I'm cracking myself up with this story about my sister and her daughter. Despite my hangover, the memory of little Bella in her predicament and a frustrated, frazzled Jane bring a big smile to my face. Hee hee. She'll never live this down.

Hangover, you say? That's right. My tolerance, OUR tolerance, is WAY down because our fitness program does not include, you guessed it, the empty calories of alcohol. HOWEVER, last night at MUM (which, aside from the company at my table which included M.s., Ollie, Dr. Hunter, Jennifer, Nathan, and a few guests, totally sucked -- there were like, 5 other people there, way down from their first meeting at the Airport Lounge, I wonder if location was a factor)... where was I? Right. At MUM, we had a few drinks.

After MUM, Ollie and Jennifer came up to our place and M.s. popped open a 1985 bottle of Bergundy he'd been saving for a rainy day or a buzzy evening. My floor is covered with little bits of cheese. If my memory serves, we were taking pinches of 2% Kraft shredded sharp cheddar out of its plastic bag. Despite my love's snooty cheese palate. We were all surprised at how well the Kraft complemented the wine. Surprised, and a little scared, I think.

Anyway. M.s., who hadn't eaten anything else, is seriously regretting his decision to imbibe. We miraculously made it through a strenuous workout this morning (I'm now at level FOUR on the elyptical!) but as soon as we got home, we fell apart. Literally. M.s. is in bed and I'm doing my best to keep burping. It feels good when I burp. I have no shame.

So back to writing about the incident with my niece. I can't wait to share it with you, along with the picture. Soon, my lovelies. Soon.

Do you have your TICKETS YET????

-Barbarella

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