It's a Good Saturday When You Have Something to Repent on Sunday

Mimi and I went to Atlantic City, and All You Get is This Stupid Blog.

I think that should be a new T-shirt slogan. It would be pertinent to so few, it would cause quite a bit of head-scratching, furrowed brows and general looks of confusion.

After 15 years of togetherness, Mimi and I finally took our very first trip together. I really still am a little surprised I was able to get her to leave her family obligations, but it was hard to come up with an argument against Free Trip. The timing and price were perfect! We each took a vacation day on Friday, maximizing our long Labor Day holiday weekend. The trip was a simple over-nighter, so we both still have two more days off before we need to return to the grind of Everyday Life.

Kenny took us to the airport Friday morning, and as we were driving past the Tiedeman Road offramp (work route) he commented, "Huh, bet you've never seen this ramp so early in the morning," as it was 6:45 a.m. I mused that perhaps I would become Early Riser Girl and he just laughed and laughed and laughed....

As usual, the junket to Atlantic City was seamless and easy. Mimi hasn't flown in over six years, and she discovered that she is not really a good fly-er. She was feeling a little queasy, which lasted for the greater part of Friday as we had a hard time finding Dramamine. But she managed to smile through the queasiness and made fast friends with the folks she was sitting next to, even exchanging email addresses.

Just so there was no hard feelings of expected behaviors between us, I did inform her that if she threw up at any time on the trip I would be capturing photos first, holding her hair and being compassionate second.

We landed without incident. I don't know if I'm happy or disappointed about that ;) It would have made for some good mocking and disgusting photos.

P.S. Am I really this much shorter than my friends?? I feel so much taller in person. Perhaps I just photograph short, as Geri once mused.

As with all vacations, we took care of the first order of business: Food and Drinks.

It was a very relaxing trip overall, with the most difficult part being getting our room changed. They put us in a stinking smoking room and we had to wait for our luggage to be delivered to the room before we could switch. So after eating a nice brunch and sipping on mudslides, we did what all Girls Gone Wild do once they are let loose on a gambling and drinking town: Napped. In the stinky smoke room. Well, we had to wait for the luggage anyway, might as well get a catnap in so we can let our bad self's loose on the town later.

Friday afternoon we headed over to the Boardwalk. We shopped and walked the beach and did a fair amount of people watching.

We followed the Path to Happiness:

Mimi poked at every gross little piece of Washed-Ashore Ocean Life:

BFFs. Yeah, even at 40 we can use that term. What of it. No trip would be complete with out mention of some strange Pussies:

We wish these were the only Pussies we saw, but alas, we were treated to some visions during our trip to the spa on Saturday. Bigger and hairier than the ones above, unfortunately for us. They were just all hanging out.

Friday evening we had free show tickets for The Wedding Singer. It was super fun, very 80's, and relate-able from the parachute pants to the seafoam green and peach dresses. Mimi was a little queasy still so she had a ginger ale while I sipped gin. After the show we did our first little bit of gambling, which was new to Mimi. Luckily she had a pro to show her the ropes! I hooked her up on some Video Poker while I played some of my mindless slots, and we called it a night around 1:30 a.m.

Saturday morning we slept in and got a leisurely start to a leisurely day. While she was in the shower, I called the Red Door Spa and inquired about openings for massages, facials - whatever they had available. We were leaving for the airport at 6:00 p.m., so we were going to just hang out at our hotel for the day. Might as well have people rub us.

We shvited and whirlpooled and steamed ourselves silly.

We were limp noodles at the end of the day, wrapping it up just in time to grab a quick bite to eat and board the bus for the airport.

It was the perfect end to a perfect trip.

Quick Miscellaneous Tidbits:

• Mimi: "Ooh! Look at that trashcan!!" She was very impressed with all the little things, including the elevator decorations, the detailing on the trashcans, even the brushed steel look of the menus:

• Mimi made friends all over the place, and even got her massage therapists email so they can keep in touch.


• "Is that it??" after the roulette table sucked Mimi's $10 so fast, she didn't even see the wheel spin. Yep, that's it.


• Mimi: "How the f- can anyone keep up with 21 lines on a slot machine?? How do I even know if I've won??" Tracye: "The machine will tell you."


• Mimi: "Do I really just sit here and push a button??" Tracye: "Yep." Mimi: "This is stupid." Tracye: "Yep. Yet I'm somehow completely entertained."


• Woman sitting next to Mimi on airplane ride home: "What was your favorite part of your trip?" Mimi: "Being with my friend, Tracye." Ditto, girlfriend :)
  

I Still Feel You

His name was Rob. He was killed in a horrific car accident back in 1986. He was only 60. She still hasn't recovered.

Sarah Marie met Rob when she was a fresh pretty thing with the world at her feet. At the time she wasn't even interested in him, she was dating a fella who was teaching her to dance at the local dance halls they frequented. He was a really nice guy, and Sarah Marie thought that they might even marry one day, they had so much fun together. But then she met Rob.

Rob was a powerful man - tall, with a strong chin and wide shoulders. Once he set his sights on Sarah Marie, she was helplessly unable to resist his charms - or his broad shoulders. He was a strong man and Sarah Marie felt herself fall deeply and madly in love.

Over the years they raised three children, one son and a set of twin daughters. Sarah Marie proudly boasted of her kids accomplishments to anyone who was in earshot. Her daughters are successfully published authors, their most recent book just released this summer. The boy is an accomplished musician, playing with an orchestra out in California. He is truly his mother's son, as Sarah herself can make the piano sing and still plays at locales near her home in Fairview Park.

Their marriage was the story we all want to tell, a typical one of raising a family and building a business together, working side-by-side to create the life they wanted to live. As much as they enjoyed living life together, they didn't forget to pursue their independent interests. Skiing and tennis, piano and social clubs - they came together for some, nurtured their independence with others, only making the relationship richer in the end. These same things that helped to nurture their relationship helped to nurture her soul when she found herself so unexpectedly alone, far too early.

Sarah Marie lives loudly. Her clothes are bold, letting the world know she is still here, still standing. Still strong. She wore a pink dress, sparklie large rhinestones and a black cowgirl hat atop her puff of blond hair. Don't be fooled by the lines on her face, or even the slight stoop to her shoulders. She can still whip your ass on the tennis courts, playing three times a week with "people younger than you, Missy. " She downed her glass of vodka, on the rocks, please, while she banged out a tune or three on the baby grand piano in the corner of the bar.

When the singers took over, she grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor, all the while talking about how life's too short to sit still. She showed me the moves she learned from that lover so many years ago, the one she thought she'd marry before Rob came along with his strong shoulders and powerful personality. We danced and twirled and clapped and I lived loud with her for a few hours that Saturday night.

But I heard the catch in her voice as she congratulated and applauded the couple who were there celebrating their sixty third wedding anniversary. She only had forty seven years with her Rob, that was all. Not nearly enough time; No, not nearly enough. Sarah Marie still goes to work at the compay she and Rob built, fortunate that she had the experience needed to keep things moving, including herself.


Twenty one years since he's been gone. While she goes on living, she still wears his jacket to feel him next to her skin.

The Quiet Ones Are Always The Biters

We may not have the longest summer in Cleveland, but our fine city does manage to pack a slew of festivals into the short season. Sunday the Boys and I headed off to Little Italy for my first-time-ever participation in The Feast of the Assumption. Neither of us were sure what we would be Assuming, but we did know what we would be consuming: sausages, gyros, pastas and cannolli's. And anything else that struck our fancy.

The weather couldn't have been more beautiful, but the heat managed to creep up on ya if you stood in the sun for very long. Luckily, Tim wore 2 shirts, one with long sleeves. He was rethinking his getting dressed decision after the first hour or so.

Ken and Tim managed to find beers straight-away, while I opted for a Bacardi Mojito.

They played a little dice, with Kenny coming out ahead by $26, and Tim made his charitable contribution to the church.

Random Carnival Life:


Lots of sausages being cooked up. I had one (not from this booth) which was fabulous, and I also enjoyed a stuffed eggplant concoction. Definitely some of the better fair foods to be had in the city. I have to say, I wasn't even tempted by the "fried dough" stands, after reading that an elephant ear has 1000 calories and 55 grams of fat. Should be called elephant ass, because that's what you're going to get if you eat too many of those things. Not to say that an Italian sausage is a health food (I read they have 1,040 calories), but at least I feel there's SOMETHING nutritional in there, even if it's just the tomato sauce and green peppers.

We had a fun time, enjoying three hours or so of bustling city life before heading back home. I was drained from the sun and ready for a nap. While I didn't actually nap, I rested for a while, getting up only a short while ago while Tim & Ken went to the movies. I have a speech to prepare for a training session on Tuesday & Wednesday of this coming week, and I still haven't started it. What the fuck kind of assignment is that, anyway? I would have never signed up for it had I known that was part of the deal, but now it's too late, with non-refundable department dollars so go I must. As a result, this will be a shorter photo-blog so I can get busy with that before midnight.

Other, Even Less Significant Parts of My Weekend

Despite the heavy complaining I did regarding housework on Friday, I finally managed to accomplish a lot and was happy to awake Saturday morning to a very tidy place. I treated myself by doing very little else around the house, except for some random loads of laundry and putting some Drano in the pipes.

Saturday was one of the very few days where Kenny has to get up and be someplace before me, he had an 8 a.m. meeting for work. He was quite cantankerous about it, but still managed to get up at the first sound of the alarm - he is not a snoozer, like me. He just popped right out of bed, even though he had very little sleep as he worked Friday night til 1:30 a.m. So anyway, that set the tone for him for most of the day, when he came home he headed back to bed for a few hours while I went to the gym, tanned (if you can even call it that, I'm as white as I was 10 days ago when I joined the place), and really don't know what else I did to piss the afternoon away. When he got up he wanted very mindless activities, so we saw two movies and had dinner on the patio at Champps. It was perfect weather, I rather hated to waste it indoors, but there ya have it sometimes. I need to get my bicycle up & running and start enjoying that...well, probably next year already, but one day.

Peace, I'm off to do a little homework. Yeah, I'm not mentally ready at all to go back for my Masters, I am too annoyed by this little project. Well, know your limits, that's what I always say.

Let's Go Crazy

No wonder I didn't have a heapin' helpin' of excitement for Friday Night - I designated it "Chore Night." Who would look forward to that? Kenny's working, so I figured I'd take care of a bunch of household shit, and now it's just made me cranky with a touch of grouch to boot. And seriously, I've done very little. I feel like I can never get ahead, that's why I have no sense of accomplishment no matter what task I complete. Oh, I know, I know - Twinkle and Daddy took care of a few things the other night. But there's still just one thing after the other. We get one table cleaned, and the next one is piled twice as high. I just got done folding 2 loads of laundry (Daddy might wash and dry, but the folding does not happen - which leads to wrinkles and more work, but now I'm just sounding ungratefully bitchy) and scrubbing the common hallway. Daddy and Twinkle took out a bag of trash, that had a leak in the bag, and it looked like a murdered body had been dragged from our house to the driveway. I've looked at that for a few days now and decided enough was enough, how long exactly was I just going to walk over it and ignore it.

The rest of my night is going to consist of making a few trips with Stuff in Hand to the basement and trying to get the kitchen table cleared off once again. It had a fleeting moment of cleanliness, but it never lasts very long. At least I'll have used Chore Friday for getting something accomplished.

Now that I think about it, I have some pretty shitty things to do on my weekend list. I have to write a persuasive speech for work for a 2-day seminar on Tuesday. There's absolutely no fun in that, with the only silver lining being that I can use it for a Toastmasters speech and let it pull double-duty. I thought about writing that up tonight as well, but it doesn't appear like it's going to get done. Ah, well, onto other things.

Last night was my much-anticipated evening at the E.J. Thomas Hall in Akron for my date with Bill Maher. Dag, he was funny! And quite controversial. He brought out the hecklers in the area, and security had to throw them out. Something got 'em all fired up regarding his mention of Rush Limbaugh - they went off on a tangent about the World Trade Centers, didn't even make sense, but as my father is fond of saying, "It takes all kinds of people to make up a world."

Bill didn't disappoint me, and I think I fell a little more in love with him after his rant on the fairytale that's religion. I, for those readers who don't know, don't subscribe to the belief of organized religions. It's all about making money on some promise with no tangible deliverables. And as Bill pointed out last night, it's really just some other guy telling you what to think - no one knows. No one knows anything for sure. All these fantasies about heaven and hell and the afterlife - who could possible even know that. No one walking around the earth, that's what I know. But despite my disbelief in the whole religion thing, I do believe in psychics, so go figure. In fact, Linda and I just discussed making our appointment with one for later this month.

Peace, and I hope to have some exciting photos by the end of the weekend. Photos of more than just cats. Saturday has a plan of attending the Feast of the Assumption. If I dare to take my $700 camera to that, I could probably get some super fun pictures. If I dare...

Bad Attitude

I had to have a chat with Sir Twinkle re: his very foul language. Where in the world does he get that?

What the F Ever.

Ah, well Hello There. Momee got this new camera and all she's done so far is take a bunch of pictures of me. I wish she'd get this fucking thing out of my face, but since she won't.....here ya go, some really nice pictures of my face and fur.

Momee drank an entire bottle of wine tonight by herself. Some people would call that a "problem." Momee chalks it up to cooking all night in a kitchen sans dishwasher. She's always bitchin' about something around the house. Not sure what her prob is, me & Daddy worked like DOGS around the house today to make it nice for her when she came home. We vacuumed. I had to tell the other cats to Calm The Fuck Down when the vacuum was running. Jeeze, they lose their cat minds when that thing goes. It's just a floor cleaner, Deal already. Dad and I also did two (that's 2 People, for those of you who listen when Momee says she had to do every fucking thing herself) loads of laundry, made the bed and cleaned all the shit off the coffee table. To prove it, here's a picture of my cat ass sprawled the fuck out all over those cool, cool coffetable tiles:

I wouldn't have been able to lay like this if it weren't for Daddy. Daddy, cleaner and put-er-away-er. You should really be able to see the beauty of my fur with Momee's new fancy camera. Whatever. All I know is she needs to get that flash outta my face before I get it out of my face for her.

I've (or Momee, but we don't like to point fingers) have just finished my 2nd beer on top of a bottle of wine. So I'm heading off to hit the hay. Fuck all ya'all.

~~Twinkle.

Fun With Your Pants Off

A few things to note about the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2:

1/ That it was popular enough to warrant a sequel. Apparently more than just myself liked the first one.

2/ There was an unexpected amount of male attendees at the show.

3/ Many of the movie goers were my own age.

4/ It is possible for one person to eat an entire large popcorn, right down to the unpopped kernels.

5/ If you're going to eat that much popcorn, be sure to have enough soda on hand to wash down that last kernel that gets stuck in your throat and causes a few moments of unappreciated coughing (sorry, Movie Goers!).

6/ Those girls can still make me laugh and cry and become a part of them.

7/ Rory (Lena) looks good, but she has a very big forehead.

8/ Are we really supposed to suspend reality and believe that Rory and the chick from Ugly Betty (Carmen) can fit in the same pair of jeans?? Really??

9/ The movie makers obviously felt it necessary to add some diversity to the romances, which was NOT part of the books. I don't believe that Brian was of Asian influence in the original. Now he's Asian. And Rory had a fleeting moment with a mixed race dude. Don't recall that from the books.

10/ Greek girls don't lose their pants, according to Ya Ya.

Where's The Hound Dog?

Summer wouldn't be complete without groovin' to a little Fake Elvis, nibbling on some grilled corn on the cob and enjoying a cold draught beer from a plastic cup.

Ah, bliss!

Wholesome fun was had at Brooklyn Homedays Friday night. Kenny thought I was drunk because I was all hopped up, singing aloud with Fake Elvis, knowing words to songs neither he nor Tim had heard before. But I knew them, as I do not exaggerate when I proclaim my Elvising runs deep and true. I know every inflection and gyration that any proper Fake Elvis should do. And I don't need any beer to get my toes tapping, legs shaking, and out-loud singing to commence. I can't help myself, the songs burst forth from my lips. And yes, Tim and I did shake up the dance floor for a few numbers! He was drunk, however. Kenny was busy running the sound, so he was exempt from having to dance me.

Our Fake Elvis was great, he did a fun job and I managed to get another Fake Elvis Scarf to add to my collection of Fake Elvis Scarves. And I've decided that in 2009 I want to go back to Memphis and do Elvis Town up once again. We've been pushing that idea aside every time it comes up due to the cost to go there, but Kenny realized that we can actually take one of his many free offers to go to Harrah's in Tunica, which is about 20 minutes from Memphis. So we get free airfare right there, and a free hotel, rent a car and go get my King on at Graceland. I've already done all the tours there, but you can never see too much Graceland. So there, our first 2009 trip is in the hopper.

Guilt Assuaged!

Saturday evening I took a drive over to Sophie's, to finally catch up and deliver some bakery and magazines. I am back in Good Granddaughter standings, as I filled up a Tupperware container I was returning with fresh blueberries and strawberries. She would NEVER spend money on those frivolous fruits for herself, so it was a real treat. I also trimmed her hair, which is a really tough task, as she has her household scissors for me to use to do the job. Having been used to trim bushes in the yard, cut fabric and any other task that requires scissors, they cut hair very unevenly. Not to mention I'm not a hairdresser, nor have I ever taken any hairdo classes, despite what you may think based on my successful self-coloring attempts. So I'm just chopping away at it, following the doctors creed of First, Do No Harm. I figure an inch off the length can't harm too much. It certainly could benefit from a professional cutting, but that would cost $12, so scratch that. The household scissors wielded by an untrained granddaughter will do the trick just fine, thank you.

Going Off The Deep End

I had to go into work on a Sunday, which is frankly just about the craziest talk ever, but sometimes it is necessary. Promotion doesn't come without demands, apparently. We have a long Monday afternoon presentation, and I need to make sure my part is up and ready to go so I'm not running around crazed with stress on Monday morning. I'm much sharper on a Sunday afternoon than a dragging-in Monday morning. But the off putting part is, I didn't even realize I was doing anything with this until Thursday. It's part of my new role, but I only stepped in at the last minute to help with it. Whatever it takes, that's fine, but I would have been gathering this stuff together sooner had I known. Oh, well, somehow it all gets done. Yeah, that "somehow" meaning working on a Sunday, usually. And late on Friday night as well....poor me :)

Ken and I enjoyed a late breakfast at the Colonial this morning, having corned beef hash, poached eggs and homemade potato pancakes. That should tie me over and fuel me for a productive afternoon. Since Ken's working his last day at Brooklyn Homedays today, I thought it might be a good time to go see the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2. I tried to convince Tim, but he said that was really too "homo" for him, although he normally embraces that pretty well - I mean, he's a huge fan of Gilmore Girls, and I reminded him that Rory is in Sisterhood, and I did see him waver just a bit. I bet I could convince him. He admitted to Tivo'ing the 1st Sisterhood, but deleted without watching out of fear he just might enjoy himself.

In the interest of trying to get some actual work done while I'm at work right now, I will end this fine, fine post and hope that my computer at home is back to working when I try her again later tonight. Oh, yeah- I forgot to type that part, the fucking thing just decided to freeze, baby, and is not participating in it's job of being a computer. I loves me some Vista...next computer, Air Mac. Or whatever it's called. I've only had this thing for a year, it's a piece of shit to work with. I mean, I have a demanding public that needs to read what I had for breakfast, for crying out loud.

Peace, until I blog again....

Stiffer, Longer, Harder

Spam: It isn't just for supper anymore.

Apparently, Soft Viagra can help me achieve a well-to-do sex life. Huh. And if that's doing the trick, Generik Viagra can help me write new pages in my sexual history. Oh, I've recently tried something that will increase my penis size. If my exhusband starts to grow, we'll know it works! (get it, cause he's a dick - ba-dum-bump!)

My Catholic Guilt Runneth Over

I'm seriously stressed because I haven't called Sophie in a couple of weeks - and all I need to do is PICK UP THE PHONE AND CALL and all traces of guilt will be vanquished. But no. I don't do that, instead I sit around and worry about what a Bad Granddaughter I am, and make plans to call the next day.

Here's the conundrum. I plan to call during the day. I've been too busy to really spend time chatting on the phone. I'm not much of a phone chatter anyway, much better emailer, so I really need to prep myself up for it sometimes. I feel like George Costanza, who had to make notes of what to talk about for his weekly call. I'm out of material that will interest her. I can't tell her, "Well, we just got back from another vacation." Not after I've just heard the speech about saving every dime I can because of the formidable, looming recession.

So I think to self, "I'll call her on the way home." But you're not allowed to talk on your cell in Brooklyn, so I wait to get to the highway, and then the drive is so short I think, "Well, I'll just wait til I get home and get settled."

By then, I'm too tired to have any gumption at all about engaging in a conversation of any more depth than, "Did you see Twinkle today? Did the cats play nicely together? What are we doing for dinner? No, I don't want to "do it" right at the moment, but thanks for asking."

By the time I rest up enough to catch a second wind, it's right in the middle of her television shows, and she does look forward to those. Of course she doesn't have Tivo or a VCR, so I don't want to interrupt them. Next thing you know, another day has slipped away sans phone call, and the Catholic Guilt settles in for one more restless night. Ah, tomorrow. There's always tomorrow to right all sorts of wrongs. So tomorrow I shall call, somewhere around my lunch hour. And we will chat and laugh and laugh and I will be returned to Good Granddaughter status. Until next week, at least.

Don't think that my guilt stops there, oh, no, I've got p-l-enty to go around. I feel guilty that I went all the way to the gym (the 5 minutes up the street, all that way) and only worked out for 30 minutes. Granted, the power went out, which cut the evening short, but had I gotten up there earlier I could have really made it count. I've got 8 weeks and counting til vacation, People, and my ass isn't getting any smaller/tighter/fresher on it's own. Well, fresher might not be helped by the gym, but you get my drift. I've been eating pretty fucking healthfully, haven't had a fast-food burger since July - the beginning of July - and have incorporated mucho vegetables and fruits into my daily regime. All I've gotten from the excess fiber is gas and bloating.

So anyway. I booked another trip today, because when all else fails, if there's one thing I know for sure, it's how to book a vacation. It's a Girls Night trip for me, haven't had one of those in eons, and I couldn't be more excited! I managed to get free airfare and hotels for us in Atlantic City on my favorite little Charter. I just called 'em up and asked if we could go for free, and they said, "Sure, pack your bags." It's good to be Mrs. Anderson for gambling trips! So we're doing that August 29th. We need girl bonding time. And Mr. Anderson's happy to get me out of the house for a night, I believe.

Peace. I'm off to find out what other magical things the Internet can do for my penis. Jeezus Christ!! Kenny's computer has been overtaken by some nasty ass virus and it occassionaly just bursts into noises, which it just did and scared the holy fuck out of me!

There's A Spray For That

Two-thirds of the Cleveland Summer are gone, and my tomatoes have just begun to ripen. Is that normal timing? I don't really know, I feel as if we should have been eating homegrown tomato sammiches as early as July, but here we are: August.

Despite my efforts to grow large, lush productive plants by adding Miracle Gro fertilizers and working in new top soil to my planting ground, my tomatoes are repeating the size of last year's harvest, about the size of tennis balls. WTF. They are also a little burnt up, in spite of the heavy rains we've had all summer. Vera pointed out that they are next to the garage and partial obscured by the overhang, which could be misdirecting the water flow. I guess I never looked up to notice. Fuckity Fuck. It's always something. Next year I'm going to try a new area, I guess, see if it reaps better results. I won't even discuss the Big Berta Bell Peppers. Let me just say that there won't be any home grown stuffed green pepper dishes being produced in my kitchen at this rate. Perhaps I need to ask an expert at Home Depot's garden center how I can make my garden grow.

I've decided to take my blogging to the porch, where the cats and I can all enjoy the beautiful weather of a Sunday evening. Caesar is busy eating a dead leaf that is on the floor, which I'm sure he'll throw up later, somewhere on the carpet. I hope around three a.m., there's nothing quite as nice as waking from a sound sleep to that little treat. Widda is watching the porch shenanigans from the safety of the doorway, she'd like to come out and join the foray, but her "Fraidy Cat mentality just won't let her come and roll and play. Kenny said she needs cat therapy. I would be inclined to agree. Girlie is just fine relaxing on the porch, she conks right out for a prime cat nap.

Friday was a busy, busy day, with a long day at the office rolling into patio drinks at Blue Moose with some friends from Toastmasters, and Timmy. I set up the little social hour, and then I had to cut my own get-together short as Kenny made plans for the evening with Pete & Vera. Fun plans, don't get me wrong, but I was therefore double-booked and trying to fit all the fun in. It wasn't easy, but I managed. Two quick drinks on the patio, some inappropriate story-telling, successfully bored Timmy with shop talk, and we hauled ass home where Vera was already waiting. I threw some undies and toothbrushes in a bag and Pete, Vera, Kenny and I headed up for a night in Erie, for some gaming action. Yes, more of that, but it was Pete's request, and we went along for the ride, not wanting to miss out on any type of fun to be had.

We enjoyed a leisurely fun drive home on Saturday, stopping at an off-the-beaten-path restaurant in Leroy, Ohio for pizza and salad. With full bellies and cozy blankets, Vera and I sprawled out in the backseat of the car for a relaxing ride. Vera had her feet on the back of Pete's seat, giving him a face massage with her feet. Kenny would hate that, as he's got a foot aversion to begin with. They don't need to be touching his face - ever! Pete has a hairbrained scheme to sell dirty socks on Ebay for freaks...er, I mean people who are a just a little different....with foot fetishes. Somehow he knows (??) that they'll pay big money for stinky used socks. Huh. Wonder what I could get for crotchy panties, I know the cat sure enjoys rolling around on them.

So far it's been a pretty great weekend, as far as weekend's go. Very relaxing, not doing too much of anything that could be construed as non-fun. I have toyed with washing the car and the bedding, but we'll see. That doesn't fall in the "fun" category. We made some returns - yes, electric cat watering dish was returned, it didn't last long at all - and I've got some recent purchases to get squared away. Our air purifiers showed up, I love it in the bedroom, the air smells like fresh rain in there. Need to get the one set up for the living room today. Almost too lazy to do that, and all that is required is to take it out of the box and plug it in. Some days are just that lazy.

My new Olympus camera has been the suspected challenge to figure out. I've been reading the manual, it does a lot of fancy tricks, but couldn't use it until today, I didn't have a memory card. Picked on up for $70 from Best Buy this afternoon. I may head down to the towpath and take some nature shots, just to play around and test it out. The really bad-quality photos I've posted today were from my phone, not my new fancy camera.

Irony

I believe I forgot to mention from our last Vegas excursion that we saw Pete Rose while we were there. Paid good money for an autograph. Kinda ironic seeing him in the gambling mecca of the world, as that was his downfall from baseball grace. Anyway, it was still rather exciting to shake hands with a legend.

It's about that time where I need to sit down and figure up some goals for August. July kinda snuck by me, not a lot "new" learnings went on, but I gave myself a pass since I got the promotion at work. That has been new enough. Just getting settled in the new work, haven't been hit with it too hard as of yet, but I'm excited. As the feminine deodorant spray ads tell us, it's good to stay fresh.

Peace, and make the most of the last official month of summer in the city. Get out there and do stuff! I have a lot of unexplored festivals on my list. I plan on checking them out this month.