I got slightly buzzed last night. Lightweight that I am, it took only one full glass of my neighbor’s chardonnay to get me that way. I always was a cheap date. Oh, but I’d had a long day, and it was so worth it. I just couldn't look one more minute at a computer screen, so I didn’t accomplish the writing I was supposed to. My writing partner -- she of the whip-cracking, slave-driving, that’s-no-excuse ilk -- was none too pleased. She made me compose a limerick on the fly, via text, as penance. It may have been naughty because she is perverse that way. I swear I can’t remember it.
Around ten p.m. or so, Miss America and I went out on the back deck, hoping to get showered with Perseid meteors. But the city lights washed out the night sky and left only pinpoints of hazy constellations. At least I think so. The Great Bear looked more like a gerbil.
As you know, there are few things I enjoy more than hanging with Miss America. This is why:
Miss America: If we were up in da sky, we could see the Milky Chocolate.=================================
Me: Chocolate and chardonnay? Mmmmmm.
Update on Mr. Fine. We have decided to meet. But first, I’ve sent him to the place where my alter ego resides. To the irreverent persona who drives this blog. If I'm lucky, our online chemistry won't crater. And hey, if I can’t be on my best behavior here, I think y’all should be. Say hello to Mr. Fine.