Marriage: Curried Goat, Bag Cereal, Zombies, and Redneck Limos

The title of this post could easily serve as the title of my first two weeks as a married woman. It's a title worthy of Neil Gaman or Terry Pratchet, in my humble opinion, and although I'm sure my writing falls far short of their standards, I hope that you enjoy the humor and love Nic and I shared during these choice moments of our first two weeks together as man and wife.

After our fabulously fun wedding celebration, Nic and I flew to Jamaica at 6:30am the next day. That's right folks, we got up at 2:30 in the morning to catch a shuttle at 3:30am, to be at the airport at 4:30am to catch our red-eye flight. Now, if you are under the impression that we were robbed of blissful hours of undisturbed sleep that morning/night, then like us (until we checked into the hotel), you must have been unaware of the Kid Rock concert in town that night. If taking your first international trip with your new spouse in loving cooperation after all of that isn't a true test of yet untried married love, than I'm not sure what is. On the up side, we enjoyed extra slices of our wedding cake for breakfast and survived the sing-along show of our shuttle driver to his favorite country station. All of this now provides good fodder for laughter at this inside joke for Nic and me.

Jamaica was beautiful; we snorkeled, we scuba dived (dove?), did zip lining and a rope swing into a waterfall, and rode horses on the beach. I was also bent and determined on getting Nic to try bag juice, bun and cheese, and curried goat, despite our staying at an all-inclusive resort. My senior year of college, my family and I traveled to Jamaica to build a house as mission work. We became close with some locals and these three things are staples of native Jamaican fare, but they are culinary treats that tourists never encounter. Well, they never encounter because they never ask ;)

Nic and I quickly discovered that if I mentioned my familiarity and quest for bag juice, bun and cheese, and curried goat to any Jamaican working at the resort, that I became their new favorite guest (practically family). Unfortunately, I was told that none of these food products were available to guests at the resort. Psh, like that could stop me.

The first tour Nic and I took off of the resort, I pulled aside the tour guide and inquired if I could purchase bag juice or bun and cheese anywhere on our tour. She was kind enough to have the bus driver wait for us at the end of our excursion to stop into a native store (shack by our standards) and buy bag juice and bun and cheese. The famous curried goat dish persisted in eluding us the entire trip, but I have sworn to resume my quest for Nic to try it, should we ever visit Jamaica again.

Fast forward to our first weekend in Texas and our first grocery shopping trip as a married couple. Some things you should understand. Both Nic and I enjoy good food immensely, we also enjoy cooking together. However, my second marriage is to my budget. If anything should tempt me to cheat the budget, I cut it out of my life (aka grocery list)...it is better to loose a hand, kind of a mentality.

Before marriage, I could never take advantage of the "buy in bulk it saves in the long run" idea. If I had, the bulk of my savings would have prevented me from fitting into my wedding dress. There is just no way a single person can eat 10 loaves of bread and 12 lbs of chicken breast in one week before they go bad. I don't care how good the savings are! However, now that I am married, I can begin to think like those moms at Sam's Club.

The specific food to be purchased in bulk for myself and my husband: bag cereal. You heard it, two bags of should-feed-a-family-of-four-for-a-week-per-bag cereal is now being purchased and consumed by us. In one week. The only problem? Rationing one gallon of milk to all that cereal. Shiver. Mornings can be a bit tense. I was used to one gallon all to myself for a week (and it usually only lasted 6 days). Now I have to SHARE? How was this NOT in the marriage counseling sessions?

We're working on it.

Note: our newest cereal addiction are Blueberry Muffin Tops. It's basically the cereal version of the surgery muffin toppings on Pillsburry blueberry muffin box mixes. In reference to my new cereal addiction may be the only time I will be ok with being referred to as a "muffin topper." Just don't say it in the presence of my skinny jeans.

The other adjustment to my mornings: the Zombies which invade my apartment every morning at about 6:20am when I am in the bathroom getting ready for work. Nic is an avid player of Plants Vs. Zombies. An incredibly humorous and well-done video game by Pop Cap. There's even a music video:

 

I now know what kinds of zombies are invading my husband's lawn by the sound of the peas from the pea shooters hitting the unique zombies. The Yettie Zombie is the only one yet to attack. Perhaps Nic will be lucky enough to have one attack his lawn this week while I am brushing my teeth. We can only hope.

And now we are to the redneck limo incident. Nic has been dutifully and relentlessly looking for a job this past week. While in the business office at the club house of the apartment complex, he was speaking to the manager and she mentioned that her husband runs a limo service and that he is hard up for a driver. A few hours later and Nic is taking a 35-40 foot stretch Ford Expedition limo for a test drive. I've been told by Nic that it handles like it doesn't have power steering.

The guy liked Nic's limo handling well enough that he invited him to drive he and his friends around for the evening on Saturday night. Oh, and he could bring his wife with him. Score! I always wanted to ride up with the limo driver - almost as good as riding with the driver of the Disney monorail trains. 

So Nic and I show up Saturday night only to learn that we will be shuttling around a group of 10 very nice and well-meaning Texas rednecks for the night. Our first stop of the evening? You guessed it. Wal Mart. Apparently there wasn't enough Chardonnay in the limo. How un-classy. 

Nic then drove, and I helped navigate, the limo to the steakhouse for dinner while they pre-gamed it and rocked out to 80's music. After a nice slew of cocktails interrupted intermittently by mouthfuls of dinner at the restaurant, the group hit up a bar. Nic and I remained in the limo to digest our expensive dinner, they were nice enough to include us at the meal, and read a book together. The night ended with the group, all of them in their 50s and 40s, jamming to Kid Rock (oh leave us alone!), Tequila Makes Her Clothes Come Off, and Get My Drink On. Despite their dubious taste in music (well, ok I do think the Tequila song is funny), they were wonderful drunk tippers. Maybe Nic and I can get an extra 1/2 gallon of milk this week.

Ya'll ready for week three of marriage? 'Cause this little imp says, bring it on!

Down from the Door Where It Began

May was a month of anniversaries: of journeys started, of Roads followed, of things left behind, and of things still pursued...or chased if I'm being honest with myself :)

One Year Ago in May...

...I graduated from college, watching friends take their own roads and still hoping my feet would find my own.

...I had run my first half-marathon and now I have my sight set on a full marathon or triathlon in the next year.

...I was offered my first post-grad job in Houston, Texas. My loving and 200% supportive family packed me up and moved me down to Texas and into my first apartment in six days.

...I confessed to a young man that he had won me over and I would offer him my heart if he would take the risk with me. This young man, now my fiance, is a romantic and I think he was ready for a little risk and adventure in his life and he promised that he would pursue being my man even if I were to move to Texas and put down roots there. Did he know he was joining himself to a little warrior princess? A little warrior princess with a stubborn streak, a thirst for challenges, unlimited determination, and who likes to consider herself a force to be reckoned with, even if reality shows involving flash mobs and proposals make her cry? If he didn't then, I believe he does now. He still tells me he wants me to be his wife. I could not be more joy filled.

...I joined a church on my own, without the network of advice and shared joy that I left behind in Michigan.

All of these anniversaries, and other smaller ones that perhaps only I can appreciate after looking back and realizing I survived my first year on my own as an adult in this big world, bring to mind God's watchfulness and His love in that watchfulness. I could never have made it to this one year anniversary of those many things without His will, support, guidance, and grace.

I know I have the weak tendency to rejoice and have great faith in my own will and determination ...but let me assure you! I know and can see that this year, like every year of my blessed life, was the Lord's year. They were His triumphs. My prayer for this next year is that (Nic and) I would continue to seek a year following God.

Now! All of this happy reminiscing doesn't mean that this past month hasn't also been a big month for new changes in life.

New this May...

...I got an insulin pump! I am now officially connected to a mechanical pancreas which has changeable, artistic skins, better controls my blood glucose numbers and allows me to eat snacks guilt-free! I know, you're jealous. And if you're not jealous already, you will be when I tell you that it vibrates. A-huh.

...I  bought my first pair of sunglasses since I was 10 (remember those cheap Ray-Ban sunglasses in neon colors? yup, those). Better yet, I like these sunglasses and they look good on me. You may be asking, girl, how hard can it be to find a decent pair of sunglasses? For me, hard.. Thanks to my narrow face and current fashions, everything looks like bug eyes on me. I had resigned myself to having to fork over a serious wad of cash for some designer pair that would suite my face, or continue to squint and drive blindly into the rising sun on my way to work...but no, the pair for me was to be found at Target for $16.99. They would.

...Nic is officially starting to move his things into my, correction our, apartment! Even when he's not here, I like to share my space with his things.

...In a few short days it will be exactly two months from our wedding. You may have expected more blogging about the whole wedding planning, I haven't forgotten that my last post was back in February marking the engagement. But, I'm finding that I'm more of a keep-it-confidential/personal-I-don't-give-a-flying-fart-what-you-think-of-my-wedding-colors kind of a bride. That being said, I am very excited about the special day and lifetime with my two families and close friends. Of course, whenever I begin to feel light headed with bridal giddiness, I'm reminded of how many documents, government records, business cards, driver's license, and credit card papers I'm going to have to change and re register for with my new last name....but, but, you mean I have to go back to the Texas Department of Safety and stand in line for 4+ hours to get my new license/voting record? But, but I did that only a year a go!

But you know what? It's gonna be ok, it's gonna be ok because Nic will be standing there with me for those 4+ hours. And maybe he'll even help me with credit card service phone trees and government run-arounds by feeding me his amazing blueberry scones and hold my hand tight.

Yes, it will be worth it. It already is.

And I can keep singing, "The Road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can, pursuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say."

Because I Can't Tell This Story Enough

Because nearly all of you are my close friends and/or family, I doubt you missed the texts, phone calls, or Facebook posts announcing that last Friday my boyfriend asked if I would do him the honor of becoming his wife and I said yes. But I know that many of you would like details on how the whole event went down - squeals, giggles, meatloaf and all. And because I get swept off of my feet everytime I tell the story, I'm gonna indulge us both. Nice how that works out, eh?

To begin.

Nic (my now-fiance) and I had planned for him to fly down last weekend to visit. I asked for Monday off as a personal day so that we could have a long weekend together. He told me that he had purchased tickets for a flight that would arrive at 8:24pm Friday night. I took a babysitting job that afternoon after work, partly for the money and partly because it would help kill time before he arrived. I know that if I had stayed in my apartment that whole time I wold have tested the durability of all surfaces to withstand the 100th time of me bleaching, cloroxing, or lysoling them. Yes, I am a compulsive cleaner. In the words of fair Bess, judge me. But back to our story.

Nic texted me throughout the day, as usual, reporting on the progress of his day and his whereabouts. He told me when he was at work, when he left for lunch, when he arrived at the airport, when he was about to board the plane - the works. I, in turn, told him when I picked the kids of up from school, when we went for a bike ride, and when I was headed back to my apartment.

Because Houston traffic on a Friday at 5pm is like molasses in winter, the mom was running late so I didn't leave their house until well after 6pm. I texted Nic that I was headed home, but first I had to pick up some drycleaning (which, by the way is wallet rape and next time I think I will leave the peanut butter stain on my skirt, thank you very much!).

I live on the third floor of my apartment building. I had just spent 3 hours riding bikes, playing soccer and basketball with youngsters. So, I arrived at my door sweaty, panting a little, and carrying at least six things up from my car.

Insert key.

Turn.

Open door.

And see boyfriend dressed in suite and tie holding a rose and surrounded by candles? WHAT??

Oh, you better believe it sister. My romantically sneaky boyfriend had actually left Nebraska at 11pm Thursday night and had driven to Houston. All the while keeping up the pretense via text that the he was still in NE and then in the airport. He was aided by my mother, who knew all of this and played along as she chatted with my on Yahoo IM (should I be worried they work so well together in tricking me?).

Nic had arrived at my place a little after noon and began to set up his surprise evening for me. He rearranged and decorated my living room by buying new linens for my table and setting it with my grandma's wedding china, putting blue and green colored pebbles (the color theme for the night  - yes, there was a color theme) in small bowls with floating tea light candles, having roses in a vase on the table, and putting nine other candles (one for each month that we've been dating) in glass holders leading up to him as he stood waiting for me.

But that's not all folks.

He had also spent all day making us dinner. My favorite dinner.

He spent 5.5 hours on a chocolate cheesecake complete with oreo crust, he had gotten my mom's meatloaf recipe and made me meatloaf (a first time attempt for him), garlic mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, and of course champagne to drink.

After letting me change and freshen up and just before we ate dinner, he  took me around the room to show me all of his decorating skills. Lastly, he handed me a few pieces of paper.

Hold up, I think ya'll need some history about us to understand this.

Before we were ever dating, we had made boyfriend and girlfriend resumes - just for fun. I thought it would be funny to write a resume mimicking the format of my business resume, but for a potential boyfriend. Well, it was a hoot and probably should have tipped us off that we were meant for each other when things started matching up on both of our resumes. Ok, flash forward back to the blue and green themed room with a dozen candles smoldering away....

He hands me several pieces of paper stapled together. The opening sentence:

Objective: To illustrate my love and admiration for you in the hope that you will do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife.

Yes, he had made a husband resume for me. Of course, I didn't get an further than the objective before I started beaming, laughing, hugging him and saying yes. Then he very loving asked me if I would wait and let him ask the question, where he then got down on one knee and asked if I would do him the honor of becoming his wife.

Well, I had already said yes but I repeated it for him, followed by more hugs (and maybe a few kisses) and he slipped the ring on my finger.

And hot damn, the ring! Well, in my honest opinion it's so wonderfully and beautifully "us" that I already feel it's an extension of me.

Some pictures for you:

My diamond and turquoise ring. Nic helped design in with the jeweler.

One of the engagement photos a friend took for us. This one probably won't make it onto any of the Save the Dates because it's showing a bit more of my leg than is prudent for such things....but I love it just the same :)

A fun side note to Nic's proposal: he joked afterward that he wanted to propose before we ate the meatloaf in case he ruined it...well, he did a superb job. I would have said yes especially after eating his cooking :)

Thank My Lucky Leg Warmers Wal Mart Still Believes in the 80s

This weekend I had the opportunity to do some fashion archeology. An activity that is right up my alley.

Saturday, there was a surprise 30th birthday party for the Vicar at my church. As he was born in '81, it was to be an '80s themed party and us party goers were encouraged to dress the part. A chance to dress up in vintage duds bordering on costume? I couldn't resist. The challenge combined some very Impish elements - I had to be creative on a budget, I had to delve into fashion history (I secretly still aspire to be an archaeologist and work for National Geographic...), and ultimately I got to indulge my theater side and parade around in a purposefully outrageous get-up.

I had two sources of information, "text books" if you will, on '80s fashion in mind when I set out to assemble my ensemble: VH1's "I Love the '80s" and PeopleofWalMart.com. You laugh, and I would have too if I wasn't afraid of the arms on the mothers who were doing serious shopping for their daughters right next to me.....but I'm getting ahead of myself.

As I strolled into Wal Mart and headed for the clothing section, I began to mentally assemble my ideal '80s throwback look: some stirrup pants or black leggings, leg warmers if they were to be found, a neon colored tank with an over-sized and possibly cut-to-pieces sweatshirt, some neon jelly bracelets and other, bulky, geometric jewelry. I was prepared to think of creative compromises in the event that I was unable to acquire any of these pieces. However, although Wal Mart regularly doesn't carry the basic spices, herbs and vegetables I need for my cooking recipes, the '80s are alive and well, thriving even, in their clothing department.

My fashion archaeological dig turned out to be a walk in the park. It was as if Tutankhamen's treasures were lying  atop the  local sandbox. No digging required.

As I picked out my leggings, shirts, and obnoxious jewelry, I was repeatedly overcome with the desire to turn to my fellow Wal Mart shopper and explain that I wasn't buying these things as a part of my usual wardrobe....they were for a party, really. But, I quickly noticed that most of the other girls in the young women's clothing section were selecting similar tops and bottoms but with the clear intent of wearing the items in all seriousness to school.

It was probably a good thing I kept back all of the cracks I wanted to make at Wal Marts "current line of fashion." I might have made someone cry. And it probably would have been me, after one of the girl's mothers decked me for insulting her daughter's wardrobe choice.

After making my selections, I quickly scuttled to the produce section of the store. Here again I felt prompted to explain what was in my shopping cart to every mother I passed in the isle....but these impulses, I think, were more justified. These were the mothers with the Prada purses, Lucky Brand jeans and Gucci sunglasses.

Only at my Wal Mart could I mingle with the fashion elite and the fashion backward at the same time.

I'll have you know that my ensemble was a success. I had a hair stylist friend tease my hair into rat's nest of a side pony tail and cake on the purple eye shadow.

                                                          A picture from the party.

                                     A later picture of the entire outfit. PS my camera adds 75 lbs to everyone. Seriously.


The party was a success as well. Vicar's wife is a great hostess and a great party-thrower. There was '80s music, '80s trivia, '80s decorations and even '80s candy!

The appetizer that won us all over was....wait for it....bacon wrapped bread sticks rolled in parmesan. Drool.

The challenge now will be to incorporate the separate elements of my '80s attire into my everyday style. Challenge accepted.

Video Wednesday

The Imp would like to invite you to be distracted from anything productive you might attempt today.

I give you:

Monster sized lip dub of lady gagas hits

This is something I wish I could have been a part of in college. I totally would have been in the Quidditch group...

Straight No Chaser 12 Days of Christmas

The Princess Bride Meets Star Wars

This one came from my dear friend Lizzi who can be found at Firestones on Film

Steve Miller Said It Best

The wealthy are different. A very intelligent, wealthy Jewish woman we'll call "V" told me this. And she was right.

While I was still living in Michigan and going to school, I worked for V and she became the Jewish mother I never had. She looked out for me like I was her own and was never short on witty words of wisdom and advice on life. I respected her honesty and frankness, her sense of style, her sharp intellect...I loved the fact that she could make the statement "the wealthy are different" and follow it with a real-life example. We were cleaning out her closet last spring (like we did at each turn of the season), and she told me she didn't want her Burberry satchel purse anymore, and would I like it? True story. Thank you V, for making this middle-class girl's dream come true.

Now back to the present, and how the wealthy are still different.

I have taken a second job here in Texas in addition to my 40 hour a week day job. Babysitting. Now don't laugh, I know I'm almost 23 and the proud holder of a double degree from Hillsdale College, but as far as I'm concerned (and everyone who's getting a Christmas gift from me this year, you'll agree), you're never too old to babysit wealthy children.

At the moment I am a regular babysitter for 3 families and counting. My growing brood of adoptive children have become little blessings in my life. We play together, share daydreams and fantasies, laugh, read books, and they keep me highly entertained with their upper class attitudes at the tender ages of 5, 6, and 7.

Let's review some adorable examples, shall we?

Family "T" has two sons, Zach in Pre-K and Luke in K. One day, Luke told me that most luxury cars are  yellow and asked if I were familiar enough with luxury cars that I could tell the difference. Later that day, we were playing soccer in their backyard, which backs up to a golf course, when a man jogged by dressed in a white track suite carrying a golf club. Luke informed me it was a caddy (how could he tell?) and then proceeded to yell through the fence, "Hey caddy, why ya runnin'?"

When it was time for dinner, we had planned to order a pizza. I looked on the counter for the money the parents' had left to pay for dinner and discovered a $100 bill. Our order total came to $11. The lady from Pizza Hut on the other end of the phone politely told me I could not pay an $11 order with a $100. I knew that, but apparently Mr. T did not.

A few days later I was babysitting for family "W", Peyton is in K and Jonathan is in Pre-K. If I were to ever kidnap a child, it would be Peyton. She is the first little girl who has completely stolen my heart (it's usually the little boys who steal my heart). After a full night with those two, I laughed with their mother at the new concept, for me, of hiring a professional company to hang your outside Christmas lights. 

But of course! I wouldn't want my hubby risking his neck hanging those lights on our multi-million dollar mansion with tiered roofs. Psssh.

The point is not that I hold these families lives in contempt. I am blessed and thank God every day for what he has given me. And I truly enjoy these families as my friends. I don't expect to absorb their class, paycheck, or attitudes simply by being their favorite on-call babysitter, but I also will not scoff at their willingness to pay me more per hour than my day job. I think Steve Miller had the right idea.

Take the Money and Run.

Except my version might start something like this:

This here's a story about wealthy kids and Ariel T.,
Six wealthy kids with nothin' better to do
Than sit around the house, playin' Wii, and spendin' money,
And here's what happened when Ariel decided to cut loose...

Go on take the money and run
Go on take the money and run...

Merry Christmas everyone. To spread some holiday cheer: it's the second song in the list, titled You Will Behave Like Gentlemen.

The Other Nicholas from Nebraska: A Day with Nicholas Sparks

For those of you who don't know, I work in the Advancement office of a private school. So, my work life is full of event planning and fundraising. One of our biggest fundraising events is our Signatures event. We invite an author to give a speech at a luncheon in a fancy ballroom and often to sign books afterwards. The money raised from this event supports the fine arts at the school. In year's past, the school has hosted Barbara Bush, Anthony Bourdain, and John Grogan (author of Marley and Me). This year, they managed to snag Nicholas Sparks, author of A Walk to Remember, The Notebook, Message in a Bottle, Dear John, The Last Song, and eleven other rather formulaic (according to my mom) sappy novels. I have never read any of his books because I never liked any of the movies. Although, he is a famous person, and he might be the first to admit it, and I can't hide the fact that I was a little excited to meet him and hear what he had to say. I think I was ready for his slightly inflated sense of self, what I wasn't prepared for was the role of bouncer/body guard to keep back the seething masses of woman. Personally, I think I should have received some compensation for putting myself in harm's way for the man, but I'm just the hired help.

His visit began on Thursday night three weeks ago. Several days earlier, he announced to us that he would be willing to give a more in-depth version of his Friday luncheon speech to faculty and students on Thursday night. This was very generous of him as many teachers and students could not skip school on Friday to attend the fundraiser. The Advancement office briefly met Sparky (our nick-name for him) before he was escorted to the stage of the Performing Arts Center. His talk was titled, "Learning the Craft." Many of us had brought pen and paper, prepared to take detailed notes from this author who has had half of his novels turned into movies (which indicates, I think, that he writes bubble-gum novels). The talk was funny and engaging, but it was all about HIM. It was a focus on how amazing he is, how lucky he was, how he does everything. If anything, we hopeful writers learned that we should capitalize on the tragic things that happen in life (all of his books are based on true family stories) so we can sell them for $1 million a pop. Great. I don't consider my life full of sappy love tragedies. Or vampires. I'm screwed.

I will say this about him, he is very good with students. He took lots of questions and answered them all. He even answered a girl's question on how to tell her mom not to make her quit sports because she has a B in science class. He also told us the answer to what is, according to him, the most frequently asked question: he wears boxers. I knew it.

Friday was the big event. I put on a short dress, black tights and tall boots. In hindsight, perhaps I should have worn steel-toed boots and a muscle tee that read "Security." Registration and set up for the event went smoothly. I even got a picture with Sparky.

His speech for the luncheon was an edited and shorter version of his speech the night before, which was fine with me because I was focused on my food. Man was I hungry. No sooner was I done with my dessert (cinnamon and peach cheesecake), and it was time for us, the Advancement staff, to start preparing for the book signing.

Dear Lord, the book signing.

Ladies, start your engines. The moment women spotted us setting up the table, they were up out of their seats and queuing  up. I even saw some of them reapplying makeup. That's right. When it was their turn in front of Sparks, they were gonna look so darn fine that he would be inspired to right his next book about them. Uh huh, you keep those pipe dreams alive ladies. In the meantime, better apply an extra coat of that cherry flavored lip gloss (just in case Sparky leans in close while signing your book) and I'm going to get ready to play your personal paparazzi and his personal body guard. Ready, go!

You think I'm joking? Well, I'm not. I had to walk up and down a line of several hundred women, aged 12-75 and remind them that Mr. Sparks only had time to sign two books and no, he wouldn't be able to personalized them. Now please have your books ready and opened to the title page. If you would like a picture while Mr. Sparks is signing your books (remember, only two books per person), then please hand me your camera or iphone when you reach the front of the line. You'd think that after repeating these simple instructions multiple times these adults would be ready when they reached me and the table with Sparky. Oh no, all of these instructions had to be repeated while with one arm I physically held back the rest of the line and with the other free hand tried to work the camera feature on an iphone.

I think the funniest thing about the whole ordeal was that, despite multiple reminders and me shouting "look at me! smile!" 99.9% of the women forgot to look at me while Nicholas Sparks signed their books. All you could see was a wall of brown or blonde hair...yeah, who's going to believe that's you tagged in the photo on Facebook when we can't see your face? Epic fail. Sparky, on the other hand, never failed to turn, smile and pose perfectly for every shot. Good boy, Sparky. Kinda felt bad I didn't have a treat for him.

Thanks to the hard work of us line Nazis, and Sparks' signing efficiency, we finished on time, despite the last seven ladies in line who kept rotating through to make sure all 10 of their books were signed.

At the end of the day, after seeing Sparky off to the airport in his town car, we all went for drinks in the hotel bar.

Yes, I'll have two amaretto sours please. Cheers!