So I haven't blogged in a while..shoot me...

Sometimes you just need to get your drunk on, and start typing. I needed to do this.  Blogging is like sex after a long dry spell.  Sometimes you just need to have a cocktail or five to supply the lubrication, and get on with it.

I know I know. I haven’t blogged in a million years and you all are on pins and needles waiting to see what words of wisdom I have to impart.  Hold back your disappointment. I have none.  But here is what I do have, after months of working my ass off for work, and sticking my nose in places it probably had no place being…

1.     I have an incredible family, especially my daugher, who accepts me unconditionally.  Yes, they understand I’m not quite sane, and I am probably completely unmedicated (actually I am medicated – how scary is THAT???) But they love me.  I know that when I look in their eyes, and mostly they are just glad I’m happy.  You really can’t ask for much more than that.  Unconditional acceptance is one of the greatest gifts in life.  It’s my brass ring, my light at the end of the tunnel, my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  I’m not easy, I’m not subtle, and I completely lack any sense of diplomacy…yet my family understands and accepts, and doesn’t judge.

2.      I have a husband who not only lets me be myself – which isn’t always a good thing - but he knows when to “reel me in and keep me grounded.”  Not an easy task for anyone.  I worry that I am more than he bargained for, and I’ll just make him exhausted.  But every day he wakes up with a smile on his face, looks in my eyes and declares he loves me madly.  He’d have to be mad to put up with my antics.  Thank you Bill. I love you more madly.

3.      I have friends who, like my family, accept me and all the craziness that comes with…patient? Yep, they are incredibly patient, and probably just a little nuts themselves.  But I know they accept me for who I am, not what I can do for them. They revel in our mutual moments utter abandonment, and they understand that while I am not perfect, I am well-intentioned.  Thank you for that.

4.      I have a career that provides me with all I ever dreamed of..ever…in my entire life.  I get to boss everyone around, be creative in ways I never thought possible, thrive under pressure, and  hug lots of really cool people. And I get to do most of this in really cool locations all around the world.  Thank you God…for great timing and allowing me to be and accomplish all sorts of amazing things. 

Life is odd. Life is grand.  Life provides us with relationships and opportunities we never imagined.  But really, we earn these gifts.  I’ve busted my ass, made a ton of mistakes and tried my best to learn from each and every mistake.  I am where I am because of every choice I have ever made – good, bad or otherwise.  Honestly, I cannot imagine being anywhere else.  I have no regrets, no disappointments and no desire to do anything differently.  So now, I shall just go forth, do my best, and hope that I don’t do anything stupid.  Perfect? No.  Happy? In ways you cannot even imagine.

Big shoes to fill...

Some things just make you stop and take inventory of your life.  Death, an inevitable part of life, is one of those things.

Our family is suffering through this quiet but gutwrenching chaos this week.  We are losing our patriarch on Bill’s side of the family…his father, Lynwood Otis Tucker.  “Otis” is a giant of a presence who welcomed me with open arms the moment we met.  I met Otis before I met anyone else in Bill’s family.  He hugged me and it was like being wrapped in the arms of a big ol’ bear.  It was strange, our first meeting.  Bill and I had been dating a short time.  It was the last weekend of hunting season, and Bill wanted me to meet “his hunting buddies” whom I later realized were as close to him as any family could be.  So here I was, this “city-fied yankee” heading to the back hills of Southern Virginia.  I drove through Charlottesville, passed a sign that said “Waltons Mountain Museum” and through Lynchburg.  I can remember thinking to myself “Girl, you are soooo not in PA anymore.”  Truth be told, I hadn’t been in PA for a long time, but this part of the world felt so foreign to me. Before you knew it I was making a left onto Hogwaller Road.   I kid you not. To this day, Bill swears we are going to retire down there just so Hogwaller Road can be my address.  I am more amused by that thought now then I was back then.

So as I kept driving and listening for banjos and signs of Ned Beatty, I spotted an old pickup truck by the side of the road. Someone was in the truck, so I pulled over and rolled down the window with my freshly manicured hand (and yes, hair was done, and makeup perfectly applied as well.) 

Me – “Excuse me Sir, but I am looking for Bert Carr’s house.  Do you know he lives?”  (Bert is one of Bill’s best friends, and whom he was staying with while hunting in Halifax.)

Old Man in Truck (smiles and I realize there is not one tooth in his mouth) “Bert? He lives down the road.  Who are you looking for?” (I would later learn that this gentleman was “Big Smokey.”)

Me – “I’m looking for Billy Tucker.”

Big Smokey – “Ahhhhh, you’re looking for Hawkeye!” (Insert big toothless grin here.)

Hawkeye? Who the hell is Hawkeye?  I started to get a bit nervous, and wondered if Hawkeye was some strange code for “fresh meat approaching.”

Big Smokey jumped on the CB radio, and said something in his deep southern voice which left me wondering if I was in a foreign country. I kid you not, I couldn’t understand a word he said. Then he stuck his hand out the window and motioned. “You need to drive that way and make a left through the weeds. Hawkeye is hunting back in there.”

I thanked him and kept going.  What I didn’t know at the time is he was BACK on the radio to all of Bill’s friends to Bill and all of his friends ribbing “Hawkeye” about this woman who was looking for him. This group of guys is brutal when it comes to a good ribbing.

I spotted Bill’s old maroon Chevy Suburban about 50 feet off the road, and I did in fact have to drive through brush and weeds to get through, which must have been quite the sight, as I was driving my Sebring convertible, which isn’t that far off the ground.  I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get it back out.  Someone was standing next to the truck with his back to me, and I, of course, assumed it was Bill. I jumped out of the car, high heels and all, and yelled “Hey you!”  But it was Otis who turned around, not Bill. He had a great big smile and he hugged me so tight it was hard to breath.  He was dressed in camouflage overalls and he was wearing a hunting cap.  I will never forget that first time seeing him.  Everything about him was larger than life, and at the same time the most comforting and loveable man I ever met.  There was no hesitation about Otis.  We liked each other immediately.  Bill came trouncing back from chasing a deer, only to find his dad and I chattering away like two squirrels.  From then on, it was pretty much love between Otis and me.  Always teasing each other, always making time for a hug and a kiss.  I lost my dad four years prior to meeting Otis, and while no one could fill that void in my life, Otis comes close, very very close.

Which bring me to the point of this whole diatribe.  I am losing my Otis this week. Renal failure brought on by liver cancer is taking him from our lives – Bill’s, mine and my daughter’s.  I cannot think about all of this without crying, and thinking that the world is going to seem a whole lot less wonderful without him, much in the same way the world became less wonderful when I lost my own father.  I’m watching my husband, my Bill, lose his hero, his best friend, the man that Bill has worshipped  his whole life.  But there is something I see that Bill doesn’t see.  He is his father, cut from the same rough cloth, a carbon copy.  I know what Bill will be like in 30 years.  And how lucky am I to have found the one man on this earth after Lynwood Otis Tucker’s heart.  

So yes, the air is a bit bittersweet this week when I breathe in. I am reminded that it’s always best to stop and sniff the roses, and to always eat dessert first, tomorrow is promised to none of us. But I also know that I was blessed beyond words the day my path crossed with my father in law, and I owe him a debt of immeasurable gratitude for being Bill’s dad.  I do believe Otis Tucker may have given me one of my greatest gifts in my life…my soulmate.

And for that, Otis, you will forever be in my heart. Godspeed, and all my love to you.

Religion really has no place at this particuar table, so please stop serving it like it is the main course…

Well, here it goes.  I’m sure my “friends” number will plummet like a rock today.  That’s ok though. I’m hoping this will be “cleansing” experience for me.  I really need it.  So much this week has really made me sad and pissed me off in ways I did not think was possible. I need to get it off my chest, and I am sure it will anger more than a few. So, by all means, if you decide to unfriend me, please leave me a note that you are doing so and as to why, so I can block your ass, and you can forego stalking my facebook page.

Two words…gay marriage (friends list just dropped by a dozen or so.)

Ok, so let's review...those who stand on the evangelical right have made it abundantly clear that marriage between two individuals of the same sex is “wrong”, “perverted” and “against God’s will.”  They have a right to their opinion, and not once have I ever tried to change anyone’s mind who felt that way.  I don’t really care.  If you choose to live in your own little bubble then that is certainly your choice.  I live in a bubble of sorts as well, but generally speaking mine is a world of butterflies and unicorns, cute baby animals, and BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS FOR EVERYONE, regardless of what religion you are, what race you are, if you’re a man or a woman or a hermaphrodite, or what your sexual orientation is.  I want to live in a world where everyone is entitled to the same rights as their neighbour.  I am pretty sure that God isn’t particular about those things either.  Go ahead, cite some Bible passage and tell me I’m wrong.  I’m not a fan of that Book, mostly because it was written from MAN’S viewpoint.  I don’t buy into the whole “handed down from God thing.”  I’m pretty sure God has better things to do with his time.  Besides, the real perversion is how individuals and religions twist the words of the Bible to make it say whatever THEY want it to say.  It is the ultimate Book of Contradictions, handed down to man by other men who thought they were the foremost expert on all things “God.”

I've heard it said many times that gay marriage “blurs the lines between church and state.”  Honestly, there is nothing “blurry” about marriage and where it falls legally.  Marriage is a CIVIL union.  You don’t have to be married IN a church to be legally married.  So the religious right should drop that argument immediately.  If you don’t believe in gay marriage, then that is your right.  Don’t marry a gay person.  Don’t belong to a church that allows for gay marriage (there are many that do believe in it, by the way.) It’s all up to you.  But the bottom line is pretty clear to me.  If two people are married in a civil ceremony by a government official, then they are pretty much…wait for it…MARRIED.  That should afford them, and their children, and their pets, the same rights as any other married couple.  It’s really not a religious matter AT ALL.  So to the evangelical right I say, keep your religion out of my personal life, my marriage, my friend’s marriages, and everything else that does not personally pertain to you.

How does two gay people marrying effect others who don’t believe in gay marriage?  Does it make them uncomfortable?  Are they unable to answer their children’s questions?  Are they afraid it is contagious?  Really, explain to me, Mr. Holier Than Thou, HOW it relates to YOUR life, YOUR value system, YOUR beliefs. The answer is it doesn’t.  You don’t believe in the sanctity of marriage between two women or two men?  Fine. But do not shove your ideological beliefs down the throats of the rest of us.  We really don’t care what you think. Why don’t you go to church, or bible study, or something…whatever you do when you’re not preaching to the rest of us about why we’re going to hell and you’re going to heaven.  By the way, if I actually believed in heaven, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to spend eternity there, mostly because none of my friends will be there.  We’ll be off playing with unicorns and chasing butterflies.  But I don't believe in heaven and hell.  In fact, I believe in reincarnation.  Shove that up your butt and spin on it for a while.

For the record, I am a Republican…a Republican who is sick and tired of the extreme right dictating the Republican agenda and making us all look like complete idiots.  I don’t subscribe to much of what is being bandied around in the press as the "Republican agenda", and it makes me really really angry that Republicans are all falling under the same ridiculous label of  “religious right.” I'm not one of those people. I don’t judge when choosing my friends.  My friends are a brilliant beautiful cross-section of people from all types of religious, ideological and political backgrounds.  They are of different sexual orientations, different colors, and hail from a long list of different countries.  The one common thread that runs through my list of friends is their ability to accept others at face value without judgment.  I am proud to have these people in my life that I call friends, and they are just as much family to me as my own blood relatives. To them, I want to say thank you for giving me faith that there are kind, compassionate and wonderful people in the world.

To those who carry the cross of religion but still allow of the possibility of gay marriage, please don’t be offended by my rant, as clearly it is not directed towards you.  I salute you.  It is by far braver to go against the grain than follow the masses. My beef is with those who insist that “their way” is the ONLY way, God’s way.  

In my opinion?  God is probably very disappointed in “their way.”  God doesn’t create bigots.  Bigots create bigots.

Not goodbye...never goodbye...

Today is sad beyond words. 

Our very geriatric grumpy resident senior citizen/canine, Cherokee, nearly 17 years old, has lost the “quality of life battle” that we have been monitoring very closely for the past year or so.  We could see it coming…in her eyes, in her disposition, in the sound of her breathing.  But somehow, after several bad days, she’d suddenly perk up and start chasing squirrels in the back yard, so we shrugged it off, choosing not to think about the inevitable.

But as of late, the bad days have outweighed the good, and the past two weeks have been particularly gutwrenching for our family.  She lost weight, a lot of weight. She wasn’t eating and she was losing control of her bladder.  This morning, she couldn’t even get up.  Bill carried her outside at lunch and she couldn’t even stand on her own.  It’s always in that moment you “just know.”  She was suffering, the sparkle was gone from her eyes.  She was still trying to please us, but she was unable to do what she thought she should do.  We made the decision and Bill made the call.  We cried.  I’m still crying.

What is it about the animals in our lives that allows them to wrap themselves so tightly around our hearts that when they leave us we feel as though they took our heart with them.  Indeed, they do take a small piece of our heart, for it belongs to them, and them alone.  I have lost many pets in my life over the years, and none of them have been particularly easy.  This one is especially hard.  My mouthy mutt, lovingly nicknamed “Flappy” by me because she would “flap her yap” at you whenever she thought you weren’t listening, or she wasn’t getting her way.  I will miss her spirit, her love of our family and home, the way she always “wiped her face” on the carpet after she ate.  Those things will live in our house forever.

Whenever someone in my large group of friends who are animal lovers loses one of their own, I always send them this…I’ll read it to myself tonight before I go to bed, and remember how blessed I was to have known an extraordinary dog, an extraordinary family member.  I love you, Cherokee.

The Rainbow Bridge

inspired by a Norse legend

By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,

Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.

Where the friends of man and woman do run,

When their time on earth is over and done.

For here, between this world and the next,

Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.

On this golden land, they wait and they play,

Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.

No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,

For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.

Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,

Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.

They romp through the grass, without even a care,

Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.

All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,

Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.

For just at that instant, their eyes have met;

Together again, both person and pet.

So they run to each other, these friends from long past,

The time of their parting is over at last.

The sadness they felt while they were apart,

Has turned into joy once more in each heart.

They embrace with a love that will last forever,

And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.

Do these jeans make my ass look big?

So you know me…a fashionista, trendsetter, someone who likes to be elegant but with an edge.  I figure that I have the rest of my life to wear sensible shoes and pants that allow for “movement.”  But not yet, not now.  Currently I am in a “celebrate my age” frame of mind.  And that was exactly the thought I had on my brain as I meandered through a certain store (which shall remain nameless – I do not want to disclose all my discount shopping secrets.)  I needed to get out and stretch my legs, as well as my brain on my lunch break. What better way to do so than to rummage through clearance racks in search of the next great wardrobe find.

I was actually searching for a new shirt of two – something in another color besides black – to add to my spring collection.  There were a couple that caught my eye, but nothing that had the “wow” factor I was hoping for.  Still, I was enjoying the experience and continued onto the “jeans” aisle.

Now, let me start off by saying I have been perusing Vogue and InStyle magazine for months now, and I have really been digging the whole “colored jeans” trend.  But it does sort of scare me.  It would definitely require me to step out of my comfort zone, something I am not always good at doing.  This is probably why most of my closet is varying shades of black.  Black is safe, black is elegant. Black makes me look ten pounds thinner instantly, and I LOVE that about black. But there are days when I just wish for something bright and colourful, something that says “gutsy” and “fearless.” And while I do have a rather large collection of Hawaiian print sundresses, they are really more for “hanging out” not “letting it all hang out.” Besides, sundresses are seasonal.  They don’t count.

I was sifting through my designated size area for jeans (because I can never have enough jeans) and there they were, hanging there just waiting for me – BRIGHT RED SKINNY JEANS.  Not just any red, but truly a red that would make your eyes burn if you stared at them too long. And to add to my luck, they were Michael Kors, one of my very favorite designers, my go-to guy who always makes clothes that flatter me, even on my fattest of fat days.  I looked around suspiciously. Surely someone else would be eyeing these beauties for their own closet. Quickly I dashed to my favorite spot, the dressing room. This was going to be awesome.

I wiggled out of my very boring blue jeans and began wiggling my way into the red skinny dream jeans…wiggling…wiggling…wow, they are even skinnier than most skinny jeans. I finished pulling them up, buttoned and zipped them, and stood back to look in the mirror.  MOTHER OF GOD it was maybe the scariest thing I had ever seen. I looked like some sort of weird circus midget (not that I have anything against midgets.)  The only things that were missing were some Ronald McDonald shoes and one of the rainbow/afro clown wigs.  I had no idea that any color could make anyone look like…well…I’m not even sure how to describe it.  For those who know me, it is no secret that at 5’2”, I am hardly blessed with ANY kind of stature.  But these jeans made me look half my regular height.  I turned around and tried to get a view of the back.  My ass literally looked so big it would require its own zipcode if I ever left the dressing room.  Clearly, these jeans were meant for someone about 5’10” and 110 lbs, and blonde. (The color did nothing for my red locks either.) I was a washed out, apple shaped hot mess.  I quickly removed them and decided it was NOT me, it was the jeans, and that is why they were on a clearance rack.  Shame on you, Michael Kors.  I hurried out to the rack and found a pair of dark wash flare leg jeans to try on…if for no other reason than to assure myself that indeed I had not put on 50 pounds since yesterday.  And I was immediately soothed by what I saw in the mirror.  It WAS the red jeans…damn you Michael Kors…damn you to fashion hell.

So to this trend I say “SCREW colored jeans! Screw the whole colorblock trend!”  If I want to try to wear something in the colorblock genre, I shall wear varying shades of black.  That is as good as it will get.  Truth be told, I’m still waiting for the whole 80s Eurotrash look to come back into vogue.  God knows I’ll be stylin’ then!

I'm all blocked up...

Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned.  It has been THREE WEEKS since my last blog entry.

Sorry guys.  I’ve tried.  I wanted to write a blog  - something witty, articulate, maybe just a touch sarcastic.  Alas, I have been unable to come up with a literary masterpiece that involves any of those adjectives.  Having writer’s block is very much like being constipated.  You try your best, but no matter how hard you push, you’re left sitting there thinking to yourself  “I got nothing.”

I think part of the problem is there really just hasn’t been anything all that earth-shattering going on in my life.  Work is crazy.  Life at home is busy, but really, nothing noteworthy.  Oh, there have been moments.  I’ve run across my share of dumbasses, sociopathic narcissists silently (or not so silently) screaming for attention, brilliant flashes of complete and utter absurdity, but seriously, nothing all that inspiring.  I haven’t found myself off the hook angry, incredibly amused, or caught up in the irony of life.  Sad for someone who loves to wax poetic about such moments.  I enjoy writing about the humor in everyday life.  In fact, people often tell I’m funny.  They want me to be funny.  Often they leave the conversation confused, or disappointed, or both.

Annoying Person - “Say something funny.”

Me - “No, not right now.”

Annoying Person - “No really, you’re soooo funny.”

Me - “Honestly, I’m just not feeling it.”

Annoying Person -  “Please, anything…”

Me - “You’re an annoying asshole.”

Annoying Person - “That’s not funny.”

Me - “I thought it was HILARIOUS.”

End of conversation.  Generally speaking, I usually don’t end having these people as friends, not that it’s any great loss.

I did have a moment recently while on a business trip that at first left me speechless, then left me shaking my head in something between disbelief and amusement. I was sitting at a rather large business dinner, happily sucking down a glass of wine and wondering if there would be anything chocolate-related for dessert.  The gentleman to my left, who was actually quite witty and an inspired conversationalist, leaned over and said in a voice just above a whisper “I’ve read your blog.”  My first thought was to down the glass of wine and abruptly leave.  Instead, I sat there stunned, with a look on my face which must have conveyed my sheer horror, because the next thing out of his mouth was “Mary is going to kill me for telling you that we read it.  But you know, you’re a very talented writer.”  My look of horror must have softened, but I decided a refill on the wine would probably be a good idea. My first response was my total surprise that he actually found it, because I write under a pseudonym and I am obsessive about not mixing work with my personal life, and for good reason, not to mention the fact that my blog is very personal. I asked him which blog he read, and he responded “the one about the red boots.” Crap. Out of all the blogs I’ve written, I would have hoped it would not have been THAT one.  Ok, the rouse is up. Busted.  Now the world knows I’m a functioning alcoholic, with a penchant for the word f***.  He reassured me that he found it a great read, and again complimented my literary prowess – a pretty strong seal of approval, considering he is a communications director for a lobbying association.  I relaxed and decided what the hell.  I am who I am. Yes I say f***, f***er, f***ed – a lot – and yes, I drink...often.  Shocking, I know.  Most of my friends will read this and think “This is a surprise?”

Speaking of drinking, St. Patrick’s Day was wicked fun.  I’d tell you all about it, but then my friends would kill me.  Yes, there are photos. No I can’t show you…unless you give me cash.

Ok, so let’s review.  I’ve compared writer’s block to constipation.  I’ve dissed dumbasses, attention-seeking sociopathic narcissists, and annoying individuals.  I’ve said f*** in some form at least three times (actually four times.) I breezed over my St. Patrick’s Day antics. And we now know there are certain people reading my blog, and not the particularly favorable entries.  Wow, after reviewing, it seems I don’t have writer’s block.  I have writer’s attention deficit disorder.

Oh look…a puppy!

I am totally “pinterested” in everything you are “pinterested” in…

I wonder if it is possible to get yourself “uninvited” from Pinterest.  I’ve been on the site for a little more than a week, and already I am hooked like a drug addict.  Pinterest is the “crack” of the social media world in ways that facebook will never be.  I am finding that if I don’t get my “pinterest fix” at least three or four times a day, usually five to ten minutes at a clip, then I start to break out in a cold sweat and have to reach for a cigarette…and I don’t even smoke.

One of my “guy” friends asked me about the whole Pinterest craze, seemingly clueless about why it even existed.  I immediately felt sad for him and sent him the link, only to realize that this completely heterosexual person who is more than secure in his manhood, probably would log on and think I had completely lost my mind.  Men don’t get it, and I’m not sure that they are capable of understanding.  In fact, I saw an article that stated 31% of Pinterest users were men.  I can pretty much tell you that out of that 31%, ALL of those men are gay.  That is not a dig at gay men. But only a gay man could appreciate the instant visual gratification Pinterest can provide.  Pinterest is fantasy football for women and gay men.  Straight men hear about it, but they don’t understand it, so they think it is stupid.  I feel much the same way about fantasy football.  By the way, if any of those gay men on Pinterest are looking for a new friend to shop with and give fashion advice to, please contact me.  I need a good male gay friend to hang out with from time to time.

Pinterest…hmmm…how to explain it.  Ok, so you know how when you go to the nail salon for a pedicure and you sit in the chair with every intention of closing your eyes and relaxing?  But then you can’t relax, so rather than stare at the poor woman slaving over your feet, which haven’t received proper treatment since the end of summer, you reach for a magazine on the table next to you.  It could be any magazine – Vogue, Cosmo, Metropolitan Home, Light Cooking, it really doesn’t matter.  It is something to occupy your brain rather than fixate on the ten layers of dead skin that is being removed from the soles of your feet.  You glance through the pages, dog-earring all the things you love and secretly plot how to sneak the magazine out in your purse, or tear out the pages you’ve marked.   It’s visual, it’s interesting, it requires very little thought process. (Wait, that sounds a lot like the way men look at porn.) This is what Pinterest is ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE, without the annoying subscription postcards falling out all over the place.  It is a series of “boards” where you can pin everything you love, everything you want to cook, make, wear, and travel to before you are too old to board a plane. You can use the suggested boards that Pinterest provides, or you can create your own boards.  I have boards for gardening, jewelry, shoes, hot men, and cute baby animals.  I’m sure I will be adding more when I find things to pin that fail to fall into the current board categories.  It's also so exciting to discover that your friends are Pinterested in the EXACT SAME things you are.  I'm pretty sure that my group of girlfriends are going to be going to Greece or Montenagro very soon, since it is on all of our Pinterest bucket lists. I don't know where Montenagro is, but apparently I am going to L O V E it.

And here is the kicker - people can “follow” your pins and you can follow other people’s pins.  I’ve pinned and repinnned so much stuff to my boards from other friends' boards that I have enough information to dress like a supermodel, cook like Julia Child, apply makeup like an artist, travel to all four corners of the earth, and plant a garden that Martha Stewart would envy.  Of course, I have done all this in my head.  Nothing has actually happened yet, but I’ve got the information right there, at the ready for when I decide to build that addition on the back of my house, or make my own habanero bacon vodka.  And I’m going to do it, all of it, and everyone will think I am amazing, especially Bill. He doesn’t even know what a renaissance woman he is married to, but he will find out…soon, very soon.