203.4

That's the combined number of degrees our children were the night of Thanksgiving, how did yours go?

Ainsley had arranged for a different petsitter (who somehow screwed up the order of payment for services due and also left me a pumpkin pie the size of a spare tire in the fridge) so my Dad could come out to The Barn for a couple nights. So knowing I'd be riding the Metro to near his workplace whenever we got released at the Pentagon, Ainsley had planned on driving me to the Slug Lot at 0630, seeing as Erin's usually up by then anyway and Ryan could just sleep in the car and they could get bread at Panera and finish packing and be on the road by 0830.
HA says Erin to that plan, being up from 2 to 4:30. I tried to get her down between 3 and 3:30 to quite the lack of avail. Did I mention the garbage truck comes now at around 4:47am?
So I told a dozey darling that my car would be fine in the lot for a few days, that she should snooze as long as she could.
There were only four folks in my office, the rest on leave, so it was fairly quiet. The boss let me split around 1, and Dad and I hit the road a little before 2. With 4.5 million other people on I-66. But it cleared up after a half-hour and we made it to Berkeley Springs before it got dark.
Dad had a great idea on the way -- since we usually have a devil of a time getting Ryan and Erin to sleep in the same (albeit Children-in-the-Attic large) room, he offered to let Ryan sleep over with him at the 'Tukul', the African-themed guest quarters over the double garage. Although a little confused why I was leaving him there, he happily waved at me from the top of the stairs, and apparently didn't make a bit of a fuss about where his parents were. Dad was tickled enough that he's offered to let him slumber over at his house any time. We may have to take him up on that prospect.
The weather was crisp but sunny for Thanksgiving, and Ryan got some good Grandpa Tractor time in before struggling to take a nap. He woke up in a bad mood, and didn't stop crying even after bringing him across the compound to see Mommy. Should have been Clue #1.
We sat down for a family photo at the dinner table, with Grandpa's camera taking a nose dive from the unstable tripod on to the cement floor, giving the lens a Rocky Balboa In Round 15 look to it. Then dinner was served, but neither one of our kids were interested in eating anything. Clue #2.
Not wanting to expose Dad to whatever the heck was going on, we decided to keep Ryan with us that night, which turned out to be one of the worst on record as far as getting any sleep. We were up about every hour with one or the both of them, consoling, cooling, taking temperatures, giving tylenol by syringe or cup. Can a child really be that hot and have a cold at the same time? It was a night that we counted the hours until daylight so we could finally at least stop pretending that we were supposed to be asleep.
Dad left Friday morning to go to a dental appointment (fun!), and we just hung out watching birds and shopping on-line for replacement cameras while Erin tried her hand, so to speak, at the daunting open-backed non-dual-banistered wooden staircase. Ryan's fever had broken, but Erin was still a little quasar, only sleeping 17 minutes with me (I insisted Ainsley take a break and get a nap in her dang self), crying for close to 40, then, unable to get her to stay asleep during the transition from gentlehalfnelson to the bed, I just sat in a chair with her and slowly turned the pages in a magazine while she slept in the crooks of my elbows.
I gave her a bath when she woke up, and she seemed to be feeling a bit better. And in the continuing saga of milestoneage, she is successfully signing "more" with a prominent index finger poking a palm with aplomb.
Got back home mid-day Saturday, leaving us the weekend at home to relax and try to stay healthy.
Thus far: Dad 1, Mom 0. Though I feel a little tickle in the throat...

Spinster

Had a bit of a scare with the Roo last night -- we heard and felt a huge THUMP in our bedroom at 1:45 in the morning, and a light on had Bailey at the foot of the bed, shaking, whining, and wobbly. It looked like she couldn't control her hind legs, and her eyes were huge. Ainsley hugged her close while she thumped a tail and looked around somewhat maniacally and I got dressed to take her to the vet. We thought it might be a seizure or some kind of stroke, and we assumed this was 'it' for her. Something had snapped, she's done.
But she improved at the vet, and she was diagnosed with some sort of inner-ear problem ("ventribular disease"), akin to how some old people experience vertigo. She was up and walking within the hour, able to drop Bailey Nuggets outside, and bloodwork was negative for anything major. Even her heart murmur she was diagnosed with as a pup was nowhere to be...uh...heard. Got her home to a relieved Ainsley by 4 in the morning.
No one knows why this happens in old dogs, but it does, and it may happen again, or it may not. She seems her old self now, rassling with Dover, tearing down the back steps, eating pumpkin pie.

Just Capitol

Had the opportunity today to check out the brand pre-new Visitor's Center at the U.S. Capitol building, under construction since, oh, 1874. Only 17 cents over budget.
They'd offered the chance to military and retirees to see the center before it opens to the public next month, though it was really just the their opportunity to test-run the admission procedures. Still a bit of a cluster, with some entrances and elevators under construction, confusion over how to handle folks with strollers, etc., but it's a pretty, shiny lobby with tall ceilings and interesting statues.
But that's it. Oh, there's a couple movie theaters, too. Shows some not-very-interesting movie, but we were enjoying the fact that it was Ryan's first. He kept commenting about everything he saw until we told him he should shoosh or whisper.
Erin just nursed and slept.
But then they led us into the Capitol proper, earphones on to hear the guide without her having to shout. Described three rooms and that was it. G'bye. Please check out the restaurant on your way out. I was expecting so much more, more of the history, an expanded area showing how the joint was built, etc. Though we did get to use Nancy Pelosi's personal elevator since the main one wasn't open yet. Spent more time in line outside and in front of the movie theater than we did on the tour. So nothing all that new.

Erin cheered me up that night at dinner: she kept touching a part of her face, then releasing, but not in the usual Tired-So-She-Rubs-Her-Eyes kind of way. Then Ainsley figured it out -- she was playing peekaboo with us! She puts one hand over her right eye and another over her left ear on the "peeka", then we all shout "boo!" when she pulls them off, huge grin. On all four of us.
It's rather contagious.
Erin is also signing "dog" and "duck." I could have sworn she said "up" to me while she was pulling on my jeans and I wasn't paying attention, and Ainsley said she heard her say "Uh-oh."
And so it begins.

Bald

Tonight Ainsley And Aye Attended the Air Attache Association's Annual All.
Ball.
Sorry. Going for alliteration.
She arranged for a dear friend of hers to babysit our brood so we could put on a tux and a dress (separately) and dance the night away with 150 of our closest foreign friends. We sat at a table with two couples from Argentina, drank some wine, and danced the night away before missing the bebbies too much by 10:45. Two straight nights without me seeing my kids, though. What is this, the Navy?
It did feel like the deck of a ship, what with the 30 mph winds blowing up my skirt outside. brr.

(Of course, the next morning, what's the first words out of Ryan's mouth? "Where's Kim Waters?")

Lebakstan

Finger food and Diet 7-up. Do I know how to party or what?
Had two functions to attend tonight -- the Lebanese Ambassador's house reception was nice, but short (which was also nice) as the boss I was escorting wanted to get to the next "do". Kazakhstan had rented a room at the Willard, next to the White House, outside of which they had an 8-piece Kazakh national folk band with funny-shaped lutes and vertical violins, members all dressed in light blue elfin clothing and pointy hats. Ambassador said some words, American Ambassador to said such reciprocated, hummus was had. I also brought the General some caviar on a miniblintz.
Got home around 10 to my wife telling me that my son tried and tried to stay up for me but had just given up and fallen asleep. Big thick bottom lip protruding from Daddy. Went up and kissed him on a snoring cheek, but he didn't stir.

Cold Weather Drill

I know I’m exothermetrically challenged, but this time of the year gives me the pip and I don't want a pip. We’re in the middle of a slight cold snap, meaning everyone else is freezing and I begrudgingly put on an unzipped jacket in the mornings on the way to work. Inevitably whomever’s car I get into in the slug line has his/her heat blasting, so I suffer through twenty-three minutes of free HOV furnace service, casually putting the back of my hand up against the cold passenger window to try to reregulate my temperature.
Plus the other day I was ten yards out of the office before remembering I even HAD a coat, which was only important, I told my co-workers upon my return, due to the car keys in the pocket.
I’d heard that today was going to get colder in the afternoon, so last night I grabbed my gloves from the hall closet and stuck them in my bag.
Which wasn’t so useful since they were both for the right hand.
Stupid dark gloves in a dark hallway.

Word to your mother goose

As an unfamous amateur wordsmythe, I can appreciate the occasional creative license inherent in El Doctair calling some subcreature a Sneetch, but I'm really not on board with the claim that the bellies of the star-less clan members of said such sneech had none upon "thars."

I'm trying to teach the boy how to read (Step 1: Don't have him read my blog), so I would like to stick to actual words the Queen of England would use during cribbage matches with the next door neighbors. And don't get me started on the whole Wocket in my Pocket nonsense.

In other news, I was happy to learn that the Collins Dictionary was this year including a term for the sound made out of sheer boredom:

"Meh."

Touchy Feely Greasy Grossy

You don't know how grubby a kid gets eating until you're sitting next to him in your uniform with the light blue shirt. Suddenly, my son is a walking leper colony. Don't touch!
But it was still nice to see him in the middle of the day, as Ainsley had arranged for some of her friends to meet for a shopping/playdate at Pentagon City Mall, just up the Metro Holler from my place of deployment.
Ryan's latest feat: drinking from a water fountain and, without being prompted, keeping the ol' kissers off the spout.
I'm so proud.

I Will Never Rake Again

One of my purchases at Lowe’s yesterday was a new electric leaf blower. My old one was conking out, plus had a weird gas-and-oil combination you had to put in, plus had the horsepower of your run-of-the-mill electric nose hair clippers, whooshing out wind equivalent of ten 3-year-olds blowing out the candles on a cake. Not so good at convincing 34 trees’ worth of dead extremities to hike themselves thirty yards across the yard.
The cool thing is that this contraption not only blows like … uh … the wind, but it sucks and mulches like the wind does not. Stick a nozzle on, it slurps up the dead leaves, grinds them up, and spits them into an attractive shoulder bag at a 10:1 ratio. GONE are the days of scraping a rake across the lawn into big piles for Ryan just to flatten out again and re-raking them all and getting wet knees arm-sweeping them into garbage bags. GONE are the days of sweeping off the patio three times a week. GONE are the days of letting our children haphazardly blow out candles themselves.

It’s a beautiful thing. Even Ryan approves. Watched me for fifteen minutes, shuffling through the big piles I had blown around, shouting “Go, Daddy, Go!” As he does.

The Good Mother

Ainsley even let ME sleep in today, despite the fact that Erin got up at her usual 5-something. To try and help the house stay quiet during Her Majesty’s morning nap, I took Ryan out to Target (which is getting increasingly difficult to go through with a 3-year-old, what with all the Christmas Stuff and Toys) and Lowe’s (ditto, lawn-mowing tractors). After a Subway lunch starring the new flatbread sandwiches (not recommended) and a nap, it was time to go to Gymboree for another squirt’s birthday-o-rama-fun-a-thon-a-romp-a-roo. ™
Seemed to be twice the kids (and parents) as the last one, so it was a little hectic. Ryan actually found more fun rummaging around by himself (with his Daddy and Sister), but was encouraged to join the fun when there were bubbles to dance in or pizza to eat. However, when they busted out Gymbo the Actual Clown, he was a little funny. Ryan wasn’t the only one put off by the tall skinny girl with the nose that kept falling off, as a few others were crying or running away from the orange curtain-wearing monster. It was like the e-trade commercial starring the baby on the web-cam who just made a killing and bought himself a clown but admitted that he had “underestimated the creepiness”.

We've Got Sprained Knee, How 'Bout You?

A person my age and in my de-condition really should not be emulating the cheerleaders in the "Mickey" video.

Pseudad

Thank God for Thursdays.
I got home late Wednesday -- had to go to Bethesda for an MRI in the late afternoon and it took an hour to metro back to my car -- and Thursday I was scheduled to be the guy working late in case some general needed a T crossed.
By the time I get home, dinner's done, but the kids are happily playing with Grandad, throwing balls, running trains, what have you. It halts for a second while I walk in the door -- Ryan tells me I should say hi to everyone in the room and Erin stomps towards me like a miniature rhino, big open smile showing her three teeth -- but resumes while I plop in a chair to take off my boots. Warms my cockles to hear the giggles and screams of my kids while watching their grandfather tiptoe around the kitchen to sneak up on one of them, or find him sitting on the floor up against Ryan's dresser, reading him stories as he leans into his Grandad's armpit.

And he doesn't even charge us.

$1.74

Stoopit Supply and Demand. There's no WAY I'm going to break even on my Hybrid at these gas prices.
I leave it running in the driveway for about an hour so I can fill up more often.

*tap* *tap* Not just a hat rack, my friend.

Diet and Fountain of Youth Quest Starts Tomorrow

Guy saw me wearing a USAF shirt the other night in a restaurant.

"Sir?" he asks. "Did you retire from the Air Force?"

The National Elephant Museum

The bosses were grand enough to give us a day off Monday, so I paid it forward and told Ainsley to go to a spa and get her feet zapped and pores oozed and muscles dipped in chocolate mousse or whatever chicks do.
This gave me a chance to hang out with the kiddos alone for the first time in a long while -- we walked up to the park for a bit, the three of us swinging and sliding and eating dehydrated apple chips like, uh, kids. Then I tandem-stroller-pushed the two of them up Smoketown Road to the Arby's just up the street, where they both devoured their turkey sandwiches and applesauce (no more fruit cups, darnit) plus a french fry or two. Hey, it's Saturday. My Saturday, anyway.

Unfortunately, Erin has had a little trouble adjusting to the end of Daylight Saving Time, so she's been getting up about 5 o'clock every day. Giving us even more Daddy Daughter time while I let Ainsley catch a last hour of sleep before Ryan stirs.

For Veteran's Day, I wanted to take the kids up to DC and see some monuments and maybe the newly reopened American History Museum, but realized that the rest of the family would probably think it dull and harsh my mellow. So after not walking down to the Washington Monument (a cold wind was hitting our face, and Ryan politely asked to go back and see Mommy in the car), we grabbed a hot chocolate in the Smithsonian Castle and then walked across the mall -- pointing out the U.S. Capitol Building to the little guy just in case it would stick -- to the Natural History Museum and its famous stuffed elephant in the rotunda. Ryan enjoyed seeing the large whale, the giraffes, and other suspended animation fauna (it was sort of like a stationary zoo), but he was a little spooked by the tiger in full-on pounce pose, as well as the phony thunderstorm in the rainforest room. But approximately every thirteen seconds, he asked if he could go back and see the elephant. Go up to the second level? Only if we can look down at the elephant. Grab something to eat? "By the elephant?"
Instead we got him a whale cookie.
We're awesome.
Ryan was adorable at night, saying "Thank you for coming to see me," as if I didn't really live here, and when I started kissing his bed's stuffed animals and saying "Good night, Go Dog Go...Good night Balloo..." he came back with "Don't forget the Ryan!"

Sweet Home Sweet

Gathered my box o' Hawaiian pineapples (I only wanted one for the wife, but they were boxed in threes) and zipped home just in time for everyone's naps. Except Erin wasn't, natch, and either my wild shirt or riffraff-n-citrus funk prevented her from relaxing enough to put her down myself.
The whole house smells like pineapple. Or "apple melon," as Ryan calls it.
Wonderful hug from Ryan when he woke up, and a lovely evening getting reacquainted with the fam. Erin is climbing up as many stairs as she can find and calling me "dat".
Just exhausted at the end of the day, what with being six hours off and having had only 2 hours' sleep in the previous 38, but don't even TRY to skip a line in the "Mater and McQueen go Tractor Tipping" story to try to get to bed early.
The 3-year-old has them all memorized.

Pearl

I guess you'd get used to the insanely constant gorgeous weather after a few years. Enjoyed my first papaya at our parting breakfast, in an open-air fan-covered area behind the O'Club, I guess redundant to say "by the water." We shuttled our visitors to the airport and said our hearty Mater-esque guBAHs, mission officially complete. Had a few hours before our flight home, so Chris was nice enough to take me over to the USS Arizona Memorial a short drive around the corner to Pearl Harbor. Very tranquil location, with a shuttle boat that takes people from a visitor's center out to the flotilla straddling the sunken ship, rusty gun bases protruding above the surf. I found it odd how many Japanese tourists there were, especially those snapping pictures of each other doing the Hawaiian 'shaka' hand signal (thumb and pinkie sticking out). I'm sure they meant no harm, but it looked like Germans going to Auschwitz and doing 'bunny ears' with each other.
Last-minute operational requirements prevented our being able to ride the AF C-40 (basically a luxury 737) back to Scott AFB, so we had to scramble to get a seat on commercial with the sort of folk I lovingly call "the riffraff." Basked in the bitter butter the whole 1st leg to Dallas/Ft Worth, since even though I had an aisle seat, it was in the very rear of the plane, next to a toilet and just in front of the flight attendants' work area. So even if I could sleep cramped in a seat the size of a grade school child's desk, hearing constant chatter, ice bag banging, vaccu-flushing, or morons slapping at the accordion-style shitter door (I twice pointed at the sign that said, "PUSH") prohibited any shot at even giving it the ol' college try.
Instead, I watched "WALL-E", which wasn't the best Pixar movie ever, though I submit watching it on the airplane ceiling with occasional cockpit interruptions, people constantly walking past to empty their urethral cavities sixteen inches from my head, and iPod earphones is probably not the way Disney intended.
Landed for our 2-hour layover just as the airport was waking up, but 2 a.m. for us. Fortunately, the flight to DC was sparse enough that I could lie down and sleep, for only the 2nd time on a plane for me. (2000, on the Germany-to-Turkey leg, also lying across three seats.) Stiff neck, face lines and full-body blanket fuzz be damned, MAN is that the way to travel.
When you don't have your own C-40.
Which had a couch.
I'm just saying.

Angstronomy

Chris had gone to school at the Hulaversity of Hawaii, so he was psyched about taking me to the Pacific-famous "Sam Choy's" for breakfast. After scanning the menu, I figured I'd try a Sam Choy's Special, highlighted in blue -- the Poke Platter with eggs and fried rice.

Now.

The description said it was fish. It did not say that it was tuna tar tare, a barely grilled cubed pink fish. Thanks for the assist, there, Chris, just smiling to yourself there on your side of the table. "Well," he said, "you seemed to know what you were doing."

It's apparently pronounced, "Pokey," too.

I think the waiter knew I was from outa town.

Had time to knock out some more trinket shopping -- bought a kick-ass yellow Hawaiian shirt with palm trees, turtles, and ukuleles (Hawaiian for 'jumping fleas' don't you know) -- before heading back to base and lunch with COMPACAF followed by a short flight to Maui. There we transitioned to an Army HH-60 helicopter for a fun and thankfully smooth (nary a barf bag needed for the Mrs!) 20-min flight above the clouds to an AF space observatory on a 10000-ft peak jointly managed by Space Command and the AF Research Laboratory. Got to learn about its history, some of the ongoing experiments, and the mechanics involved in replacing the coating on the 3.6m antenna (the DoD's biggest) -- they cook a sugar-cubed sized piece of aluminum and spread it onto the surface so it's no more than 960 atoms thick. Only every 7 years or so.

Windy drive down the mountain, we dined at the fairly ordinary Kula Lodge but with a great view of the inlet dissecting the ocean. By the time we got back to Oahu, everyone was too beat to go out again. The downside to these trips is traveling to a new place nearly every day, requiring us to repack a suitcase nearly every night. I seriously deserve a medal.

Windy. Pronounced "Whine-Dee". Not "Win-Dee." English is hard.

Oh! Wahoo!

While most of the party woke up early to go up to the AF Academy and have breakfast with the 3 cadets from Singapore, I hoong (hunged? hanged?) back to settle the hotel bills and ensure a good luggage count (glamorous job, this). Back on the base in time to catch the Mission briefings, we flew a short hop over to northern California to get a great tour of some Global Hawk UAVs (a first for me -- the base and the mission) and a peak inside one of the operations vans completing a live mission overseas. Cool commanding general and spouse, the base's protocol folks really bent over backwards to show us a good time in a short 2-hour visit.
Had a long flight down to Honolulu next, helped by two more flicks and the rest of my Smithsonian magazine.
It was nice to be in paradise and all (despite the warm humid weather, see 'loving the cold' comment below') but the DV quarters weren't all that distinguished, as I lost count of the number of bugs crawling around, and each room at those 50s-era wait-and-think-about-it flicker-on overhead lights. I want to see in this room NOW. Not whenEVER. But still. It's Hawaii.
The head muckity mucks had a formal gathering planned, leaving the rest of us to explore Waikiki and its Bubba Gump's restaurant, before doing some souvenir shopping and hanging out at Duke's on the beach. Amazing how blue the ocean was, even at 10 o'clock. It seemed to almost glow.
Back at our rooms the Mountain Standard Time equivalent of 2:30 in the morning, I was very glad to not be involved in the early golf game planned the next morning.

Sweet Cold Colorado

Flew down to Langley for briefings and tours, hooking up wth a Truck I've known since I was a 2Lt, before a Chef's Salad- and "Get Smart"-filled flight to Colorado Springs where most everyone else slept.
The two accompanying spouses (of the principal and the American general) split off to visit the Garden of the Gods while we dudes drove out to Schriever AFB for a mission brief and tour of the GPS Ops Floor. Despite learning that the Singapore Mrs had been hurling up in her van and not at all enjoying the view or the altitude, everyone was still rarin' to go to dinner with Space Command leadership at The Briarhurst Manor. Lovely evening enjoyed by all (even though our friends were hoping to hear from the place's reported ghosts).
I, for one, was simply enjoying the crisp 20-degree weather.
I for only one, in fact.

Can He Fix It?

I think the only reason Obama won was that whole "Yes We Can" mantra:

People thought they were voting for Bob the Builder.

'Gon Fishing

Ceremonial headgear Day (I suddenly miss my Marching Band Plume) ferrying the party from the AF memorial to the Pentagon to their Embassy to the Residence to DV Quarters. Luckily, I had time late afternoon for 3 cute guests to stop by, the male-est of whom left two-thirds of a milkshake in my freezer.
Lovely 17-member dinner party where We The Staff was brought out from the back rooms for self-intros, where you from, how long you been in, etc. I confused the guests by telling them I had been in the Air Force for 37 years, then explained my upbringing and how my brother used to sit on my chest with his knees on my elbows and stick his fingers up my nostrils while Sesame Street played in Turkish on the 10-inch black and white TV in the background.
A few ladies dabbed their eye sockets with expensive napkins.

After a few songs from the AF's version of the Three Tenors (all Tech Sergeants), including a well-received and 2-day mind-sticking rendition of "One Singapore", we headed back to our quarters, while the Americans attempted to explain to our guests the concept of an Electoral College.

Home Game

Spent the morning mulling around, collecting luggage, returning rental cars, boring stuff, but at least I'd found the "Bob & Tom" show on the radio, so it made all the hanging around in the car time worth it.

After a quick visit with the 4-star in charge of Air Mobility Command, we flew back to D.C., despite a minor crisis involving the Air Attache's magical disappearing headgear. We are planning on gluing his replacement to his head.
Back at the home base, so close yet so far from my own home, we got everyone's bags distributed, then, at their request, took the Singapore party to Ruth's Chris for dinner, obviously not giving a hoot that the Redskins were playing a Monday night game.
Of course, if we'd been planning correctly, we would have tried to get tickets.

Barfaroo to Saint Loo

Erin got us back for abandoning her last night by being up all hours of the morning, which didn't much matter since Bailey decided she needed to throw up every other hour, doing so twice in our bedroom, which Ainsley cleaned up with so much toilet paper the commode overflowed.
**cue SitCom music**

Tired, cranky, and probably still wearing eye makeup, who knows, I left for the airport before Ainsley took Ryan to a friend's birthday party being held at a Fire Station. Think he had more fun, but I got more miles.
After an uneventful flight to St Louis, Chris and I got a rental and checked in at the local AFB lodging, ironically now managed by someone who used to work in our office, before heading back downtown to meet with the American escorting General and the AF attache from Singapore prior to the week-long trip.
Hit a loud but NFL highlight-filled Sports Bar for dinner, then walked around the new Cardinals baseball stadium and the Arch, wonderfully lit up, both of us marvelling at how few people were around. Finally headed back to the airport to do a drive-by hello to our guests as they got off their plane and put faces to silly name ("Ng") before turning in.

Momma Chameleon

Realized I had ten or twelve things to accomplish around the house before tomorrow's TDY, so I actually wrote them down and drew cute little boxes next to them so Ainsley could monitor my progress. Chief among these tasks was "pack" which takes the most time; as a military member whose clothes are laid out in official regulations dating back to the Eisenhower administration, picking a tie to go with what suit is not my strength. Nor, it turns out, is counting the correct number of underwear days.

Dogs' nails trimmed, maps printed out, garden gate fixed, and children bathed, Dad was emboldened enough to babysit both kids (!) so we could go to a friend's 80s party. We had him come over just as Erin was being javamama-juiced to sleep, in the hopes that she would give her grandfather at least 2 or 3 hours before needing to talk about something (as it turns out, she lasted more than four, well after we got home). The party was fun, and considering that my Beau George costume was fashioned together at the last minute, it garnered an awful lot of complimentary, if giggle-laden, remarks. Ainsley, hot to trot in her Xanadu leg warmers, lacy tights, and sideways ponytail, was just glad to have a drink and relax and spend a night with her transvestigal husband in peace.

Don we now our gay apparel.