It Just Gets Better!

As many of you may know, this was the first year in ten years that I have not attended a houseboating trip. Given that this is my favorite kind of vacation with my favorite people, I was pretty bummed on the whole bit. But due to upcoming babies, weddings and being out of the count-try, we couldn't wrangle an entire crew. Boo-hoo.

So I figured, might as well earn some $$, so I signed up to teach summer school. But the regular staff size was cut in half, so I wasn't chosen. Crap.

Then at the last minute, I signed up and was selected to be in the writing class that lasted 5 weeks. Got paid, had a great time and met amazing people. Great enough in itself...or so I thought.

Returned from my trip Tuesday night (30 minutes early!) to find a message from a program I'd heard about my first day of the writing class from Linds, who I'd just happened to sit next to on the first day. It is a program that has teachers (me!) chaperoning kids on trips around the world. And the teacher goes FOR FREE! All food, hotels, transportation, tour guides...the works! The night I heard about it, I scrambled to their site, filled out the form and hoped for the best...

AND I'VE BEEN SELECETED!! The brilliant, incredibly soul-seeing and beautiful Linds had given me such a tremendous recommendation, I was practically in before he even spoke to me! So just a day after returning, I learned that next summer I'll be heading back! I'll be spending two weeks with 5th and 6th graders on a trip called a Tale of Two Cities. The tour takes you to Paris and London and the surrounding areas. I am thrilled!

Of course, there is a fair amount of work before hand, but it's spread out over the entire year...but once I get there, I don't have to "teach". I just make sure the kids aren't jerks. And since I get to interview and choose them, no problemo! Clearly one of my questions will have to assess their game playing skills. I'll need someone to play dominos with on the plane.

I'm up early due to jet lag...heading to the classroom for the first time. If any of you would like to come take a peek/read a book/do an art project...you know you are so welcome at any time...

Just don't do the project on the right...I'm saving that for Paris!

A Real French Toast

Was enlightened to this beauty today:

Here's to the breezes
That blow through the tree-es
That raises the skirts
And exposes the knee-es
That leads to the spot
That teases and pleases
What a snatch
Down the hatch

That's from a real Frenchy! Use it at will!

My Irish Eyes are Smiling

Back in Geneva again. Great road trip with amazing weather, but when we returned, so did the rain. Perfect time to send y'all an update!

First the big news...Baby Boy Ethan has arrived! Word around SJ is that he is mellow, perfect, and has super soft skin. Must be my nephew! Finally talked to B last night. It was hard to imagine him doing the dad thing. But he really sounded like a dad last night. Weird, but really cool. I guess we are old enough to get married and have kids. And my mother was delighted with the auburn hair he is sporting...

So...back to me! The stories will follow based not on when they happened but my mood to tell stories! While in Dublin, we went to this musical pub crawl. We were only there for two nights, and decided to go our second night. Knowing we had to leave our hotel at 5AM. Hmm...sound like a good/smart plan?? I don't want to spoil my own ending, but I was the sensible one--even suggesting that we ought to head back early. Can you believe it?

Tour started in the touristy part of town. (We'd had an amazing dinner upstairs the night before). Went from there to two different pubs. There was a guitarist and a fiddle player, and they were just amazing. Plus, they taught us a couple of Irish songs, and you know I love a good sing-along. It end at 10 and we (along with our new South African friend) ended up hanging out with the musicians after and going to a "locals" bar in dublin. All these musicians just come and jam. It was really outstanding. Of course we stayed til they closed. Debbie (in hopes of talking me up) told them that I played the guitar...could have killed her. I think I would have looked like Greg Brady strumming as johnny bravo...("clowns never laughed before...") but with better hair obviously...Didn't want to make her look like a nut, so I just said, no, no, I didn't want to play (they repeatedly offered me their instruments). I suppose that is what shy/humble people act like. Hm! Anyone can play any instruments and just join in. I was chatting with this one guy and asked after a bit if he played anything and it turns out he is the Irish Harry Connick jr. of the fiddle. Like he's been a minor celebrity since he was a child prodigy. So, yes, he did play. But he was very cool regarding my ignorance. Which was nice. Debbie decided she's taking up the fiddle, I'm going back t o my naked teacher, and we'll start our own pub jamming sessions. It was really great. I mean, I can't even tell you. I can't imagine that anyone wouldn't just love it. If any of you go, I'll have to make sure to tell you the bar we ended up in. No tourists (other than us), and just the coolest, friendliest people. It was truly wonderful. Can you tell I liked it? We rolled back to our hotel around 3, got up 1.5 hours later, and started a 12 hour journey in cabs/planes/trains/buses to meet G at an airport in Paris. Oo la la!

I'll fill in the missing days later...lots of good stories! BTW, I'm not Irish, but sometimes I have green eyes, so that's my post title. This trip has been a bit of family heritage adventure...in fact, I'll tease you with the bit that we just heard by chance about how one of our recent ancestors was in possession of all of Napoleon's belongings. And how that ancestor was a certified looney. Any guesses who is the famous offspring?

How Does that Feel?

Posting in the wee hours seems to be the time that works for me...just like at home! The day was relaxing in that we hung out til noon and then walked to the local beach. Great lunch, better gelatto, then a quick water taxi to the tram that took us to Carouge. This was recently cited in the SF Chron as a great small town to explore. Debbie's mission had us doing some shopping for some household items that can only be found there. What for, you ask? What are you a fucking cop?

We returned and I promptly fell asleep and woke up to a great b-day dinner Deb had cooked herself. (What a bad guest!) Then we peeled out of the house to meet up with her friends for some cocktails at 7. Great group of people from all over Europe and one other American. One girl in particular I like quite a bit is Corolla (like the car). She is Swiss German and quite cool. Also met a guy who is organizing a foam party next week which we will miss, sad to say. He was fabulous, if you know what I mean.

Around 11:30 pm we went to a beach (on the lake) party. It was beautiful--almost a full moon, smooth water, lights shining across the lake. Very cool. I keep thinking I'd like to organize events like these at home. There is that casting pond sort of near my house...I got totally lost driving there that one time, so maybe not. Besides, probably wouldn't be quite the same.

Tomorrow we are off to a winery tour that focuses on using the five sense when wine tasting. I'm not so looking forward to how differently wine might feel. I'll let you know how that goes. Did realize that I've spent the last threee years teaching the five senses to kindergarteners...I wonder how this experience might influence future lessons. Maybe I can use old milk or OJ. Hmm.

On Sunday we need to catch the 5:30 am train to make our flight to England. These early mornings...I don't even get up that early for work!

That's MY Island

Well, I'm once again in the land of chocolate and cow bells. Arrived a little early, which was nice considering I'd had some "trouble" on my flights. I'll sum it up with one seat companion got in a fight with the stewardess and police action was threatened, and I fainted. Neither had anything to do with the other. But I'm fine, no police came, and now I'm here! Tonight we actually went for a concert (French rap) and a cocktail making get-together.

The latter involved a group of Debbie's extended friends meeting in an oo-la-la bar and learning how to make kick ass drinks from cute bartenders. It didn't suck. We're home now, and I'm going to toddle off to bed and take a miracle sleeping pill. Tomorrow is D's b-day, and Sunday we are off to the UK. I did learn on my flight that Ireland is an island. I think I knew that at some point, but it had escaped me. So we need to figure how we will get from Scotland to Dublin. I guess taking a car is out of the question...I realized just now (see the above title) my favorite character in Bravehearts' best line.

Anyway....night-night!

First in a Series

So Brad's kid is due today. So far, no kid in sight. I did write this sonnet about a week ago in anticipation of the big event. I heard about creating a "sonnet wreath" in which you write a series of sonnets about a particular subject and add on to the series by taking the last line of the previous one and making that the first line of the next one. So the subject will be nephew __________. I'm a big fan of Kevin because that is the name of the boy who chased me in kindergarten. Plus capital K's are just good looking letters.

I don't profess that this is any good mind you. Sonnets can only have 10 syllables per line and need to have every other syllable accented. Which makes rhyming in an abab pattern quite difficult. See, it rhymes on paper, but you can't hear it when you read it out loud. Except the last four line stanza. And the last two lines need to rhyme and present some sort of unexpected change. You should try it. It is hard, but kinda like a puzzle. And it makes your vocabulary (or thesaurus) work overtime.

What I Imagine

It’s the 19th on which we’re set to meet:
But earlier than thought I am hearing,
“He’s just been born!” and my heart skips a beat,
To think that Brad’s a dad, eyes start tearing.

Fidgeting fingers and ten twinkley toes,
Your head trumps Nathan’s and now I’ve just seen,
That there’s no escape from the Bamford nose,
A tow-head no doubt, not one titian gene.

I’ll hold you on this your only birth day,
Perfect white skin a magnet for kisses,
Is an honor and gift, for which I’ll pay,
All that I have, plus three magic wishes.

But aunts ask questions not all of them sweet,
“Can-those-be-Foss tiny fingers and feet?”

The Last Four Weeks

Reflection on ISI 07

When I first entered the ISI program, I was excited about all the great writing I was going to create. Our first task, to write about our name left me stumped. But I figured it was ok, I mean what can you really say about the name Karin Victoria? Well, Karin Smith and Victoria showed me in quick succession that there is a lot you can say, and I suddenly wished I’d written their pieces. Mine was lame. I thought I was out of my league, and decided to be the selective mute of the group. But over time and through gaining confidence from my writing group, I found I had a voice and a desire to share and impress the people I have come to admire, enjoy and like a great deal.

In my normal life (outside Sweeney Hall that is), I find myself frequently wondering/worrying/obsessing over the way I am perceived by those around me. People rarely take the time to tell you, either professionally or socially, unless you’re about to get fired, dumped or engaged. And you never forget those conversations…but it’s unusual that as adults you walk into situations with a clean slate and are evaluated on the merit of your actions from that day forward.

For me, this class has been an opportunity to hear people’s honest reactions to something I’ve created and to take the time to share mine with them. One of the best experiences I’ve had this summer was also the quietest. Anne shared a piece in the afternoon group that had started as a prompt about someone’s hands and evolved into a devastating and gripping short story. After explaining how great I thought it was, I asked questions to clarify things I didn’t understand, and made a couple small suggestions (one was I didn’t know what the word supine meant, so I thought she should change it). She listened took some notes and I thought that was it.

I was surprised and touched when she came up to me the next day and expressed how happy and satisfied she was with my edits. I also received the following note:
“You are my first editor. How incredibly fortunate I am that you listened to my first ever short story that day.”
To be able to help someone who I think is crazy talented and have her to be thankful to me is an amazing feeling.

I’m not much of a planner when I can avoid it, so I came here with no set plan on what I was going to take away with me. I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of teaching high school and college literature, but was scared because I didn’t think I could edit the work of others. I believe stupid maxims, i.e. those who can’t do, teach. So I figured I should probably teach math in high school. Thanks to Anne’s honest feedback and those of my other peers, the knowledge I’ve garnered about my profession and myself is inspiring. I see myself now as an evolving educational professional with many avenues of opportunities to explore. And papers to edit.

Am I Wearing any Clothes?

Presently I am sitting in a throne. Not the throne, however. I was appointed to be the Empress of Imperial China for one fellow's presentation. This suits me quite nice. I just got a hot coffee, with the good cream and cubes of sugar. I never buy those, so I feel like they are a little bit of luxury.

Today is my meeting to talk about my 90 minute presenation. My greatr idea is something that springboards from a Cheers episode. Remember the episode where Coach teaches Sam about Albania? "Albania, Albania. It borders on the Adriatic. Your land is mostly mountainous, and your chief export is crow. You're a communist republic, you're a red regime..." To be honest...I didn't really remember all that til I watched the clip on YouTube.

The idea of course is that you remember things related to music. How I'm going to spin this into 90 minutes, I'm not entirely sure. I do think Coach is going to open my show and we'll finish with the Three Piggy Opera Finale from the video.

I'll keep you posted on my progress...ba dum bump!

I've Got a Fever

I remember our hostel suite.
Oxymoron? Perhaps. But at $30
For a private room and shower
In the shadow of Frau mountain
We couldn’t believe our fortune.
Hot showers for all after
Crawling through cold canyon crevasses.
Heaven.
Open windows, shouts to come look.
Slipping and sliding on the shower floor
Towel tucks under my arm
Drips dropping dew to my shoulders
As I peer out the portal.
Hearing them first from around the corner.
Clips clops clanks and claps.
The cows and farmers come home from fields.
Bells banging but beautifully.
I want more cow bells.

Cuz i'm a Cowboy, Baby

I have never been gifted in the art of poetry. While both reading and writing it, I can't escape the feeling that the bullshit is flowing. Both in my interpretations and in my smarmy attempts. I think it goes back to the book of poems I wrote in the eigth grade that included these gems:

Yellmert
My bird is such a happy fellow.
He sings for me and is so yellow.

(and)

When Prince Charles becomes king,
It will be a special thing
And all the church bells will ring.

We had to draw pictures to accompany our poems, and Gina C. had recently taught me how to draw clowns wearing sombreros. (That's the way I remember it). So Prince Charles looks more like a git than a prince. Plus there was the haiku about a young tree weathering a storm. I asked Brad what a young tree is called and he told me "sibling" not the correct term, sapling. So my title probably led my teacher to think the poem much deeper than it was in actuality.

After reading the pieces posted here, my advisor told me today that I write like a cowboy. Straightforward, honest and with a take it or leave it attitude. She said it much better than I, and since I recently bought a cowboy hat, and found out some ancestors led wild west sort of lives, this was pretty cool to hear.

So here is what I came up with today. We were given sentence starters, and then had to fill in the end of the line, and develop a poem from that. So is it bullshit or not? I don't know. But I am enjoying writing it more than I ever have before. (The top part of the first is a shout out to Len T.)

The dice skip toward Len
The stick pushing them forward
like they are late for supper.
In a hurry passing his gin martini,
two green olives speared
through their red centers.
Leaning over the table
He seizes them in a wet hand
lifts
blows
shakes
releases.
Catches breath, nails bite palms.
Silent begging prayers.
Thoughts race.
The money on the table is his.
Impulse to
grab it and run.
Could they catch him?
Rolling bouncing off edges
down green felt
settling at last.
Eyes widen.
Cheers erupt.
“Six the hard way!”
He doubles up and
Lets it ride.


Nothing was the same,
Now that it was over.
When he calls now
I force gaiety.
But I am waiting.
I know that now he calls for
something.
I know what he
wants.
I know I can be
weak.
I know I am
afraid.
I know I am
lonely.
But what if it is different
now?
Am I hopeful or
pathetic?

Eviseration

I was heralded awake at the unsummerly hour of 6:30 this morning...my new house MO is to keep the sliding glass door closed at all times to keep my vermin in and the other vermin out. Winky is not a fan. he now refuses to use the litter box, making me his doorman. He does this by using the loudest, longest, most irritating meow. Which will get a girl out of bed.

Stumbled down the hallway, let him out. On my way to returning to bed, saw how close I came to the most recently decapitated member of my household...This time though, he decided it would be fun to pull out the guts as well. At least he prefers the hallway over my bed. That is something I suppose.

The Great White Hunter

This is something more of my typical, day in the life of KF kinda blog...

The past three nights I’ve had different late night visitors…Kind of unexpected. But don’t worry friends. I wouldn’t classify these as booty calls.

See, Winky has been bringing friends in to play. And by friends I mean field mice. The first two nights I was able to free them, and thought they had escaped outside. Then I came home from the seminar yesterday to find a bloody crime scene with one very dead and headless mouse. And given Winky’s delicate constitution, he promptly puked the head, skull and ears back up next to the corpse. Yuck! Yuck! (Geovanni quote).

So I figured my problem was solved. Then last night, while playing dominos, my opponent suddenly froze, with a slightly horrified look on his face. I looked into the mirror behind him to see a mouse bounding across the top of my framed Cezanne poster. We grabbed a big bucket and broom to attempt to sweep him to relative safety (after all, I live with a killer). Well, the stupid mouse leaped away from us a good three feet and disappeared behind the large and heavy entertainment center. This sincerely creeped me out.

Well, I figured it was time to bring out the big guns. So I woke up Winky from his nap on my bed and placed him in front of the entertainment center. Where he rolled over. I picked him up and shoved him forward again. He thought this was my way of saying “there’s food in the kitchen!” and sauntered that-a-way. Useless. Utterly useless.

My night was fretful and steeped in anxiety dreams of mice. In one, I brought Roxie over to save the day. Well Roxie chased the mouse off of the deck (we were suddenly at the cabin) and jumped after it (did she break her back??). Followed by Chuckles, Joy Marie and Winky.

This morning I was late to the seminar as I was hiding in my room waiting for the exterminator to work his magic. It wasn’t all bad as I was able to fitfully doze some more. The magic was simply scattering poison pellets for the mouse to enjoy, and hoping he will go outside to die in peace. I don't see my luck going that way, but maybe...

Writing samples
The screaming coming from the kitchen was deafening. Makes you want to cover your ears and head the other way. But still, we entered.
“Merlin knows it’s happy hour. Some birds sing for their supper, but not ours. He screeches,” I explain to our neighbor Robin who has come for dinner and drinks. The latter coming before the former in our case.
“How long have you had him?” she asked, doubtlessly wondering if returning him was still an option.
“We’ve had him about twenty years.” I grabbed glasses, walked to the fridge to fill them with ice. “We were told he was used in a cruise ship magician’s act…”
“Uh, Nancy,” I heard her say.
I turned to see her looking in the birds’ cage. Sadly, at the bottom was Kramer, Merlin’s paramour, dead.

Explanation
We were asked to draw a picture of our mother's kitchen and had to include the stove, something green and something dead. Then we had to write a story from the perspective of a female relation upon entering the kitchen.
His hands are large, strong, and brown with painful black blisters on his knuckles. He picks up a cold can of Coke, pops the top, takes a long swig and places it almost silently on the table. A lion prowling the safari, he moves silently with determination towards my refrigerator. “Do you want something?” I ask him. He looks at me with tired eyes and says with quiet lips, “Yeah, but I don’t know how to get it.”

Explanation:
So in class today, one thing was to write a snapshot story using five sentences. The first describes someone's (real or imagined) hands, the secondan action they perform with the hands, the third a metaphor, the fourth a question you have related to 2 or 3 and the fifth the response the subject gives you that shows they don't understand what you are asking.

I approach the room through a door that is topped in clear glass. Peering in, I see dark wood paneling leading to a vaulted ceiling that meets at a rotating fan. The room appears cluttered with chochkis, souvenirs from trips around the world and street fairs held downtown every summer. Everything has a place, but most things seem out of place. Somehow nothing goes, but everything belongs.
Entering the room, eyes, feet and ears appreciate the sounds of old wood. The hardwood floors are well-worn and to the eye seem to have a warm and inviting texture. Strewn between comfortable couches are throw rugs that are inviting to feet on cold mornings, and where a cat has doubtlessly sharpened his claws.
The room is utterly still, but for the fan that circles above it all. The soft whirring hum and the soft breeze are the only things that change in this room.

Explantion:
Presented with a variety of things, we had to write a description of the room that the objects came from. There were old keys, a glass fishing thing, a prayer card, lira, a porcelian fortune cookie, and a blue and white chinese-style bowl. I thought about the house we stayed in for Jodi's 30th, and in descibing the wood, I was thinking of the frame Swiss Miss has of the Grizzly Bear that I hope she wills on to me one day. (Don't think I forgot!)

I'm Karin and I like Carrot Colored Kayaks

Where I’m From

I am from Honeycombs,
from muffins with peanut butter and raspberry jam.
I am from the silt sand that lies next to the Russian River.
(Soft, hot, light, infiltrating everywhere).
I am from the hydrangea bush,
And the red berry bush whose
Leaves would absorb our soccer and baseballs.

I am from cold cookie dough and kinky fuzzy hair,
From Yolanda and Vernon.
I’m from the heart of stone and
The gets lost in a paper bag.
From it’s the price you pay for being a jock
to put on some make-up.
I am from pellet guns, exploding apples
Ball tag, king (queen) of the raft.

I’m from Trinity and Baldwin.
Mashed potatoes and cold Coca Cola.
From the carpenter hands of my grandfather
The red hair my mom hopes will appear in the next generation.
In our attic is a hope chest,
Dripping old pictures.
A slew of past times and faces,
To laugh and remember.
I am the culmination of those moments.

So today was the first day of the writing fellowship. The above is my rendition of a poem by George Ella Lyon. It was a great first day, and I feel genuinely inspired...which is good because there are many more days ahead of me. The title was a name game we played where you had to come up with an alliteration on your name of things you liked. I think it helped everyone remember me because I am wearing an orange shirt today.

Keep coming back as I plan to post my daily writings here in the afternoon...

You're Big, You're Black, You're Fabulous!

So I have some very sad news to report. Sadie, Sadie, the Naked (Doggie) Lady died today. She passed away at the ripe age of almost 14, at home, after being visited by Ace during a lunch visit home. He actually took her picture sitting in the sun in the backyard and sent it to my phone so I could be jealous he was at home while I was merely at recess.

Seeing as she was 14, I know it shouldn't be a shock, and I guess it isn't, but it still made me very sad. Poor B came home and found her in the backyard, and I am so sad that happened for him. I am happy she died on such a nice day, at home, and I imagine that she laid down and fell asleep, and that was that. The way I'd imagine would be the best to go.

Thinking tonight about what a great and unique dog she was, and what a special role she played in my family. She lived with B for a year, then me for 2 years, then the parentals, and then B & Co. for the last years. Here are some of the things I thought of while driving around tonight:

• Alpha Dog: She'd stare down any dog. I thought it would just last as long as she was a bad ass, but dogs just didn't fuck with Sado (maybe it was the name?) even a few weeks ago.
• Playing at the cemetary in Davis. She and Shadow would tag team dogs to take them down like raptors.
• Tennis balls off B's living room wall...richocet down the hall. I can still see all the ball mark's above your fireplace.
• Fort Funston...many walks...many friends. (And another Sadie dog...who almost went home with someone else).
• Cabin at Berryessa...sprayed by a skunk, doing fly by circle 8's on poor Loop Sham Loop.
• Finding her at the pound. Brad thought we were going to 24 Hour to work out...sucker!
• Houseboat trips.
• Driving to and from Davis. She insisted in sitting in the front passenger seat the entire way up. Until I got out of the car, when she'd take the driver's seat.
• Hair, hair, everywhere.
• Hitting fly balls with the Blucker boys and having Mac and Saide shag for us.
• B's graduation pics from college. She was in the pics too, and that dog could not take a bad picture! Is it bad that we ordered them based on how cute she looked? (The head tilt one was my favorite.)
• How I ever shared a twin bed with that dog (and during the summers in Davis no less).
• Getting a ticket for walking her off-leash and fighting the ticket in court for 4 hours.

I think the thing I am most grateful to Sadie for (in terms of the very big picture), is the relationship having her allowed Brad and I to build. Somehow, we didn't seem to find each other nearly as irritating when she was around. and although he still stinks at backgammon, I'm able to give him the good grace a nice girl should.

The title of this post is what I was saying when I would go visit Sado. Although her knees and joints were aching, she still had the Sadie smile and the Foss hunger. She was great, I'll miss her, and I'm thankful for having had such a great companion for our whole family for so many years.

Below is an excerpt from the House Dog's Grave, a poem I read in college, and it's always struck a chord for me in terms of what pets mean to us.

To me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.

I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures

To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,

I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

Love and miss you Sadie.

"You're a Party"

So my new years eve plans (like most people's) only came together about a week before the big day. How and with who I spent my time was most unexpected because for years, I've kinda hung with the usual suspects.

At the big extended family blow-out (which Ace hosted), I was invited by my cousins to the family cabin up on Clear Lake. Every year, we say we're going to try to get together throughout the year, but it never actually comes together. (These are people that I love like family, but would like to see more often like friends...if that makes sense.) Anyway, they offered, and I jumped on it.

Following a lovely and relaxing Christmas, a stay with the Mini Mingle (who has anything but a mini meow), a visit with Manoa, and two nights of partying with Liddy that need to stay off the record, and probably will since our memories are a bit fuzzy....I headed up to the cabin with my friend Magellan leading the way. (GPS will only make me more pathetic in terms of knowing where I am, or how I got there. "Did you go through the blah, blah blah grade?" "Um..." But it will definitely insure I will get there. And that my friends--priceless. Worth $400? No. But priceless. And lovely to borrow.)

The cabin was a childhood favorite simply because it had a pool, pool table and ping pong. This was the triad of all good things to this kid. Well, I didn't even appreciate it at the time, but there is also a kick-ass bar. (Did the heavens part and angels sing for you when you read that? No? Well, then you haven't seen it!)

Got up there around 4 on the 30th, and happy hour started shortly thereafter.And went til 2 or 3. (Turned out it wasn't just the fam, there was another group coming. It was the equivalent in their family to Obus and the Kid to ours. So in all there were 13 people there.) In the course of the evening, I taught a whole new group how to play liar's dice (and talk some shit), sang the greek alphabet song, screamed several times (which they hadn't been privy to before...I'm horrible at keeping my own secrets), modeled my white nightgown for everyone...and drank like a fish. At some point I placed a call to Liddy, where I repeated "Lemme just tell you..." about a dozen times. I recall just being thrilled to death with everything, so I assume that's where I was going with that statement. But we'll never know because I didn't finish it.

The next day was understandably slow, and consisted of steeling myself for that night's adventure. As luck would have it, we ended up at the bar again, and that's when Leslie brought out the best game! (Which it is my mission to find--no luck on-line!) It is a pair of black glasses with a fork like thing attached to the bridge. What you are trying to do is stack up mini champagne glasses in a pyramid as quickly as possible. Seem easy? Initially, no, but we all got the hang of it fast, had some races, then decided to fill them with water (sparkling, by the way, only the good stuff). I had the bright idea to stack those and if you spilled, you would do a shot for every glass you spilled. And what are we shooting? Tequila! Someone up there loves me or hates me...I'm not sure which. So others go, and at the most, they spill one. Then it's my turn, and my tongue is flicking all over the place. (And this charming Tom to my Jerry--aka equally as competitive--has a new fancy camera and is taking pictures from about a foot away. It was bad enough from a boat while skiing. *sigh* Another reason I won't be running for public office. So much damn bad press). So as I am literally putting up the second to last glass--flawlessly!!--Amy says something to the effect that I'm going to be the first to do it perfect. Wanna guess what happened? They all came tumbling down. And no one felt sorry for me, they were scrambling to decide how many shots I had in store...zoinks. And they made me do every single one. Family never lets you forget.

Later we played another game where we filled the glasses with champagne, balanced them on the fork, and tried to flip the booze into our mouths. The slow and steady head tilt seemed to leave a fair amount on the floor, so I decided to go hard and fast. (Again at close camera range) And ended up with champagne in my eyes. Which burns, lemme tell ya! Laugh they thought they'd die. I saw one of these pictures--it was horrendous. I'd like to see Liddy or DAB take a good picture in that situation. Impossible!

The night ended with me talking with Amy til the wee hours (fellow teacher of yoots), so we even got a little deep. Which apparently, she didn't remember the next day. She did comment several times that I can really hold my liquour. (She was loopy after 3 lemon drops...child's play!) I reminded her that I was in a so-whore-ity, and about 8 inches taller, so I hope that explains it. Plus I party with Jameson, and that alone will make you world class.

Anyway, the next day we all slept in, had a fantastic brunch, packed up our goods and left. During my lengthy yet pleasantly stress-free drive, I kept reflecting on how thrilled I was with everything. It was just super. So I called back up there to express this sentiment, and one of my cousins said I was welcome anytime..."you're a party". Love that!!