t-shirt, with it stretched over his biceps and pecs.  Found out that he workouts AFTER class.  As great as he looks beforehand, I’d LOVE to see him after!  #drool

Roommate Ed (without Joker makeup!)

Roommate Ed (without Joker makeup!)

Adopting, Part I

Sally and Seshi

Sally and Seshi

Jack and I have sensed a hole in our lives for a while now.  Ed (our tenant and friend) has helped, but he’s not the answer.  So we decided to adopt.

This may come as a surprise to some—after all, I’ve sworn that I was done.  But, it’s easy to say, and easy to get distracted when I see a cute little one in public.  One that I just want to pick up and snuggle.

When I visited Gala Pear and Wilson Bearberries in August, they had it bad.  They stopped every time they saw someone with a dog on a leash and said, “Oh!  I want a puppy!”

They infected me with Puppy Fever.

I tried to fight it, but resistance is futile.

At this stage in my life, I’m feeling the urge to adopt a cat, and become a Crazy Cat Lady.  Face it, I’m half way there.  The only thing saving me is the fact that I’m deathly allergic to felines.

I’m allergic to dogs, too.  I’m actually allergic to the dander of pets with fur, and there are dogs that grow hair.  Like poodles, schnauzers, and such.

I know because I went through something similar in 2010.  I succumbed to temptation and adopted Frankie, a mutt from the SPCA.  Isn’t he ADORABLE?!

He’s actually a little a-hole.  Seriously, he is a type A, in charge, macho dog with Napoleon Syndrome (aka Little Man’s Syndrome).  If you piss him off, he’ll piss on something.  Kinda like some guys I’ve dated.

Frankie is also a lapdog, who EXPECTS to be in your lap 24/7.

Ya, about that.  I like to walk around and do stuff.

Ol’ Frankie and I didn’t get along so well.  Plus, the kids said, “Mom, he’s your dog.”

WAIT A MINUTE!  I picked out a dog for all of us.  Jack wanted a big dog, Sally wanted a little Chihuahua, so I picked out a smallish dog somewhere in the middle.

And neither kid wanted him.  DAMN IT!

Frankie and I tried to get along.  We really did.  After 6 months of cleaning up his piss and becoming more pissed off about it (pun intended), I gave up.  My friend Mary, who is retired and has more patience than me, adopted him.  Now he has a friend to keep him company and a doggie door that allows him access to a large yard.  I imagine that it’s doggie heaven.  Mary also watches a couple of hours of TV a night, which means that she gives Frankie plenty of lap time.

And she puts up with the little a-hole when he pees on her floor!

Sally and Frankie, 2010

Sally and Frankie, 2010

What makes me think that another dog will be different?

This will be Jack’s dog.  Jack will choose him.  Jack will take care of him.

I’m not jumping into this, either.  I have a Risk Mitigation Plan.

Risk Mitigation Plan

I’m an engineer.  When an engineer identifies a risk, she makes a plan to mitigate (reduce the chance of) that risk.  Here’s a peek into my Risk Mitigation Plan:

  1. Risk: Jack won’t like the dog. Mitigation: Let him choose the dog.  With some guidance.  I mean, another little doggie like Frankie (physically) would be great.  Maybe a female wouldn’t be such a little a-hole.
  2. Risk: The dog will aggravate my allergies. Mitigation: Weekly baths.  (Any more will dry out the dog’s skin too much.)  Wipe with baby wipes on the other days.  (Pet stores sell fancy wipes, but let’s face it: they’re baby wipes).
  3. Risk: Jack won’t bond with the dog. Mitigation: Borrow a dog (or multiple, if necessary) to see if he likes that breed.  Ed has two little dachshunds (aka wiener dogs, aka doxies), Lady and Lucy, who are going to come stay with us for a couple of weeks.

We’ve already bought doggie treats and leashes.  Jack is hoarding plastic bags so that he can be a responsible pet owner and pick up what the dog puts down.

Does that sound like the dog is going to throw down a harsh jam?


Another engineer thing is to make a checklist of specifications.  After talking to other pet owners and having owned a pup, here’s what we’re looking for in a dog:

  1. Male dogs are more likely to piss on everything.  This isn’t me being a man hater, it’s what I’ve heard about dogs.  Seriously!
  2. Jack wants a lapdog.  I want a dog that won’t drag me along when I walk her.
  3. I want a dog more like the sweet, cuddly cockapoo I had growing up and less like the Not-so-Large and In Charge Frankie.
  4. As in, not furry, because of my allergies.

There’s a toy poodle named “Lamb” at the SPCA.  I bet he’s adorable!  Oh, wait, he’s a male.  Sigh, I hope Jack keeps better track of the checklist than I do.

Oh, look!  There’s a cute little maltie-poo on Craig’s List!

5 minutes later: Ed, Jack, and I have her named and an appointment to meet her tomorrow night.

Well, shit.  There goes the Risk Mitigation Plan!


Jack and Seshi (his Dad's dog)

Jack and Seshi (his Dad’s dog)

The REAL Jules Rules by Naughty Nadia

Jules on a Duck Tour in Seattle, wearing a Casper, Wyoming hat and a Grand Canyon shirt.  She’s quackers!  (That duck bill makes quacking sounds when you blow in it.  The tour company sells them with the tour tickets.)

Jules on a Duck Tour in Seattle, wearing a Casper, Wyoming hat and a Grand Canyon shirt.  She’s quackers!  (That duck bill makes quacking sounds when you blow in it.  The tour company sells them with the tour tickets.)

Guys, Jules makes a lot of lists.  Here are the REAL rules – the ones that really matter to her.  Let Naughty Nadia tell you how it is!

  1. Don’t expect morning snuggles. Jules gets up at 5 a.m. to workout.  If you keep her in bed, like a couple of dicks have, she’ll quit working out.  That makes her cranky.  Plus, she starts putting on weight.  Then she can’t fit into her pants, and she gets REALLY cranky.  Morning snuggles = fat = unhappy.  Got it?

Now, my girl can party on the weekend with the best of ‘em—that’s why we’re friends, after all—but she has her weekday routine.

Morning sex is good, though.  That’s a workout: elevated pulse, burns calories, and whatnot.  Sex = exercise = good.

Shit, I’ve been hanging out with Jules too much; I’m starting to write equations!  HELP!

  1. She goes to bed at 9:30 p.m. and is asleep by 10 p.m., so that she can get up for her 5 a.m. workout. You want her to look good, right?  Uh, continue to look good, that is.  So suck it up and let her go to bed early.  If you keep her up for “one more episode of Game of Thrones” or “just another hour of The Walking Dead,” then you’re going to have a zombie on your hands the next day.  A zombie that wants to bite your head off.
  2. If you want sex on a week night, get her to bed by 9 p.m.   See above.  Bed early = sex.  Bed late = scary monster.  Got it?  Good.

Shit, more equations.  I really gotta stop that; I’ll ruin my street cred.

  1. Don’t even think about cooking for her. Bitch has serious allergies: gluten (which is in, like, EVERYTHING), soy, garlic, white onions (the yellow kind are ok in small quantities), and about a billion other things.  Take her out to dinner.  She’ll magically pick something on the menu that she can eat.

And then if the bitch gets sick, it’s her own damn fault.

One guy planned a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner of garlic shrimp pasta.  Ya, that didn’t go over so well.

  1. About those morning snuggles, don’t expect any for a while. That woman moves sllllllow, like a damn turtle.  I swear, I can go through ten guys before she gets to 3rd base with one.

Then again, it’s been a while.  She may just jump you on the first date.

No promises tho.

  1. Speaking of cooking, that woman can cook like you wouldn’t believe!  Enchiladas are her specialty, though she makes a pretty mean pizza, too.  Read this carefully, though: if she cooks, you’d better appreciate it.  She stopped cooking for her husband the day that he buried her delicate lemon-basil chicken in A-1 sauce.  The look of rage in her eyes when tells that story is–well, it’s the best part of the story.  It’s pretty funny to see someone get so bent over steak sauce.

All that aside, taste the food before you bury it in condiments, ok?

  1. Girl has the nerdiest jokes. Think of the nerdiest joke that you’ve ever heard, then multiply it by ten.  Like this gem:

An atom was walking down the street with his friend (another atom) when he stopped and said, “I think I lost an electron.”

His friend said, “Are you sure?”

The atom said, “I’m positive.”  Then he looked at his friend and said, “You’re being awfully negative.  I’ve got my ion you.”

  1. She LOVES crime shows. Like, she’s watched every episode of CSI, Criminal Minds, Law & Order, and Dexter.  She was raised on Perry Mason, Mike Hammer, and Miami Vice.  I’m pretty sure that she started smoking just ‘cause Don Johnson looked so hot lighting a cigarette.  (She quit after tank tops and white blazers went out of style.)  When she finally snaps and becomes a serial killer, she KNOWS how to hide a body.

Not that I expect her to snap any time soon, but you should know these things in advance.  Treat her right.  No pressure.

  1. She has some really awesome friends. Lilly and Lucas Blueberries live in Australia; Gala Pear and Wilson Bearberry live in Denver; and Allie Apple lives over an hour away in Fort Worth.  There’s me, Gabby Gumbo, Elizabeth, and Daniel locally, just to name a few.  We’d do anything for her, including hiding the body.

I must’ve read it on a mug, t-shirt, or internet meme somewhere; these words come to mind, “A good friend will bail you out of jail at 3 a.m.  A great friend will be sitting in the jail cell beside you.”  That’s the kind of friends she has.

Shit, am I scaring off all the potential dates?  That’s SO not my intention!  My point is, she values quality over quantity, in her friends.  Sex, too.  Ya, bring quality sex; that should be a rule.

  1. She likes quality sex. So bring it! I think her fav is up against the wall.  Or doggy style.  Eh, just to be safe, better do both.

Wait, doesn’t everyone like quality sex?  Pffft.  I’m leaving it on the list, anyway.  (I’ve got your back, Jules!)

10. She drinks wine. Not a margarita, not whiskey, not beer – WINE.  You wouldn’t BELIEVE the number of guys that have tried to get her to drink a Red Bull and Vodka or “Here, just have shot!”  If you wanna buy a shot, send it my way!

  1. I asked Jack (Jules’ son) what he thought. He said, “She’s highly critical.  You better be Clark Kent, ‘cause she’s looking for Superman!”

So, guys, if you think you’re up to the challenge, ask Jules out.   You’ve been warned!

God, I LOVE highjacking her blog!

Pass the whiskey!

I’m writing for Jules while she takes a dating hiatus.  We’ll see how long that lasts—beautiful women like us are never alone for long.  Don’t let the pic fool you – she really is one hot POA!

Naughty Nadia at Patty’s Party

Jules and Patty, 2012

Jules and Patty, 2012

“I have slept with every guy in the room,” I thought to myself.  “Holy hell.”

I scanned the room, doing a double take.

Pete the DJ was the first guy that I had slept with.  From this group, of course, not the First Guy Ever.  Geez, that was in high school—AGES ago!  Anywho, Pete was too thin, with dark brown hair.  He had enticed me by talking big about how he spun records, then disappointed me by living in a frat house with a guy that Jules dated.  In bed, he rated a C+: good enough that I went back a couple of times, but not so good that I could put up with his roommates hitting on me.

Luke the Locksmith was the second guy that had seduced me.  He was goofy and fun, with red hair and a party attitude.  We met at his annual Halloween party, where he was dressed as the LMFAO guy: afro wig, iridescent speedos, and huge glasses.  We hooked up when he came to fix my door knob.  For realz, my door was sticking, so I invited him over to fix it for me.  Yada yada, we ended up in bed together.

The next weekend, he invited me over for spaghetti.  “Mom is out of town,” he told me, “So I have the house to myself.”

Um, no.  First, spaghetti is the cheapest and easiest meal to make.  A man needs to put a little effort into a meal if he’s going to be too cheap to take me out.  Second, he lives with his Mom.  I thought that big two story house was his, but no, apparently he didn’t make enough money to move out.  Maybe I should have paid him with cash; he needed it.

I had to send a clear message to him that I wasn’t interested, so at the next party, I left with Will the Waiter.  Will was charming, in the way that all the best waiters are: subtly flirty and quick to compliment your choices.  He was shorter than me, but had the best of the latino features: dark hair, warm brown eyes, and delicious golden skin.  Unfortunately, he was one of those guys that couldn’t come wearing a condom.  He tried to get to me to have sex bareback, which really turns me off.  We may have had mutual friends, but I didn’t know him that well.  No glove, no love.

He had other shortcomings too.  Get it?  SHORT comings.  And I’m not talking about his height.

(That was a small dick joke, in case you didn’t get it.)

And then there was Peter the Programmer, my date for the evening.  He was one of the few brainiacs that I’ve dated.  Quiet and pensive, he was a nice change from the chatterboxes I had been seeing.  Only, he was beginning to bore me.  I brought him to the party to see how he’d interact with my friends.

And now, I wish I hadn’t.  I didn’t really think this through, did I?  Fuck.

Wait, fucking was what got me into this mess!

I looked around for Patty, who was upstairs giving someone the tour of her apartment.  Before I could go after her, though, Pete approached us.

“Hi Pete!  Meet my date, Peter,” I said.  I glanced back and forth between the DJ and my date.  “Pete, aren’t you a software guy by day?”

“Hey Nadia!” he hugged me and kissed my cheek.  “Yep, I <something computer-ish which translates to programming>,” he said.

I gulped.  The guys both had dark brown hair, pale skin, and were too skinny for their own good.  The two Peters could have passed for brothers, and I’d slept with them both.  “Peter here is a programmer, too,” I said.  Ya, that’s right: two Peter the Programmers who could pass for brothers and who BOTH earned C’s in the sack.

Peter rolled his eyes and said, “I actually <stuff about algorithms and other black magic that sounds like programming to me>.”

I turned and was relieved to see Patty coming downstairs with Matt.  I had only ever made out with Matt; we didn’t go all the way.  There, now I didn’t have to say that I’d slept with everyone in the room.

The doorbell rang, and a bald guy walked into the room.  I couldn’t remember his name, but I’m pretty sure that we had almost torn each other’s clothes off at the Halloween party.  I had heard people laughing downstairs and decided that they might be able to hear us if we did anything, so I had stopped and pulled my costume back up.  He stayed in the room a little while after I left to—uh—calm down.

He had been wearing a green body suit (which didn’t hide much, thus the need to calm down), with a name tag that he kept changing.  The first one had said, “Cucumber,” and he had gone from there.  He was tall, with pretty blue eyes and a great smile.  For the life of me, I couldn’t remember his real name.

Then I looked around the room.  Holy fuckcakes.  I hadn’t slept with everyone in the room, but I had made out with them all.

I started laughing.  I really need to find new friends!

Pass the whiskey!

Naughty Nadia is writing blog posts periodically while I (Jules) am on a dating hiatus. Leave a comment to tell her what you think about her writing, and whether she should write more–or whether you want me back.  Cheers!

Lilly and Lucas: Wedding Reception

Jules & Lilly <3

Jules & Lilly ❤

Lilly and Lucas were married in March in Australia, in an intimate wedding ceremony.  Their American friends wanted to celebrate with them, so yesterday (October 17th), we did.  The seven month delay was so that the bride and groom could attend the party.  And this month, Lucas stepped onto American soil for the first time.  Here are a few pics that I took at the celebration.  I’ll have more for you after the photographer processes her photos.  Also, here are a few fun pics from the party at Dave & Buster’s later.

Lilly’s biggest complaint about her new husband was, “He kept taking babies away from me!  Seriously, there were seven babies at the reception.  I held three of them and he took each one out of my arms.”

Lilly & Lucas.  Notice who is holding the baby!

Lilly & Lucas. Notice who is holding the baby!

Her friends and I were thrilled that she brought her wedding dress with her.  We had asked her to, but she had never agreed, so we thought we might be disappointed.  Imagine our delight when we saw her all dressed up in her bridal attire!  Lucas looked dapper in his suit as well.  But there’s nothing like a beautiful bride!

Lilly is employed at a doctor’s office and loving it.  It’s busy and stressful and she has great coworkers.  Lucas is finishing up his last few semesters as a nursing student.  He’ll begin work in February.  Best of all, they’re moving into a rent house soon after they return home.  Life is good!

The pics tell the rest of the story.  They’re so in love!  If Lucas will stop taking babies away from Lilly, they could have a long and happy marriage.  ❤

Cheers!  To the newlyweds!

American women LOVE Aussies!

American women LOVE Aussies!

Lucas & Jules

Lucas & Jules


Centerpieces - love 'em!

Centerpieces – love ’em!



I wrote advice in their guest book.  LOL, I’m probably not the right person to ask for marriage advice!

Love you, Lilly & Lucas!  Hope to visit you soon!  ❤ ❤ ❤

Burlesque Slumber Party

Me and my tail from the Bust Out. HAMU by Vivienne Vermuth, Photo by Dee Hill.

Me and my tail. HAMU by Vivienne Vermuth, Photo by Dee Hill.

“Your Bust Out song came on this weekend while we were in the hot tub,” Ophelia told me.  “I stood up, started dancing, and said, ‘Look at my tail!  Look at my tail!’”  She moved her hips in a circle to imitate a move that was part of my Bust Out performance.

I laughed.  Ophelia Wood had invited me and several other ladies over for a slumber party.  I hadn’t been to one in years—well, not one with girlfriends, anyway.  The other kind of slumber party usually involved getting naked and sweaty.

Speaking of which…

What happens when you get several burlesque dancers together, add wine and cosmopolitans, and ask what they want to do next?

I’m not allowed to tell you.  Well, I’m not allowed to tell you what they did.  I can CERTAINLY tell you what I did.

Hee hee hee.

Ophelia consulted the other ladies and chose a song.  They whispered, refusing to tell me which one until it started playing.

The theme from 50 Shades of Grey, “Earned It” by the Weeknd, started playing, and I started dancing.   It’s a slow, sensual song.  I pulled out a few moves from my Bust Out, and used the support beam as a stripped pole.

Impromptu burlesque routines are interesting.  There aren’t any costumes or props.  The performer pulls out her favorite moves and turns up the charisma.  Pretty soon, the audience forgets that she’s wearing old sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“You’re like a young man!  Too fast!” Ophelia told me.

She was right.  I get a nervous energy when I’m up on stage, and I tend to rush.

“The dance should be fast then slow, like sex!” she had said at Monday’s dance class.  We had all laughed, but it was true—a quick hip pop or seated knee opening can really get the audience’s attention.

Arielle cooked dinner, grilled chicken and squash.  It was fabulous!  She also made her Famous Dill Potatoes, but with all my allergies, I politely declined.  The way it disappeared, though, it must’ve been fantastic!

One of the ladies—let’s call her Anastasia, continuing the 50 Shades of Grey theme—announced, “I’m seeing a fireman from Shreveport.”

I smiled.  “I have family in the Shreveport fire station,” I told her.  “What’s his last name?”  Now, Shreveport may be a town in Louisiana, but it is pretty big.  Not as big as Dallas or Fort Worth, but still sizeable.  There was a chance that my kin knew her guy, but just a small chance.

Anastasia voiced my maiden name.

I choked.  Then I laughed.  “What’s his first name?”

“Aaron,” she said.

I laughed harder.  “Aaron Benjamin?!”  I said.

Ok, at this point, I thought, “Aaron is a pretty common name.  So is my maiden name.  So there’s still a chance that we’re talking about two different guys.”

Anastasia frowned and said, “His father is also named Aaron.”

Still smiling, I said, “Uncle Billy’s name isn’t Aaron.”

She pulled out her phone and flipped open Facebook to bring up pictures.  “Here,” she said, thrusting a picture of a young man at me.  “Is this your cousin?”

Embarrassed, I admitted, “I haven’t seen him in about 20 years.  That man could be part of my family, but I couldn’t say for sure.  Hey, how did you meet him, anyway?”

“Shreveport is only 3 hours away, so he comes into town to visit the clubs,” Anastasia told me.

Dallas is pretty awesome, and Shreveport is considerably smaller.  Plenty of people I know go to Shreveport for the weekend to gamble at the casinos, since there aren’t any casinos in Dallas, so it makes sense that people might come the other way for entertainment of a different kind.

“There’s a picture of Aaron with his father when he joined the fire station…let me see…here!” Anastasia said, holding up her phone with another image on it.

I said, “Yep, that’s my uncle.”  The man in the picture didn’t have dark brown hair.  His was all gray, and his face had more lines than the picture in my memory.  But that was definitely my uncle.

“How about this guy?” she said, showing me another picture.

“That looks like Aaron’s brother, and my Uncle Bobby,” I said.

“That’s Aaron, not his brother,” she said.  Then she kissed me.  Just a peck on the lips, but a kiss nonetheless.  “There, now you’ve kissed the same woman that your cousin has.”

I laughed again.  Love this woman!  “Kissing cousins!” I said, which made no sense at all.

See, Mr. Wood was on duty as our bartender and host.  He did an excellent job, which means that my wine glass stayed full.  I couldn’t tell you how many glasses that I drank, since more than one of us drank from the same bottle, but there were at least 4 empty wine bottles by the end of the night.  Correction: there were at least 4 empty red wine bottles.  Since I didn’t drink the white, I didn’t count those.

Later, I ended up in the hot tub.  Sitting still in the warm water, even with excellent company (who may or may not have been in the hot tub with me—remember, I’m allowed to say what they did ; – ) ) made me sleepy.  Amongst cries of, “Let’s play rock band!” and “Karaoke!” I crawled into the tent and went to sleep.

I slept in a tent because Ophelia has fur babies (cats).  And I have a plethora of allergies, including all fur babies (especially cats).  The night was perfect for a camp out.  It wasn’t too hot or cold and there was an occasional soft breeze.

Ophelia is already planning the next sleep over.  If I drink a little less, or more slowly, I should be able to stay up later.  And apparently I need to practice taking things slower.

“Look… at… my…tail!  Look… at… my…tail!” will become my new war cry.


This afternoon I’m attending the wedding reception of Lilly and Lucas.  Look for the blog on that tomorrow.  : – )

Me and my tail. HAMU by Vivienne Vermuth, Photo by Dee Hill.

Me and my tail. HAMU by Vivienne Vermuth, Photo by Dee Hill.