Looks like yesterday’s Super Sabado is gonna be today’s Super Domingo, because Hubby and I were invited to a swanky evening out last night called the Interfaith New Gala 2006, and we didn’t get home until 1 am!
Normally I turn into a pumpkin and roll into bed at 8:30, but not last night.
Last night I tripped the light fantastic with the Mar Dels and rubbed elbows with high society. For one exciting moment I even shared the dance floor with the mayor of Escondido! (She escaped unharmed.)
But the highlight of the evening was the arrival of three young and studlies who appeared out of nowhere and pulled two unattended ladies from our party onto the dance floor. The newcomers were all under 25, at LEAST. I mean, the Gala was a rocking party and all, but I’d say until these guys showed up, the youngest participants were the serving staff.
I gave the ladies several thumbs up but they seemed too preoccupied with their new dance partners to see. When the first husband returned to our table he didn’t notice a thing, but the second hubby showed up just as one of the newcomers started a new, sexier sort of dance with his wife. At that crucial moment the husband introduced himself to the young men.
It turns out they were Australians! They came to Rancho Bernardo for a wedding, got lost and began reception-hopping—and all I can say is, here’s to young Aussie men and their fine appreciation for older women! (Negotiations with Hubby about a trip Down Under are already underway.)
Today’s Super Sabado is a Super Domingo, because I didn’t get it finished in time before the Gala. Sorry!
The last two Sundays I’ve made her Super Sabado list (I’m wondering if that means Super So BAD o).
Wander, of Wander’s World, making us kick ourselves and ask, “How come we didn’t think of that, first?”
I can easily transport myself to a world made familiar by the author’s skill. No amount of skill, however, will make me believe that I can become a shape-shifting, green skinned lizard woman with a long red forked tongue that can do wonderful things to her life partner, a vampyre-wolf who grows a ten foot penis during a full moon.
The Divine Miss Karen Ranney, who doesn’t seem too big on paranormals, er… at least, not in THAT way.
i can’t help but wonder if decades
from now, there will be new writing
rules and trends. perhaps people
will look back at the writing from
this period and wonder why we were
so stingy with adverbs. haha!
Cyn of and miles to go before i sleep, trying to absorb a ton of writing advice, none of which, it seems, had anything to do with vampyre-wolf life partners with, um… you know.
Today. The only part of me that does not hurt, is the hair around my butt. I’ve seen those morons on TV. They do it for hours. Well I’m going to do that too, even if it kills me.
tl of Life Got Away, after a killer bout with a stair-stepper. (And if that isn’t a brutal segue, we don’t know what is.)
I dunno, so she’s a little younger and may not appreciate the era as some of us do, but twenty years ago if I stood in front of a girl … legs akimbo, adopting a David Coverdale stance, strumming my imaginary guitar, pretending to deftly push a long flowing lock back while pointing at her occasionally and closing my eyes saying that even though I kept searching for an answer … I could never seem to find what I was looking for…well it was a sure thing!
Gary of gpshewandotcom, under the influence of an 80s music marathon. We don’t get it, either, Gary!
I thought Lynn was going to freak out on me. He was shoving napkins in my face. He said the other parents were going to think he did something to me.
Kelly of Savage Living in Oklahoma, a little weepy after a day of back-to-school shopping. Kelly, we think what you need right now is an 80s music marathon! Hit it, Gary!
Sometimes having “almost teenagers” crack me up.
To give some of you some hope while you have your hands in poo, waking up each night and sometimes just worn out…
Laurel Wreath, for whom memories of her kids’ childhood involve lots of hand-washing.
A pseudo-smartass, named James Goodman has spent the better part of two years ridiculing nimrods whose deaths were brought about by sheer stupidity. On a sunny day in August (the poor sap’s wedding anniversary no less), karma planted a size thirteen to his backside.
James Goodman of Rants, Raves and Random Thoughts , after a brush with chlorinated death and a subsequent nomination to the Nimrod Club.
You can choose from 1 day races ( you’d only be in one city), 3 days, 7 days, all the way up to 17 days which encompasses the whole of Australia!! You would be placed in pairs and be competing against other pairs….usually around 4 to 6 teams, and the best bit……………..if you win, you have your holiday paid for!!
Michelle of Justitia, who’s up for an Aussie version of the Amazing Race. We are all over that, Michelle, especially after last night.
I must be the only person who has a coin operated washing maching in my own house.
On the Rock, of Martinis on the ROCK, who must be right, because we can’t think of anyone who does.
I stared at Dawg.
“You really didn’t hear that noise of something sliding down the wall?”
I can see the is this a trick question running over his features.
Kristen of A-Mused Chaos, who discovered that a bulletin board may fall, but no male will hear it.
Keep your friends close by and your enemies in a hole in the ground lined with pointy sticks”
Mark McLellan of Gullible’s Travels, channeling his inner Godfather.
I read somewhere recently that people won’t read your blog if you talk about yourself, because, like, who cares? Well, tough cookies.
April of Desperate Writer, channeling her inner Mrs. Fields.
“This thrice-damned printer is chewing up my manuscript!” She screamed, her sweet, high soprano heard over estuaries and deltas.
Bernita Harris of An Innocent A-Blog, who managed to perfectly capture our week of printer angst.
Part of my problem is that I don’t do hobbies. If I try something, I go full-tilt. I immerse myself in it, learning everything I can and constantly thinking of ways to be successful at it.
Some might call it perfectionistic or Type A. I call it charmingly ambitious.
Jaye Wells of Jaye’s Blahg. We recommend you all give a nod toward “charmingly ambitious,” too, as it’s just safer that way.
I refuse to quit. If she wants to fire me that is fine. But I am not quitting. Not yet anyway.
Susan of Church of Angst, who has the patience of a saint.
At this point, the consultant’s cheeks turn pink, and everyone else cocks their head to the side, contemplating how this whisk could be used as a sex toy. “You know, she’s right,” one lady says. Another nods her head in agreement. “It doesn’t look like any of my sex toys,” the third says.
Honey of Meet My Muse, whose Pampered Chef parties don’t sound anything like OUR Pampered Chef parties, sorry to say.
I loved that thing. It was bright, airy, and welcomed us every time we came home. Now it’s gone. Forever. I hereby place a curse on that moron who stole our lovely plant. May this thief suffer from incurable, bleeding, butt hives till the day he returns our plant to its rightful spot on the left side of our front door…
Dana of Dana’s Tea House, and how she can call down incurable, bleeding, butt hives, we’d rather not know.
This had been a dramatization – no authors were harmed in the writing of their neuroses. Please join us next week when we delve into the voices inside you head: “You want me to do what with my keyboard?!?!”
Our favorite multi-personality, Denise Belinda MacDonald.
If I’m struggling to figure something out — maybe it’s an idea for a scene or maybe it’s something deeply personal — I pick up my camera and make pictures.
Sure, Elizabeth, rub it in, you with your totally intact camera, you.
We had a critique cum gossip session with deli. My kids behaved with minimal screaming required from me.
M.G. Tarquini of Genre Neutral, who learned that Elizabeth can not only take great pics, but is super around the kids, too.
here’s what I had for breakfast this morning: a strawberry granita and a brioche at Bar Fargione, the only one open at this end of the Via Sacro Cuore.
Welshcakes Limoncello of Sicily Scene, and what we want to know, Pat, is if they appreciate older women in Sicily like they do in Australia?
My wife and I spend part of Sunday morning helping her cousin’s daughter construct a red and blue barn for an elephant, complete with several bunk beds (that we had to sand to remove the splinters) and a large closet for his clothes. The elephant, named Sparkly, slept on a mattress made of cotton balls and ate freshly baked bread containing peanuts each day.
Andrew of Amber of the Moment, who has a rather interesting set of extended family members.
Yep, I’m back from vacation. In a day or two, I’ll write about our beach cabin, “Pirate’s Nook,” which was only five stars short of 5-star accomodations; the day I wrecked my dad’s luxury car; my foundation undergarment disaster at my high school reunion; and why one should not leave family reunion details to one’s mother with significant short-term memory loss.
TC of Fish in My Hair, who I think would LOVE a trip around the dance floor with an Aussie. Next year, we’re bringing you along, TC!
I drove from Morganton, NC to Philadelphia, PA in order to attend the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference. Even though it was supposed to be a 9 1/2 hour drive…I got there in 13 hours.
Mimi of Mimi’s Pixie Corner, who discovered that Philly isn’t as user-friendly as she’d expected.
[Mimi’s] got more great pictures and a good rundown of some of what we did….Yikes! I look like a deer caught in the headlights. I think someone was holding a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich!
Bonnie of Bonnie Writes, who doth protest too much, because she looks fine!
And for those of you who’ve waited until the very end, I felt the video pickings were awfully slim this week. I did find a funny little quickie about what happens when you try to to create zero-G conditions in your plane with Fido in the back seat.