First of all, let me say that Maine was fabulous. Second of all, let me say that due to the time the train left (both ways) and the fact that the wife and I pulled all nighters the night before we got on said trains in order to pack and get everything together, we did not accomplish train-nookie. I know, I am disappointed too. Probably much more so than you are. But, I was given plenty of attention during my birthday weekend, so I am okay. Now if I can only convince her to put on that cowgirl outfit...
It is incredibly gorgeous there, and Nicky and Frank took wonderful care of us. However, we still managed to lock ourselves in the bedroom Saturday night. And in a house where they don't lock the front door. Why? Because they don't HAVE to. It is that safe up there, not to mention mind numbingly beautiful, and peaceful. Now wifey understands why I keep saying that I want to move there. How did we do it? Anyone who knows us knows how easily we accomplish what should be impossible, and how completely we manage to achieve it.
(BTW - later on this week I will be posting pictures. I have to get them off the new digital camera I bought. Hee hee hee hee)
Now on to the end of last week, namely Thursday. Getaway day, as it were. Of course, I had to work both jobs, so it was going to be a gauntlet day no matter what. But still, Thursday is now my boss' SCHEDULED DAY. Of the three places she has to oversee, two get two days a week, and one gets one. I am the one. And I am very much okay with that. And now that I know WHAT day I am going to see her, it makes planning my workload to allow my busy goofing off schedule (like right now for instance) that much easier. I am pretty sure that I have mentioned that my ACTUAL boss (in other words, not the one who runs the dental office, but the one who actually hired me and is in charge of my project) is very cool and I really do enjoy working for her/with her. But she is making it hard on me to not get myself in trouble. It started last week when she called me to check in on my progress and in the course of conversation she told me that she got extensions, or a weave, or whatever the technical term is. Okay, I know her only as a woman with short hair, but I am going to prep myself for this. But nothing can prepare you for your boss walking in and saying "Ta-DAAAAAA" while modeling her new, expensive fake hairdo. Her pride and joy. Her mullett.
Yup. She chose to get a mullett. Her hair (as mentioned earlier) was short. The top was a little poofy, nothing bad, and it was a good look for her. Well she kept the top and got extensions in the back. Now she looks like a puffy Cher if she were to commit to doing 2 years at the Sands in Vegas. Or maybe Branson MO. How can I look at her the same way? More importantly, how can I not say something. Those who know me know that I cannot help myself sometimes. It is part of my impish charm. How long until I screw up and say something. Anybody want an over/under for THAT?
I really need to go, get back to work. But some things need to be shared.