Well, after my last entry on February 12th, Mister and I headed to Nashville for the weekend to catch a Rick Springfield concert at the Wild Horse Saloon on Valentine's Day. It was well worth the trip -- Rick rocked the Saloon. OMG...he is still just too gorgeous and astonishingly vigorous and vibrant for a man his age (60 next August). More amazing yet, is that he really is more than just a pretty face. He really is a fantastic musician. He won Mister over as a fan when he launched into a cover of "Crossroads" and now we know why the audience was equally male and female, and not all the males were escorting their wives or girlfriends.
If you look closely at the picture below, you'll see that Rick was wearing green Mardi Gras beads. Guess who has those beads now!
We met an interesting couple seated next to us at the table who had a similar age difference between them as Mister and I have. We ended up meeting them at another club after the concert was over, having a couple drinks too many, and then she and I left my mister and hers at the club talking for an hour or so while we toured downtown Nashville in her limousine. Can't say I saw much out the windows -- we were too busy fogging them up! "And that's all I have to say about that"...other than I had an unexpectedly spectacular Valentine's evening. Mister and I were slightly concerned over how we would amuse ourselves all day Sunday in the hometown of C&W music, since we just aren't that into it; but sheer exhaustion and moderate hangovers from the activities of the previous evening answered that question for us -- we stayed in bed.
We got back to Houston on Monday, and only had time for a "last supper" together before Mister had to be back at IAH, catching his flight to Taipei. (Last supper is what we jokingly call getting that last fix of good ol' authentic TexMex before leaving the country - because you know you won't find it anywhere but here.) So, I sent him off for his two week around the world trip (Taipei - Shanghai - New Delhi) and headed home to get started on my list of things I can't seem to get done with him around.
That list, among other things, had me getting very little sleep for the next few days. Without him here to insist on me putting him to bed (and ending up crashing myself), I stayed busy until 2-3 in the morning before I noticed what time it was. The back yard - what was left of it -- was a total wreck. The plumber had not come to put in the new connectors before he left, and the concrete/rebar crew couldn't finish their part until the plumbing was done. Never mind the part where I haven't been able to use the kitchen sink drain, nor my washer and dryer, for almost a month now because the wastewater pipe got crushed again during removal of the old garage slab. So I sent the plumber a nasty-gram (via email) and got the ball rolling again. One plus is that I found a really nice laundromat over here, and I'm getting kind of spoiled to being able to completely do all my laundry in under 2 hours by using 4-5 washers and dryers.
Of course, the following Saturday was my annual pilgrimage to Mardi Gras Galveston. My aunt and two cousins came down from Cleburne (near Fort Worth) to go with me, my sister and brother-in-law, and my mom. Unfortunately, my mom got sick, and my daughter was too busy being a putz, so they didn't make it, but my stepdaughter came along for the third time, and her mom (my "sister-wife" LOL) had her introductory trip. We had fun, although not as much fun as I've had some years. Guess I just don't drink that much anymore, and with the stockpile of beads I have, I just don't get into the bead-catching as aggressively as I used to, so that kind of reduces the excitement to some degree. Besides, once you've caught beads thrown to you by Rick Springfield, why bother with any others...
The parade was very entertaining -- lots of "marching" bands who did anything but goose-step. A couple of them stopped right in front of our spot and totally jammed out "Drumline" style. (Love it when they do that!) But the most hilarious thing of all was the three middle-aged (at 40 myself, should I be calling them that? oh well...call 'em as I see 'em) biker mamas just down the sidewalk from us who didn't bother with flashing anymore once the parade started. They just let it all hang out the whole time. It worked - they got lots of beads and attention. We all got home without incident, in spite of the State Troopers lying in wait every mile or so along 45 going north.
Again, total exhaustion solved the dilemma of what to do with myself all day on Sunday. I slept in, woke up and had a snack, yapped with Mister on Yahoo for a bit, took a nap, then repeated the sequence a couple more times.
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